Hilda - The Challenge

by Paul Kater

  "Coward!", Hilda spat after him, but as he entered the kitchen he could hear her laugh, and a grin made itself comfortable on his face.

  16. Low down couch

  Dinner was done, the dishes had done themselves, which was a very convenient trait of the kitchen, and Hilda had watched how William had lit up the fireplace with some magical pieces of wood he had in his bag in his room.

  William always had a box of matches with him, as these things came in handy in many ways. Even to light the fireplace in the house of a witch.

  Lacking something more comfortable, they had put their dining-table chairs near the fire, with a large thick blanket over it, which was William's idea. Hilda had stared at what he was doing as he set the make-believe couch up, but as it was done she was surprised at how it looked.

  "Is this how you spend evenings in your world?", she asked, "sitting on a chair with a blanket and looking at the fire?"

  William grinned. "Not exactly. For one, I don't have a fireplace in the other world. I do have a television, but usually I am reading a book."

  "Oh." Reading books was something she understood, but Hilda did ask about a television. It proved difficult for William to explain the concept, and when he started to compare it to a large crystal ball, she grinned loudly.

  "Oh, come on William, first you tell me there are no magical people in your world, and now you insist that almost everyone has a magical ball in the house. You are not making much sense, dear man."

  William nodded. "I was afraid of that. As I said, I am not a technical person. I just push buttons and hope things work."

  "You are maybe not a technical person, but I think you are a nice person," Hilda said as she looked in his eyes. She did not turn red, she did not feel uncomfortable saying the words, and she surprised herself with that. "I have an idea," she then said, "come, get up for a moment."

  Wondering what the witch had in mind, William got up. Hilda was busy moving their chairs apart and folding the large blanket a few times. She mumbled some Latin, repeating it in several versions until the spell took hold.

  "Latin is not your strong point, it is?", William asked.

  "No. I hate it," she told him. "But I got it this time. Now we can sit again." She proved it, by sitting down on the blanket that was hovering over the floor between the chairs. "It's much softer this way." Her face showed William that she was happy that she'd gotten this idea and that it worked. "Come, sit down next to me," she encouraged him, patting the space with her hand. "It's safe, really."

  William shook his head, for a change. "You never cease to amaze me, Hilda," he said as he sat down. He was confident that this would hold, if she was able to keep him on a broom.

  "That is good," she said as she took his arm and draped it over her shoulders. She sat very close to him. "I am not one for being predictable."

  There was silence for a while, only interrupted by the cracking wood in the fireplace.

  "Maybe there is something missing," Hilda frowned.

  "And what might that be?" William was puzzled. This evening was going incredibly well, he thought.

  "Oh! I know!" Hilda jumped up and went to fetch a few glasses. Unfortunately her magic had not yet fully recovered, so magicking up two glasses with wine was something she avoided, just to be safe. Another unfortunate thing was that she was a bit weary from the sleepless night and the busy day that had also gotten stacked full with emotions. As she went into the kitchen, her attention slipped away from the improvised couch, the blanket slipped from the chairs and went down to the floor, taking William with it.

  Hilda returned with two glasses of wine, one watered down, one with wine of its original colour. "What are you doing on the floor?", she asked in wonder as she saw William sitting there.

  "You went away, and the couch went with you," he remarked dryly, not making any attempt to get up.

  "Oh..." Hilda blushed as she sat down on the ground with him. "Here. For you. Poured by hand."

  The book salesman chuckled.

  "Hey, no laughing at the resident witch, okay? I am not used to this, I told you that."

  William put a finger over her lips. "Sssst. No more babbling about that, Hilda. Everything's fine. Very fine even. I count myself incredibly lucky to be here with you. And I really think you look cute in that nightgown."

  Slowly Hilda raised a hand and took his finger. Just as slowly she stuck it in her mouth and held it between her teeth. She stared at him and he was entirely in the dark about what was happening or if he should do something. He did not dare to pull his finger back; Hilda's teeth were amazingly sharp. William felt how she flicked her tongue against his fingertip, only once. Then she let go of his finger.

  "I could have bitten it off," she said.

  "Yes. But you didn't. Why did you do that, anyway? Is it some magical practice?"

  She shook her head, her hair flowing around her. "I was just curious what you taste like."

  "You what?"

  "I wanted to taste you. It is amazing how much you can learn from a person when you taste them. Here." She put her glass down and before William knew what was happening, she had stuck her finger in his mouth. "Well? Isn't that something?"

  William took her hand and pulled her finger from his mouth. "It definitely is... different. I'm not sure if I get the deeper meaning of it, but it is interesting."

  "Yeah, I know. I never got into that myself either. We all suspected that the witch who taught us that had a bit of an odd streak, or was a finger fetishist." The wicked witch picked up her glass of wine and sipped it, staring at the fire. "Aren't we silly to have the fire burning while it is not cold?"

  "As far as I'm concerned, we can be silly all we want. Nobody's bothered by it, and I for one have always liked fireplaces. And burning it once in a while is good for the chimney too." William raised his glass and she touched it with hers, the crystal making a really nice sound.

  The blue sparkle was in Hilda's eyes again. "You are a weird person, William Connoley. I really cannot figure you out. You always are different from what I expect. When I brought you to my house I was not sure if that was a good idea, although it was the only thing I could do. After all, now I know that I brought you here, to my world, even though I still don't know how I did that. I really was afraid that you'd get on my nerves within hours. And now you are here since more than two days and I still haven't changed you into something obnoxious. That is a miracle."

  "Oh... and what would you change me into?", William asked as there was a pause.

  She looked at him, her eyes large and shining. "See, you do it again. You ask the only thing that I would not have expected." She drank the last bit of wine from her glass.

  "And now I am glad you are here, William. Really happy. It still scares me, because- well, just remember that it is so. I'll tell you when it's better, okay?"

  "I am all fine with that," William said, who had already emptied his glass. "And I strongly believe that you should be in bed by now."

  Hilda pouted. "I don't want to. It feels so good sitting here with you." To William's surprise she then put her hand against his cheek. "But you are right. I am really tired."

  "Would you want me to put you in bed?"

  Hilda considered that for a few moments. "Actually it is my turn now, to put you in bed. You did that for me this afternoon."

  William sat on his knees and held out his arms. "Come here. We'll pretend that doesn't count as you had flung yourself on the bed already."

  Hilda giggled. The wine, watered down as it was, had gotten to her head quickly as she was so bushed. She got halfway up and let herself fall in William's arms. The man caught her easily and stood up, holding her against him as she wrapped her arms around his neck, her head lying against his shoulder. Her soft breath touched the skin of his neck.

  He calmly walked up the stairs and as he reached the small upper hallway, the door to Hilda's bedroom opened. He put her on her bed and took the bunny-slippers off her feet which made her gigg
le again. Then he pulled the covers over her and sat on her bed. "Sleep well, pretty witch," he said.

  She smiled at him, her face small, worn out and pale in the flurry of her long grey hair. "Thank you, William." She was holding one of his hands.

  He bent over and kissed her lightly on her cheek. When he looked at her again, there was the amazing blue sparkle in her eyes again.

  "You sleep well also, dear man," she said as he got up.

  "I will."

  Hilda was asleep before he had left the room and closed the door.

  17. I'll make breakfast

  A minimal amount of awareness came into Hilda's head. She softly moaned, happy, warm and at peace. She shifted slightly, moved her arm a bit and listened to soft breathing and a heartbeat. The shadow of smile visited her lips for a moment, then she drifted back to sleep again.

  Early morninglight was coming in through the windows. William woke up with the acute awareness that something was different. It did not imply that it was a bad thing, but different nonetheless. Something was on his chest. And something, or rather someone was lying next to him. There was a distinct smell about also, one he had gotten to know very well. This triggered a process that started with confusion.

  He opened his eyes partly and looked. The next step in the process was puzzlement. He clearly recalled putting Hilda in her own bed, and now she was lying in his. Or... William slowly looked around the room, only moving his head. Yes, it was the guestroom.

  A slight movement from his left side pulled his full attention back to the witch that had somehow gotten into his bed. She moved her head a bit, there was a bit of a tremble in her legs. One of them lay over his, and her left arm was resting on his chest.

  The final step in the process came. Acceptance and enjoying the feeling.

  After a while of snoozing, performed by both of them, Hilda slowly woke up for real. She smiled to herself, knowing that she had spent so much time close to William, and he had not noticed her slipping into his bed. Nor that she had first made the bed large enough for two people. She knew he was awake. "Good morning," she whispered.

  As she had expected, he was not prepared for her to be awake already. It startled him a bit.

  "Hey, good morning you too," William said, his voice not yet in agreement with the being awake part. "How nice a way to wake up like this."

  "Yes," Hilda agreed. "I had to get up in the night, and I must have mistaken the door. But since I was here already, I decided to stay here." She enjoyed his grinning and turned her face towards his. "You're nice and warm."

  "Glad to be of service, miss witch," William said as he looked at her. Her black eyes were the first thing he saw of her, and the happy smile on her face was the very next thing. "So, are you going to make a habit of this?"

  She pulled a face. "Puh, as if I am going to tell you upfront. I don't think so." And then the happy smile was there again. "You'll find out in time."

  "I can live with that," William said, pulling her closer to him for a moment.

  "You are stronger than you look," the wicked witch commented, as she felt the pressure of his arm against her spine and ribs.

  "I can say that of you also," William replied. "I have seen what you can do and endure, on that wicked broom of yours. I'm glad I did not have to ride shotgun yesterday, when you pulled that broom in the loop."

  "Uhm... right... can you use words that make sense? You ride brooms or wagons, or horses or mules. What's a shotgun anyway? Oh, know what: don't even bother. It's far too early for that." She pushed herself up into a sitting position and studied William's face for a while, as he lay looking at her in return. Slowly, making sure he was fully aware what she was doing, she reached out and traced his face with a finger. She sensed his relaxed mood, his feeling good. She also sensed something deep down inside him, something she did not want to know about yet, so she withdrew quickly from that and focussed on the simple joy of touching his face.

  William let her do what she did. The soft, light touch of her finger felt very nice; somehow it made him feel... special. Yes, that was the word.

  After completing a second round over his face, during which he had closed his eyes, Hilda slowly let her finger slip away from William's cheek. "I'm going to make breakfast, William."

  He opened one eye and watched her. "Need help with that?"

  "No. But you can help eating it." Hilda got up, but with one knee still on the side of the bed, she stopped the getting up. She leaned over and lightly touched William's cheek with her lips.. Then, without a word, she left the room.

  Hilda darted into her own room and quickly put on the red housecoat that reached down to her ankles. Then she stumbled down the stairs and headed into the dangerzone that was her kitchen.

  As William came down also, he had given her some time alone, there was already a large pot of tea on the table. The cup with the goldfish was there; from it two faces stared at him as he approached the table and poured the tea.

  "Do you like eggs?", Hilda yelled from the kitchen. The yelling was necessary as there were a lot of indeterminable sounds to overcome.

  "I do, and what the hell are you doing in there? Do I have to come and rescue you?"

  "No, everything is" -loud crash- "fine here. I just need to" -sound of a chicken being squeezed??- "get these eggs out."

  William was debating with himself if he should have a peek into the kitchen, or if he should just trust things to be as she claimed they were. As a series of clashing sounds came from the kitchen, followed by "crappedy crap", he could not hold his curiosity.

  Hilda had fired up the oven, to make some special bread. It was a recipe she had learnt from the same witch who had the thing with the fingers, but not everything that woman had been teaching was as silly as that. Some of the ingredients were happily popping and crackling behind the thick metal door.

  There also was a particular kind of porridge she wanted to make. It was extremely good, once it was made, but the making itself usually was a problem as the porridge fought back once it reached a certain stage.

  The eggs for the omelet she had in mind were the least of her problems. She simply magicked up a chicken and was ready to squeeze it a few times, making its eggs fall into a bowl. Before she got that far however, the halfway prepared porridge was trying to escape from its bowl. As a precaution Hilda had put a big lid on the bowl, but the porridge had started swaying back and forth so wildly that the bowl had started to move over the granite table and finally went over the edge, which accounted for the crash that William had heard.

  The lid held, so Hilda did not worry about the bowl. It would scurry around the kitchen floor for a while longer, until its contents had gotten into the next stage which would solidify it and make it immobile. At least, that was the plan. As that part was out of her hands, she started to squeeze the magical chicken, dropping the eggs in the bowl. The chicken was not cooperative this morning... it had turned its eggs into stones, clanging into the bowl.

  "Crappedy crap." That was something Hilda had not taken into account. And that was how the situation in the kitchen had come to be when William stood in the door opening, holding two cups of tea.

  He frowned as he saw the bowl jolting over the floor, and his eyes almost popped out of their sockets as he saw the witch holding a chicken over a bowl with stones. And during all that, the continuous popping and banging of the bread being baked came out of the oven.

  "I don't mean to be distrusting, but are you sure things are fine?"

  "Yes, except for the eggs everything is going according to schedule. But it would be best" -she shook the chicken a few times, to convince it that proper eggs would be a really good idea now- "if you take the tea back inside. I'm a bit preoccupied now, as you may see. But really nice of you to think of some for me." She cast a quick smile at him, then addressed the chicken, promising it a very unpleasant end in a hot broth if it would remain so bloody stubborn.

  William, his mouth slightly opened in stunned awe, saw six
eggs fall out of the chicken. Onto the stones in the bowl. His mouth closed. His head shook a few times. Then he turned and walked away, back to the table. Perhaps the house had some new things to report.

  Hilda had seen William leave. "Now see what you did," she scolded the chicken. "Now he thinks I'm an idiot in the kitchen." She grabbed her wand and threatened the animal. "One more of those tricks, and you'll be replaced."

  The chicken looked at her with an air of invincibility and then disappeared from her hand.

  Hilda looked at the eggs that were all over the stones. "Well, at least that's easy." A snip of the fingers later, the drippy matter of the eggs floated over the bowl, and she picked out the stones. Then the eggs fell back in, leaving her to pick out the shell. As she was working on that, she was humming a tune and thought how nice it was to be a real old fashioned cook. Not like these youngsters that abused magic for everything.

  She picked up the wand, tapped the bowl, and voila, omelet. "That is how we do this," she nodded to herself, very satisfied. Then she picked up the runaway bowl. The porridge had gotten tired of running around the kitchen, so the lid came off, she sprinkled some raisins and apple chips over it and that was done also.

  "Right then." She hardened her housecoat so it could take some impact. She put on the mittens and then went to the oven. It was time to take out the bread. "William, if you hear something loud, don't worry!", she yelled out, to reassure him. It had the adverse effect.

  With her foot she kicked open the door to the oven and quickly reached inside, grabbing the tray with the bread. The fire in the oven retreated, as per plan. Some of the liberated ingredients, understanding that they now were free to roam, shot out of the bread, bouncing off the ceiling and walls for a few seconds. They always did with this bread. They also sounded like firecrackers going off.

  William appeared in the kitchen again as if he had been shot from a crossbow. "What are you-"