Hilda - Snow White revisited

by Paul Kater

  Hilda asked. And she called the king by his title. Even wicked witches have to draw a line. Sometimes.

  "Grimhilda," Walt acknowledged her. When facing wicked witches, kings drew lines too. "I'm sort of busy here, telling these men how to make the flowerbed look nice, you see." His face was so serious that Hilda had to bite her tongue not to laugh.

  "I see," the wicked witch said, whipping up her wand and temporarily petrifying the gardeners. "My information is sort of important though. It involves your wife. And your daughter."

  "My-" Walt stared at Hilda. "Snow-White is dead. Everybody knows that by now," he then said, shaking his head.

  "I'm sorry to contradict you, king, but she's not. Have you seen a body? Have you gotten any real evidence of that?"

  Walt twitched his lips. "Erh... no. But... my little girl had been gone since many days! Disappeared in the forest. She can't survive there on her own, the little innocent one."

  "Tell you what," Hilda said, hooking her arm around on of Walt's. "Let's take a walk and we'll talk. In the meantime we'll have the gardenboys do their thing, and if they screw up you have a reason to yell at them. How's that?"

  Walt looked at Hilda. "I don't like to yell at them."

  With a slightly disappointed look Hilda shrugged. "Whatever you like, king."

  "Walt. Call me Walt. When you say 'king' it creates such a distance," Walt said. "Okay. Let's walk."

  Hilda unpetrified the gardeners and strolled off with Walt after throwing a spell that their conversation could not be overheard by others.

  "Right then. Walt. First off, Snow-White is not dead."

  This news made the walk come to a standstill. "She is! My wife told me, and so did Humbert the huntsman!"

  "Walt, my man, when I tell you the sky is purple, do you believe that without looking?"

  The king peeked up for a moment. "It's blue. With white clouds."

  "Zakly," Hilda nodded, pulling the king onwards for the walk. "I have seen Snow-White several times since she disappeared. She's in the house of the seven dwarfs. You know them? The little guys who work the mines behind the hills?"

  The king nodded. "I recall them. They're the ones with that song, aren't they?"

  "Right in one, Walt. Your kid ran away from the huntsman, as your darling wife ordered him to kill her. She got to the dwarf's house and found refuge there."

  "Oh, no. No way my wifey would do that! You are trying to put me up against her, aren't you, wicked witch that you are!" Walt tried to pull his arm free, but Hilda was strong. And a witch well versed in magic.

  "You could ask Humbert, Walt. I kid you not. Your darling wife has gone over to the house of the dwarfs to try and kill Snow-White three more times too. And I have witnesses for that. What reason would I have to lie to you, Walt? Tell me a good one and I'm gone."

  Walt looked the wicked witch in the eye and searched his memories. Hilda had done many a wicked thing, as she was supposed to do. But never, he had to conclude, had she lied to him or anyone. She might have bent the truth here and there, but that fell in the wicked category.

  Walt sighed. "Let's assume for a wild moment that I believe you. What do you have in mind?"

  Hilda explained her plan, as she had done with the dwarfs.

  Walt nodded several times, not terribly convinced yet. Not about the plan, and not about the background of it, being that his daughter was still alive and that his wife was cheating on him in that respect.

  Hilda put in all her powers of convincing, described how she had seen the mean queen on the carts, how she had been dressed up. Slowly, she saw, she was getting through to the king, as more and more her arguments began to make sense.

  "You're quite the talker, Grimhilda. But where is the proof in all this? You have it all figured out, the way you are telling me about this, but so far all you let out are words, and even from a witch that is sound and hot air."

  Hilda stared at Walt. "You are accusing me of spouting garbage? I come here with a plan how you can get your kid back and get rid of your cheating bitch in the same go, and that is how you thank me? What kind of person do you think I am? Have I ever double-crossed someone?"

  Walt tried to take a step back from her, but her arm around his made that impossible. She seemed unmovable, despite his advantage in weight. "Grimhilda, listen," he said, "how do you think I feel? I heard from Humbert that Snow-White is dead. Killed by some animal. I have gone round in grief and pain for days, while nobody can tell me more about her death. Nobody can show me a body-" he turned a bit pale "-or something she had with her that day. I've been trying to accept her being gone, and now you tell me she's alive and well, and that my dear wife is behind all this. Do give me a moment to come to grips with this, okay?"

  Hilda nodded and patted his hand. "Sure. When you put it that way, Walt, take all the time you need. But hurry, because things are moving and my plan has timing issues."

  "Yes, of course," Walt nodded. "Is there a way I can contact you?"

  Hilda thought for a moment. The usual way, paper on an arrow, would be far too conspicuous. She let go of the king's arm, bent down and picked up a small twig. With the wand in hand she mumbled something, then broke off a tiny part of the twig. As she sensed a slight shiver over her shoulders, she knew the spell had connected with the wood.

  "Keep this twig and break it in two if you need me. I'll do my best to come to you as quickly as I can."

  Walt took the small bit of wood and stuck it in the hidden pocket of his royal red robe, next to the small flask of potent wine he always carried for medicinal purposes. "I will give all of this a lot of thought, Grimhilda," he then said. "You do put me in a difficult position, you understand... If this all is true, I should have my wife executed or something nasty like that. But when all of this is false..." He did not finish his sentence, but cast a glance at the witch. He hoped it would say enough.

  Hilda wasn't impressed. "Go and do what you feel is best, Walt. I have to run now, as there are things cooking on other stoves also. I hope you come to your senses. Talk to your queen and try to find out what she is, and what she's upto." She looked around and cursed. "I should not leave my broom invisible and in a strange place."

  The witch held out her hand and said something in Latin. "I hate Latin. Broom, come here." Seconds later, she felt her broom arrive in her hand. She made it visible, got on it and greeted Walt. "I'll hear from you." Then she swooped up into the skies, leaving Walt with his thoughts.

  As this powwow between Hilda and Walt was going on, the mean queen was soaking in her second bath. It was incredible how deep the coal dust had found its way into her skin, it had been everywhere and after the first plunge she had still found black marks.

  "We'll see how things are now," she chuckled to herself as she slapped at one of the royal rubber ducks that floated around her. Royal rubber ducks had small golden crowns on their head. The ducks had been her plotting companions very often, so it was a good thing they were made of rubber. And more importantly, that they could keep secrets.

  After the bath, she had decided, she'd go to her talking mirror again and ask it the question that mattered. And this time it'd better give the right answer!

  Hilda was on her way home. Her head was spinning with things to arrange and consider. There were the dwarfs who had to get thing in order, stuff for the meeting on Scary Mountain, the queen had to be kept under surveillance, the king had to make up his mind. As she approached her house, there was a rather disturbing sight. Usually there was nobody in their right mind who would make themselves comftorable almost on the doorstep of her home. And that unimaginable thing was happening right there and then.

  A group of three people sat on the ground, near a large wagon. In front of the wagon were two horses, usually busy pulling the wagon, now shortening the few bits of grass that were in the soil. The two men were dressed in black costumes and white shirts. One of them even wore a high round hat with a rim around it. The woman was wearing some kind of gypsy outfit,
consisting of such a multitude of colours that the person assembling the clothes must have gone stark raving mad.

  Hilda lowered the broom and hovered near the group of three. "What's this?"

  "Ah, my lady," one of the two men said as he got up. The other man and the woman held their seats and just looked at Hilda. "I assume you are the local witch?"

  "You assume partly correct." Hilda slowly got off her broom and made it rest against her house. "So what's this?" Her hands on her hips she waited, intending to make this mini circus short.

  The man took off his hat and made a deep bow. "My lady witch, allow me to introduce you to me. My fame spreads out throughout many a kingdom, and you have probably heard of me and my companions. On the road since many years as we are-"

  "Yeah, stop, I don't have time for that. Name, business and then scram, okay?"

  The man with the hat was visibly shaken by her harsh interruption. "Uhm, certainly. I am Ribaldo, and these people are Ronaldo and Regina. We make brooms."

  14. We make brooms

  "And that's all? Good luck with it and now go, okay?" Hilda started walking past Ribaldo, keen on getting into the house and attend to her own business.

  "My lady witch, if you allow me...", Ribaldo said, not easily thrown off. Years of experience in dealing with even the most reluctant customers had made him an excellent businessman. He only moved slightly, not really getting in the way of Hilda as she walked up, but just enough for her to take notice of him being there. Ribaldo knew that this was a fantastic move.

  Hilda was not used to people being this annoying. She stopped in front of Ribaldo, her nose almost against his. "Look buster, I gave you some of my time, okay? I suggest you'd better step aside and get away as long as you are still able to. I have things to do, as I am sure you have. And I bet you that these things have nothing in common."

  The wicked witch wanted to walk around Ribaldo, who then made the biggest mistake in his life. His arm held out to prevent Hilda from walking on, he said: "Dear lady witch, wouldn't you have a look at our brooms? I told you we make brooms-"

  Hilda held up her hand, and the wand appeared. Ribaldo stared at it, his words frozen in his throat.

  "Ribaldo. I told you I am not interested. You are bugging me. But you have convinced me... the things I have to do right now have something in common with the things you do."

  Ribaldo's face lit up, as he felt a good transaction coming up. "Wonderful-", he started, when Hilda interrupted him.

  "Did you know that I make brooms also?", the wicked witched asked him.

  Ribaldo looked a bit surprised, hardly noticing the wand that was moving.

  "Oh yes. And my brooms obey." Hilda pointed her wand to her own broom and said: "Scopae percussus actor."

  "How cute," was what Ribaldo managed to say, before the broom lifted off and raced towards him. The flying magical broom started pounding Ribaldo in every spot it could reach. There was hardly a spot it could not get to. The broom salesman made a few futile attempts to ward off the rain of whacks the broom delivered, then tried to run away from his wooden punisher. The broom was not giving up just like that and kept banging on Ribaldo's body, no matter where the man in black tried to escape to. As Hilda had said, her brooms obeyed.

  Ronaldo and Regina had gotten to their feet and tried to get close enough to the raging broom to grab it and force it to the ground, but the stick was moving so rapidly that they did not stand a chance. An icicle in hell would beat its odds. They had to stand back, or they'd be slapped black and blue as well.

  Hilda looked at the scene, shaking her head. "Accio scopae." The broom stopped beating Ribaldo and took position next to the witch.

  "Had enough?", Hilda asked. Her face showed that she had gotten beyond that point already, long ago.

  Regina turned to Hilda. "What the hell was that for?", she yelled as she came walking up to Hilda, anger and murder in her eyes.

  "He was in my way. I told him not to do so, and he didn't listen." Hilda kept her cool, but her eyebrows lowered themselves into battle-formation as Regina grabbed the wicked witch by the arms.

  "Let go of me," said Hilda, emphasising each word with icy undertones.

  "Apologise to my man first,"Regina demanded. She did not know Hilda, but that was only a matter of time. Little of that also.

  "Scopaeros in diliculum," Hilda simply said, and a broom dressed in very colourful clothes fell to the ground, much to the surprise and shock of Ribaldo and Ronaldo.

  "Regina!", cried the former as he charged forward and fell to his knees, hugging the broom. "Where is she?", he then howled at Hilda, "I want Regina back!"

  "Hey, I wanted you to go away, and did you care to listen?", Hilda retaliated. She turned towards her house and walked to the front door, her flying broom floating after her like a pet. Before she went inside, she turned to Ribaldo. "See, I told you I make brooms also."

  The door closed quietly as she disappeared from view. Regina would remain a broom only until the break of the new day.

  Hilda leaned against the door, her head against the comforting wood. "Why do I always get the nutcases...," she sighed. Then she took the broom and put it in its place.

  The two men were packing up their belongings, Ribaldo taking extra care in placing Regina among the other brooms and folding her clothes nicely, and then they headed out of the vicinity of the witch's house as fast as the horses were able to pull the wagon!

  The wicked witch positioned herself in front of the magical mirror after fixing a cup of tea. "Let's see what the little guys are upto..."

  As she saw that they were indeed keeping up their part of the plan, she nodded, satisfied. "Good boys." She then turned her attention to the remaining preparations for the meeting on Scary Mountain. Babs and she were really going to steal the show, she was convinced of that.

  Two of the dwarfs, Happy amd Bashful, were on their way to the village. It would take them a while to get there, as they were too proud to ask for a lift, and their legs were quite short. They persisted though, and towards the evening they reached their destination. Happy had proposed that they would take a bit of a detour, since he was not very eager to pass the house of the witch.

  "It talks to me," he had explained to Bashful, who had blushed.

  "Houses don't talk, Happy," the timid dwarf had replied, pointing his gaze to the ground.

  "This one does, believe me. It is the house of a witch, and that's the difference." Happy nodded as they walked along.

  The two small men came to the house of Johan the mirror-maker and Happy knocked on the door.

  Johan opened the door and stared into the falling darkness. "Who's there?"

  "Hey, down here," said Happy as he was waving for attention of the tall human.

  Johan smiled as he kneeled down. "Well, hello there little men. Why are you here on this late hour, so far from your land over the hills?"

  "Oh, some dinner and a beer would be most welcome," Happy grinned. Bashful heard that, turned red again and tried to hide behind his partner's back. "But actually we are here for with sad request."

  Johan frowned. "A sad request? Do come in, little friends, it is not proper to leave you waiting outside my door. My wife will certainly be able to prepare dinner for you, and there is some good ale in my cupboard."

  Happy and Bashful entered the home and were guided into the living room where Johan introduced them to his wife. The woman, Katrina, was thrilled by the small visitors and did not lose time in making a nice meal for the two small hungry men.

  As she was working in the kitchen, Johan lifted the two upon chairs and then he was interested to hear what sad request they had.

  "A good friend of ours has died," Bashful said, "and we want her to be buried in the most wonderful way. That is why we want you to make a glass coffin."

  Johan was silent for a moment. "A glass coffin... I have never made something like that, I have to admit. It must be someone very special that you want to bury like that."

&nb
sp; Both the dwarfs nodded, Bashful letting out a soft sigh as his gaze went fuzzy for a few moments as memories raced by him. Then Katrina broke the spell, as she put down plates with food and glasses with beer.

  The dwarfs started eating, as Johan began drawing a coffin, scribbling down sizes, glass thickness, started thinking about the way he should glue and tie the whole thing together. By the time he was almost finished with his draft designs, the two dwarfs were rather tipsy as the glasses with beer were quite a bit larger than they were used to.

  Johan and Katrina laughed as the two started dancing through the room, stumbling over their own feet. Even Bashful, who usually was the quiet type, was quite expressive for a while. The end of course came when the two dwarfs tumbled to the ground and did not get up as alcohol-induced sleep took over.

  The mirror-maker was grateful that they had a spare bedroom, so he and his wife put the two snoring visitors in the bed and closed the door.

  15. Royal revelation

  As the morning had come, the mean queen stood in front of her talking mirror. "Tell me again!", she said with a tremendous smile on her face.

  "Okay...," the mirror said. If it had been able to, it would have let out a sigh. "Oh, queen, in this land thou art fairest of all."

  "Yes!!!", the queen moaned, and pressed another sloppy kiss on the mirror. "I am the most beautiful one again! Down with the competition, I have to remain the fairest..."

  She picked up her dress from the bed, held it against her and waltzed with it through her chambers, humming her favourite tunes for a while. Until she reached the wall with the mirror again. "Mirror? Care to tell me who's the fairest in the land? Oh, life is good again."

  As the mirror in the castle was getting close to despair, Hilda was gathering her things for the evening. Scary Mountain was up tonight and it all was prepared.

  "Babs, are you going in style?", she asked the crystal ball that showed Baba Yaga's hut and the witch that lived there.

  "No, Hilly, I want to keep things nice and quiet. Let the action speak instead of the clothes," Baba Yaga replied, "but feel free to make a grand entrance if you care for one. You're more for that kind of thing and I have to admit that the glitzy stuff looks awesome on you."