The Princess Bride

She looked at his perfect face. She thought that, more than anything, she wanted this to go as it had in her heart. But what if she failed? What if she was just another case of big-talk, little-do and eventually he would tire of her, leave her? 'I know so much it is hard to be sure just where is the best place to begin. If I go too fast, raise your hand.'

He waited and when he saw the helplessness in her eyes he realized he had never loved her quite so much or so deeply. 'Will you try not to laugh at me?'

'I would never embarrass a beginner such as yourself. It would be cruelty itself to mock your ignorance when I, of course, am totally wise.'

'Do we begin standing up or lying down?'

'A very good question, that,' Buttercup said quickly, not having the least notion what else to say. 'There is great controversy as to which.'

'Well perhaps it would be wise to cover both contingencies. Why don't I get a blanket in case lying down carries the day?' The blanket he brought and spread for them was soft, the pillow softer still.

'If we were to lie down,' Westley said, lying down, 'would we start close together on the blanket or far apart?'

'Again, great controversy,' she replied. 'You see, one of the problems with knowing so much is one sees both sides of questions.'

'You are very patient with me and I appreciate that.' He held out a hand for her. 'We could do this: we could try lying close together on the blanket and experiment, more or less.'

Buttercup took his strong hand. 'My professors were all in favor of experimenting.'

They were very close on the blanket now. The breeze, seeing this, knowing what they had been through to reach this moment, thought it might be nice to caress them. The stars, seeing this, thought it might be nice if they dimmed for a while. The moon went along with the whole notion, slipping half behind a cloud. Buttercup still held his hand. She wondered for a moment if it would be wise to stop now, tell truths, try again another evening. She was about to suggest that, but then she looked deeply into his eyes. They were the color of the sea before a storm and what she read in them gave her the strength to continue....

***

Want a shocker? Willy liked that scene. I remember when my father read The Princess Bride to me, I hated the kissing stuff. I told him before I read it he might find it a little short on derring-do, so maybe that helped. His only question after was what kind of 'things' happened when Westley was King of the Sea? I answered that if Morgenstern had wanted us to know, he would have told us. (He bought it. Phew.)

Anyway, you will probably not be surprised to learn the obligatory nine months flew by pretty fast and....

***

'I THINK SUNSET would be a lovely time,' Buttercup said. 'I think he would like that, opening his eyes to the world at that moment. Yes, sunset it shall be.'

She was speaking at breakfast to the others, and they all agreed. In point of fact, since none of them had the least experience with birthing, they could hardly argue. And no one could argue with Buttercup's handling of herself. She had blossomed in the nine months since she and Westley first made love, had dealt with her situation with a serenity remarkable in one so young. True, the first months brought a touch of morning sickness, and, yes, it was discomforting. But all she had to do to banish it was look at Westley and tell herself she was bringing another such as he into the universe. And poof, the sickness was in retreat.

She knew their firstborn would be a boy. She had a dream the first month that it would be so. The dream recurred two more times. And after that she never doubted. And she behaved throughout as if this were the most normal of human conditions. You swelled, certainly, but that didn't stop you from your regular life, which in her case often consisted of helping Fezzik cook, helping Inigo mend his heart, walking and talking with Westley, discussing their future, where they would settle, what they might do with the rest of their lives considering that the most powerful man on earth was out to kill them.

After the meal, she was ready. Westley had made her a special birthing bed, the softest straw and pillows softer still. It faced west, and he built a nearby fire, and he had kettles boiling with pure water. An hour before sunset, when her contractions were but five minutes apart, he carried her to the bed and set her gently down, and sat alongside her, massaging her. She was so happy, as was he, and by the time the sun was starting to set the contractions were but two minutes apart.

Buttercup stared at the sun and smiled, took his hand and whispered to him, 'It's what I always wanted most on earth, bringing your son into life at such a time, with you beside me.' They were both so happy, and Westley told her, 'We are one heartbeat,' and she kissed him softly and said, 'And will always be.'

During this, Inigo was fencing with shadows, excellent practice if you had no proper opponent to play with. Westley, of course, was superb, and they had spent many happy hours slashing away at each other. But now, as sunset ended, Inigo made ready to stop soon and go welcome the baby.

Fezzik usually watched them, or Inigo alone when that was the case. But not this night. He was hiding on the far side of One Tree's one tree, the sky-topper. And he was holding his stomach and trying not to groan and be a bother, but the truth was this: for the strongest man on earth, for a man who earned his living inflicting pain, Fezzik was squeamish. He could handle blood as well as the next fighter, when it came from an opponent. But he had asked Westley and Inigo what was it going to be like, when Buttercup's son was born, and though neither of them were expert, they both indicated there might be some blood as well as other stuff.

Fezzik rolled on the ground as the phrase 'other stuff' went through his bean. There was a Turkish word that described such things—byuk. Fezzik held his stomach and thought byuk over and over. He knew, from looking at the stars overhead, that the boy was shortly to arrive.

But, by midnight, they knew something was wrong.

The contractions were but a minute apart as they looked out at the sun's afterglow—but that is where they stayed. At ten they were still as before, and Buttercup would have handled it quietly, as she had the preceding hours—

—but at midnight her back began to spasm. She could withstand that; Westley was beside her, what were spasms? She was settling in for a long visit with them—

—until the pain crept from her back to her hips, found one leg, then both, set them on fire—

—the blaze in her legs was the beginning of her torment.

Her color faded but she was still Buttercup and she was lit by the glow from the flames. She was still, then, something to see.

It was not 'til dawn that they saw what the pain had done to her.

Westley stayed alongside, rubbed her back, massaged her legs, toweled her perspiring face. He was wonderful.

By noon, they knew something was very much wrong.

Fezzik rumbled over, took a look, ran back and hid in his spot, helpless. Inigo grabbed the six-fingered sword and fought with the breezes until he realized the sun was going down again and they were into the second day.

'I don't want you to worry,' Buttercup whispered to her beloved.

'Nothing unusual so far,' Westley replied. 'From all I've heard, thirty hours is perfectly normal.'

'Good, I'm glad to know that.'

When the next dawn came and she had clearly begun to weaken, she managed to say, 'What else have you heard?' and Westley said, 'Everyone agrees on this: the longer the labor, the healthier the baby.'

'How lucky we shall be to have a healthy son.'

By the second sunset, it was only about survival.

Fezzik sobbed behind the tree as Westley counseled with Inigo. They spoke evenly—but terror was starting to circle about them. 'I don't know of such things,' Inigo said.

'Nor do I.'

'I've heard of a cutting that can save the life. You cut the woman somehow.'

'And kill my beloved? I would kill whoever tried.'