Snow Whyte and the Queen of Mayhem

by Melissa Lemon

  “What do we do now?” Katiyana asked.

  “What do you mean we?” Kurz grumbled, heading toward the house.

  “You would just leave me out here?” Katiyana had an astonished look on her face. She looked about the surrounding forest. Full night had set in, and chill wind had picked up. I could only imagine her thoughts.

  Kurz paused, still facing the house and away from Katiyana. I could see the dilemma clearly in his eyes.

  He looked back at her. “This is no place for a girl.”

  It wasn’t a no, but it wasn’t a yes either.

  “Kurz?” she pleaded.

  He groaned loudly and finally motioned for her to follow him. He muttered a slew of words as he led the princess to the house. I couldn’t quite distinguish what he said, but I’m pretty sure he wasn’t exactly thrilled to be letting her into his home.

  And the other dwarves wouldn’t allow it; they kept the door securely locked as the princess and her little man approached. Kurz knocked. “Open up, you imbeciles!”

  No answer.

  “So where did you come from?” Kurz asked, knocking again.

  Of course, she couldn’t tell. She shook her head.

  “Okay, where is it you’re going?”

  That question she could answer. “I don’t have anyplace to go.”

  “Then what is it you’re supposed to be doing?”

  “I’m waiting.”

  “What are you waiting for?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “All right then, who are you waiting for?”

  “Jeremy Simkins.”

  “Really?” he asked.

  Katiyana nodded.

  “Now, you don’t want to be dealing with anyone by the name of Simkins. Every one of them’s been nothing but trouble since anyone can remember. If you’ve met any Simkins, every dwarf in the kingdom of Mischief will have pity on you.

  He knocked again, this time a bit more forcefully.

  “How many dwarves are there in Mischief?”

  “Seven.”

  Seven Tiny Men

  Open this door!” Kurz yelled. “She’s been wronged by a Simkins.”

  “No, no, he hasn’t wronged me,” Katiyana tried to defend.

  “Just knowing one is being wronged.”

  The door finally opened. Such a sight, seven little men! Upon closer inspection, it was more like five and two halves, for two of the men were stuck together. A stranger thing I’m sure I’ve never seen, and I couldn’t help but be distracted wondering how they functioned.

  Every possession fit neatly in the home’s only room. A brick oven and a workspace for food preparation took up the right side of the room; a round table circled with stools stood right before the entrance; and a brick fireplace barely burned to Katiyana’s left, surrounded by a disarray of blankets, pillows, and dwarf-sized stools. Kurz motioned to one such stool, inviting the princess to take a seat.

  Katiyana sat, enthralled as Kurz introduced each of the others.

  “This is Jalb,” he said, poking a stocky finger at a stocky bald man that with greater height could have passed for a sea pirate. “He’s the domestic one. All that shoving a bonnet on my head and an apron around my neck! This is the one who wears the apron around here. And he actually likes it.”

  Jalb stood up from his wide, sturdy stool and took a begrudging bow. “Can I finish making dinner now? I’m starving.”

  “Make enough for the girl. She’ll be staying for dinner.” Kurz’s request was met with a grunt, but since Jalb obeyed, I couldn’t help suspect that the dwarf valued Kurz’s opinion. In fact, Kurz’s confident air and the way in which the other dwarves surrounded and listened to him intently made me think he was the most respected.

  The two dwarves connected together got introduced next. “This is Corto,” Kurz said as he placed a hand on the shoulder of the man on the left. Only their middles merged together; each man had all the normal appendages. Kurz moved to the other side of the men. “And this is Arrapato.” Arrapato, who looked identical to his brother, gave a nod. Both the men had wide, open eyes the color of coal and were thinner than most of the others. One wore his dark hair slightly longer than the other. I couldn’t then imagine how they managed to find clothing. Perhaps they simply dressed as normal men and cut a hole in the side of their shirts and pants to accommodate their brother. “These two earn most of our bread. You’d be amazed what people pay just to get a look at them.”

  Kurz’s attention moved to two more dwarves sitting on low stools. “This here is Duan,” he said with his finger in the face of the pudgiest of them all. “He and Kapos here do the gardening. A man’s got to eat, you know.” Duan looked to be the oldest and was mostly bald except for some wisps of white hair near the back of his head. Kapos was much younger and had a pleasant face. I imagine he could have been a lady’s man if his stature had not been so small. He nodded and winked at Katiyana as a bit of his long, straight hair fell from behind his ear and swept across his forehead.

  What a pleasure it was to see her then, smiling at them all, truly enjoying herself for the first time in days. But an uncertainty lingered in my heart and mind. I thought of Jeremy and the words Kurz had said about the Simkins family. I worried for the princess, and made up my mind that as soon as she settled in, I would locate Jeremy Simkins and see what he was up to. Would the dwarves, as Kurz had implied, have pity on her and give her shelter?

  One more dwarf remained. “This is Pokole,” Kurz said. “And he’s the man of the house.” All of the dwarves nodded and grunted in agreement. I wondered how old he could be—he still looked so much like a child. He had pale yellow hair and light blue eyes. Pokole also sat on a stool, but his legs hung off the end, several inches from the floor. When standing, he probably would have come to just above Katiyana’s knee, and a normal man could have wrapped his hands around the tiny man’s waist. His arms twisted a bit as well, giving me the impression that he was frail and slightly deformed. “Be careful with Pokole, though. He breaks easy.”

  “What do you mean he breaks easy?” Katiyana asked, speaking for the first time.

  “His bones,” Kapos explained, unable to keep from smiling at the pretty lady in his house. “His bones break easy. Sometimes he’ll crack if you do nothing but give him a slap on the back.”

  “Doesn’t he speak?” Katiyana asked.

  “He’s a little shy around strangers,” Kapos answered.

  “Just don’t touch him,” Kurz broke in protectively. “He does what he can to help us all.”

  Jalb took one last testing sip of his stew.

  “Dinner’s on! Enough of all this girly chitchat.”

  “Wait,” said Kurz. “We haven’t heard the girl’s story.”

  “Yeah, we don’t even know her name,” said Kapos, sending a flirtatious smile Katiyana’s way.

  “But can’t it wait?” whined Jalb. “I’m starving.”

  “Oh, the stew will keep, you wretch. Let’s hear the girl.” Kurz’s dominance showed once again. I don’t think any of them dared to argue with him.

  “Yeah, I want to hear about the girl,” Corto said.

  Arrapato nodded in agreement.

  I felt nervous for her—her first real test. I wondered if she would be true to Barney’s commands and avoid telling her real name or where she came from.

  “Oh, you don’t want to hear about me,” she said, trying to brush it off.

  “Okay, let’s eat,” Jalb said.

  “Shhhhh,” Kurz commanded. “Yes, we do want to hear about you. And about that Simkins too.”

  Katiyana thought and thought while six pair of eyes stared in anticipation. Jalb played with a pile of potato peels, looking terribly put out. I noticed for the first time that he had to stand on top of a stool to reach the work area in the kitchen.

  Wh
at could she tell these seven little men? I imagine she wondered why Barney had never let her leave the orchard and if it really could be dangerous to reveal where she came from. But I sensed the dwarves were trustworthy; I hoped she would confide in them.

  “I was raised by my uncle Barney on an apple orchard.”

  “Wait, give us your name first,” Duan interrupted.

  All the dwarves leaned in, eager to hear the name of the pretty maiden in front of them.

  “Kat.”

  Each dwarf face pulled a look of shock or wonder or disgrace. “Your name is Cat?” Kurz asked. “As in the animal?”

  “No,” Katiyana said. “It’s spelled K-A-T, not C-A-T.”

  “Oh, I see,” voiced several of the dwarves, nodding and shifting in their seats. I guessed most of them didn’t know how to spell anything.

  “Oh, it must be short for something,” Corto guessed.

  “Yeah,” Arrapato agreed. “Maybe her real name is Katarina or Katcha or Katalyn.”

  At this point I smiled, knowing the dwarves were on to something. But even Katiyana did not know her full name.

  “No,” Katiyana said. “It’s just Kat.” She looked around at them all as a bit of red seeped into her otherwise tan face. “Kat Whyte.”

  “Well, what else can you tell us?” Kurz inquired further.

  “I love books and reading and drawing.”

  “What else?” Kapos chimed.

  “What about your family?” Duan asked. “Where are your mother and father?”

  “I really don’t know anything else. Living on an apple orchard and my uncle Barney are all I know.”

  “What about that Simkins? Was he the one who left your face looking so awful?” Jalb questioned, suspicion evident in his eyes and the way he crossed his arms over his chest. Despite his rough edges, he actually seemed to care about the girl, at least where Jeremy Simkins played a part.

  Katiyana’s face really did look awful. The bruises were dark and stood out in sharp contrast with her skin.

  Katiyana looked at the floor, the fire casting light on her dark hair and still face. “No, no, it was nothing like that. Jeremy worked at the orchard. I don’t know much about him either, except that he always kept me company. I thought we were just good friends. Then one day he told me he loved me.”

  “Loved you and then left you,” Kurz said, voicing his disapproval.

  “How did you end up here?” Duan wondered aloud.

  “Jeremy told me to leave my uncle.”

  “Now, why would he do a thing like that?” Jalb asked, pounding a fist into the palm of his opposite hand.

  “He thought my uncle was dangerous.”

  “And was he?” Duan sought.

  Katiyana hesitated, touching her bruised face lightly, but perhaps remembering the good things her uncle had done for her. “At times,” she admitted with a regretful nod.

  A profound hush fell over them all. Their confused faces were readable enough: if Jeremy Simkins was so rotten, why help the girl and try to protect her from Barney?

  “Well, any fool can fall in love,” Kurz remarked.

  “Maybe it’s got nothing to do with love,” Jalb offered. “He is a Simkins, after all, and they’re known liars and thieves. Maybe telling you he loved you was a trick. Maybe he’s just cruel. Is there something he has to gain from loving you? Maybe he hopes to take over your uncle’s orchard someday.” As if to punctuate his words, his large belly gurgled loudly in hunger.

  Katiyana scrunched her eyebrows together, considering Jalb’s words, confusion evident on her face.

  “Enough of all this,” Duan said. “Be considerate of the girl. Let’s not upset her. And the soup is ready, after all.”

  Jalb rolled his eyes.

  I watched with interest as they prepared the table. I wondered how Corto and Arrapato would sit and eat, but they managed fine. They arranged their stools close together and then slid in front of them, scooting their feet in coordinated baby steps. I imagine one had learned to use his right hand most often and the other his left. They climbed backward up the bracing bars of the tall stool simultaneously. While the stools around the fire accommodated little legs, the stools around the normal-sized table stood a little taller. I wondered why they didn’t just saw a few inches off the legs of the table.

  Kurz pulled a stool out for Katiyana, gesturing for her to sit down. When up on these stools, the little men sat closer to the same height as their guest. Even Pokole, who sat right on top of the table, could look the princess in the eye without tilting his head up.

  Jalb ladled Katiyana’s share first, filling her fired clay bowl to the brim. Although his chin cleared the table by only a few inches, he didn’t spill a drop.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Jalb grunted.

  “Don’t let him scare you.” Kapos leaned in close to the princess, his fine hair swaying toward her.

  But Katiyana couldn’t eat before voicing one more question. “Are the Simkins’ really liars and thieves?”

  “We don’t need to talk about that right now, dear,” Duan said.

  “No, I think she should hear it.” Kurz must have sensed Katiyana’s uneasiness.

  “Yeah, a story’s better that Corto’s bodily noises anyway,” Jalb said.

  “It’s not me,” Corto defended. “It’s always Arrapato.”

  “Enough, you numbskulls!” Kurz yelled. “We have a lady in the house now.”

  Corto and Arrapato snickered quietly. Jalb rolled his eyes again.

  Each dwarf spoke in turn, telling stories of their encounters with the Simkins. A horribly poor family with too many children, they left a stinky reputation behind them wherever they went. You couldn’t speak their name within fifty yards of the market without the sellers covering their goods for fear of them being stolen, according to the dwarves.

  “And I’ve heard they never bathe,” Kapos said. “Disgusting.”

  Katiyana laughed at that. “I don’t remember Jeremy smelling like he never bathed.” She thought for a moment. “I remember his smell, pleasant and woodsy.”

  “Go on,” Duan encouraged.

  “It’s comforting now that I remember.” She bowed her head and fiddled with her hands in her lap. Then she lifted her eyes suddenly before speaking again. “Until after all the sweaty work in the hot sun. Then I couldn’t stand to be near him.” She laughed, a glossy look covering her eyes; she remembered him fondly, as did I.

  “The truth is,” Kurz began. “Mr. and Mrs. Simkins are known as the laziest, fattest people in all of Mischief. Their children beg and steal for the family’s living.”

  The dwarves began a debate about how many children actually lived in the Simkins’ home.

  “I know it’s more than ten,” offered Kurz.

  “I heard fifteen,” said Arrapato.

  “I heard twenty-seven.” This was the first time I had the pleasure of hearing Pokole speak. Oh, the surprise at hearing his high, squeaky voice! None of the other’s voices would have given them away as being different, but the quality of Pokole’s voice resembled that of a bird, or an exaggerating mother speaking to its babe.

  “Pokole, don’t be ridiculous, you nitwit,” Kurz chuckled. “There’s no such thing as having twenty- seven children.”

  Pokole gave a gentle shrug of his shoulders before carefully placing a spoon full of soup into his mouth.

  Poor Katiyana. She looked more confused than ever. She watched the others eat for a time, her thoughts deep, her eyes vacant. I marveled at the contradiction between what Katiyana and I knew of Jeremy, and what the dwarves had reported. Eventually, the princess picked up her spoon and finally took a bite of Jalb’s delicious-looking concoction. I wished I could smell it, and taste the onions, carrots, potatoes, and broth. The queen only allowed me to eat porridge.

&n
bsp; “You don’t want to go mixing up with a family like that,” Kurz continued, now as serious as ever.

  “And if that Simkins ever comes around here, I’ll chop him up and put him in the next stew,” said Jalb.

  At that, Katiyana and most of the dwarves dropped their spoons and pushed their bowls away from them; only Corto and Arrapato continued to eat.

  “What about all of you?” she asked. “Why do you live so far into the forest? And why was Kurz being sold as a slave?”

  “It’s a dangerous world for dwarves,” Duan replied. “We live so deep in the forest to keep hidden. Some people who find us like to capture us and sell us into slavery. And in Mischief it’s not against the law.”

  “Safer here than in Mayhem, though,” Kurz said. “The queen of Mayhem has all dwarves killed as soon as they’re discovered.”

  “That’s awful,” Katiyana said. “I can’t believe anyone would want to kill such cute little men.”

  Jalb let out a grunt, and Kurz glared at Katiyana. “Don’t be calling us cute,” he warned.

  “Or little,” added Jalb.

  “I’m sorry,” said Katiyana, holding back a smirk. They were cute. And they were little. And they were men, after all. I couldn’t help smiling myself, especially given their reaction.

  Duan kept talking. “Corto and Arrapato have never been caught because nobody wants them. But people love to pay money to see them. They have a whole act they do at the market on occasion, but mostly we have everything we need here in the forest.”

  “And how did you come about this house?”

  All the dwarves bowed their heads. “Mother Dwarf,” Kurz said. “She was a dwarf whose parents actually kept and raised her. Most of the time, people who have dwarves abandon them or let them die. That’s what happened to most of us. We were abandoned when we were children.” All of the dwarves avoided looking at the princess, ashamed of their history. Kurz cleared his throat and continued. “Anyway, Mother Dwarf wasn’t abandoned. She was kept, cherished, and loved. When her parents died, they left her this house. She took every one of us in, starting with Duan when he was only a babe.”

  “She’d have turned no one out,” Duan said. “No one.”