by Paul Kater
"Why thank you, girlfriend," Hilda giggled as she looked in her wardrobe. She pulled out a dress and held it in front of her. "How about this one?"
The dress was quite a slinky one, all subdued silver that looked like sparkling lead, with black stars all over it.
"You dare wear that??" Sheer shock streamed from the crystal ball, visible as question marks that floated into the room and then evaporated into puffs of purple smoke.
"Think it is a bit too much for the oldies?" Hilda looked at the dress. She had not worn it very often, she had to admit to herself, and it was kind of revealing indeed. It showed lots of leg and lots of other things that witches usually don't show off.
"What the heck, girlfriend," Babs said in her cackling voice, "put it on and shock them out of their double-knit knickers!" A witchy laughter filled the room that would be the death of a mere mortal. Hilda just had to grin along with it.
"Okee dokee, let's make waves there," the wicked witch laughed, thinking also of the small bit of entertainment she and Babs had prepared.
In the workshop of Johan the mirror-maker, a lot of activity was unfolding. The assignment from the dwarfs was an intriguing one, so the man had shoved all other orders to the side and was working on the glass coffin. The two dwarfs did their best to help him, so the work would progress as quickly as was humanly and dwarfly possible.
Happy had happily used Katrina, Johan's wife, to indicate what the size of the coffin should be. "Just like her, only then with her head off," he had said with a big smile.
Katrina had some objections to that kind of measure-taking, but as long as she was allowed to keep her head where it was, she was fine with it in the end.
Walt was keeping more than his average eye on his wife. She had appeared at the breakfast table, which was rather unheard of already, but she had actually been in a good mood. That was very uncanny.
He had asked why she was in such a good mood, and all she had said was that there was nothing bothering her anymore, and some vague things about competition that now was eradicated. She would not say anymore about it, and Walt was not going to push things. That would make his curiosity too obvious. Instead he went about in a sneaky way: he set up some of his servants to spy on his wife.
The men kept walking along the corridors and in turn went to Walt to report what she was doing. Most of that was quite boring to the king, as that involved woman things, like having another bath, standing in front of the mirror with yet another set of clothes that was not going to be worn that day and more silliness like that.
Then one of the servants came with news that was interesting: "The queen herself is cleaning out Snow-White's room herself. And with each item she throws out she is laughing and making strange remarks."
"Strange remarks? Such as?", Walt asked.
"Things like 'I got you now, sweetie', my king. Or 'My apple got to your core, did it?' Things like that," the servant said.
Walt frowned. "Weird things to say, don't you agree?"
The servant rubbed his nose, unsure what to say to that. "It is what I heard her say, my king... And then there is-" The man slapped a hand over his lips, as his face turned red.
"There is what, my man?", Walt asked. "Come on, say it. You said something and you are bound to tell me the rest now. I declare this, here and now. It's good to be king, you know."
The servant looked as if Hilda herself had attached his hand to his face: it did not want to come off. Behind his fingers he mumbled something inunderstandable.
"Get your fingers out of your face, man," Walt ordered, "and talk in a way that I can understand you!"
The servant tore his hand from his mouth with obvious difficulty. "They say," he said, as quietly as he could, "that the queen is uhfuffel."
"The queen is what?"
"Uhfuffel, my king."
"One more time, and now out loud, if you want to keep your ears, okay?" Walt was getting slightly annoyed by the mumbling servant.
The servant drew a deep breath and stuck all his courage in it. "Unfaithful, my king. They say that the queen is unfaithful. Cheating on you. You know the deal, doing the hokey-pokey with other men, doing the wild thing with people that she should not do it with." As the words came out of the man's mouth, the blood drew away from his cheeks, leaving him standing there as a ghost.
"Oh. Is that so..." Walt, the king, frowned for a moment. "And who, pray tell, are 'they'?"
The servant battled with his conscience. He could hardly say that just about everyone in the castle was aware of the queen's nighttime (and also daytime) escapades. "Uhm, well, several people say so. Many people here, I forgot the names. And the faces too."
"Right...", Walt nodded. "So the queen is sleeping with other men..."
"Well, I wouldn't call that sleeping, my king. Afterwards, perhaps, but she has quite a lot of energy to burn befo-" The hand flew to the mouth again.
"Is that so..." Walt looked at the servant. "You seem to know an awful lot about all this, my man. Now, come on, be a real guy. You are not going to lose your ears over this, I promise you." The smile on Walt's face did not hold much good in store for the servant.
The king waved, and two guards that were ever present stepped up and took the servant by the arms. "Take him to the physician, guards. And tell the physician to make sure he will not be able to do the wild thing again. Ever."
"Very well, sire," said one of the guards. The other one went extremely pale behind his metal mask. Together they dragged the servant off, while Walt was reconsidering his views and ideas about what he had until now considered to be his loving wife.
Hilda had all her gear in order and stacked in one place in the room. It was a rather amazing amount of material she intended to take along for the evening.
"Hilly, are you still there?", a voice came from the crystal ball that was doing overtime these days.
"Babs, baby, I hear you. What's teasing?"
"I have a bit of a problem here," Baba Yaga said. "I can't get the bloody kettle folded up the way I want and I'm already in need of a spare broom to take my things along. Is there a possibility that you swing by and help me out?"
"Oh, sure, I'll drop in with you. Maybe there's time for tea and a chat, if I pack up and leave now," Hilda said. "I have another strong broom here that can hold your cauldron without a hitch."
"You're the best, Hilda! If you care to drop by, please do to. I'll put the kettle on and have tea and gingerbread cookies ready."
"I hear you, girlfriend," Hilda grinned, "are those the same ones that you got from the stupid hag that tried to get to Hanzel and Gretel?"
"No way, Hilly, they'd gone stale and hard. I don't know what recipe Bruni used but that was definitely a bad on her end. Well, she got toasted in her own oven and she took her secret with her. Good riddance, I think."
Hilda laughed at the memory. "Oh yeah. She never was good at cooking something up. Hey, I'm loading up and brooming my way over to you, Babs!" The wicked witch waved over the ball and ended the chat that way. She brought out her wand and looked at her small, elegant purse. Usually it would be big enough for a small hanky and a few coins, but Hilda was not made of usual. She waved her wand, picked up the dice that remained of her mountain of things and dropped it in the purse.
"Right, packing done," she nodded. She snipped her fingers and two brooms lazily floated through the room towards her, and they followed her as she walked to the front door. Just before leaving, she hesitated for a moment. Should she have a last look at things in the kingdom? Hilda shook her head. If things were to go wrong, then they would also go wrong without her watching. There was something more interesting coming up this evening. The world would have to get by without this wicked witch for a while.
Once outside, Hilda locked up her house. It looked quite impressive, with hundreds of yards of big iron chains and padlocks around it. She took a small sign out of the air and hung that on one of the padlocks. It read: "The witch is out."
16. Scary Mounta
in blues
Hilda touched down on the path that led to Baba Yaga's hut. She knew how to approach it, being from the front. It looked like your average hut on giant chicken legs, but it was a lot smarter than that. Like Hilda's house, it was able to inform the resident witch if someone was approaching.
The wicked witch considered that as she was walking up to the hut. Perhaps she should indeed get her house a new layer of paint. Lately it had been really neglecting its tell-tale abilities, making her open the door in her nighty for the wrong people.
"Heya, house, how's things? Can you watch my brooms for a bit while I am inside?", Hilda said as she was close to one of the legs. It lifted a toe and she shoved her brooms under it. With such a chicken toe guarding her belongings, there was no way anyone but herself or Babs would be able to get them away from there.
The witch looked at the unpainted hut. Maybe her own house was just acting up.
The door of the hut opened and Baba Yaga appeared, in all her ugliness. "Hilly!", she shrieked as she jumped towards the wicked witch. The two hugged, as they had not seen each other in almost a year. "Come in, you witch," Baba Yaga said, "I have tea and cookies."
"It is so good to see you again, Babuschka," Hilda said as they were sitting and having exchanged a lot of gossip. There was always gossip to go over, or to go over again.
"Feels so to me also, Hilly," Baba Yaga said, scratching her few hairs with the long boney fingers. "So can you have a look at this kettle of mine? It is a serious piece of hardware, made by one of my most faithful Russian blacksmiths, and he did a really good job on it. A bit too good for my taste at the moment."
Hilda considered the immense cauldron. It stood big, black, round and very solid in the room, appearing too large to be even inside the hut. "That is one beast, Babs. I see where your problem sits."
She pulled out her wand and walked around the cauldron. She tapped it. The kettle was such a massive thing that there was no sound coming from it. "Whoa, serious stuff," Hilda mumbled. "This is one challenge. Resilire Cortina!"
The cauldron was hardly impressed. Nothing happened.
Babs sat watching how Hilda was going about, biting the thin lower lip with her toothless jaw. Hilda knew it and wanted to do this.
"Russian eh, no liking for Latin? Good. I hate Latin." She slapped the cauldron with the wand, while saying: "Shrink, you bitch." There was an audible plop as the cauldron reduced itself in size to an overgrown dice.
Hilda picked it up. "Gotcha. Here ya go, Babs, no problem."
Baba Yaga grinned. "You are so good, Hilly, I knew you could pull this off as the witchmaster you are. I have been meddling with skulls and bones too long, I think. Lost the touch for the bigger magic, I'm afraid."
"Ah, don't worry Babuschka, let's pack up and head over to Scary Mountain. I am sure Nanny Ogg and Granny Weatherwax are already working on getting the full moon out tonight."
And so the two witches took out Baba Yaga's suitcase and a big bag of goodies for munching on the way. Hilda tied the shrunken cauldron to her spare broom and they were set to go.
"Hey, that's wicked, Babs, what gave you that idea?" Hilda looked at the end of Baba Yaga's broom where a skull was tied to the stick. The end of the stick stuck out of one of the eyesockets. "Didn't you have the end out of the nose last year?"
"Yeah, I used to," cackled the old witch, "but I did some courses on modernism and alternative approaches to expressing yourself, and I came up with this. And I have to say that I like it, although it does affect the flight abilities of the broom a bit. But I can deal with that."
"Shiny," said Hilda, "I am awed by you, girlfriend. Doing courses still. Sweet."
Then they kicked off and soared along the clouds, en route to the meeting place.
They were coming within visual range of the mountain when Baba Yaga looked up. "Now what..."
Hilda looked up also and saw what was bugging her friend. The moon was out already. It was full. And too close to the ground. And pink. "Suck an elf, what's that?"
"I bet they brought that amateur in again, what's her name... Garlick."
Hilda groaned. "Not her... She's so... kissy kissy mooshy mooshy..."
"Don't let the kid get to you, Hilly," Baba Yaga said. "Keep your cool and get it over with. Remember: there's only one you and that is why I love you."
"Alright," Hilda sighed, not yet convinced she'd pull that off. Magrat Garlick was one of the sweetest and most innocent witches around, and she gave Hilda the never-ending creeps.
The duo landed their brooms a bit away from the general pucblic that was already assembling on Scary Mountain. Hilda kept looking at the moon that was still pink, full and too close. After muttering something about burning on the stake, she helped Baba Yaga unload her cargo-broom and inflated the cauldron from hell again. With all their attributes and ingredients in place, they started preparing for the fireworks they had in mind.
"Hello, hello," a small obnoxious man with grey hair and a grey beard cheered as he walked around the cauldron.
"What the heck are you doing here?", Hilda asked.
"Ignore him, Hilly," the old boney witch said.
Rumpelstiltskin however grinned. "Hilly. Haha, I like that! I'll call you Hilly from now on!"
"Do that. Just once. Please, do it, and do it now," Hilda said as she made her wand appear. "It will be the last thing that comes from your puny throat, you idiot."
"Hey, wasn't this supposed to be a peaceful meeting?", Rumpelstiltskin asked as he slowly walked backwards, holding up his hands.
"Do I look peaceful?", Hilda enquired.
The small man turned and ran.
After they had gotten their artillery in position, Hilda magicked herself in her slinky dress. Baba Yaga walked around her a few times and approved fully. "You're going to knock 'm dead, Hilly," she said. "The red shoes are a nice touch too. You know, I've been wondering about painting some of the skulls on my fence red. Just to make a difference for a while."
Hilda grinned and watched how Baba Yaga changed her travelling clothes into a traditional black dress, complete with large pointy hat. "Your dresses never change, do they, Babs?"
"Oh, I just like them and they make me feel good," the old witch grinned, "just like the old days." She conjured up a large femur, tall enough to be a cane, and dressed for battle like that, they made their way to the central space where the meeting was going to be held.
The central space was already prepared for the most part. As usual, Strega Nona and Granny Weatherwax had taken the top off the mountain, giving the witches all the space they needed to work in. That and the moon always being full were the signs for the good citizens of the kingdom that there were spooky things at hand again that night.
Hilda and Baba Yaga stood quietly at the side of the field to take everything in.
Frau Holle was sitting near a small fire, making sure the coffee and tea were not toppling over. She was not wearing a traditional witchy outfit. A dress with flowers on, a white apron and a silly white hat to keep her grey-brown hair in control. She had already noticed the two new arrivals and quickly waved. That rushed action almost made the tea fall over.
"She still hasn't gotten that trick down," Hilda said. "I'm not offering to teach her again, she keeps declining. Makes me sick. But then, looking at that makes me sick also..."
In the middle of the open space stood a thin witch with flaxen hair, staring up at the moon, making gestures and mumbling spells. She wore a long white straight dress without any adornments or marks of witchdom. The moon was so low that the witch could almost push it up. It was still pink. Slightly brighter, but...
Mother Elderberry and Nanny Ogg were fussing over something or other near the picnic table. Granny Weatherwax was nowhere to be seen, but that happened more often. The only two that were not present were Berchta and Glenda the Good Witch.
"Let's join all the fun," Baba Yaga said, grabbing Hilda by the arm and plowing the top of the mountain with her femur-cane as the
y started walking over to Mother Elderberry.
"Well, well, you did come," was the greeting for the two witches. "We had no idea that you would take the trouble."
"Come on, Mother Elderberry, we're as much part of the crew as you are. Kicks the shit out of me why you asked Rumpelstiltskin over though. That vermin is not a witch," Hilda countered. "Not even a halfway proper replacement for Babs or me."
"Hilda, calm down please," said Nanny Ogg. "We are really pleased that you have come over. Most of what happened last year is forgiven and- well, let's not talk about that anymore. Welcome to the meeting, ladies. If you want some refreshments, Frau Holle is in charge of the beverages this evening."
"Not a very lucky choice, is it?", commented Baba Yaga, as they saw the coffeepot slip and its contents almost extinguish the fire it was over.
"Oh, well, she is doing her best," Nanny Ogg tried to make things less bad.
"Berchta and Glenda not here yet? Or did they cancel?", asked Hilda.
"They should come, they confirmed so that should be fine," said Mother Elderberry.
Hilda and Baba Yaga trotted over to the tea-corner and were served by a remarkably nervous Frau Holle.
"Are you going to make a mess of things again?", the tea-witch asked, setting a very unfriendly tone.
"Nah," said Hilda, "nothing we can do would equal what you are trying here."
"Hilly, please," her friend tried to calm her down.
A bright light made everyone look at Magrat Garlick. And at the moon that was now desert-sand yellow and slowly coming down even more.
"Hey, Magrat, need a hand?", Hilda called out.
The thin white witch looked at her with the makings of panic in her eyes. "Yes. Please..."
Hilda brought out the wand and walked over to the witch in distress. "What are you trying here?"
"Uhm, it should be kind of white, and higher up. Especially higher up."