Spin's fanfiction
Chapter 2 of Buttercup's Baby
Humperdinck seethed. He watched from the deck of the first
ship in his Armada, Florin's Wrath, as the small, wooden boat
carrying the four people that he least liked fell apart. Then, he saw
them, strapped to the giant. The giant battled his way through the
whirlpool. They landed on One Tree Island. And Humperdinck seethed.
There was no ship that could get through that whirlpool. No
one that could swim through it, except the giant. There was no way
for the soon-to-be King of Florin to get through to seek his revenge.
He knew that Westley and Buttercup would have a child. Sometime. All
lovers do. He thought about that child. And he thought about the only
way to get his revenge.
Fezzik was still falling, holding the baby Waverly in his
arms. He realized that something was wrong. He should be dead. He
opened his eyes slightly, and looked down. The cliff was higher than
he thought. The rocks were still far below him. But there was
something wrong again. The rocks weren't only below him; they seemed
to be behind him as well. Fezzik kept falling. He clutched the infant
to his massive body and waited. Waited and hoped. Hoped that maybe,
just maybe, he would miss the rocks. Just maybe he would hit the
water. Just maybe he would live.
And Humperdinck was coming up with his Master Plan. He would
send someone, Yellin, maybe, to One Tree. He would have that someone
steal Buttercup's baby after he or she was born. And, he would have
that someone kill the infant child. He would pretend to hold the
child for ransom. His Princess and Westley would come, come to get
their precious child, which he wouldn't have. Then, he would kill
them, too. There was one thing that he couldn't figure out. How to
get that someone to One Tree...
Buttercup stirred in her sleep. She sensed that something was
wrong. Out of place. She woke with a start. Her eyes wide, she looked
at her companions. There was Westley, still beautiful as ever. There
was Inigo, lying there on his side, snoring. She suppressed a laugh.
He snored louder. The feeling of wrongness was everywhere. She looked
for Fezzik. He was gone. Her stomach tightened as she searched for
Waverly, her pride, her joy. The child was gone as well. She searched
the bare ground for clues to where they could have gone, and she
gasped. There were two sets of footprints…one was Fezzik's. He had
been taking giant strides, even for a giant. The other set was made
by someone wearing very thick, heavy boots.
Buttercup couldn't breathe. She shook Westley awake. She
couldn't speak. He saw his wife's pale face, her shaking hands. She
pointed at the footprints. His eyes went wide, his stomach clenched.
Someone had stolen their child.
Inigo was in a deep slumber. He was dreaming of Giulietta. He
was dreaming of her black eyes, her dark hair. He imagined that day
when he had first met her, that day in Piccoli's house, when he told
her that he couldn't marry her. How he wanted to hold her in his
arms, to run his fingers through her hair, he felt his body reaching
to her even as he slept. He was looking into her eyes; still black
and full of kindness, when Buttercup shook him roughly awake.
"Inigo! Inigo, please wake up!" She shook harder. "INIGO!"
She blared into his ear. He sat bolt upright and cried out.
"Inigo, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, but Fezzik
and Waverly are gone!" She sobbed, clutching Westley's arm.
Inigo was
in shock. Waverly? Fezzik? Gone? How could that be so? He pinched
himself, thinking that he was dreaming. The only thing that resulted
was a sharp pain.
"Buttercup--what do you mean--gone?" Inigo looked into her
eyes, wishing with all his heart that she were Giulietta, with the
black eyes and hair, hair soft as corn silk, eyes kind as those of a
kitten--he pulled his thoughts away from her and focused on Buttercup.
"Gone!" She cried, and pointed at the footprints. Inigo
studied the footprints. He was a fencer, not a tracker, but he did
recognize one set as Fezzik's. Westley stood.
"We should follow the prints. Try to find Waverly and Fezzik.
We should go. Now." He started out the door, Buttercup's head buried
in his shoulder, soaking his shirt with her tears. Inigo followed
them, thinking. Why would Fezzik take Waverly without telling them?
Fezzik didn't like to go out alone at night. But maybe--maybe Fezzik
didn't take Waverly. Maybe someone else did. But how was that
possible? They were the only ones on the island...except if anyone
actually lived in that run down old shack that Buttercup had found
hidden deep in the woods...
Humperdinck wrote the letter to the skinless man that lived
on One Tree with the request. He tied the letter to the ankle of a
messenger pigeon and sent it on its way. The letter basically said
that there were four people living on the island. A fencing Spaniard,
a lumbering giant, a man dressed in black, and a woman with hair the
color of autumn and skin like wintry cream. He asked that when the
woman got pregnant, that the skinless man would steal her child and
kill it. Then, write back once the deed was done. Prince Humperdinck
would pay him. Pay him a lot, but only if he succeeded. If he failed,
he would pay Humperdinck. With his life.
The pigeon nearly attacked the skinless man as he stumbled
from his shack. He untied the note from the leg of the bird and read
it. The Prince would pay him...him! - to steal a child. Like taking
candy from a baby! He knew that he could run fast. The only thing was...well...how would he kill it? Drown it? Throw it into the whirlpool?
Toss it over the cliff edge? Whichever was most convenient at the
time, he guessed. He had been watching these people. The woman was
already pregnant. She was due within a week. He prayed that she would
have the baby sooner. The quicker he got paid, the better...
Westley wound up leaving Buttercup near the base of One
Tree's one tree. He couldn't get anywhere with her clutching his arm
and sobbing into his shoulder. Inigo still followed him. The fencer
was silent...much more than usual. Westley followed the footprints.
Soon, they got to the base of a rocky incline. He saw Fezzik's great
lumbering footprints suddenly stop. He looked over the edge, but saw
nothing. He kept climbing.
And Fezzik finally hit. Water. His bulk had carried him away
from the face of the cliff, and away from the rocks, reaching up to
impale him like monstrous daggers. The shock from hitting the ice
water at high speed knocked all of the breath from his body. His eyes
opened and looked up at the surface. He saw the darkness of the
night sky, the stars gleaming like gemstones. He had hit the bottom
of Florin Channel, the gravel and sharp stones ripping through his
shirt. He remembered Waverly. He still held the child. Water filled
her lungs. He knew that the one thing that meant the most to him in
the world was dieing, dieing, and he didn't have the strength to
reach the surface. He was helpless under the water, with the oxygen
gone from his body.
The skinless man watched. How he watched, I do not know, but
he watched. The giant did not hit the rocks. He hit the water, but
did not surface. The skinless man resolved that he was dead. But, he
could not send word to the Prince yet. He must wait until he hears
the weeping of the lady once the dark man returns, without the child.
Until he hears the muffled sobs of the fencer, the dancer-with-
shadows. Until he hears the scream of the dark man, once he realizes
that his child, and her giant keeper, has disappeared below the
surface of the dark waters forever. Then, and only then, would he
send word to the Prince.
Waverly was scared. Fear was one of the emotions that she had
never really felt before. She did now. As she felt the strange liquid
seep into her body, where there should be air, great, plentiful air,
she was more scared than she had ever been. She felt Shade's great
arms holding her, and she calmed a little. But why wasn't Shade
rising to the surface, where air was waiting to be breathed? She
needed air! Her body screamed for it. She opened her mouth to cry,
but more liquid made its careless way down her windpipe. She waved
her arms and kicked her legs, her infant muscles needing oxygen.
Finally, with the blackness entering her mind, she let the water take
her.
Fezzik felt the girl-child go suddenly limp in his arms. At
first, he felt sadness. Then building anger. And, finally, utter
rage. Rage, complete and total rage, was a feeling that the gentle
giant had never felt, nor wanted to ever feel again. But, it gave him
strength, and with this strength, he began to shift his body, get his
non-responding muscles to slowly, very slowly, bring him and Waverly
to the surface. He broke through the thin line, the line that
separates water and air, and felt a blast of cold. The cold numbed
his body, but not his rage. Even exposed to the air, Waverly didn't
respond. Fezzik concentrated his remaining strength to get them to
shore. His feet touched the sand of the beach, and he collapsed onto
the earth, and he felt the rage leave. The peacefulness of advancing
death settled in, and, coughing up buckets of water, Fezzik fell
unconscious.
Inigo heard a splash. Westley, on the trail in front of him,
snapped his head up from the smaller, muddy footprints on the rock
face. They both looked around, and Inigo jogged to catch up to his
friend.
"What was that?" Inigo whispered, his eyes wide with a fear
that he would never express aloud.
"I don't know. Want to find out?" Westley answered, his voice
brave, but his eyes reflecting the same fear that he felt deep in his
heart. Inigo was silent. Finally, the Spaniard shrugged, then nodded.
Westley smiled half-heartedly and gestured for Inigo to follow him.
Buttercup sat at the base of the tree, her eyes now dry. The
expected parades of What-Ifs were running, hopping, and skipping
through her mind. Her heart was clenched in fear, fear of losing her
only child and her overly large friend. There must be something that
she could do. Anything at all would be helpful. She stood, and
instantly tripped over her gown, which was too long. Out of a sudden
rush of fury and annoyance, she ripped at the dress, screaming. The
fabric tore easily, and when she was done, her gown was considerably
shorter and a lot muddier. Proud of herself, she started off towards
the shoreline, where she had heard the great splash.
The skinless man raced towards his cabin; guilt, anger, and
fear clawing at his mind. He had failed. The giant had surfaced, the
child in his grasp. And he had failed. If he wrote to Humperdinck,
the Prince would kill him. He didn't know how the Prince would
accomplish this feat, considering that no one could reach the island,
but the Prince was powerful. He would find a way. He would. And the
skinless man would die a painful death, a very painful death. No one
failed Prince Humperdinck. There was only one solution. He tore up
the crumbling steps of his run-down cabin, and, in his hurry, forgot
to open the door. Instead, he crashed into it. He blinked in
surprise, shook his head, and then reached for the doorknob. He
dashed into the cabin, wrote a hasty letter to the Prince, tied it to
the leg of the pigeon, and sent the bird on its way. Then, he ran out
of the cabin and to the edge of the cliff. Without a second thought,
he hurled himself over the edge. In a few seconds, he hit the rocks,
and his battered, lifeless body tumbled into Florin Channel, barely
causing a ripple, his spilled blood a dinner bell to the merciless
sharks.
The pigeon flew to the castle. Humperdinck saw it circling,
searching for a place to land. He reached his hand out the window,
whistling to the bird. It alighted on his outstretched arm within
seconds. He untied the letter from its leg. The hastily written
scrawl was barely legible, and the Prince hunkered over it,
squinting.
"Dear Prince,
I have failed. The child lives. I am very sorry. To save you of your
troubles, I am taking my own life. I leave this world swathed in
guilt and untold suffering. May your great Florin Channel someday be
rid of the stain of the blood that now pollutes it. Sincerely, The
Skinless Man of One Tree Island."
The Prince finished reading the letter. He re-read it, not quite
believing what he saw. A man dared to fail him. And now there was no
way to get his revenge. He sank into a chair. He would have to get to
One Tree and do the job himself. But how?
Inigo and Westley raced towards the beach. They dodged trees, rocks,
and numerous small shrubs. As their feet hit the sand of the beach,
they came to a shrieking halt, almost sliding. There, sprawled on the
beach, lay Fezzik and Waverly. Neither moved. They heard the
clattering of another pair of shoes and looked around. Buttercup, her
gown torn and smeared with mud, burst through the trees. She took one
look at the large lump in the sand that was Fezzik, and sank to the
ground in tears. Westley moved over to comfort her, and Inigo started
towards his seemingly lifeless friend. He knelt by the towering form
and turned Fezzik over. Inigo laid his head upon the giant's chest.
He heard his heart beating, but barely. He was breathing, but with
extremely shallow breaths. Inigo reached for the child. He brought
her over to her parents, silent tears streaming down his face. The
child wasn't breathing.
Buttercup held her baby. She didn't know what to do. Waverly had
swallowed too much water. Westley lifted the child from her mother's
arms and cradled her, not even attempting to conceal his grief.
Fezzik sat in a corner, bandages on his back where the stones on the
bottom of the Channel had cut him. He was silent. Inigo couldn't bear
to be inside the small cave. He sat outside, his head between his
knees. He felt faint. Suddenly, Buttercup shrieked from inside the
cave. Inigo jumped to his feet and dashed inside. Waverly's eyes were
open and she was coughing up the water. As the night sky began to
turn pink with dawn, Buttercup and Westley sat together, hugging
their child, which they had come so close to losing.
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