The Politics of Kissing

Fiona stirred at the pleasant aroma of weed rats being roasted over an open fire. With a groan for joints made creaky by the long journey, she sat up, staggering toward the door.

Shrek sat at the table, talking with animated excitement to Puss. "...And the pumpkin said 'Eat her?! I didn't even know her!'"

Puss and Shrek howled together in laughter, while Carmen glowered at the both of them.

"In my day, signore, we didn't tell such off-color tales in front of ladies." She remarked.

"Mami, be nice." Puss insisted. "We drive to Duloc today, and it wouldn't do for you to be in a bad mood."

"Good morning!" Fiona broke in awkwardly, sweeping over the floor. A chorus of 'Good morning, Princessa's.' echoed in her ears. She bent over Shrek's shoulders and kissed his cheek.

"Good morning." She smiled. She had told him that in the early hours of the morning, before he'd kissed her goodbye and started the hunt for the day's first meal.

"Good morning, wife." He said gruffly. "I made yer breakfast."

"Oh! But I was going to..."

"You were sleeping, so I didn't want to wake you."

"Oh...that's very kind." She sat down to her platter of weedrat and eggs. The odor was quite appetizing, and she couldn't help but notice that Puss and Carmen were eating quite lustily from the bones of their fish. She had eaten half a weed rat in the companionable silence before asking.

"Does anyone have any plans for the day? Oh, besides yourself and Carmen, Puss." She stared pointedly at Shrek.

"Oh, I promised Donkey that I would try to teach him to hunt for himself. He's got six wee mouths to feed, you know, and Dragon's the one who's doin' all the rearin'. I thought I'd pick up lunch while I was gone, then we could spend some time in front of the magic mirror. There's a new episode of Knights on tonight, and Donkey said we shouldn't miss it."

"Yes, that sounds..." Fiona struggled for the word. "Exciting."

Shrek belched, scratched his stomach and stood up abruptly. "I'm afraid I have to be going. Donkey said he'd meet me by the mud pond. I'll see you when the sun passes that oak tree in the front yard."

"Shrek, there are six oak trees out there!"

"Fi, pay attention. I meant the big one! With the limbs that bend up to look like a fat onion!"

"All right." She smiled. He bent and kissed her; gently, but with a fine, sharp passion. The sort of kiss one gives when one is in intimate company.

Puss coughed lightly, causing the couple to separate. "We should be leaving as well. Are you sure that we might use the carriage?"

"Yeah; we travel on foot around here." Shrek said.

"Very well. We shall return by the evening meal. Bueno Dias." Puss smiled, bowing carefully.

"Bueno Dias." Echoed his mother, carefully bowing.

Fiona watched as they exited the room and entered the carriage, waving through the open window as they pulled away.

"Do you think they'll do well in Duloc?" Fiona wondered to her husband.

"Don't worry about them. Puss' a fine, strong fighter."

"Hey," She smiled. "Don't you dare think of not coming back tonight, okay?"

He understood the slight fear in her voice; their experience in Far Far Away had been somewhat traumatizing. "And don't ye think of going anywhere else, hinny."

"Never." She felt a kiss pressed quickly to her hairline before he departed.

***

About the time she found herself staring at a spotless outhouse Fiona realized that she was, to her shame, bored to tears.

Sitting down on the seat, Fiona let out a long, mopey sigh. For an ogre, Shrek's house was fairly well-ordered. Her entire life's training at her parent's knees had been one domestic lesson after another. How to manage a house; how to raise children; how to keep a household staff in tip-top shape. Nothing had trained her for what she had married into; a house that needed little care, no personal staff, and no children to speak of. Not yet, at least.

Through the glinting light flitting through each slat board of the outhouse, Fiona could see the rugged terrain she'd grown to love. And yet...

It was all Shrek's terrain. Everything in their house, except for her journal, figurines and dresses, which she'd taken from her bedroom, were Shrek's. She had come to the marriage with one trunk, and now she had nothing to add.

Maybe...

Her eyes brightened. Stuffing her fingers into her mouth, she let out a shrill whistle.

***

"Thank you for flying me back to the pasture, Dragon."

The dragon snorted a ring of smoke.

"Mamma says 'thank you'" One of the hatchlings suddenly spoke.

"Thank you...what's your name?"

The little donkey/dragon tossed her mane. "I'm Firefly. I have a pink mane, see?"

Dragon swung her head around, green eyes giving a most disapproving glare to her baby. She shrunk back apologetically.

"Sorry, mamma."

The child began to chatter with her other siblings, who barely maintained a straight line of formation in their flight. They were loud, boisterous, and very funny; at this stage in their lives, more like their father than their mother. Fiona watched them with a welling affection.

Slowly, the dragon descended upon the green fields of Duloc, and Fiona saw the endless waves of sunflowers before her.

"Thank you!" She petted the dragon, then left them to graze in the field while she selected a prime flower.

A breeze from the old windmill stirred her hair, and she peered back over her shoulder. There, her secret had been shared. As though compelled by a force beyond herself, Fiona yanked down the sunflower by it's stem and walked into the windmill.

In streaming daylight, the structure was not at all fearsome; just abandoned, forgotten. Thoughtfully, she stroked the rim of a barrel.

And something rustled beneath a heavy cloth.

She went still. "Who is it?"

More rustling.

"Show yourself!" She shouted, picking up a pitchfork and brandishing the sharpened end with menace. A too-familiar dark head poked itself up from the cloth.

Her scream melded with his. In shock, she lost her grip on the pitchfork and it landed with great force, sticking upright in a plank directly by his head.

He crawled to his knees, supplicating with his hands. But her voice held no mercy.

"Farquaad!"




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