by Paul Kater
The sun had set. Darkness was rapidly spreading under the leafed roof of the forest, as a magical cloud of black smoke, and the images in the mirror were getting impossible to discern. Hilda waved at the shiny surface, which turned back into its natural state of a reflecting patch of silver, cracks and all.
"That much for trying to find her," Hilda told her goblet of wine. "No use going there now. If she made it so far, she should be asleep somewhere and that's fine. If she didn't make it, then there's nothing to be done about it. Would just mean a change in plans for the liver-eater." With a chuckle she got up from her seat and stretched herself. It was time to have a look at the potions and other mixtures she had prepared...
On the terrain that had been turned back to gnome-proof habitats, far away from the castle, Quirrin was lying on the ground, his massive body pushed underneath one of the larger shrubs. With a satisfied grumble he closed his eyes, as the smell of the forest drifted up his nostrils. He felt home again, and tomorrow he would go to the other gnomes and tell them what Hilda had done for them.
In the good part of the village, a young yellow woman was determined to spend the entire night in a bathtub, hoping that the hot water would make her skin turn back to its original tone. She was still tired from the ordeal of rebuilding the terrain on which Quirrin was now so happily snoring and cursed Hilda in every way imaginable.
In a small house on the castle grounds, the huntsman sat on his bed and looked at the really big knife that he had gotten from the wicked witch. In his mind he saw himself charging at bears and wolves and other large creatures. His eyes glistened as he imagined the wild fights, the splatter of blood and the victory that was bound to be his, with this magnificent knife.
In the stables on the castle grounds, the horses were doing what horses usually do when night approaches. They had no clue there was a wicked witch around and wouldn't be impressed had they known.
Inside the castle a loud scream, followed by a prolonged crashing of glass and pottery emerged from the chambers of the queen. All this noise was mixed with an amazing sequence of profanities, one that nobody would expect a queen to know, even less that she'd utter them. The reason for this was what the mirror had said to the queen, in response to her question: "Looking-glass, looking-glass on the wall, who in this land is the fairest of all?" The mirror, made to be truthful, had replied: "Oh, queen, thou art fairest of all I see, but over the hills, where the seven dwarfs dwell, Snow-white is still alive and well, and none is so fair as she." The reply did not go down well at all with the mean stepmother.
The king had locked himself in his private chambers. There, summoning the aid of many bottles, he tried to drown the sorrow and pain. His little girl, Snow-White, had been killed by a wild animal. The huntsman's words still rang in his ears. Grief had overwhelmed him, he had started sobbing uncontrollably. That was when it became clear to him that his new wife wasn't the loving, caring person she'd told him she was. No sympathy, not a sweet comforting word for him. No sir, the first next thing she wanted was food and she had left for the kitchen. The merciless wench. As the flood of cursing came from the queen's room, the king stuffed his royal head, weary and alcohol-infused, under the regal pillow. From under it came something that sounded suspiciously like "Not again..."
And far away, over the hills, Snow-White was occupying one of seven small beds. After her running journey through the forest and over the tops of the hills, she had located the house of the seven dwarfs. The talking mirror on the wall of the queen's chamber was right about that. Snow-White had eaten and drunk from the food and drink on the table and then tumbled into one of the seven beds, falling into a deep sleep. So deep that she did not hear the seven little miners come in, singing their song, putting away their picks and shovels, washing themselves and grumbling over the mess that had appeared on their table...
The morning came. As Hilda had been up late, working on her potions and preparing magic for a kick-ass entry at the witches meeting on Scary Mountain, she had applied a spell to the morning sun, so it would unleash its light a little slower than usual, giving her the time to catch up on her sleep.
As light slowly crawled along the land, upsetting roosters who were not used at the sight of light sauntering by so slowly, the people in the village and in the castle awoke.
Hilda however had woken up quite on time and had jumped out of her bed, making it a first in a long time to be up before the dawn. She giggled as she saw how the sunshine was struggling to get past her house, as she was sipping her tea and reading her favourite spell book. She did not need a newspaper. She -was- the news. The wicked witch kept her eye on the light as it worked its way up to the line of trees behind her house. That was where her spell would draw the line. Slowly, ever so slowly the light pushed against the darkness, claiming the world as its own and putting up quite a fight for it. Then it reached the limit of the magical boundary, and with what would have been a victorious battle-cry the light leapt forward, hurtling over trees, streams and all other parts and bits it could find to envelope with its shine and warmth.
The young witch woke up all wrinkly and cold in her bathtub. She cried hot tears as she saw that her skin and hair were still yellow. The tears, hot as they were, did not manage to heat up the water in the tub.
The king did not catch any of the strange morning procedure. His head was throbbing and it felt four times its normal size. There was one servant who came into his room with a cheerful "good morning your majesty", and had the king not been such a kind man, the servant would have spoken his last words. Now he got off with an empty glass thrown to his head. He got the hint.
Quirrin did not care about strange morning goings on. He just turned on his other side, taking half the bush he was under out of the ground and happily snored on.
The queen had not seen the strange slowness of the sunlight either. She was inside her special hidden room, one that had all kinds of weird clothes and make-up stuff. And that was not all she had there. Her assortment of poisons and potions would have been the envy of your average witch. She was working hard on painting her face and dressing up as an old peddler woman. With a bag full of stuff she then slipped out of the castle, arranged for a horse and carriage that would take her towards the home of the miner dwarfs (money was no problem, she was after all the queen) and set off.
Hilda had finished her tea and was now trying to locate Snow-White. After a while of searching in the general direction she had seen her take off the day before, Hilda found the kid, facing seven dwarfs, one of which had had a rather bad night outside his own bed. Snow-White looked pretty upset, her hair and clothes were rather a mess from the run through the forest, so the sheets of the bed had suffered tremendously. There was some haggling going on, but the dwarfs weren't the petty kind and, so Hilda understood from the soundless images, they'd let her stay in the house. The seven teamed up again and set off towards their mine, while Snow-White waved them goodbye. Hilda wished she had missed that part.
"Right then. At the dwarf place she's safe for now. I'll go and see her today, plans are plans, and preparations are preparations." Hilda switched off the mirror and started to get dressed. In her nighty she would not make much of an impression anywhere. The silver stars were okay up to a point, the small skulls also, but someone might make inappropriate remarks about the teddy-bears.
In the meantime, the queen was getting her ass whooped in the carriage. Suspension was hardly heard of in the village and even less affordable for most. Shouting at the driver had no effect, he could not make the cart go easier unless he slowed down, and the queen was in a hurry. So she endured.
5. Queens and witches
Hilda prepared for the trip to the small seven-person house behind the hills, that now housed eight people. Simple attire, made for traveling fast, the regular broom, and no hat. She'd dropped the hat thing for most occasions that involved flight. If the hat would stay on, it would hang at an awkward angle after landing and that was not the thing to make a smas
hing appearance. If the hat did not stay on, it would be a waste of another good hat, and you'd see regulars walking around with witch's hats all over the place, as they were bound to get found.
She had been called out more than one time where some ordinary had found a witch's hat, put it on and gone quite silly in the head as that person's brain could not cope with the magic that had slipped into the hat. Happenings like that were fun, most of the time, but after a while the real thrill of it had worn off for Hilda.
The trip the wicked witch had in mind was more one of reconnaissance than of real action, so her clothes looked rather plain and... ordinary. As she did not dress up like that very often, this time she did need a mirror to check herself in. "Can't be too careful when there's a chance of dealing with people who should not know who you are," she reminded herself.
The view in the mirror was highly disappointing. Hilda saw a peasant girl. Someone who could have strolled in after working a day in the field, or herding geese, or something mind-castrating like that.
"Right, that'll have to do," she guessed. Broom in hand, she went out the back door. Nobody around, if there were anyone, should see her like that. It would not be good for her image and reputation. It would also blow her cover.
"Going out and having fun again?", the house asked.
"Hush you," Hilda said, pointing a warning finger at the top floor. "You're the house, I'm the witch. Deal with it."
"Some pretty colours would make me feel like having fun," the house shared with her.
"I told you. This year."
"And I am supposed to believe that..." The house radiated dismay. The house of a witch can do that.
"Believe all you want. Just don't bug me with it."
The house did not respond. Hilda shrugged, hopped on the broom while casting an invisibility shield around her and sped upwards, setting course for the hills.
The mean queen was, by that time, grinning a wide grin. The cart was already topping the hills, and the house of the dwarfs was getting nearer by the minute now. She actually was enjoying the trip, as her behind had been shaken and pounded for so long that she didn't even feel it anymore. This was quite a feat, as her royal behind had become quite considerable during the years she had been married to the king and learnt to enjoy the good life.
The driver halted the horse and the attached cart. He turned to the mean queen and said: "I can't go further. The road's too friggin' narrow from here on, so if you want to go further you'll have to walk. It's mostly dwarf-size here, you know."
The queen descended from the cart rather unceremoniously. She was not used to public transport. The driver threw her bag of goods on the ground next to her, making a large cloud of dust jump up. The queen coughed and wheezed for a while and decided that the driver should be quartered and hanged once they got back. Or hanged and quartered afterwards, depending on her mood then. "You will wait here until I come back."
The driver, who had already been reimbursed for a trip around the entire kingdom, nodded. "Sure. Same fare?"
The queen nodded. "Same fare. Just be here." She had wanted to add a very serious threat for the potential option that he would leave but peddler women do not have that option, so she swallowed her angry words, hoisted the sack on her back and started walking.
"Oy!", the voice of the driver bounced after her. "The road to the house of the dwarfs is that way." He pointed a smudged finger.
"Oh. Right." The queen diverted her steps and then remembered something from a distant past. "Thanks."
"Sure," the man said, and spewed out a lump of his chewing tobacco.
The queen wisely ignored that and headed down the path that would lead her to the house of the dwarfs. Her choice of footwear could have been better, as the path was not very trodden down. A donkey's trail would have been smooth sailing compared to the barely visible line among the trees. The branches of the trees where the mean queen had to maneuver through tugged at her clothes, hit her face, ripped the sack from her shoulder several times and gave her reason to invent some brand new curses. This'd better be worth it, she thought to herself, but a few more steps and there was the house where the wretched little nuisance stayed. The queen scolded herself. She had to act nicely now, win Snow-White's trust and then deal with her.
"Pretty laces, pretty laces and little things," the peddler-queen yelled out as she was walking past the house. Nothing happened. "Goddammit, is she deaf or something?", the queen muttered. She turned back and yelled again. "Pretty laces, pretty laces and little things!"
Snow-White, her head inside a closet to see what the dwarfs had stored in there, had missed the first passing of the woman. She heard the second cry though and went to the window. Peeking out from behind the curtain, she smiled as she saw the old peddler-woman. Why not make the woman happy, Snow-White thought as she opened the door.
"What are you selling, old lady?", she asked.
The queen was tempted to bring out her small knife and cut Snow-White's throat right then and there, for calling her an old lady. Unfortunately the knife was on the dresser in her bedroom, so that was not an option. "Well, hello child," the mean queen said with as amiable a voice as she could bring up, with the object of her vengeance in sight. "I am selling laces and other pretty things. Let me look at you..."
Now Snow-White did not look her best, after the horror-trip through the forest. She had managed to clean herself up quite a bit, but the laces that tied up her dress had not had a proper cleaning yet.
"Oh, oh, those laces," the queen croaked, "they are so filthy. Stand still, child, and I will put a pair of new laces in for you. And I'll even give you a discount as I see you are living in these circumstances. Money's probably tight in these areas, isn't it?" As the queen babbled on, she quickly undid the laces from Snow-White's dress and put in the new ones.
"Uhm, old lady, aren't you pulling these -
"No worries, kiddo," the queen said as she put her knee in Snow-White's back to give the laces an extra yank.
"I don't think," Snow-White said with a squeaking voice, "they should be..." Dizziness already started to get a hold on her. She could hardly breathe, but hoped to undo the laces after the woman had left. The idea was good, the timing however lousy, because the queen finished her work quickly and by that time Snow-White had become so asphyxiated that she couldn't even take one more step. She collapsed on the threshold.
The mean queen nodded. "Good, good. Nice new laces." She bent over and checked if Snow-White was still breathing. The girl however had no possibility to do that, the laces almost cut her in two. "Good, good. Killer laces, aren't they?" With a grin and a shove of her foot she pushed Snow-White inside the house and slammed the door shut.
"Holy fuckadory," Hilda whispered, who had watched the whole thing happen. She had landed somewhere near the house, making as little sound as possible while coming down through the trees. The walk to the house had not taken long, and she was peeking through the trees to see the scene unfolding. There was a twitch in her fingers, seeing the mean queen, and as by magic - well, it was by magic - the wand appeared in Hilda's hand. It would be so easy to off that woman here and now. Just point and shoot. But that was not what Hilda had in mind. The end of that woman had to be better. Bigger. And in public.
The queen, satisfied with her snide action, laughed loudly as she slung the sack into the bushes and started her more than merry way down the microscopic trail. She missed the 'oompf' Hilda uttered as the sack hit the wicked witch full in the chest.
Hilda pushed the sack off her and scrambled to her feet. "I'm gonna get you extra for that, you bitch," she hissed, stepping out of the forest and walking to the house of the dwarfs.
The queen was already out of sight. Hilda could hear her noisily stomp among the trees as if she hadn't a care in the world. The wicked witch walked over to the door, tapped it with the wand to
open it and entered. She checked Snow-White and determined that there still was time. Not much, but there was time. She left the house, closed the door and called for her broom, that came flying. At high speed she took off towards the mines where she knew the dwarfs would be working.
Hilda was in luck, she found the dwarfs very quickly as they were unstoppable in singing their song. Of course Sleepy wasn't adding much to the song as he lay on his back, in the sun, doing what he knew best. Grumpy, who was sitting outside the shaft, was in quite a rotten mood, even for his doing, so he didn't sing much either. It sounded more like rap.
"Hey, Grumps," Hilda said as she descended near him and hopped off the broom. "You need to get your rear into gear, something funny's been happening at the house."
"Hi-fucking-ho, Grimhilda," Grumpy said, "I'm in a foul mood. You should've come yesterday. I was good yesterday."
Hilda was prepared for that. She popped out the wand and whacked him over the head. "Didn't you hear what I said? There's a problem at your house. Yo, Doc, Dopey, Happy, you in there?", Hilda yelled into the mineshaft.
"Grimhilda?", Doc's voice echoed back. "I'm coming out..." Soon the dwarf, all black and dusty appeared. As he stood wiping his spectacles, he asked what was the rush.
Hilda told him, and this time the message got across. Doc banged a pot and a metal mug together to get his friends out and Sleepy awake and soon they were on their way to their house. Hilda had never heard them "hi-ho" faster.
"Fabulous," she nodded as she mounted her broom again, "seven witnesses. Well, at least six if you count out snore-face. Cool stuff." She swerved off into the air again, tracking the mean queen for a while.
In the back of the cart, the queen was gloating and feeling totally smug. This, she was certain, was the end to the battle of the pretty ones. She was now the fairest in the land again. Provided she got that gunk off her face after getting home.
