The Princess Bride
Martin Kane
A homage to one of the greatest movies ever made.


Author's note:

Should anyone out there wish to get in contact with me, I happily invite you
to do so, via the messageboard for readers and writers. I welcome any
comments. I only refrain from leaving my e-mail address here and now due to
previous problems encountered with spam, worms and virus.

The Copyright note I usually put in this blurb probably isn't applicable to
this one. Please note this is not a piece of fan fiction, it's an adaptation
lifted straight out of the screenplay (which can be downloaded from any script
site) stage note an' all.

No adult content warning - this is a fun family fairy tale.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

'What is that you're ripping?' the Spaniard asked.

Vizzini, the squat Sicilian, answered Inigo without stopping or turning.

'It's fabric from the uniform of an army officer of Guilder.'

'Who's Guilder?' Fezzik asked, joining the conversation.

Vizzini was getting frustrated now. 'The country across the sea. The enemy of
Florin.' He finished his work and then slapped the horse's rump. It took off
and Vizzini headed to the boat. The Spaniard and the Giant followed.

'Once the horse reaches the castle, the fabric will make the Prince suspect
the Guilderians have abducted his love,' Vizzini explained. 'When he finds her
body dead on the Guilder frontier, his suspicions will be totally confirmed.'

The Giant was taken aback by this. 'You never said anything about killing
anyone,' he protested.

Vizzini hopped onto the boat. 'I've hired you to help me start a war. That's a
prestigious line of work with a long and glorious tradition.'

Fezzik shrugged his massive shoulders. 'I just don't think it's right, killing
an innocent girl.'

Vizzini whirled on Fezzik. 'Am I going mad or did the word "think" escape your
lips? You were not hired for your brains, you hippopotamic land mass.'

'I agree with Fezzik,' Inigo said.

Vizzini turned on the Spaniard in a fury. 'Oh. The sot has spoken. What
happens to her is not truly your concern - I will kill her. And remember this
-never forget this - when I found you, you were so slobbering drunk you
couldn't buy brandy.'

He turned on the Giant without missing a beat, his anger making the huge man
actually retreat from the dwarfish Sicilian. 'And you - friendless, brainless,
helpless, hopeless. Do you want me to send you back to where you were,
unemployed in Greenland?'

They took the Princess, fleeing through the blackness of night, through the
eel infested waters, towards the towering Cliffs of Insanity.

The Man in Black followed.

'Inconceivable,' Vizzini exclaimed, as he gained.

It was a race to the finish, their sailboat pursued by the lighter, smaller
craft - the mysterious cloaked figure at its helm.

Their tracker closed faster than ever, but not fast enough. The lead was too
great to overcome.

'He's too late,' Vizzini squealed in exuberance. 'Only Fezzik is strong enough
to go up our way. He'll have to sail around for hours 'til he finds a
harbour.'

They stopped the boat against one of the towering cliff walls. Almost
completely smooth and vertical, they were near impossible to climb. However,
the kidnappers had planned this route.

The rope ran from the top, high above, hanging down against the rock.

With a bustle of activity, Fezzik reached for it, grasping the thick rope
tightly.

Vizzini tightened the harness around the Princess and strapped it to Fezzik's
mighty frame. He tested it for strength, satisfied that she was secure against
his huge chest. Her slim figure appeared even tinier when compared to the
Giant's huge physique

Vizzini tightened his own harness before attaching it to one side of the
Giant. Inigo did likewise on the other side, balancing the whole.

Then - incredibly - they began to ascend.

Hand over hand Fezzik climbed, lifting the four of them up the cliff. He
didn't use his legs, for there was very little to grasp hold of. Were it not
for the rope, ascent of this rock would surely be almost impossible.

As they rose up the rope, Vizzini looked down to see the pursuing boat close
in on their position. Had they stayed on the water, he would surely have
caught up. Who could he be? No one in Guilder knew what they had done and no
one in Florin could have gotten here so fast. Inconceivable.

They were halfway up when the small boat reached their abandoned vessel and
the Man in Black leapt onto the rope and began to haul himself up. He climbed
like Fezzik, hand over hand, moving like lightning, up after them.

Looking down, ignoring the hideous vertigo, Vizzini saw that he was gaining on
them. 'Inconceivable!' He prodded Fezzik, who nodded and increased his pace.

The Man in Black was roaring up the rope, cutting deeply into their lead.

'Faster,' Vizzini shrieked.

'I thought I was going faster.'

'You were supposed to be this colossus. You were this great, legendary thing.
And yet he gains.'

'Well, I'm carrying three people. And he's got only himself.'

'I do not accept excuses. I'm just going to have to find myself a new giant,
that's all.'

'Don't say that, Vizzini. Please.'

But it would soon become a mute issue; the Man in Black was not far behind
them now.

'Did I make it clear that your job is at stake?' Vizzini hissed.

But though it was close, the bound group reached the top before the Man in
Black reached them. Vizzini leap off immediately, running to the head of the
rope, which was tied around a huge rock near the cliff edge.

He produced a knife and began sawing away at the rope.

Inigo helped the Princess to her feet. Fezzik just stood and watched, waiting
for someone to tell him what to do.

Vizzini finished the job and the rope slid past them all, looking like a snake
slithering over the cliff.

The three men peered carefully over the edge, looking down the near vertical
cliff.

'He has very good arms,' Fezzik remarked, genuinely impressed.

But upon looking closer they realised the truth, Inigo first, then Fezzik, and
Vizzini last, despite his supposedly superior intellect. The Man in Black was
in fact a woman. The cloak and robes of her dashing costume hid the fact from
all but a near-by observer. It was the natural presumption of the kidnappers
that their assailant be a man.

The Woman in Black clung to the rocks, her fingers finding holds against near
inperceivable nooks. Her limbs splayed, she all but hugged the rock, somehow
holding herself on the cliff face.

'He didn't fall? Inconceivable!'

Inigo turned on Vizzini. 'You keep using that word. I do not think it means
what you think it means.'

They looked back down at the Woman in Black. Incredibly, she was still coming.
It was slow and careful progress, picking her way upwards, sometimes a foot at
a time, sometimes an inch.

'Whoever she is, she's obviously seen us with the Princess, and must therefore
die.'

Vizzini turned to Fezzik and pointed to the still bound and blindfolded
Princess. 'You, carry her.' And then he turned to the Spaniard. 'We'll head
straight for the Guilder frontier. Catch up when she's dead. If she falls,
fine. If not, the sword.'

Inigo nodded. 'I want to duel her left-handed.'

'You know what a hurry we're in,' Vizzini hissed.

Inigo shrugged. 'It's the only way I can be satisfied. If I use my right it's
over too quickly.'

It was true. Despite his penchant for alcohol that tasted as foul and bitter
as water a dying man would refuse, and the fact that he worked for a man such
as Vizzini, when it came to the sword, he'd never met an equal.

He'd found the only way to stretch his fencing muscles properly was to use his
dumb hand, handicapping himself enough to make the fight more interesting than
the it would otherwise be.

As he left, the Giant gave his friend some parting advice. 'You be careful.
People in masks cannot be trusted.'

Inigo looked down at the Woman in Black. She was a little closer, but still
had a fair way to go. This was going to take a while.

Inigo checked out the terrain. It was fairly barren ground but nearby there
were some stone ruins. Once they might have been some sort of fort, looking
out over the sea. Now however, they were a mess of rubble.

He shook his hands loose and drew his sword, making a few practice sweeps.
Even to an amateur, it was clear from his motions that his skill was great.

He was a taut and nervous man and had never been one for waiting around.

He looked back down at the pursuing woman. She was still climbing but had only
gained six inches or so.

'Hello there,' he called down, his tone pleasant.

The woman In Black glanced up, offering a kind of grunt.

'Slow going?'

When she spoke it was with a pleasant and mannered tone. A cultured voice. An
educated woman. 'Look, I don't mean to be rude, but this is not as easy as it
looks. So I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't distract me.'

'Sorry.'

'Thank you.'

Inigo stepped away, drew his sword, loosened up with a few perfect thrusts. He
resheathed and looked eagerly over the edge again.

'I do not suppose you could speed things up?'

'If you're in such a hurry, you could lower a rope, or a tree branch, or find
something useful to do.'

'I could do that,' Inigo agreed. 'In fact, I've got some rope up here. But I
do not think that you will accept my help, since I am only waiting around to
kill you.'

'That does put a damper on our relationship.'

'But I promise I will not kill you until you reach the top.'

'That's very comforting. But I'm afraid you'll just have to wait.'

Inigo stepped back. 'I hate waiting,' he muttered to himself. He leaned over
the edge again. 'I could give you my word as a Spaniard.'

'No good. I've known too many Spaniards.'

'You don't know any way you'll trust me?'

'Nothing comes to mind.'

But Inigo could. Despite his cheap and tawdry life of squalor and petty scams.
Despite spending more time inside a bottle than out, there was one thing that
kept him going, one thing sacred to him. And his solemn tone held that
hallowed devotion.

'I swear on the soul of my father, Domingo Montoya, you will reach the top
alive.'

The Woman in Black heard his words - heard his tone - and she knew it for what
it was.

'Throw me the rope.'

Inigo untied the remainder of the rope from the boulder. He returned to the
edge and threw down its length.

As the woman grasped at it, he braced himself to take her weight.

The light of dawn broke over the horizon, slowly and steadily. It was the
morning of a new day.

Inigo backed up as the Woman in Black finally crested the Cliffs of Insanity.

'Thank you,' she offered, but still gasping for breath. She was already
pulling at her sword.

'Wait until you're ready,' Inigo insisted.

'Again. Thank you.'

She sat on a boulder, stretching her back. She removed first one boot and then
another, turning them upside-down to let several large rocks tumble out.

'I do not mean to pry, but you don't by any chance happen to have six fingers
on your right hand?'

The Woman in Black raised an eyebrow, though her mask obscured the gesture.
'Do you always begin conversations this way?'

'My father was slaughtered by a six-fingered man.'

She held up a gloved hand. Five.

'He was a great sword-maker, my father. And when the six-fingered man appeared
and requested a special sword, my father took the job. He slaved a year before
he was done.'

He drew his sword and handed it to the Woman in Black.

She examined it was obvious reverence. 'I have never seen its equal.'

'The six-fingered man returned and demanded it, but at one-tenth his promised
price. My father refused. Without a word, the six- fingered man slashed him
through the heart. I loved my father, so, naturally, challenged his murderer
to a duel. I failed.

'The six-fingered man did leave me alive with the six-fingered sword, but he
gave me these.'

He turned his cheeks to her, one by one, showing the vicious scars across
each.

'How old were you?'

'I was eleven years old. When I was strong enough, I dedicated my life to the
study of fencing. So the next time we meet, I will not fail. I will go up to
the six-fingered man and say, "Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my
father. Prepare to die."'

'You've done nothing but study swordplay?'

'More pursuit than study lately. You see, I cannot find him. It's been twenty
years now. I am starting to lose confidence. I just work for Vizzini to pay
the bills. There's not a lot of money in revenge.'

The Woman in Black stood and handed Inigo back his sword. She drew her own.
'Well, I certainly hope you find him, someday.'

'You are ready, then?' he asked, himself rising.

'Whether I am or not, you've been more than fair.'

'You seem a decent fellow. I hate to kill you.'

'You seem a decent fellow. I hate to die.'

They matched poses across from one another. They weren't close to each other,
none of that swordcrossing "en garde" crap. To the uneducated eye, they
appeared to be too far away to damage each other, but each time one made even
the tiniest feint, the other countered. There was silence as they began to
slowly circle.

Suddenly they were both alive with movement, swords a blur, crossing again and
again. The clashing of steel came so rapidly it sounded almost continual.

Inigo pressed and the Woman in Black retreated up a rocky incline.

Inigo was thrilled, but not by his apparent upper hand, he was delighted to be
facing a true sword master at last.

'You're using Bonetti's defence against me, ah?'

'I thought it fitting, considering the rocky terrain.'

Inigo nodded, excited. 'Naturally, you must expect me to attack with Capo
Ferro.'

And he shifted his style. The Woman in Black coped against this as best she
could.

'Naturally,' she agreed. Then the style shifted. 'But I find Thibault cancels
out Capo Ferro, don't you?'

The Woman in Black was now perched at the edge of the elevated castle ruin. No
where to go, she jumped down to the sand.

'Unless the enemy has studied his Agrippa,' Inigo said. With the grace of an
Olympian, Inigo flew off the perch, somersaulted clean over the Woman in
Black's head, and landed facing her. 'Which I have.'

The two masters were almost flying across the rocky terrain, never losing
balance, never coming close to stumbling. The battle raged with incredible
finesse, first one and then the other gaining the advantage, and it became
clear that this wasn't just two athletes going at it, it was a lot more than
that. This was a battle of epic standards, two legendary swashbucklers in
their prime. And then, incredibly, the action began going even faster than
before.

Inigo was forced backwards. And behind him now, drawing closer all the time,
is the deadly edge of the Cliffs of Insanity.

He fought and ducked - feints and slashes, and it all worked, but not for
long, as gradually the Woman in Black kept the advantage, kept forcing Inigo
back, closer and closer to death.

'You are wonderful,' Inigo declared, still truly delighted.

'Thank you,' the Woman in Black said. 'I've worked hard to become so.'

The Cliff edge was now at Inigo's feet. He had nowhere left to go.

'I admit it - you are better than I am.'

'Then why are you smiling?' she asked.

He was just inches from defeat - from death, but him smile hadn't diminished
in the least.

'Because I know something you don't know.'

Despite herself, she just had to ask the inevitable question. 'And what is
that?'

'I am not left-handed.'

He threw the six-fingered sword into his right hand and immediately, the tide
of battle turned.

She was stunned by this change in events. She did everything she could to keep
Inigo by the cliff edge but it was no use. Slowly at first, she had no choice
but to retreat as Inigo pushed her back.

Now faster, Inigo was in control and the Woman in Black was desperate. His
six-fingered sword was all but invisible now as he increased his attack. Then,
suddenly, he switched styles again.

He had backed her onto a rocky staircase, leading to a turret-shaped plateau.
The Woman in Black retreated up the steps, unable to stop Inigo - nothing
could stop Inigo - and in a frenzy, the woman in Black made every feint, tried
every thrust, let go with everything she had left. But she failed.

Everything failed. She tried one final, desperate move but it was to nothing.

'You're amazing,' she admitted.

'I ought to be after twenty years.'

She was pinned back against a stone pillar, and Inigo was all over her, his
six-fingered sword ready for its inevitable victory.

'There's something I ought to tell you,' the Woman in Black admitted.

Inigo could no more resist asking than had she. 'Tell me.'

'I am not left-handed either.'

She changed hands, and at last, the battle was fully joined.

To his amazement, Inigo was forced back down the steps. He tried to defend his
position but it came down to the same thing - the Woman in Black was back at
the helm.

With a violent smack, the six-fingered sword was knocked clear out of Inigo's
hand. He retreated, diving from the stairs to a moss- covered bar suspended
over the archway. He swung out, landed, and scrambled to his sword.

The Woman in Black watched Inigo perform this stunt. She casually tossed her
sword down to the landing, where it stuck perfectly out of the ground. She
then leapt for the bar, diving gracefully through the air. She spun like a
circus performer, dismounting with a backflip and landing besides her sword.

Inigo just stared at her in awe. 'Who are you?'

'No one of consequence.'

'I must know.'

'Get used to disappointment.'

'OK.' Inigo moved like lightening, thrusting at her once more. He slashed,
darted aside in a single movement.

The Woman in Black dodged, blocked, thrust. Forward, faster, again, harder.

Inigo's feet moved with the grace and speed of a great improvisational dancer.
But it was no good. It was in his eyes. He knew he could not defeat this
woman. He, Inigo Montoya of Spain, was going to lose.

And once that thought has finally struck him, it became true. The six-fingered
sword was knocked free, flying from Inigo's grip. He stood helpless only a
moment. Then be dropped to his knees, bowed his head, shut his eyes.

'Kill me quickly.'

The Woman in Black walked around behind him. 'I would as soon destroy a
stained glass window as an artist like yourself. However, since I can't have
you following me either...'

She smacked him on the back of the head with a heavy "donk". Inigo pitched
forward - unconscious.

'Please understand, I hold you in the highest respect.'

'Inconceivable!'

Vizzini, stared down from the narrow mountain path. He could make out the
Woman in Black pursuing once more.

'Give her to me.'

Fezzik handed the Princess to the Sicilian. 'Catch up with us quickly.'

He took her and began to scamper off.

'What do I do?' the Giant asked, bemused.

'Finish him,' Vizzini hollered back. 'Finish him your way.'

Fezzik sighed. 'Oh, good, my way. Thank you.'

It took a few seconds. 'Vizzini? Which way is my way?'

Vizzini pointed to some of the fist sized rocks nearby, then to one of the
large boulders that lined the path.

'Pick up one of those rocks, get behind the boulder, and in a few minutes, the
Man in Black will come running around the bend. The minute his head is in
view, hit it with the rock!'

As Vizzini disappeared with the Princess, Fezzik frowned to himself. 'My way's
not very sportsmanlike.'

He grabbed one of the rocks and lumbered off behind the boulder.

The Woman in Black raced up the mountain trail. Ahead was a bend in the trail.
She slowed - then stopped and listened.

As she started forward again a rock cut across her path, impacting against the
boulder just inches in front of her, shattering into a thousand fragments.

Fezzik grabbed a second rock and pulled back his throwing arm.

He moved onto the mountain path.

'I did that on purpose. I don't have to miss.'

'I believe you,' the Woman in Black assured him. 'So what happens now?'

'We face each other as God intended. Sportsmanlike. No tricks, no weapons,
skill against skill alone.'

'You mean, you'll put down your rock and I'll put down my sword, and we'll try
to kill each other like civilised people?'

Fezzik raised his rock. 'I could kill you now.'

The Woman in Black sheathed her sword and took it off. She began to approach
the Giant, not liking this one little bit.

'Frankly, I think the odds are slightly in your favour at hand fighting.'

'It's not my fault being the biggest and the strongest. I don't even
exercise.'

He flipped the rock away.

The Woman in Black was not a shrimp. But compared to the Giant, it was like
she was a midget with anorexia. Fezzik towered over her.

Taking the initiative, she dove at Fezzik's chest, slamming him several
tremendous blows in the stomach. She twisted his arm severely and slipped
skilfully into a beautifully applied bear hug.

Any normal man would be having trouble breathing about now as the Woman in
Black's powerful arms crushed with her full and considerable strength.

Fezzik just stood there, taking in the scenery.

The Woman in Black pushed herself away, staring up at the Giant.

'Look are you just fiddling around with me or what?'

'I just want you to feel you're doing well. I hate for people to die
embarrassed.'

Fezzik moved suddenly and with surprising speed for one his size. He reached
for the Woman in Black, who dropped to her knees and spun loose, slipping
between the Giant's legs.

'You're quick.'

'And a good thing too.'

'Why do you wear a mask?' Fezzik asked. 'Were you burned by acid, or something
like that?'

'Oh no. It's just that they're terribly comfortable. I think everyone will be
wearing them in the future.'

Fezzik considered this for a moment, then attacked. As the Woman in Black
slipped down to avoid the charge, Fezzik moved right with her, only instead of
twisting free and jumping to her feet again, this time the Woman in Black
jumped for Fezzik's back. In a moment, she was riding him, her arms wrapped
around the Giant's throat, locked across his windpipe.

She secured the hold and tightened it, her biceps muscle swelling hard against
his throat. She squeezed.

'I just figured out why you give me so much trouble,' Fezzik croaked as she
slowly throttled him.

As he spoke, he lumbered over towards one of the huge boulders that lined the
path.

'Why is that, do you think?'

Fezzik threw his body towards the rock, spinning himself around to make the
Woman in Black take the full weight of the charge. She was battered but
managed to keep a hold on his neck.

'Well, I haven't fought just one person for so long,' he told her, his voice
beginning to get a little strained now. 'I've been specialising in groups.
Battling gangs for local charities, that kind of thing.'

Again Fezzik charged at a boulder, slower this time, but a charge nonetheless.
Again he spun and smacked the Woman in Black against the rough rock.

The punishment was terrible, but she held on regardless. If she slipped now,
she knew the Giant would finish her. She crushed at his windpipe with every
ounce of her muscle power, shuddering with the effort.

'Why should that make such a difference?'

'Well...' and now his voice was definitely weaker, '...you see, you use
different moves when you're fighting half a dozen people than when you only
have to be worried about one.'

As he said this, the last of his mighty strength had finally begun to
diminish. He slowly collapsed. The Woman in Black held her grip, squeezing for
all she was worth.

Fezzik tried to stand, made it halfway, but there was no air. He pitched down
to all fours. And then he was down.

There is a moment between unconsciousness and death when strangling someone.
It was at this point that she released him. She turned the huge man over onto
his back and but an ear onto his massive chest, searching for a heartbeat.

'I don't envy you the headache you will have when you awake. But, in the
meantime, rest well and dream of large women.'

She nimbly scooped up her sword with her foot, caught it, and dashed off up
the mountain path.

Vizzini was munching on an apple. In his other hand he held a knife. It was at
the Princess' throat.

A picnic was spread out on a striped tablecloth. The Princess sat beside
Vizzini, still bound and blindfolded. She sat stock still, all too aware of
the blade so close to her flesh.

The Woman in Black approached, studying the Sicilian carefully. She glanced at
the spread - cheese, bread, some fruit. A small skin of wine and goblets. A
lovely spot for it too, high on the edge of the grassy path, a view all the
way back to the sea.

'So, it is down to you. And it is down to me.'

The Woman in Black nodded, carefully edging nearer.

'If you wish her dead, by all means keep moving forward.' To prove his point
he pressed the knife against the Princess' unprotected throat.

'Let me explain-' the Woman in Black began.

'There's nothing to explain. You're trying to kidnap what I've rightfully
stolen.'

'Perhaps an arrangement can be reached,' the Woman in Black said, taking a
tiny step closer.

'There will be no arrangement - and you're killing her!'

Vizzini jabbed with his long knife. The Princess gasped against the pain.

The Woman in Black stopped fast. 'But if there can be no arrangement, then we
are at an impasse.'

'I'm afraid so - I can't compete with you physically. And you're no match for
my brains.'

'You're that smart?'

'Let me put it this way: have you ever heard of Plato, Aristotle, Socrates?'

'Yes.'

'Morons.'

'Really? In that case, I challenge you to a battle of wits.'

'For the Princess?'

The Woman in Black nodded.

'To the death?'

Another nod.

'I accept.'

'Good,' she said stepping up and sitting opposite Vizzini. 'Then pour the
wine.'

Vizzini filled two goblets with the dark red wine.

The Woman in Black pulled a small packet from her clothing, handing it to
Vizzini.

'Inhale this, but do not touch.'

'I smell nothing.'

'What you do not smell is called iocane powder. It is odorless, tasteless,
dissolves instantly in liquid, and is among the more deadlier poisons known to
man.'

She took packet back, took the goblets and turned her back. When she faced
Vizzini again, she discarded the iocane packet. It was now empty.

She rotated the goblets, shell-game style, then put one glass in front of
Vizzini, the other in front of herself.

'All right: where is the poison? The battle of wits has begun. It ends when
you decide and we both drink, and find out who is right and who is dead.'

'But it's so simple,' Vizzini declared, delighted. 'All I have to do is divine
from what I know of you. Are you the sort of person who would put the poison
into their own goblet, or their enemy's?

'Now, a clever man would put the poison into his own goblet, because he would
know that only a great fool would reach for what he was given. I'm not a great
fool, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you. But you must have
known I was not a great fool; you would have counted on it, so I can clearly
not choose the wine in front of me.'

'You've made your decision then?'

'Not remotely. Because iocane comes from Australia, as everyone knows. And
Australia is entirely peopled with criminals. And criminals are used to having
people not trust them, as you are not trusted by me. So I can clearly not
choose the wine in front of you.'

Again, she made a wasted raise of her eyebrow. 'Truly, you have a dizzying
intellect.'

'Wait till I get going! Where was I?'

'Australia.'

'Yes - Australia, and you must have suspected I would have known the powder's
origin, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me.'

'You're just stalling now.'

'You'd like to think that, wouldn't you? You've beaten my giant, which means
you're exceptionally strong. So, you could have put the poison in your own
goblet, trusting on your strength to save you. So I can clearly not choose the
wine in front of you. But, you've also bested my Spaniard, which means you
must have studied. And in studying, you must have learned that man is mortal
so you would have put the poison as far from yourself as possible, so I can
clearly not choose the wine in front of me.'

'You're trying to trick me into giving away something - it won't work.'

'It has worked,' Vizzini declared triumphantly. 'It has worked - you've given
everything away - I know where the poison is.'

'Then make your choice.'

'I will. And I choose...' He suddenly pointed behind the Woman in Black. 'What
in the world can that be?'

She turned around, looking where he had indicated. 'What? Where? I don't see
anything.'

Vizzini quickly switched the goblets while the Woman in Black has her head
turned. 'Oh, well, I could have sworn I something. No matter.' He laughed,
unable to help himself.

'What's so funny?'

'I'll tell you in a minute. First, let's drink - me from my glass, and you
from yours.'

He picked up his goblet. The Woman in Black picked up the one in front of her.
As they both began to drink, Vizzini hesitated a moment. Seeing the Woman in
Black begin to drink first, he swallowed his own wine.

'You guessed wrong.'

Vizzini roared with laughter. 'You only think I guessed wrong - that's what's
so funny. I switched glasses when your back was turned. You fool. You fell
victim to one of the classic blunders. The most famous is "Never get involved
in a land war in Asia." But only slightly less well known is this: "Never go
in against a Sicilian when death is on the line."

He laughed and roared and cackled and whooped and was in all ways quite cheery
until he fell over dead.

The Woman in Black stepped over the corpse and removed the Princess'
blindfold. She looked down at her fallen captor.

'To think - all that time it was your cup that was poisoned.'

The Woman in Black shrugged. 'They were both poisoned,' she admitted. 'I spent
the last few years building up an immunity to iocane powder.'

And with that, she took off, dragging the Princess behind her.

'OK, and CUT,' Rob Reiner yelled through the megaphone.

Wallace Shawn pushed himself upright again, rubbing food off of his face where
he'd fallen into the picnic.

The Woman in Black removed her mask, glad to be out of it in this sweltering
heat.

'That was great,' Rob assured her.

But he was troubled. And all those on set could see it. In truth he had been
troubled since they began filming her scenes. It was a radical shift from the
original book, and the world probably wasn't ready for it.

He reached a decision it seemed, picking up his megaphone once more.

'OK, we're gonna go for lunch now. This afternoon we're gonna re- shoot as it
is in the original William Goldman script.'

The Woman in Black sighed. She knew it had been too good to be true, she was
only surprised it had taken this long for the decision to switch back to a
male hero. It truth, she knew it wouldn't harm the film any. People would
never know what it could have been.

Rob looked up at his assistant. 'Go tell Cary Elwes the good news. He's back
in the film.'

The assistant ran off to do so. Rob tried to avoid eye contact with his now ex
leading actress. He would have to apologise to her later. As he walked off,
another of the actors stopped him.

It was Christopher Guest. He wasn't due to be filmed today but he liked to
show up on set anyway, see what was happening. He had his own directing
ambitions.

'You know,' he remarked. 'I think I prefer this version.'

Rob laughed. 'You would.' And he headed back to his trailer.