The Princess Bride

Chapter Twenty: Snow Sand

Jack led the way. Elsa stayed just behind, and they mad, from outset, very good time. The main thing, she realised, was to forget you childhood dreams, for the Fire Swamp was bad, but it wasn't that bad. The ordor of the escaping gases, high at first seemed almost totally punishing, soon diminished through familiarity. The sudden bursts of flame were easily avoided because, just before they struck, there was a deep kind of popping sound clearly coming from the vicinity where the flames would then appear.

Jack carried his sword in his right hand, his long knife in his left, waiting for the first R.O.U.S., but none appeared. He had cut a very long piece of strong vine and coiled it over one shoulder and was busy working on it as they moved. "What we'll do once I've got this properly done is," he told her, moving steadily on beneath the giant trees, "we'll attach ourselves to each other, so that way, no matter what darkness, we'll be close. Actually, I think that's more precaution than necessary, because, to tell you the truth, I'm almost disappointed; this place is bad, all right, but it's not that bad. Don't you agree?"

Elsa wanted to, totally, and she would have too; only by then, the Snow Sand had her.

Jack turned only in time to see her disappear.

Elsa had simply let her attention wander for a moment, the ground seemed solid enough, and she had no idea what Snow Sand looked like anyway; but once her front foot began to sink in, she could not pull back, and even before she could scream, she was gone. It was like falling through a cloud. The sand was the finest in the world, and there was no bulk to it whatsoever, and, at first, no unpleasantness. She was just falling, gently, through this soft powdery mass, falling farther and farther from anything resembling life, but she could not allow herself to panic. Jack had instructed her on how to behave if this happened, and she followed his words now: she spread her arms and spread her fingers and forced herself into the position resembling that of a dead-man's float in swimming, all this because Jack had told her to because the more she could spread herself, the slower she would sink. And the slower she sink, the quicker he could dive down after her and catch her. Elsa's ears were now caked with Snow Sand all the way in, and her nose was filled with Snow Sand, both nostrils, and she knew if she opened her eyes a million tiny fine bits of Snow Sand would seep behind her eyelids, and now she was beginning to panic bald. How long had she been falling? Hours, it seemed, and she was having pain in holding her breath. "You must hold it till I find you," he had said; "you must go into a dead-man's float and you must close your eyes and hold your breath and I'll come get you and we'll both have a wonderful story for our grandchildren." Elsa continued to sink. The weight of the sand began to brutalise her shoulders. The small of her back began to ache. It was agony keeping her arms outstretched and her fingers spread when it was all so useless. The Snow Sand was heavier and heavier on her now as she sank always down. And was it bottomless, as they thought when they were children? Did you sink forever until the sand are away at you and then did you poor bones continue the trip forever down? No, surely there had to somewhere be a resting place. A resting place, Elsa thought. What a wonderful thing. I'm so tired, so tired, and I want to rest, and, "Jack, come and save me!" She screamed. Or started to. Because in order to scream you had open your mouth, so all she really got out was the first sound of the first word: "Juh." After that they Snow Sand was down her throat and she was done.

Jack had made a terrific start. Before she had even interlay disappeared, he had dropped his sword and long knife and had gotten the vine coil from his shoulder. It took him next to no time to knot one end around a giant tree, and, holding tight to the free end, he simply dove headlong into the Snow Sand, kicking his feet as he sank, for greater speed. there was no questions in his mind of failure. He knew he would find her and he knew she would be upset and hysterical and possibly even brain troubled. But alive. And that was, in the ends the only fact of lasting import. The Snow Sand had his ears and nose blocked, and he hoped she had not panicked, had remembered to spread-eagle her body, so that he could catch her quickly with his headlong dive. If she remembered, it wouldn't be that hard-the same, really as rescuing a drowning swimmer in murky water. they floated slowly down, you dove straight sown, you kicked, you pulled with free arm, you gained on them, you grabbed them, you brought them to surface, and the only real problem then would be convincing your grandchildren that such a thing actually happened and was not just another family fable. He was still concerning his mind with infants yet unborn when something happened he had not counted on: the vine was not long enough. He hung suspended for a moment, holding to the end of it as it stretched straight up through the Snow Sand to the security of the giant tree. To release the vine was truly madness. There was no possibility of forcing your body all the way back up to the surface. A few feet of ascension was possible if you kicked wildly, but no more. So if he let go of the vine and did not find her within a finger snap, it was all up for both of them . Jack let go of the vine without a qualm, because he had come too far to fail now; failure was not even a problem to considered. Down he sank then and within a finger snap he had his hand around her wrist.

Jack screamed then himself, in horror and surprise , and the Snow Sand gouged at his throat, for what he had grabbed was a skeleton wrist, bone only, now flesh left at all. That happened in Snow Sand. Once the skeleton was picked clean, it would begin, often, to float, like seaweed in a quiet tide, shifting this way and that, sometimes surfacing, more often just journeying through the Snow Sand for eternity. Jack threw the wrist away and reached out blindly with both hands now, scrabbling wildly to touch some part of her, because failure was not a problem; failure is not a problem, he told himself; it is not a problem to be considered, so forget failure; just keep busy and find her, and he found her. her foot, more precisely, and pulled it to him and then his arm was around her perfect waist and he began to kick, kick with any strength left, needing now to rise the few yards to the end of the vine. The idea that it might be difficult finding a single vine strand in a small sea of Snow Sand never bothered him. failure was not a problem; he would simply have to kick and when he had kicked hard enough he would rise and when he had risen enough he would reach out for the vine and when he reached out it would be there and when it was there he would tie her to it and with his last breath he would pull them both up to life.

Which is exactly what happened.

She remained unconscious for a very long time. Jack busied himself as best he could, cleansing the Snow Sand from ears and nose and mouth and, most delicate of all, from beneath the lids of her eyes. Then length of her quietness disturbed him vaguely; it was almost as if she knew she had died and was afraid to find out for a fact that it was true. He held her in his arms, rocked her slowly. Eventually was blinking.

For a time she looked around and around.

"We lived, then?" She managed finally.

"We're a hardy breed."

"What a wonderful surprise."

"No need-" He was going to say "no need for worry," but her panic struck too quickly. It was a normal enough reaction, and he did not try to block it but, rather, held her firmly and let the hysteria run its course. She shuddered for a time as if she fully intended to fly apart. But that was the worst. From there it was but a few minutes to quiet sobbing. Then she was Elsa again.

Jack stood, buckled on his sword, replaced his long knife. "Come," he said. "We have far to go."

"Not until you tell me," she replied. "Why must we endure this?"

"Now is not the time." Jack held out his hand.

"It is the time ." She stayed where she was, on the ground.

Jack sighed. She meant it. "All right," he said finally. "I'll explain. But we must keep moving.

Elsa waited.

"We must get through the Fire Swamp," Jack began, "for one good and simple reason." Once he had started talking, Elsa stood, following close behind him as he went on. "I had always intended getting to the far side, I had not, I must admit, expect to go through. Around, was my intention, but the ravine forced me to change."

"The good and simple reason," Elsa prompted.

"On the far end of the Fire Swamp is the mouth of Giant Eel Bay. And anchored far out in the deepest waters of that bay is the great ship 'Revenge'. The 'Revenge' is the sole property of the Dread Pirate Jackson."

"The man who killed you?" Elsa said. "That man? The one who broke my heart? The Dread Pirate Jackson who took your life, that was the story I was told."

"Quite correct," Jack said. "And that ship is our destination."

"You know the Dread Pirates Jackson? You are friendly with such a man?"

"It's a little more than that," Jack said . "I don't expect you to quite grasp this all at once; just believe its true. You see, I am the Dread Pirate Jackson."