Fiyero’s Quest: The Yellow Brick Road

Disclaimer: I don’t own Fiyero, Boq, Dorothy, Elphaba/The Wicked Witch of the West, Nessa/Wicked Witch of the East, Glinda, Morrible, Scarecrow, Tinman, Lion, Chistery, Flying Monkeys. I don’t even lay claim to the Guards. They’re based on two characters from the book. I also don’t own anyone mentioned by Fiyero in his ramblings.

And before you ask, yes, you can use this as a means to complain about my bitchiness.

I want to die. One of the Guards stabs my leg with his spear. Let this kill me. Another punches me by an eye. Don’t let me betray her. Pain runs through my arms. Don’t let me betray my Elphie. They must have broken them. Don’t have me say “Kiamo Ko.”One makes his spear a staff and hits me in the stomach. It would be for nothing now. I’ve been held like a scarecrow, using a spear in my back. I am going to die. If they keep this up, I will quicker rather than slowly.

“Even if you get there,” my mouth yells. “You won’t be able to find Elphaba at Kiamo Ko.” No. I said it. My death will be slow and drawn out, instead of the most likely stab to the heart that was bound to arrive soon. They leave, pleased. I’ve done it. I betrayed my Elphie. And I’ll die, never to get her forgiveness. She’ll know I did it. No one else knew. Except the monkeys, but they can’t speak.

The guards leave. Left to die. I go numb. Fingers and toes. Then hands and feet. Arms and Legs. Then my abdomen and chest. Finally, it covers my head. Who knew dying would feel like this? And why do I feel lucky about being conscious during this time? I don’t drift away. I stay awake. I have no idea how I can’t fall asleep. I guess I lost emotions when I went numb. I am not tired. I just stay held to the spear by the nape of my neck.

“What kind of joke are those kids pulling?” I hear someone say. I guess he is the farmer. “A scarecrow like that traitor?”

“Scarecrow”? Can he not see the blood? The ripped clothes? The spear holding me up? I’m dying, yet I won’t finish.

“He seems to be keeping the birds away I guess even the heavens don’t want to take up someone who supports that witch.”

That must be why I am still alive. The spirits don’t want me. The farmer comes into view. A munchkin. It figures that he would be. Height in Munchkinland is a symbol of status. The more important the family, the more recently it has last married into height. I don’t think my Elphie or any member of the Thropp line had an ounce of actual Munchkinlander blood in them for several generations.

He lifts my arm. I only know through my sight. My guard uniform has become ragged in the beatings. My hand looks like it is made of cloth, a bright blue patch on the spot of that tattoo. I see straw poking out of the lining. What have I become? Is this how the heavens’ refusal to take me looks? Or has some mortal done this to me? Is it my Elphie, trying to save me? I don’t deserve this, not after giving up her location. But if you did do this, my Elphie, I am glad. I can say thank you and I’m sorry.

“It’s an amazing likeness. This’ll get me some more money. A scarecrow of that Winkie. There’s no denying it.”

Leave me alone. I’m not a money maker for you. I’m not yours.

“I am my own.” My voice. It’s there. The farmer heard it too. He wasn’t scared.

“Even more wonderful. Those kids must have talent in Magic. It’s got you sentient. Anything you want Fiyecrow?”

“What did you just call me?”

“You look like that Winkie Fiyero, and you’re a scarecrow, so your name shall be Fiyecrow.”

I can’t say I am Fiyero. The Guard will come back and do whatever possible to make sure I die. I have to play along.

“If I look like this guy, as you say, either use his name or Scarecrow. Traitor or not, he deserves to not have his name desecrated.”

“You are truly brainless. It’s a brilliant idea. The Amazing Talking Fiyecrow.”

I am brainless. My Elphie deserves better than a man who saved her by sacrificing himself. She saved me. She loves me. She must. She needs an intellectual man to match wits with. I’m not that smart.

“You aren’t arguing with me.”

“Like you said, I’m brainless. I don’t even know what arguing is.” A web of lies. Just like the lies I used to tell my friends in college. Sooner or later I’ll be caught. Like when my Elphie left, I couldn’t hide the fact that it was behavior and not grades that caused me to be kicked out of my other colleges. This time, I’ll be killed. I need to get to Kiamo Ko.

“Are you mocking me?”

“No, sir. Anything I know is from others. I didn’t know I didn’t have a brain until you told me I didn’t. After all, I am Scarecrow.”

“You are a Scarecrow. You are Fiyecrow.”

“You call me that sir. I call myself by what I am. Scarecrow.”

“You’ll be Fiyecrow from tomorrow onward.”

He leaves. I might have been freed if I hadn’t let that bastardization of my name bother me. I am Fiyero in my head. I am Scarecrow to others. And Fiyecrow the coin-provider to the man who owns this land.

Twilight comes. I still lack sleep. I spend the time trying to move. I can move my face and head well. After all, I spoke to that farmer. One day, I’ll be free of here. Once I can move again. I see a glint near the Yellow Brick Road. It was on the path the guards took to drag me here. My charm. I can’t wear it, not unless I get to Elphie. If I wear it, they know I’m me. By morning, I’ve only managed to begin movement as low as what would be elbows. I can move my arms anywhere. I have no restriction that bones gave me before. However, I see patches at the elbow proper. I guess the same would be true on my trousers, yet I cannot see them.

The farmer comes with a sign. “The Amazing Fiyecrow.” He likes that name for me too much. His idea manages to have several visitors, a couple bronze coins per line spoken to me. After an hour of just saying “Thank you” to anything said, I decide that Scarecrow is smart enough to talk back. I know the Farmer might actually like it.

“You do look like that idiot.”

“At least I only look like one instead of actually being one.”

“But they said you were brainless.”

“They say a lot of things. I hear that Glinda the Good has a mole on her left ass cheek. Is that true?” It is, but if I know anything about munchkins from my time with Boq, then I know they are offended by any slight to those in power in the Emerald City. And Scarecrow’s crude language should bother them too. Since the original crowd cleared up, I can say I heard it from someone else.

“How dare you speak of such a gentle young woman like that. Especially after learning her fiancé was false to her with the Witch.”

“Witch? I bet she’s better. She can probably cast a spell here from wherever she is.” I want to believe it. If she did that, she’d be even better than they think the Wizard.

The woman gives up and pays the farmer. My next victim comes. A girl. She’s about the same size as a full grown munchkin, but she looks too young. What would a Gillikin or Emerald City girl be doing here so soon? Some guards from the Emerald City. This must be Nessarose’s murderer. She is wearing the slippers, it must be that girl. She walks with a dog following her. It’s cute, but yaps quite a bit.

“What are you doing at this little tourist trap?” I ask her. “You know that those guards are going to have to pay for you.”

“I’ve never seen a talking Scarecrow before,” She tells me.

“I think my farmer’s going to charge for all the barks your dog gives.”

“How’d you learn to talk?”

“I don’t know, I’m brainless and have a spear sticking into me.”

“I don’t see a spear.” It’s not a spear? It must have been some spell Elphie cast. Make me look like a scarecrow. Divine beings would only change me.

“Someone said I had a spear. Let’s find out, can you get me down from here.”

She grabs hold of me. She isn’t waiflike, she is sturdy, like a Munchkin girl would be. This girl isn’t from Oz. Farmers don’t have a chance to marry into height. I’m free, but I can’t walk.

“It’s a nail.”

“A nail is the spear that held me up? Amazing how strong that is.” I risk moving. I move my hands to push myself up. It’s easier now I lack bones. I really need to thank my Elphie for that. We’ll find a way to make me human later. “Where are you going?”

“The Wizard. Although these men say that I’ll likely need to prove my worth to him first by doing a favor. They want me to kill the Wicked Witch of the West.”

“Never heard of her.”

“You spoke to that woman about her. She resides in Winkie Country. Enslaved the natives. Slavery is wrong. That’s why Abraham Lincoln got rid of it.”

So they expanded my infatuation and willingness to be with her as enslaving all the tribes? And she’s no longer just “The Witch” and occasionally “The Wicked Witch”? They added her location. The men pay the farmer and ask her to leave.

“Let me go with you!” I struggle to move my legs. They work. It’s pretty well. When running, my legs bend in different places with each stride. An awkward gait. Is this not being used to the body or a subconscious attempt to act dull? I pick up my charm and hide it in my body. No one has noticed it.

“Why would you go?”

“I want a brain.” I say hastily. The brain may not be needed, but seeing my Elphie again, that means something. “I may only be a few days old, but one thing I want is to think. Birds don’t come. And I’m only an attraction because I look like some man who ditched the queen of purity.”

“Don’t speak of Glinda the Good like that!” I hear some munchkin shout. Brainless Scarecrow offends another man.

“Can he come too, sir?” The girl asked one of her escorts.

“He looks exactly like that traitor Winkie.”

“Please, scarecrows are useful back in Kansas. A talking Scarecrow would be amazing.”

“I guess,” The guard folds.

“Thank you! Fiyecrow, I’m Dorothy.”

“Please, I don’t want to be called by the name of this man. I wish to be simply Scarecrow.”

“It’s easier to say too. That makes sense.”

“See you asshole” I yell to the farmer as I leave, giving a mock salute. I’ve gotten much better at moving my hands in the little time since the farmer tried to open the business.

Dorothy is nice. She’s simple as well, but knows basic manners. I keep the crude Scarecrow talk. I even try to order the guards around, seeing if they’ve adjusted to my death. They have, or I don’t look as much like myself as I’m told. The waters don’t run clear, so even as I pass over bridges, I don’t have a glance at my new form. My guess that my pants have patches where my knee was is correct, though. Both of my hands have the same blue cloth cut in diamonds as a representation of my diamonds there. The cloth for what was my skin looks to be made from potato sacks. I assume the same of my face, when I see it.

I don’t walk well, and the stretch of the Road we walk along is poorly maintained. It’s easy for a human to control their walking to avoid gaps and false steps, but I still haven’t managed to walk properly yet, or make a consistent gait. I fall down often. It doesn’t hurt. I haven’t felt any pain since I became this way.

Toto is friendly to me. He nibbles the guards and me a bit, but Dorothy always scolds him. I think it’s simply Toto being kind. We enter a forest, he likes walking next to the road, smelling the new experience.

“Kansas doesn’t have forests,” she tells. “It’s new to him.”

“Keep him in sight.”

Toto runs to a house. In front of the house is a man made from tin. He is frozen in his position. I use this time to finally see my new face. It is the same color and apparent texture of a potato sack as my hands. Again, my tattoos become patches of a bright blue. My eyes have become a richer blue than they were before, with one eye slightly larger than the other. My hair has become straw, and there is a hat on my head. I do not know how I didn’t notice it before. Also, my mouth has been painted in a perpetual pleasant smile.

“Hello,” I say to no one. My mouth does not move, yet when I move my vision, the painted eyes move as well.

“Stop looking at yourself, Fiyecrow,” one escort yells.

“We should help him,” Dorothy suggests, picking up a can of oil laying nearby.

“All your Detours, ma’am. We cannot have the ragtag bunch of heroes we read about in fantasy. It is not as effective as suggested.” The guards are not pleased. She doesn’t listen. She oils the man’s joints.

“Thank you,” he says. It’s Boq. I haven’t seen him since I graduated. I have only seen a few Munchkins since I was at Shiz. Nessarose became Governess soon and they were restricted to Munchkinland. I have so much I want to tell him. Talk about our similar fates. Ask how his happened. If Elphie did it, then it makes my status the same.

“How do you do? What happened?”

“I was in love,” Boq started. “But I lost my heart and gained this body. If only I could have it back.”

“We’re going to see the Wizard, Buddy boy,” I say. Scarecrow would be overly familiar.

“But I’m told I’ll need to kill a fugitive,” Dorothy adds. “It’s likely the Wizard won’t see us until we do, but we’re certain he can bring me home.”

“And give me a brain. He can get you a heart too, Bud.”

“We’re not doing this,” The guard sighed.

“This will make an amazing tale.” The other says. “A girl who accidentally killed a tyrant and being brought to Kiamo Ko to take the glory for killing a political opponent is a great story. The Wizard may use the tale as a sign of greatness.”

The trek continues with Boq. We walk until Dorothy and Toto become tired, we relax there, the guards making sure nothing happens to her. They are weak. They too have the problem of fatigue, and soon succumb themselves. Boq and I take over.

“What’s your name?” he asks me.

“I call myself just Scarecrow. Dorothy does too. My farmer and the guards combine Scarecrow with the name of some man. A supporter of the Wicked Witch of the West. Fiyero, it was.” It’s hard to refer to myself in the third person.

“Big surprise. He didn’t call her Witch like everyone else. He used her name.”

“Witches have names?” Scarecrow needs to learn this. “I’ve only heard them called the Wicked Witches of the East and West.”

“They have names. East was called Nessarose. She couldn’t walk, and while the munchkins hated her, the central government in Emerald City was relatively indifferent. West, her name is unimportant. The only person who called her by it has been taken care of, I heard. Even she said she was at least the Witch.” He lies. She calls herself a witch. She does not see herself as Wicked. She said the only time she felt it was the night before Nessarose died. Has it only been three days?

“So what about you, Tinman? Do you have a name?”

“It’s Boq. But I won’t use it.”

“Why not Buddy Boq?” Scarecrow is everyone’s friend.

“Because The Wicked Witch of the East called me that. I had to serve her. Then her sister puts me in this heartless body just because I wanted to leave.”

“There must have been a reason that they chose that body for you. Even the Wicked must be capable of love, despite never showing it. She must have loved you.”

“She doesn’t.”

“But what about the Witch of the West. Fiyero loves, loved her.” I have to speak as if I am dead. Even Boq knows that I was left to die. The guards told him as much today. “Surely she must have loved him in return if she is at Kiamo Ko like he told them.” She must be there. I know she loves me. It’s safe.

“So how did they put the traitor’s name with Scarecrow?” He changes the topic. Away from him. There’s something he won’t tell me.

“Fiyecrow. What’s worse is the accent is the same either way.”

“You’re brainless yet talking about stressed syllables. You are odd.”

“I said something odd to my farmer when I became sentient. Some big word. It happens sometimes.” That should cover any proof I’ve been educated up to the university level. Scarecrow should believe that too.

“Why do you want a brain?”

“It’d be useful. I want to think. I want to be smart.”

“It makes sense, your gait has improved a bit. It looks more human. I don’t even know if you need a brain.”

“I need more than what experience gives me. I need to be able to reason, to prove, to understand, and not just know. Why do you want a heart?”

“To love a woman again. She didn’t love me before. She loved someone. He was false to her in the end. I can pick up the pieces.”

“You’re talking about Glinda the Good, aren’t you?” I only know that because he asked her out in front of me when I organized the single party I hosted during the two years I spent at Shiz. Scarecrow assumes because that’s the only case he heard of where a woman was wronged by a lover.

“Yes. We went to college together.”

“I’m sure you aren’t the only one after her love. And you won’t be the only one to use that claim. Several have gone to Shiz the time she did.”

“She went for one semester and was then removed to become a public official.” Every munchkin has a weakness for Glinda. I don’t know why I’ve found a hobby in taunting them, even an old friend. We talk longer. He doesn’t warm up. He takes the desire for a heart as a literal desire for emotion, which he hasn’t lost in what happened. I only need to prove myself an intellectual match for my Elphie. She doesn’t want just a good bed partner.

“It doesn’t matter. I want to love her, and I can’t. I don’t have what’s needed. I live without a heart.” I stand up. Boq has lost his learning. What did Nessarose do to him?

“You know Boq,” he flinches as I say his name. “I may be brainless, but even I know heart is only a metaphor for emotion. You’d make more use of a brain than I would.”

“I told you I want to distance myself from that name.”

“Then what do I call you, fellow non-sleeper?”

“Tin Woodman. I was found in the woods, and I grabbed a nearby axe. I won’t tell them what I told you.”

“Why did you tell me this, then, Woodman?”

“I don’t know. Maybe there are things I needed to get out and you look like an old friend. He was at Shiz at the same time too.”

“The man that stole your woman yet ditched her for some sexy piece of green-skinned witch meat and ended up dying by the hands of what were once his underlings?” Scarecrow is an equal-opportunity offender. That means he’ll even insult the person that made up his persona. It doesn’t make it any easier to speak about myself in the third person.

“Yeah, how’d you know she was green?”

Shit. Her color was never mentioned in any description the Guard, my former employment, sent out. Think of something for Scarecrow to say. Something I know is a lie.

“Something about how she’s like a snake. Figured it was color.” It’s flawed. Not all snakes are green. Most snakes aren’t green. Boq doesn’t make any notice of the clear lie planted.

“Well, even if we can’t sleep, they’re about to wake up. I can’t stand the dog.”

“I like Toto. He’s nice.” He sleeps next to Dorothy, bearing his stomach.

“He bites you.”

“He bites every Ozian he meets. He’s not used to us.”

Morning comes. Toto wakes first, barking. This wakes up Dorothy and the guards.

“How did you sleep, Scarecrow?” Dorothy asks me.

“I don’t. I don’t know sleep. I guess that’s one of the things that makes me brainless.” I hate lying. I don’t want to, yet I have to if I want to stay alive long enough to see my Elphie. It’s been only two days and I already miss her.

“What about you, sir?” She asks Boq.

“I remember sleep. It was a blessing, allowing me to dream. In this heartless body I can do neither. Once I get my heart, I’ll be able to dream, at least.”

“Also, I don’t know what to call you.”

“He says he is the Tin Woodman. We spoke last night.”

“I can speak for myself, Fiyecrow.”

“You’re using that name too? You’re mean Boq-y Boy.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“We need to continue,” One guard says. “Continue bickering and we’ll leave you behind.”

We listen. Boq starts talking to the guards as we continue. I walk up to Dorothy and take her hand.

“This forest is scary,” I tell her.

“It is; I would be dreadful frightened if something got Toto.”

“Don’t worry, you have two Oz Guards, the Tin Woodman, and me to protect him.” Toto barks. It must be a thank you. If only he was a Dog instead of a dog.

“Thank you Scarecrow. You’re nice.”

“What is nice?”

“It’s a good thing.”

“You’re the first to be that way with me. I should return the favor.”

“No one was nice?”

“My farmer abused me because I look like a man who died. His customers insulted me. Even the Woodman and your escorts taunt me. The only ones who support me are you and possibly Toto.”

“Toto likes you. He’s a friendly boy. I know he bites you but…”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t feel it. I don’t feel anything.”

“He hasn’t seen a talking Scarecrow before.”

I can’t think of anything to say. Kansas has made this girl dull. She and her dog aren’t adjusting well to this world.

“Why did you call the Woodman ‘Boq’?”

“It was his name. He took on a new name afterwards. It has unpleasant memories to him. I was just teasing the munchkin. After all, he called me Fiyecrow first.”

“Two wrongs don’t make a right, Scarecrow.”

“First time I heard that. I’d keep that in mind if I had one.”

“You’re making jokes about it,” One escort says.

“Suits your friend’s belief that we’re a ragtag group of heroes. I bet they joke about anything.”

“We’re not friends.” I thought he would go for that instead of practically admit to the rumors about them. Either way, no one responds to the statement. We continue on. I look at Dorothy. She holds my hand tightly. I am glad I do not feel. She must have a strong grip.

“Did you hear that?” She asks.

“I didn’t hear anything,” one of the guards says.

“You didn’t hear a rustle?”

“It must be a scared Animal or animal. Hopefully the latter.”

“You said the same thing twice.”

“Some animals speak,” Boq tells her. “They’re the first kind. Animals. Those that don’t are animals.”

“I still don’t understand,” Dorothy says. We start to go back to silence. “I heard it again.”

“I heard it too,” one of the guards says.

Growling.

“Me three.”

“You don’t say that,” Boq tells me.

“Excuse me Manservant,” Scarecrow taunts. I suppose I taunt Boq too. Scarecrow is only my mask. I don’t know why I feel like hurting him. He is my friend.

A Lion comes out from the bushes. Toto barks at the Lion. The Lion lunges for him. The guards stop the Lion.

“I’m sorry,” he stutters. “I didn’t mean to do it.”

“If you want this to be a ragtag story,” I say. “You should have let one of us stop him.”

“You don’t know the art of lying.” He replies. How ironic when I’m the one who’s lying to you. No one knows that though. Except me.

Dorothy talks to the Lion. He fears people because of something he won’t talk about. He may even be the Lion I helped my Elphie free. The Lion that caused me to realize my love for her. It seems that on the outside, we have nothing in common. The Lion wouldn’t know for sure who this Witch is. And if I stop pretending to be an innocent, they’ll find a way to kill me. Only Boq has made it clear his vendetta against my Elphie. He is the only one with tangible ties.

We continue. I still hold Dorothy’s hand. The Lion may be harmless, but not all are. The Lion walks on the other side of her. Toto stays near me. Boq is in front of us. The Guards are behind. No creatures get to Dorothy. I don’t know if my Elphie sent them or someone or something else did. Boq or the Guards take care of them quickly. Even the Lion lashes out at some of them. He has more courage than he admits to. I do not fight. If I did, then I would be recognized. One of the guards is next to me now.

A gap in the road. It isn’t horizontal. There’s been something like a quake here. So the cut in the road is too much for a step. They don’t know what to do.

“Tin Woodman,” I say calmly.

“Yes Fiyecrow?”

“You can cut wood.”

“Of course I can,” Boq says. He seems presumptuous.

“Then cut one of the trees down. We can use it as a ramp to climb up.”

“This is one of your moments of uninspired brilliance you told me about, isn’t it?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not letting the guards see anything indecent on Dorothy Gale.”

“I guess that answers my question, Fiyero.” He calls me Fiyero. Am I just hearing my name when it is that slur? Or does he really call me by my name? He suspects me. He cuts a tree down. And another. Three trees when I asked for one.

“Thank you,” Dorothy says. I repeat it.

“Woodman, why did you call me Fiyero that time? I thought I was Fiyecrow to you.”

“If you call me Boq, I’ll call you Fiyero, simple as that.”

“What an interesting conundrum, I am a substitute for the friend. If I start calling you only variants of ‘Tin Woodman’, you’ll believe I am this friend and somehow was cursed by the Witch just like you. If I stick with Boq, It seems I am your friend because he pushed your buttons too. A win-win situation. Isn’t it Woodman?”

“It wasn’t that before, Fiyero.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not him. He died near where I laid, something happened, his body was gone, and I ended up looking like him. Who knows, maybe we are the same.” Scarecrow doesn’t know he’s only my mask. He thinks he was granted sentience before the event. I look over to Dorothy, who doesn’t pay attention to anything except Toto, who rolls over onto his back asking for a belly rub. She does so, and we continue on.

Again, Dorothy needs to rest. Toto rests on her. The Lion does so next to her. The guards again try to stay up, but they sleep again. Boq and I are left on watch again. I try talking to him, but I learn nothing useful. He’s donned his Tin Woodman mask completely, except when he calls me Fiyero. Scarecrow doesn’t appreciate that. He is Scarecrow, and would prefer the blend of our names to my name, if only because it includes part of his name. By the end of the night, I am Fiyecrow to him again. Those who are whole wake up again and we continue.