The Princess Bride

Just then Buttercup cried out and Westley ran to her, dropped beside her. '...I'm sorry to be ... such a bother...'

'What caused the scream?'

Buttercup reached for his hand, held it so tight. '...my spine is on fire...'

Westley smiled. 'How lucky we are. Once that happens with the spine, well, that's a clear signal that our son is about to be born.'

'The spine is nothing, not when you get used to it. I have had real pain, when I heard Roberts had killed you. That was hard to deal with. I suffered then. But this—' She tried to snap her fingers but her body was not obeying her. 'Nothing.'

'Inigo and I were just talking about where to go once we are a family. You remember how before I left your father's farm I was thinking of America? That still seems a good notion to me, what do you think?'

She whispered, 'America?'

'Yes, across the ocean somewhere, and do you know when I first loved you?'

'...tell me...'

'Well, we were young and you had just berated me terribly, called me a dullard and a fool as you did in those days: 'Farm Boy, why can't you ever do anything right? Farm Boy, you're hopeless, hopeless and dull and you'll never amount to anything.''

Buttercup managed a smile. '...I was horrible...'

'On your good days you were horrible, but you could be much worse than that, and when the boys started coming around you were at your worst. One evening when they had all gone away and I was in the barn brushing Horse and you came out, humming and silly and said, 'I can have any boy in the village and lah de dah,' and I went to my hovel and I said to myself, 'That's it, you can keep those idiots for all I care, I am gone,' so I packed my belongings and I started out of the farm and I looked up at your window and I thought, 'You will be so sorry for humiliating me because I will come back here someday with all the wealth of Asia, good-by forever.''

'. ..you really left me...?'

'That was the theory. But the reality was this: I turned and took a step toward the gate and I thought, 'What value has all the wealth of Asia without her smile?' And then I took another step and thought, 'But what if that smile comes and you not here to see it?' I just stood by at your window and I realized I had to be there in case your smile happened. Because I was so helpless when it came to you, I was so besotted by your splendor, I was soooooo ecstatic to be near you even though all you did was insult me. I could never leave.'

She smiled the sweetest smile she could manage.

Westley gestured for Inigo to come closer. 'I think we've rounded the corner,' he whispered.

'I can see that,' Inigo whispered back.

But they were living on hope and they both knew they were, and Westley held her so gently as her breathing grew increasingly weak. Inigo patted Westley on the shoulder as one comrade does to another, nodded that all was going to be well. And Westley nodded back. But Inigo in his heart knew this: it was soon to be over.

And behind the tree, Fezzik, alone, gasped, because he knew this: he was suddenly not alone anymore. He began to try and fight it, because something was invading him, invading his brain, and the Lord only knew his brain could use a little help, but Fezzik struggled on because when you were invaded, you never knew who was coming along for the ride, a helper or a damager, someone good, or, more terrifying, someone who wished anguish. Fezzik's mother had been invaded the day she met his father, for she was far too shy to approach him and flirt the way Turkish lasses were supposed to do in those days, so she just stood aside while the other village girls swooped him up. And she wanted Fezzik's father, wanted to spend her life with him, she knew that but she was helpless so she scuffed away, leaving the field to the braver girls—but then the invasion came and suddenly Fezzik's mother was brassy, and her temporary new tenant gave her confidence to do wonderful things, so back she went to join the other village flirts, and she outdid them all, with her flaunting smile and the wondrous way her body moved. At least it did that day, and Fezzik's father was smitten with her and even though the invader left that evening, they got married and his mother was so happy and his father only wondered as the years went on, wondered whatever happened to that glorious brazen creature who had won his heart....

Fezzik could feel his power going as the invader took control. His last thought was really a prayer: that please, whoever you are, if you harm the child, kill me first.

And by the fire Westley held Buttercup all the more tightly and said words of optimism, and Inigo always replied in the same tone.

Until that awful fiftieth hour of Buttercup's labor when Inigo could lie no more and said the dreaded words: 'We've lost her.'

Westley looked at her still face and it was true, and he had done nothing to save her. Not once in all of his life, except when he was in the Machine, had he ever let tears visit, not even when his beloved parents were tortured in front of him, not once, never, never the one time.

Now he fauceted. He fell across her, and Inigo could only watch helplessly. And Westley wondered what was he going to do until he died, because going on alone was not possible. They had battled the Fire Swamp and survived. If he had known how it was going to end, Westley thought at that moment, he would have let them die there. At least that way they would have been together.

And then, from behind them, there came a sound more strange than any they had come across before, a disembodied sound, as if a corpse were talking, and the sound boomed out at them:

'We have the body.'

Inigo whirled, then cried out in the night. And Westley, in despair, was so surprised at Inigo's sound he whirled, and he too cried out in the night.

Something was moving toward them out of the darkness.

They both squinted to make sure. Their eyes did not deceive.

Fezzik was moving toward them out of the darkness.

At least something that looked like Fezzik was coming toward them. But his eyes were bright, and his pace was quick, and his voice—they had neither ever heard a voice like it. So deep, thunderous, and measured. And the accent was something they had also never heard before. Not until they finally reached America. (Or, more accurately, when the ones left alive got there.)

'Fezzik,' Inigo said. 'This is not the time.'

'We have the body,' Fezzik said again. 'We have a fine strapping child inside. She has been kept waiting far too long.'

Now the giant knelt beside the still woman, gestured for Westley to move, put his ear to her, clapped his hands sharply. 'You,' he said, pointing at Inigo, 'bring me soap and water to disinfect my hands.'

'Where did he hear that word?' Westley asked.

'I don't know, but I think I better do it,' Inigo said, hurrying to the fire.

And now Fezzik pointed to the great sword. 'Sterilize it in the fire.'

'Why?' Inigo said, bringing Fezzik the soap and towel.

'To make the cut.'

'No,' Westley said. 'I will not let him give you the sword.'

And now the voice took on a power more frightening than ever. 'This child is a putterer. That is what we call those that linger too long. But this child is more than that—she is in backward. And the umbilical cord is tightening around her throat. Now, if you wish to live your life alone, keep the sword. If you wish a child and wife, do what I tell you.'

'Be at your best,' Westley said, and he nodded for Inigo to hand the great sword to the giant.

Fezzik marched it to the fire, sizzled the point red, returned to the lady, knelt. 'The umbilical cord is very tight now. There is little breath left now. There is little time.' And for a moment Fezzik closed his eyes, breathed deep. Then he moved.

And his great hands were so soft, the giant fingers so skilled, and as Westley and Inigo stared, Fezzik's hands did his bidding, and the sword touched Buttercup's skin, and then there was the cut, long but precise, and