Layer 8:  To the Edge


Moyre continued her long, steady, involuntary stride in beat to the 
incessant rhythmic chalumeau music that filled her head and 
controlled her muscles.  She felt her emotions battling between 
panic at the loss of control and fury at whoever was behind that 
loss and had turned her body into a mindless puppet with about as 
much self-control as some brainless animated broom sent to fetch 
water by a lazy sorcerer.  She had left the outskirts of her son's 
swamp some time ago, had passed through the surrounding forest, and 
was now treading along some old abandoned dirt road.  Green 
vegetation was yielding to dryer terrain as Moyre saw that the road 
was starting to take her up toward some rocky outcropping of hills.  
Soon, just before the road took a particularly noticeable upward 
turn, she came to a roadblock.  The roadblock was made up of a long 
wooden barricade that spanned the width of the road; it stood some 
four feet high and was made up of four parallel boards painted with 
alternating black and white angled stripes.  A large wooden sign was 
nailed to the center of the top board upon which was painted, in 
bold red letters, the warning, 'DANGER!  ROAD CLOSED!  STAY OUT!'  
Below that, in smaller black letters, was written the caption, 'This 
means you!'  Underneath that sign was nailed a second sign of the 
same size that said the same things but in Spanish.

The music changed its tempo somewhat, and Moyre, to her relief, 
found herself coming to a stop just before the roadblock.  Puppy, 
who had been keeping step with her all the way, stopped beside her, 
looked up at the roadblock, and whined.

Moyre's fine ogre hearing then picked up, from somewhere far behind 
her, the distant sound of her husband shouting, "Moyre!"  Puppy also 
seemed to hear it, as she turned around and looked the way they had 
come, her ears standing to attention.  A few seconds later they 
could make out Groyl, Fiona, and Donkey all calling "Moyre!" as well 
as Shrek calling "Mom!"

The music changed cadence once again, and Moyre felt even more 
relief as she began to turn.  But the relief was short-lived, as she 
found she did not turn all the way, but only sideways to the 
roadblock.  Fear gripped her once again as she strode off the road, 
around the roadblock, and then back onto the road on the other side 
and continued marching up it toward the hills.  The chalumeau music 
then changed to the tune of 'Funeral March for a Marionette'.  Moyre 
knew that couldn't be a good omen.

Puppy watched as Moyre walked around the roadblock.  Sensing danger, 
the canine barked at the ogress, but to no avail.  Another round of 
distant calls caused Puppy to turn back around and look back the way 
they had come.  She then turned and looked back at Moyre, and saw 
her continue walking up the road.  The dog then turned back around 
yet again, and then started running back in the direction of Shrek's 
swamp, barking as loudly as she could.

*     *     *

"MOYYYY-RE!" Groyl called again, his voice a little more hoarse and 
his tone a little more desperate, but the only answer were similar 
calls for "MOYRE!" from Fiona and Donkey and "MOM!" from Shrek.  
Those other calls were getting closer now, as the quartet were 
coming to the end of their first pre-arranged sweep through the 
various areas of the swamp where each had taken an individual route 
and were now reconvening in the clearing in front of Shrek's home.

Groyl was the first to enter the clearing.  He strode to the center 
of it, again looked all about him, and ran a shaky hand over the top 
of his smooth bald head.  He was trying to keep his worry from 
ballooning into full-blown fear, but was doing a poor job of it.

A few moments later he saw Fiona, then Donkey, then Shrek enter the 
clearing from various other areas and make their way towards him, 
their own faces also reflecting concern.  (Well, in the case of 
Donkey, it was more like puzzlement.)  They all came to a halt a few 
feet from each other and stared at Groyl, all at an apparent loss 
for words.

All except for Donkey.

"Man, it looks like she just up and disappeared!" the animal 
observed.  "She ever done anything like this before?"

"No ... never," Groyl responded, his voice uncertain.

Fiona laid a hand gently on his arm and said in as reassuring a 
voice as possible, "Groyl ... Dad ... it'll be okay.  We'll find 
her."

"You bet!" Shrek added, forcing optimism into his own voice both for 
his father's sake and his own.  "She probably just went sightseeing 
and got turned around.  We'll just expand our search a wee bit 
more."

"Yeah!" Donkey said.  "Plus, I expect Dragon'll be here soon, so 
we'll have some aerial surveillance to cover even MORE territory!"

"That's right!" Shrek said.  "Don't fret, Dad.  We'll find her if we 
have t'search every livery stable, cottage, warehouse, farmhouse, 
henhouse, outhouse, and doghouse --"

Just then the sound of approaching, rapid yapping caught everybody's 
attention.  They turned to look across the clearing and saw Puppy 
running towards them.

Shrek frowned.  "I wonder what HER problem is," he muttered.

Puppy ran directly to and came to a stop in front of Fiona.  The 
ogress knelt as the agitated bichon frise alternated between barks 
and whines of different tempo.  "I ... I don't understand," Fiona 
said.  "I've never seen her this upset.  I'd bet it has something to 
do with Moyre, but I don't --"

Suddenly Donkey approached the small white pup as its barking seemed 
to take on an air of frustration as well as agitation.  The dog 
noticed Donkey looking down at her, then directed the same type of 
barking and whining at him that she had tried with Fiona.

Donkey listened to her for a few moments, his brow knit in 
concentration, then he asked, "What's that ya say, girl?  Moyre's in 
trouble?  Headin' up into the hills?"

Puppy then sneezed.

"Bless you!" Donkey said.

"Ye understand what that thing's saying?" Shrek asked, 
flabbergasted.

"Sneezes aren't hard to figure out, Shrek," Donkey replied.

"No!  I mean all that other stuff!"

"A lot of it," Donkey said.  "Ya just gotta know how to listen."

"Can it lead us to her?" Groyl blurted impatiently.

Donkey looked down at the dog and said, "Take us to Moyre, girl!"

Puppy barked once more up at Donkey, then turned and started running 
back across the clearing in the direction from which she had come.

"Let's go!" Groyl said, and charged across the clearing after the 
white pup.

Shrek, Fiona and Donkey hurried after Groyl.  As they did so, Shrek 
looked down at Donkey, smiled gratefully, and said, "Nice job, Dr. 
Doolittle."

"Hey, man, what can I say?"  Donkey responded, smiling back.  "It's 
an animal thing."

*     *     *

Moyre noticed the ground becoming rockier and more desolate as she 
strode upward along the long-neglected road.  Eventually she came up 
over a rise and found herself looking down a long, straight, flat 
valley, perhaps a couple of hundred yards long and some fifteen 
yards wide, that ran due east.  Either side of this valley sloped 
sharply upward into hills at between a forty to sixty degree 
incline.  The hills, each about a hundred feet higher than the 
valley floor, were rough, featuring outcroppings of rocks and small 
shallow caves, and were spotted with clumps of bushy evergreen trees 
that ranged in size from four to twenty feet in height, the hill to 
the north of the valley featuring noticeably more of the vegetation 
than its more desolate cousin to the valley's south side.

But it was not the hilly topography that had drawn Moyre's 
attention.  Rather, it was what lay near the far end of the valley.  
There she saw huddled together a group of some dozen villagers, all 
wielding a torch or pitchfork, and they were standing by a gaping 
hole in the middle of the road -- a hole that Moyre guessed was 
several yards wide.  All her ogre senses started firing, alerting 
her to danger, but her body continued to ignore her as it maintained 
its march to that infernal music.

Suddenly Moyre saw the source of her torment, as a crimson-clad man 
playing a scoped chalumeau stepped into her view from the side, some 
ten feet before her.  He kept the instrument trained on her as he 
marched backwards, leading her toward the villagers ... and that 
hole.  Moyre could see the edges of the musician's mouth curl up in 
a little smile as he played, and he actually began prancing to the 
tune of his own music.  And maybe it was just her imagination, but 
Moyre thought that she could somehow hear his voice at some level of 
consciousness, singing along with that incessant, tune -- 'Follow me 
... trust in me ... I'll show you where it's at ...' -- all the 
while leading her closer to the villagers and that pit.

Moyre felt her blood run cold.

*     *     *

Groyl, Shrek, Fiona, and Donkey came to a stop before the roadblock.  
They read the warning sign as Puppy continued onward, going around 
the roadblock along the same path that Moyre had taken.  Then the 
canine looked back at the group and barked, apparently urging them 
to follow her.

Shrek looked over at his father.  "Dad," he asked, "why on EARTH 
would Mom venture on past here?"

Groyl, looking pale and even older than his years, could only shake 
his head.  "I have no idea, Son," he confessed, then paused to wipe 
his mouth before he continued.   "But I can't imagine she'd do it of 
her own accord."

"But you three didn't hear anything while she was supposedly just 
outside our home, and we didn't find any signs of a struggle when we 
were searching for her," Fiona observed.

"I know," Groyl conceded.  "I'm thinking there may be ... dark 
forces at play here."

"'Dark forces'?" Donkey repeated, somewhat nervously.  "You mean 
black magic-type stuff?"

"Aye," Groyl replied gravely.

"Oh, GREAT," Donkey said in exasperation, then suddenly let go with 
a loud whistle.

Groyl, taken by surprise, asked, "Why did ye do THAT?"

"I'm callin' Dragon," Donkey explained.  "If I'm gonna have ta go up 
against some wicked witch or whacked-out wizard, I wanna have some 
extra fire-power on my side!"

Donkey scanned the sky for several seconds, but there was no sign of 
Dragon.  He tried whistling again, but it did no good.  Eventually 
he sighed and said, "She must still be outta range."

Puppy, who had been curiously watching Donkey after his first 
peculiar whistle, now started barking again at the foursome behind 
her, urging them on.

"Well, I can't just wait here!" Groyl said.  "I'm going after my 
wife!" He then made his way around the roadblock.  Puppy, yapping 
excitedly, turned and started running up the road, sniffing its 
surface every so often to maintain track of Moyre's scent now that 
they were past the point where the dog and the ogress had parted.  
Groyl stayed right on her heels.

"He's right, fellas," Fiona said to her two more familiar 
companions.  "Time could well be of the essence.  We can't wait."

"Aye," Shrek agreed, then added ominously, "ye may be more right 
than ye know."  He then looked down at Donkey and said, "Ye can stay 
here and keep calling Dragon if ye want, Donkey.  But I've gotta go 
after me Mom."  He then nodded to Fiona and the two ogres began 
hurrying after Groyl.

Donkey hesitated indecisively for several seconds, then reluctantly 
said, "Uhhh ... no ... I'll come with you guys."  He then cast one 
last longing look up at the empty sky before turning and galloping 
after the newlyweds.

As he pulled up next to Shrek and they continued their rapid pace up 
the road after Groyl, Donkey asked, "Say, Shrek, you know why this 
road's 'sposed to be so dangerous?"

A dark cloud descended upon Shrek's features, and he replied, "Aye.  
Mostly, it's the Devil's Drainpipe."

"Come again?" Donkey said.

Shrek sighed.  "A couple'a decades ago this road was pretty well 
traveled.  Until one day when this huge sinkhole opened up in the 
middle of it and gobbled down a carriage, its passengers, and team 
of horses whole.  They never saw hide nor hair of any of 'em again.  
Turns out that the ground that the road's built on sits atop this 
huge cavern.  The drop through the hole was so deep and the incident 
so horrible, and the way the hole was sitting down in this valley 
between a couple'a hills, that it got the nickname 'The Devil's 
Drainpipe'."

"Wow!" Donkey said.  "Exactly how deep DOES it go, anyhow?"

"Nobody knows," Shrek said.  "One day they contracted for the ten 
dwarves to scope it out -- them being experts in underground mines 
and caves and caverns and such -- but even they never found the 
bottom, and just came back saying that the whole area was so 
dangerous that people had better just stay away."

Donkey frowned.  "TEN dwarves?" he asked.  "I thought there were 
SEVEN dwarves."

"Aye," Shrek agreed.  "AFTER they came back from the cavern."

"Oh," Donkey said, then gulped nervously.

*     *     *

The Piper marched the ogress to within four feet of the yawning, 
roughly fifteen-foot wide pit, and had her come to a halt there.  
Next he blew a special series of notes to keep the beast still and 
mesmerized, then lowered his chalumeau and examined her.  She 
continued standing there, eyes fixed forward, as still as a statue 
except for her shallow breathing.  The Piper nodded, pleased at his 
own handiwork, then turned and looked over to the other side of the 
pit at the cluster of some dozen villagers.  He had to fight the 
temptation to roll his eyes as he saw how they nervously stood there 
gawking at the ogress, their dull faces betraying barely disguised 
fear despite their superior numbers and the monster's obvious 
helplessness.  They held their pitchforks a little tighter, those 
that had pitchforks.  Others held torches, which would have been 
useful if the Piper had shown up much later; as it was, however, 
although the sun was sitting low in the western sky, it would still 
be an hour or so before it became dark enough to need the torches.  
Despite that, one of the villagers already had his lit.  The Piper 
allowed himself a small chuckle at that as his eyes then shifted to 
the man who stood, pitchfork in hand, at the front of the scraggly 
pack:  Feldgud.

"The ogress!" Feldgud said, staring at the beast.

"As promised," the Piper confirmed.  Then he held out his hand and 
said, "Now, hand it over."

Feldgud began to reach into a pocket for the bag of coins, but 
suddenly stopped.  His eyes focused more intensely on the captive, 
then he said, "Hold the phone!" and began walking around the side of 
the pit towards her.

"Come again?" the Piper asked in an ominous tone as Feldgud passed 
him and got nearer to the beast.

Feldgud, pitchfork held at the ready, came within a yard of the 
creature and examined her.  Then he blurted out, "You got the wrong 
ogress!"

"I BEG your pardon?" the Piper said.

"Look at her!" Feldgud said, his anger growing, as he gestured 
towards the beast with his pitchfork.  "She's older -- YEARS older, 
fatter, and her hair's totally different!"  He then turned back to 
the gaggle of other villagers and asked, "Isn't she different, 
boys?"

The villagers mumbled awkwardly and confusedly among themselves for 
a few seconds.  "Sure Jer!" one eventually said.  "You bet!  Not the 
same at all!" added another.  The others all muttered their general 
agreement with Feldgud, except for one toward the back who 
commented, "I don't know, they all look the same to me."

With the general consensus on his side, Feldgud looked back at the 
Piper and said, "You see?"

The Piper's eyes narrowed.  He stared at the villager and said 
between clenched teeth, "Feldgud, if you're trying to weasel out of 
our deal --"

"I'm not weaseling out of NOTHING!" Feldgud spat back.  "It's YOU 
who's failed to deliver!  I don't know where you picked up this 
over-the-hill thing from, but the ogress WE wanted lives in that 
shack in that swamp --"

"Which is exactly where this 'thing' came from," the Piper said.  "I 
saw her exiting the shack myself."

"Well, then maybe she was visiting.  Who cares?  The point is, she's 
NOT the one we contracted for!"

"Au contraire," the Piper disagreed.  "I have delivered an ogress 
from the shack in the swamp.  THAT was our agreement.  You now owe 
me the remainder of my fee.  However, if AFTER you pay you then wish 
to negotiate a NEW contract for ANOTHER ogress from that shack --"

"WHAT?!" Feldgud almost screamed.  "You must be mad!"

"No, not at all," the Piper said calmly.  But then his voice took on 
a more foreboding tone as he added, "And believe me, Feldgud, bad 
things happen to people who refuse to pay The Piper."

The two continued bickering back and forth.  So engaged were they in 
their debate, and so engrossed were the other villagers in watching 
them, that nobody noticed at the far western end of the road when 
five pairs of eyes peeked up over the rise that the Piper and ogress 
had just trod that led across the valley.

*     *     *

The ogres and Donkey had heard distant voices when they had 
approached the rise in the road just before the valley, and had 
gotten on their hands and knees -- or just knees, in the case of 
Donkey --  to crawl up to and peek over the top of it.  There they 
saw the long stretch of road that led through the valley between the 
two hills, and nearly two hundred yards down that road they saw 
Moyre standing there by the gaping pit, with Feldgud by her side 
brandishing a pitchfork, the Piper nearby holding his peculiar 
instrument, and the other villagers just to the far side of the pit.

Puppy, who had trotted up the rise beside the crawling Fiona, also 
saw the sight up ahead, and began to bark.  Fiona quickly said, 
"SHHHH!" and gently laid one hand over the pup's mouth.

The two male ogres, however -- Groyl just to Fiona's right and Shrek 
just to her left -- were not so easy to silence.

"MOYRE!" Groyl gasped at the same moment Shrek said "MOM!"  The two 
began to rise, ready to charge across the road.

Both male ogres, however, as they rose, simultaneously felt a sudden 
and violent pull at the back of their vests, and then found 
themselves toppling backwards.  They both landed with a dusty thud 
on their backs at the bottom of the rise.  They looked towards each 
other in stunned surprise, only to see Fiona laying there between 
them where she had also fallen, either of her hands still grasping 
the back of either ogre's vest where she had grabbed and yanked them 
both back.

"Are you two CRAZY?!" she said in a scolding, rasping whisper, 
looking at each male in turn.  "Didn't you see the predicament 
Moyre's in over there, on the edge of that pit?  If those scoundrels 
see you two charging across that open road at them, Heaven knows 
WHAT they might do!"

Both males gawked at her for a few moments, then Shrek shook his 
head and said, "Well ... I figured they'd probably just run away --"

"They might," she conceded.  "Or, with her as their prisoner, they 
might make a stand.  Or worse, with her that close to that pit, they 
might just panic and knock her in!"

"She's right," Groyl said reluctantly.  "We have t'be smarter."

"Donkey!" Fiona said, letting go of the males and rolling to a 
sitting position.  "How are they reacting?"

Donkey was laying just below the crest of the rise, peering over it 
with his ears held back flat against his head.  "A few of 'em looked 
over here when y'all first got up, but I don't think they saw much.  
Probably got blinded some by the sunset."  Here Donkey nodded back 
over top her head.  Fiona followed his gesture and saw the bright 
yellow orb laying low and large just above the horizon behind them.  
A corner of Fiona's mouth broke into a rueful smile.  For so many 
years she had feared and hated the sunset, heralding as it did her 
imminent transformation from beautiful human into ugly beast.  Now 
it had become her unwitting but welcome ally.  Yet one more irony to 
add to a life full of them, she thought.

"Anyhow," Donkey continued, "they've gone back to squabblin' with 
themselves over somethin' now."

"Looks like we caught a break," Groyl whispered as the three ogres 
again crawled up on their hands and knees so that they, too, could 
again peek over the rise.

"Why's Mom standing so still, I wonder," Shrek said.

"Aye," Groyl said.  "That's not like her a'tall."

"It looks like she's in some sort of trance," Fiona observed.  She 
looked at the group around Moyre; all appeared to be typical human 
villagers, except for the man in the crimson costume holding the odd 
chalumeau.  "And I bet it has something to do with that red 
musician."

Shrek squinted.  "Y'know, he looks oddly familiar, but I can't quite 
--"

"Oh, I remember!" Donkey said.  "He was one'a them fairy tale people 
that Farquaad had banished to your swamp!  As I recall, he was 
playin' some sort'a pipe and usin' it to herd this big pack o' rats 
round, makin' 'em do whatever he wanted."

"That's it then," Groyl said, his top lip curling back from his 
teeth.  "We need t'take him out and get my wife back.  Maybe if we 
lay low the sunset'll give us enough cover to sneak right up the 
road and --"

"No," Fiona disagreed.  "It's too far.  It won't give us THAT much 
cover."  Then her eyes carefully took in the surrounding topography.  
After a few moments of observation and quick mental planning, she 
pointed toward the northern hill.  "However, THAT might," she said.  
"I could sneak around the hillside under cover of the trees all the 
way to where I could leap down right beside them.  I could then take 
out the musician and get Moyre away from that pit."

"YOU'd do all that?" Shrek asked, jaw agape.  "Shouldn't we ALL go, 
to --"

"No," Fiona interrupted.  "It's better if I go alone.  Less chance 
of them noticing something sneaking up on them."

"But if just ONE of us should go," Shrek said, "then since it's MY 
mom, shouldn't I be the one to --"

"Darling, nothing personal, but I'm smaller and more agile," Fiona 
stated matter-of-factly.  "I've got a better chance at avoiding 
detection."

"But even if ye take out the musician, there's still all those 
villagers!" Shrek pointed out.

Fiona looked back at the scene around the pit, then frowned and 
shook her head.  "That should be no problem," she said.  "They won't 
stand a chance."

Shrek gawked for a moment at his wife.  She had made that last 
statement dismissing some twelve-to-one odds against her with 
simple, quiet confidence, with no bravado about it at all.

"I've got to get going," Fiona said, then started moving back from 
the rise.  Shrek reflexively reached down and grabbed her wrist.

"But Fi --" he began.

"Shrek!  Please!" Fiona said.  "I can do this!  Trust me!"

Shrek's eyes shot over to his father.  Groyl raised an eyebrow in 
acknowledgement of the unasked question, glanced over at the scene 
by the pit, then wet his lips and looked back at Shrek.  "Whatever 
you think, Son," Groyl said.

Shrek looked back down into Fiona's expectant blue eyes.  "Okay," he 
muttered, letting go of her wrist.

Fiona smiled reassuringly at him, and began moving again.

"And Fi?" Shrek said.

Fiona looked back up at him.

"Be ca--" Shrek checked himself.  "I mean ... go get 'em, tigress!"

Fiona smiled at him again, this smile full of love and gratitude.  
But her features quickly shifted, her eyes becoming sharp and 
attentive and her face grim and determined as she quickly made her 
way around the base of the rise and toward the northern hill.

*     *     *

"You CAN'T release her from the spell!" Feldgud gasped.

"Oh, can't I?" the Piper retorted.  "I warned you I'd do that 
before, Feldgud.  And she is quite aware of what we're saying right 
now.  She's aware of who you are ... who ALL of you are ... who are 
standing about her.  And if she's NOT the one you contracted for, 
then that will mean there will soon be at least THREE ogres who know 
who you are and what you tried to do.  Is that what you want, 
Feldgud?  Is it?"

"N-no," Feldgud replied, his face flushing.  "All right," the 
villager sighed, "I'll pay you HALF the remaining amount."

"All of it," the Piper insisted, his voice low and even.

"Seventy-five percent," Feldgud offered.

The Piper opened his mouth to voice another refusal, then he 
stopped.  His lips curled into a sinister little smile.  "Very 
well," he said.  "Seventy-five percent.  But for that price, I will 
not have her walk into the pit."

"WHAT?" Feldgud stammered.

"You heard me," the Piper said.  "I shall leave her in the state she 
is in now.  It will be up to YOU to shove her in.  She's close 
enough.  You and your ... brave band should manage it," he added 
mockingly, casting a disparaging glance at the cluster of 
increasingly uncomfortable villagers.  "It will be worth it to me to 
see a blowhard like you actually sully his hands with such dirty 
work."

Feldgud's eyes flared with anger as he stared at the Piper.  The 
musician simply laughed.  Feldgud muttered something to himself as 
he pulled out the cloth bag with the remainder of the Piper's fee.  
He reached in and pulled out a quarter of the coins, shoved them 
into a pocket, and threw the bag at the Piper.  The Piper caught the 
bag, casually looked inside and jigged its contents, then nodded 
toward the ogress and said, "She's all yours."

Feldgud sneered at the Piper, then walked over to the ogress.  He 
looked up at her entranced, disgustingly ugly face.  She stood a few 
inches taller than he and was considerably heavier.  Feldgud turned 
and looked at his companions on the other side of the pit.  "All 
right," he said, "come on over here and help me shove this thing 
in!"

The other villagers hesitated.  They all looked around at each 
other, reluctant and confused expressions on their faces.

"Well, what are you all WAITING for?!" Feldgud goaded.

"But ... if we shove her in ..." one of them ventured "... that 
might KILL her!"

Feldgud gawked at the man for several seconds, then said, "Of COURSE 
it'll kill her!  That's the POINT!"

"But ... we never actually meant to HURT anybody," another said.

Feldgud shook his head, not believing what he'd heard.  "Then what 
the blazes do you think the PITCHFORKS are for?!" he demanded.

The other villagers all looked questioningly around at each other 
for a few moments, then one of them offered, "For effect?"

"Besides," yet another said, "we never thought we'd really ... you 
know ... succeed!"

Feldgud was slapping his forehead in frustration when he heard 
another, younger voice say, "And it would be murder!"

Feldgud's eyes narrowed.  "Who said anything about murder?" he 
snapped.

Some of the villagers sheepishly stepped sideways to reveal a boy in 
his mid-teens, about five feet tall and of common features with 
blond hair that fell just to his shoulders.  He was carrying an 
unlit torch which he shifted uneasily in his grasp.  "I -- I did, 
sir," he said nervously.

"What's your name, boy?" Feldgud demanded.

"Francis, sir," the youngster replied.

"Well, Francis," Feldgud said, "you seem confused.  It is not 
'murder' to slay an ogre.  It is a duty!"

"But they're people!" Francis objected.

"People?   HA!  They're MONSTERS!  A threat to our village!  And it 
is our duty as red-blooded, Saxon mothers' sons to protect our 
village against those that pose any threats, both now and possibly 
maybe someday in the future.  And ogres definitely fit that 
profile!"  Feldgud paused for a moment, scowling thoughtfully, then 
asked, "You're not originally from Typical, are you?"

"No," Francis admitted shyly.  "We moved here a few years ago.  We 
were originally from another kingdom.  One day our Emperor was 
giving this big parade to show off this ornate new set of clothes 
he'd just had made for him.  But when I saw him, I saw he was naked.   
I thought it was weird how everybody around me kept complimenting 
him on his outfit, so I spoke up about how he didn't have anything 
on.  At that point everybody gasped and looked at me, then they 
looked back at the Emperor and started laughing at him.  Well, the 
Emperor didn't look too pleased, and my parents kinda rushed me out 
of there.  But a few days later we were visited by agents from the 
kingdom's Inquisitorial Revenue Service.  They did this big audit of 
my father's books and he ended up loosing his business.  Then he 
couldn't find work anywhere in the kingdom -- everybody seemed 
scared to hire him.  So we ended up moving out of that kingdom and 
wound up here."

"Ah-ha!" Feldgud said.  "And you know what the moral of YOUR little 
story is, don't you?"

"Sir?" Francis asked.

"To keep your mouth shut and listen to those that know better than 
you!" Feldgud said.  He then looked over the rest of the villagers 
and asked, "Does anybody ELSE have any objections to dispatching 
this beast?"

There was a general, uneasy murmur, but nobody voiced any 
objections.

"Good!" Feldgud said.  "Since you all seem to lack intestinal 
fortitude today, you watch while I take care of this creature 
myself.  But I expect a little more cooperation when the NEXT ogre 
comes around!"

He then strode behind the ogress, pitchfork in hand.  He paused, 
licking his lips nervously as he looked past her toward the chasm 
before which she stood.

"What's wrong, Feldgud?" the Piper, who had been calmly standing by 
and watching the villagers with bemused curiosity, goaded him.  
"Having qualms with your own gastro-intestinal track?"

"No!" Feldgud shot back.  "I'm just ... preparing myself.  This will 
take some effort."

"Ah, I see," the Piper said.  "Well, by all means, knock yourself 
out!"

Feldgud sneered again at the Piper, then turned back to the ogress.   
The villager took a deep breath and then placed the tongs of the 
pitchfork against her back.

It was then that Feldgud heard it.  An odd, high-pitched sound, like 
a weird type of scream.  It very quickly grew louder, and seemed to 
be coming from the north.  He turned in that direction just in time 
to hear the concluding "HiiiiIIII-YAH!" as his field of vision was 
filled by a blur of green and brown.  The sole of an oversized 
sandal stuck his chest with considerable force and the pitchfork 
flew from his hand as he was launched backwards, falling on his back 
several feet away.  His head struck a rock as he landed, and his 
vision blacked out as he lapsed into unconsciousness.

*     *     *

Having kicked Feldgud aside upon landing, Fiona quickly turned 
toward Moyre and swung her left arm outward as hard as she could, 
striking her spellbound mother-in-law in the upper part of her chest 
and knocking her backwards away from the pit.  Moyre collapsed in a 
crumpled heap on the ground out of danger as Fiona simultaneously 
turned to face the Piper.  The crimson musician had been startled by 
the second ogress's sudden and dramatic appearance, but had quickly 
recovered and was starting to raise the chalumeau to his lips.  
Fiona leapt towards him with another yelp, swinging her right leg 
around in an arch in mid-air.  The Piper was just beginning to blow 
the first note when Fiona's foot struck the instrument, knocking it 
out of his grasp and sending it hurtling down into the dark depths 
of the Devil's Drainpipe.  Fiona landed in a crouched position just 
in front of the stunned Piper, took a split-second to sneer up at 
him, then punched hard to his solar plexus with the heel of one 
hand.  The musician gave a muffled 'oof' as he, too, was knocked 
several feet backwards, landing on his side in a doubled-up 
position, holding his stomach and wishing he hadn't eaten all that 
pie.  A few sudden, involuntary heaves later and it didn't matter 
anymore that he had.

As the Piper was being de-pied, Fiona's acute hearing was able to 
finally make out the far distant sound of the chalumeau smashing 
against a rock somewhere at the bottom of the drainpipe.  That sound 
was quickly followed by a relieved moan from Moyre.  Fiona turned 
and looked down at her mother-in-law, who was lifting herself into a 
sitting position.  "Are you all right, Moyre?" Fiona asked, brushing 
a stray lock of hair that had fallen across her forehead back into 
place.

"Oh, I'm fine, now, dear," Moyre replied, then smiled up at her 
daughter-in-law and added, "thanks to you."

Fiona smiled back, then said apologetically.  "I'm sorry about 
hitting you like that.  I wanted to make sure you were clear of that 
pit."

"Don't think anything of it, dear, I quite understand," Moyre said.  
"Although, after the way I treated ye earlier, I suspect ye got a 
LITTLE satisfaction from it.  I know *I* would have."

Fiona grinned bashfully and blushed, but didn't say anything.  Moyre 
chuckled for a few seconds, but then her face grew grimmer as she 
nodded toward the gaggle of villagers on other side of the pit.  "It 
seems I disappointed them," she said.  "They apparently wanted you, 
but got me.  They friends o' yours?"

Fiona followed Moyre's gesture and saw again the group of villagers.  
Still apparently stunned by Fiona's unexpected appearance and the 
ensuring activity, they seemed frozen in place -- frozen except for 
their involuntary trembling -- as those with pitchforks held them 
out defensively, their eyes wide with fright.

Fiona shook her head.  "No," she said in response to Moyre's 
question.   "Just a bunch of humans."  She then looked back at the 
elder ogress, grinned slyly, and added, "You know how THEY can be."

Moyre chuckled again.  Fiona laughed briefly as well, then turned 
and began striding boldly and purposefully around the edge of the 
Drainpipe toward the villagers.  'Presence, Fi!' she recalled Shrek 
telling her once.  'When confronted with a gang of peasants, it's 
all about presence.  Remember, WE'RE the ogres.  WE do the scaring.  
Don't forget that, and don't let THEM forget it.'

A couple of the villagers gasped and pulled back as she drew closer.  
She considered what moves she should use to incapacitate them as 
quickly and efficiently as possible.  But then she thought again.  
Shrek had ALSO said, 'If ye do it right, ye won't have t'fight at 
all.  And sometimes that's more of a challenge -- and more rewarding 
-- than laying 'em out.'  And besides, these other villagers HAD 
refused to help their now cold-conked leader force Moyre into the 
pit.  So Fiona decided on a different tract, one that she also 
thought Moyre might appreciate.  She halted a few feet in front of 
the villagers, crossed her arms, and beheld them with contempt, one 
corner of her mouth curling into a cocky little grin.  "Hello, 
boys," she said.  "I hear you're looking for me?"

The group looked at each other in wide-eyed fright for a few 
moments, then the villager with the lit torch suddenly started 
waving it in front of Fiona.   "Back!  Back, beast!  Back!" he said, 
trying -- not very convincingly -- to sound threatening.  "I warn 
ya!"

Fiona followed the waving torch with apparent disinterest for a few 
seconds, then drew in a shallow breath and blew it out, hard.  The 
torch flared briefly, then went out like an oversized birthday 
candle.

"Oh!" the villager gasped, looking with surprise at the smoking 
torch.  "Uhhh ... riiiight ..." he forced an uneasy little smile.

Fiona then drew in a very deep breath -- deeper than she ever had -- 
and a moment later opened her mouth wide, bore her teeth, and let 
out a long, loud, full-throated roar aimed directly at the group of 
villagers.  Terrified, the humans all began screaming themselves, 
some dropping their torches and pitchforks and grabbing onto each 
other in abject fear.   After a few seconds Fiona had finished and 
was wiping some spittle from her mouth while the villagers continued 
their own screams.  She waited patiently for their noise to die 
away, and then she leaned toward the group, all of whom seemed 
frozen in fright, and she whispered, "This is the part where you ... 
well, you know the rest."

Indeed they did.   They all looked at each other again briefly, then 
they all started screaming again and running headlong down the road 
toward the east out of the valley and back towards their village.  
Most had left their torches and pitchforks -- as well as their 
evident leader -- lying in the dust, and they didn't seem to be 
giving any of them a second thought.  Fiona couldn't help but laugh 
as she watched them run.  She hadn't felt such guilty pleasure since 
she had caught that presumptuous little mermaid kissing an unwitting 
Shrek on the beach and had dragged her across the sand and hurled 
her out to sea.

"Man!" the princess gushed, caught somewhere between elation and 
embarrassment.  "That was ... fun!"

"It is, isn't it?" Moyre said, smiling.  She was now in a standing 
position, dusting off her dress.  "You're pretty good at it, I must 
say.  In fact, I don't know of any real ogresses who could've done 
any better.  Or rather, I should say any OTHER real ogresses."  
Moyre nodded her head slightly in tribute, and her smile took on a 
more modest, apologetic hue.

Fiona, moved by the gesture, nodded and smiled back in gratitude.  
"Thanks," she said.  "I learned it observing an expert."  Fiona's 
eyes instinctively sought out her husband at the thought.  She 
squinted against the sunset and saw him standing at the end of the 
road beside his father and Donkey, only a few feet from where she 
had been crouching with them.  He really HAD trusted her to handle 
things.  His show of confidence gave her a warm feeling inside.  She 
looked over to where Feldgud lay, still unconscious.  Then she 
looked to where the Piper had fallen --  but he wasn't there 
anymore.

"Hey, where'd that musician go?" Fiona asked, a bit of concern in 
her voice.

"Wha--"  Moyre began, her eyes sweeping to the spot where her 
tormentor had lain.  It was empty now except for the pie remains.  
"Blast!  I was looking forward t'having a little ... heart-to-heart 
with that villain.  But I'm sure he's probably half-way across the 
next county by now."  Moyre snorted contemptuously.   She then 
shrugged and stepped curiously but cautiously toward the pit, then 
leaned forward carefully and stared down into it.  "My!  It IS a wee 
bit of a drop, isn't it?  Anyway, I wouldn't worry about it, Fiona.  
It looks like THIS little adventure is over."

Just then the edge of the pit where Moyre stood crumbled beneath 
her.  Her feet slid out from under her and she landed hard on her 
left arm.  She howled in both surprise and pain and bounced off into 
the pit.  As she slipped past the new edge she reached out 
desperately with her right arm, and her clawing hand managed to snag 
a root of some sort that was exposed in the freshly revealed earth.  
But the root was only a little over an inch wide where her hand had 
hooked it; it quickly started ripping out of the earth under her 
weight, and before she had a chance to get a good grasp on it, it 
broke in half, and the ogress found herself dropping into the void.