Hilda - The Challenge

by Paul Kater

  William did not dare to ask and accepted the cupcake, a nice pink one. As all the others she had handed him. "Somehow you don't strike me as a person who'd go for pink, Hilda."

  Her cheeks turned red, not pink. "Shut up. I have brooms to land," she tried to ward off his interest.

  As there was a second broom, she did not attempt to land her broom on the green dot in front of the door. A gentle touch down, as if someone pushed a really big feather under his feet, was how they came back to the ground.

  "This was the most incredible journey I have ever had," William said. "Thank you ever so much for this."

  "Could hardly leave you there in the mountains, could I?", said the wicked witch. "Hey, any visitors worth mentioning?"

  "Not really," said the house.

  "Holy Bejeebus," muttered William who had not been prepared for a speaking house. It would not be the last thing he was not prepared for.

  "Right," said the witch. "William, you can let go of the broom now..."

  "What? Oh, okay." He let go of the broom that floated away from him and parked itself against the wall of the house. "Nice house you have here. Looks like brandnew too."

  "Hah," said the house. "You wouldn't believe the pain in her ass I had to be before she painted me again."

  "Uhm..." William was a bit lost for words as the house addressed him directly. "I doubt it was that bad."

  The house did not find the man worthy to further talk to him for now, after that remark.

  Hilda walked up to the door, took the two arrows from the doorjamb and walked into the house. William decided not to wait for an invitation, he had already understood that Hilda was not very much the kind for those. As he wanted to close the door, the house beat him to it. Just to make a point.

  Hilda's broom, that had followed her inside, went to its regular place next to the fireplace.

  William grinned as he saw it happen.

  Two goldfish on the cup that was still on the large black table, curiously peeked around the rounding of their home and almost fell off it in surprise, as they saw a strange man in Hilda's house.

  Hilda stood in front of her magical mirror, tapping her lip with an index finger. "Right. I don't get guests very often, so you may have to help me out here at times, okay? I know you will need a room to sleep. Got that. And a bed. Haven't got that yet, but that's minor business. Not sure what kind of stuff you eat in your fairy world, but you'll have to make do with what I can cook. And from that point on I am at a loss."

  William had trouble fighting his laughter about her upfront way of acting. At least, he thought, you always knew what she was thinking: the witch had a charming way of making that clear. "Well, that is a good start. And if you want, I can cook something too. I'm not a bad cook if I say so myself. Just one thing I am curious about."

  "Yeah?" Immediately Hilda was in battle-mode, hands on her hips and chin up in the air.

  "Is there a mister Wicked Witch?"

  Hilda's face went through several emotions as she worked on grasping what this strange person had said. The goldfish almost screamed with laughter, holding on to the cup with all fins they had.

  "You mean if there is another man living in this house." Hilda got it. "Preposterous. Not only would there be no man who could live with me, but also I would be totally unable to have someone around in such a way. People get on my nerves as much as I get on theirs." She started to turn and head for the stairs, then looked back at William. "So don't you get any funny ideas." As she walked to the stairs she said: "Come on, I am not going to carry you."

  William grinned once more and followed her up the stairs. It was a bit unnerving to him that the pictures of the people that were floating along the wall, turned their heads and followed him with their eyes as he passed them.

  Hilda waited for him, in front of a door. It too looked freshly painted. "You can sleep here." She opened the door an entire three inches before it did not want to budge anymore. "Oh. Crap. Vacuus," she muttered and the door opened fully.

  "As I said, you can sleep here." With her wand she made a bed, a small table and a chair appear.

  The bed had fresh sheets and some kind of purple duvet on it. From somewhere William thought to hear a soft moan, as the house reacted to the purple. The table had a stack of candles on it, a small burning stick floated over the table, clearly to light the candles, and there were some books on it. The chair was empty.

  "Anything else you need?"

  William took the dice that had been his weekendbag out of his pocket. "My things, please." A moment later, he held his bag in his hand. "That's neat. I could do with a few tricks like that."

  "Sure," Hilda snorted. "And who's going to teach you? You're not magical, William." Hilda laughed an extra cackling laugh as she walked to the door and into the hallway. "Down there is the bathroom and assorted other stuff. Don't make a mess or you'll be cleaning it with your own clothes. I'm going downstairs and make something to eat. I'll let you know when it's done in case you muck about here for too long."

  The door closed itself. Hilda looked at herself. Perhaps she should change into something else.

  William looked around the room. There were two large windows. No curtains. He looked outside through one of the windows and saw a lot of forest. There was something odd about it, but he could not put his finger on what was off. Well, with the place belonging to a witch, who would be surprised.

  He opened his bag, took out his toiletries and left his room, in search of the bathroom "and assorted other stuff". Down the short hall he found four doors. This in itself was impossible already, as there was no way one could fit four doors in that limited space. Trying to imagine that there were actual rooms behind them, no matter how small, was asking for a headache. William did not ask that.

  He was however not prepared for so many doors. "I wonder which one is the bathroom," he said to himself.

  The house, taking pity on the man who had been tossed into this adventure, opened the right door.

  "Holy Bejeebus," William said. "Thanks, whoever you are."

  "You're welcome."

  William then recognised the voice of the house. "Well, well, a talking house. Nice meeting you."

  "Perhaps," the house said. Conservative as it was, it did keep its distance in the beginning.

  William entered the bathroom.

  White tiles with an occasional goldfish on them. A large white bathtub with two small golden plaques on it. One said "Full", one said "Empty".

  Curious, he touched the Full plaque. Instantly the tub was filled with hot water, a nice scent rising up from the bubbles. "Jeebes," the book salesman took a shortcut. He dropped his clothes and got into the tub, enjoying the soak for a few minutes, and cleaning himself up so he felt decent again.

  Then he climbed out of the tub and looked round for a towel. "Towel... towel..."

  "I assume one is enough?", the house asked, as a thick dark blue towel materialised in William's hand.

  "Oh, yes, by all means," William replied, drying himself as he wondered if the house could actually see him. With a grin he tapped the plaque with 'Empty' on it and the bath was not only empty but also clean and ready for the next customer.

  A slight unease came over the traveller when he could not locate his clothes. "Hello, house? Where are my clothes?"

  "In your room. Cleaned. Wear the others."

  "Others?" William asked out loud but got no clarification, so he did his last bits of making himself presentable and then, with the dark blue towel wrapped around him, he quickly scooted into his guestroom.

  6. Wine and dine

  On the bed lay two stacks with clothes. One of them were his own, William quickly saw, and they were indeed clean. And repaired in some places where they had needed that since a while too. With fascination he looked at the garments on the other stack.

  The thing that attracted most of his attention was a leather jerkin with pompous thicks shoulderpieces along the side. It was an amazing piece of work t
o see and hold. The stitchwork was unbelievably precise, the garment itself was made of the finest leather in two shades of dark brown leather, one a bit lighter, the other darker and leaning towards blood red.

  Next item was a beige shirt. It had long sleeves and an wide neck that could be tied up with a thin leather strap.

  Then there was a pair of grey-ish velvet pants, with a brown leather belt to keep it in place.

  Next to the bed were his shoes and a pair of ankle-high brown boots, with fringes.

  "Right. So that is 'wear the others'," William understood. "Probably more geared towards local fashion." With a grin he started putting on the exotic-looking attire, after putting on his own underwear. That was very much missing from 'the other' clothes, and he was used to that.

  After he had finished dressing up, he looked around for a mirror. Alas. There was none. As his eyes went around the room for the second time, a soft singing sound reached his ears. He identified it as the sound of the crystal ball. Somehow that little gem had found its way to the table, the light in it dancing frantically.

  William bent over to the shiny object and to his amazement he saw himself reflected in it. Despite the limited size of the ball he saw himself clearly. "Holy Bejeebus, you can do more than relay calls between worlds, can't you?", he grinned. Satisfied with his looks, he opened the door and found his way down the stairs.

  Again the pictures looked at him as he went by. This time he looked back at them.

  "Oh. There you are." Hilda looked at William as he came into the room. "Dinner's busy."

  She had done something to her hair of which she hoped it was good, and wore one of her better burgundy red dresses, made of heavy velvet, with a nice round neck. The dress fell down to her ankles in long flowing lines. A slight touch of magic made it flow just a bit slower than usual, adding a wonderful dramatic effect to the fabric. The dress itself had a fascinating pattern of deep coppery red brocade on it, that appeared to be changing all the time, like a mosaic. She wore her magical necklace too.

  As she sat at the table, William saw she was trying to do something unclear to a small piece of wood that had several holes in it. There was also some smoke coming from a few scorched places on it.

  "Dinner's... busy?" William frowned at the strange combination of 'dinner' and 'busy'.

  "Yup. You can go and watch it if you want, but it's boring. Kitchen's back there." Hilda pointed to an open door.

  He nodded and started towards the kitchen, when Hilda said: "Hey."

  William turned. "What can I do for you?"

  "Nothing. You look good in that." Hilda nodded and went back to damaging the piece of wood. "Better than the silly stuff you wore when you got here."

  Silly stuff. His expensive suit was instantly demoted to silly stuff. Okay, it wasn't Armani as that was over his budget, but... He shrugged. "Thank you," he said. Then, with a grin, he turned and went to have a look at the kitchen where dinner was supposed to be busy.

  Dinner was indeed busy. A modern kitchen with all conveniences could not beat this one, even though there was no electric thing in sight. The stove was covered in pots and pans, spoons stirring the contents. A piece of meat hung over a fire and turned itself, as a wooden spoon kept pouring gravy over it so the meat would not dry out.

  A set of knives were chopping up vegetables and in some places there were other utensils doing things that William had no idea of. He returned to the black table and sat down on a chair opposite Hilda. "Dinner is indeed busy. Very busy."

  She nodded as she peered at the remains of the wood. "I am not used to cooking for more than one person, so I just took some guesses."

  William grinned. It seemed to be about all that he did there. He watched Hilda as the piece of wood incinerated more and more. "What are you doing?"

  "Magic. And it's difficult so shut up."

  William complied with her order and just watched. He noticed the necklace, the one she had recovered from the hands of the motorgang.

  Hilda slammed the wood on the table. "What are you looking at?"

  William had never before heard someone talk in a way that made unease and being annoyed physically tangible.

  The goldfish looked at each other and spread out, one to each side of the teacup, to see what would happen next.

  Before William could reply, a large meat-cleaver flew through the room and landed smack in the middle of the table. He fell over backwards, crashing onto the hardwood floor, evoking a heartfelt 'oompf'.

  "Don't exaggerate," Hilda said, "it's just that dinner's ready." With a snort she yanked the cleaver from the table, got up and went to the kitchen, returning with two plates of hot steaming food in her wake.

  William was still getting up and putting the chair back in its rightful place. Again he stared, now at the plates that landed themselves on the table and forks materialising. "This is some fabulous household," he said, sitting down.

  Hilda sat down, leaned her elbows on the table and rested her face on her fists. She looked at the man who had so suddenly appeared here. "I really wonder why you are here," she said. "I have enough on my hands already, so I hope you understand that I can't be a wonderful host for you, if you are hoping for one."

  "I don't know why I am here either," William said. "I don't even know how I got here, or how I can go back. Bert will be rather annoyed too, by now."

  "Bert?"

  "The owner of the bookstore. I had a dinner appointment with him. Don't you remember him? You floored him with a big book, just before you came out to find me."

  Hilda smiled a big, bright smile. "Oh, right. Him. Had forgotten his name. Was quite a whack I gave him, yeah."

  They picked up their forks and as they were eating they reminisced about the time that Hilda had appeared in William's world, and how they had met in the coffee house at last. William had owned a large ancient book with spells that had enabled Hilda to return to her own world again, leaving the crystal ball she had created in William's truck. It had been the only tangible memory he had left from their encounter.

  Hilda relaxed a bit. She had been tensing up more and more, with the unwanted and unexpected visitor in her house, but now, over dinner and through the talking, she was feeling less upset about him.

  "William," she asked as they were well on their way through the food. "Do you want some wine?"

  "I'd really like some, yes." He was instantly curious to what this world had to offer in wine.

  Hilda nodded, made her wand appear, and with that she produced two glasses of wine. She shoved one over to him, and then magicked up a bottle of water to dilute her own.

  "Why are you doing that?", William asked. Wine with water was like cursing in a holy place to him.

  "I don't take well to much alcohol," Hilda confided. She almost whispered it, which was totally unneeded, as the goldfish as well as the house were already aware of this fact.

  "Okay," William whispered and put a finger over his lips. "I won't tell anyone."

  "No problem if you do, everyone knows already," Hilda whispered back and took a sip from her wine.

  William tasted the wine. "Jeebus," he said, "that is a fantastic wine. Where I come from, you pay through the nose if you want to get a bottle that comes close to this."

  "You think so?", Hilda asked, charging her plate again.

  "Oh yes, I am certain." William took another sip in appreciation.

  They finished their food, after which Hilda offered him another round. "There is plenty, I think. If you want two plates, that's no problem either."

  "I don't want to be impolite, but no thank you. I am almost bursting at the seams," said William.

  Hilda looked over the table to inspect him and his clothing, and decided he was exaggerating again. No signs of ripping in his clothes. "Okay." A flick of the wand later the plates were gone and the wine glasses were filled again. The wicked witch had already made a load of burning candles appear earlier, as darkness had taken over the outside world.

  Wil
liam looked at the woman with the long grey hair and the jet-black eyes, who sat there toying with her glass, staring into it. She had a pretty face, he had already agreed on that with himself long time ago. Not a ravishing beauty, but definitely pretty. He was fascinated by the way she expressed herself, sometimes hard as a rock, yet occasionally she struck him as uncertain or immature. But, he thought, that could come from her not having people staying that often.

  The candlelight made her features look soft, so very unlike how she was.

  "What are you looking at?", Hilda asked without taking her eyes from the glass.

  "You."

  "Don't."

  "Why not?", William asked.

  "I don't like it when people look at me. Not like that."

  "Not like what?", William dared to ask.

  "Like I am a person worth looking at for the looking. I am not. I am a witch, and I want people to look at me in awe. Or with fear. Not for..." She could not find the proper word, or didn't want to find it. "Just so you know."

  "Fair enough," William agreed. "Maybe you want to tell me what's on your mind then? You've mentioned something like that a few times already, so it must be something big."

  Hilda looked at him and sighed. She reached over the table and picked up a piece of paper from the small mountain that was there. "Here."

  William took the paper, looked at the emblem, felt the consistency of the paper and wondered what it was made of. Then he read the calligraphically written note, all the way down to 'to the death'. "Oh, right. I would not feel too tickled with that hanging over my head..."

  "I've had more of those before. Got out of them alive," Hilda said, trying to make it sound as if it was not a big deal.

  "And yet you are worked up about this one," William said.

  It was exactly the thing she did not really want any ordinary to know. But then, she reasoned with herself, William was not your average ordinary. He was, after all, the person who had been crucial in her returning home so many years ago.

  "Lamador is a powerful sorcerer. Powerhungry even. And he's spending far too much time on becoming even more powerful. I don't know what drives him. It can't be king Herald, that guy's powerful and wealthy enough." Hilda filled their glasses again.