Hilda - Snow White revisited (2 page)

The hunter hoped she was honest. You never knew
with wicked witches, after all.

Hilda walked up to the hunter, bent over and
ripped a plant from the soil. "Here. Yours."

As the hunter held out his hand, Hilda did her
wand-trick and the plant changed into an even bigger knife than the
simpleton had owned before. His eyes gleamed when he saw the
weapon. "Yeah!"

"Don't get carried away, my friend the hunter,
we're not there yet. We need to set you up with a lung and a liver.
Where did you see those bears? I assume you saw one, right?"

"Yes. I did," he nodded. "Yesterday, in the
forest, right about there." He pointed an unstable finger generally
in the direction of the castle. "I can smell them."

"Surprising," Hilda said, wiggling her nose,
"but we're getting somewhere." Her hand took extra hold of her
broom. "Show me to the bears, huntsman. We're going to settle a
score."

The huntsman proved to be very good at his
actual job. Soon they had located a group of bears. He also earned
some of Hilda's appreciation by stating that the lung and the liver
of one of those bears would unfashionably large for a person the
size of Snow-White.

"You got that right, buddy," the witch said, "so
we'll just have to tailor one of them down. Which one is the best,
you think?"

The hunter selected one of the bears. It was a
bit older and sickly, he saw, and would probably not make it
through the next winter. He already drew his extreme knife.

Hilda aimed her wand and mumbled a petrifying
spell. The doomed bear was hit full in the chest by her charge. He
got up on his hind legs in amazement and then keeled over backwards
with a loud thud. His companions were startled at first, after
which they made themselves scarce.

"Alrighty," Hilda said, and walked up to the
fallen bear, whose brain had been fried by the spell. "Now... five
foot three would work, I think." She cast another spell, and the
bear shrunk to the estimated size of Snow-White, after which the
huntsman could use his skills of skinning with the new knife.

The man worked with vigour while Hilda stood to
the side. "That's gross, hunter, that is so gross."

"Works for me," he told her. There was no need
for that, his enthusiasm spoke for itself.

After some twenty minutes of digging around
inside the bear he was done, lilting lumps of flesh hanging from
his bloody hands. "See, the lungs, the liver. All in prime
condition."

Hilda tried to avoid watching the dripping
parts. "Well, there we are," she said. "Liver, lung and prosper,
huntsman. Take it away."

"I will do that, Mrs witch. And I'll tell the
queen I saw you."

"You will NOT tell her that you've seen me."
Hilda banged the huntsman on the head with her wand. "One word in
that direction and you'll end up like that bear. Did I make myself
clear?"

The hunter looked at the wicked witch in
surprise. "Okay, okay, no need to bite my head off, I won't
tell..."

"Me biting your head off would be the least of
your worries, huntsman," Hilda warned him. "Not a word. Just take
that... stuff away." Quickly she got on her broom and sped off. The
hunter would take care of the nasty bits.

-=-=-

Hilda stared at the kitchen utensils as they
were busy making dinner for her. She hardly noticed them as her
mind was many miles away. To be precise, it was going around about
the inhabitants of the castle. She did not care about the king. He
was a good guy and all that, not interesting at all. But the queen.
She was something else. Hilda still wondered how that bitch had
managed to maneuver herself between the royal sheets. Her style
sucked, it was way overdone. Her choice in clothes was at least as
awful. The queen's attitude to people was rivaled by none, not even
Hilda's. At least Hilda admitted fair and square that she didn't
care. And the queen was a thieving, conniving bitch.

Hilda recalled the day that the heralds had come
round to proclaim what they were told was good news, that the king
was getting married again and that all the people in the land were
entitled to two days off. Rather a stupid thought, because for two
days there was no bread and fresh goods to be bought and loads of
other things went down the drain too.

Also, all the witches of the land, even the
wicked ones, were invited to attend the royal wedding. Oh man, what
a pompous affair that had been. Even Glenda, the good witch of the
East, who had come all from her neck of the woods in Oz, had
frowned at more than one occasion. And if there was one witch that
was all good and chummy and sweet, that would be Glenda. Hilda's
mouth twitched, thinking about that woman, and shivered.

The wicked witch had never bought the story of
the former queen pricking herself on the needle while sewing and
that had been the beginning of her end. She didn't trust the new
queen as far as she would be able to throw her. A plan started
forming in Hilda's mind, and the more it took shape, the bigger the
grin on her face became...

By then her dinner was ready, so she interrupted
her musings while she sat down to eat. After that she fired up the
mirror again to browse around the castle for a while. First she
located the huntsman. He was going around in his own quarters,
which were on the castle grounds but not connected to the main
building. Hilda suspected she knew the reason for that. The thought
of the man's smell made her twitch her nose again. Then she looked
at the places where the bitch annex queen usually was. After some
looking, she located the woman in the kitchen, scrutinising the
work of the cook. Now that was something else, that cook. He was
really a prize Hilda thought, as she remembered the goodies she'd
had to eat at the wedding. He'd knock all her magical cookings dead
with only a whisk.

The wicked witch wondered for a moment what the
good man was doing, that the queen was almost on top of him. Then
it hit her. He was cooking the bear's liver and lungs, under her
majesty's supervision, and she wanted to make sure it was done
properly! Hilda grinned, knowing what she knew. Let her be happy
for now, the witch thought. We'll make her squeal. Someday.

The viewing of the proceedings in the castle
kitchen was interrupted by someone knocking on the door. It was a
very delicate, careful knock. Hilda knew who it was by just that
simple sound. She got up and went to open the door.

"Quirrin," she said, looking up. "Hello."

Quirrin was a gnome. Not your ordinary, run of
the mill gnome. He was large for a gnome. Eight foot and a bit is
large for a gnome. He did not wear a gnome's hat, as there were big
lumps on his bald head that gave him trouble wearing something like
a hat or a cap. His face was mostly round, save for some lumps of
flesh that seemed to just have appeared because they had thought it
was a good idea. The end result was not so good, so the idea had
failed in hindsight.

Quirrin had amazingly narrow shoulders for a
giant gnome. They gave his torso the appearance as if it was
modeled after a triangle, as his hips were really wide. Quirrin's
torso was covered in a large red jacket with sleeves always too
short for his long arms. The top four buttons were undone, showing
a wild bush of chest hair. A bit odd, really, as the hair was
blond. The gnome wore a long, brown kilt-like skirt from under
which large yellow shoes with pointy toes appeared. Hilda recalled
the day that this had happened to Quirrin. All the other gnomes had
warned him not to mess with Baba Yaga, the Russian witch. It needs
little elaboration what Quirrin had done with that advice.

"Honourable witch," Quirrin the gnome said, "I
greet you on this day."

"Yup, just like every other day you come here,
and that's why I appreciate you so much my gnomish friend. Want
some tea or are you running late again?"

Quirrin was always running late, yet he never
seemed to be in a rush. Which was probably the reason for his being
late all the time.

"No, no, honourable witch, I cannot spare the
time, I have to rush and hurry," Quirrin said, as Hilda had already
expected. "But I do have to ask your assistance, honourable witch,
as they are doing it again."

"Again? The stubborn buggers still didn't get
it, did they?" Hilda's face changed into a great big frown. "Right.
Thanks for letting me know, Quirrin. Now hobble on, I'll look into
this."

"Thank you, honourable witch," the gnome said as
he backed away from the door, bowing to her as well as his massive
plump posture allowed. Hilda then saw him turn and waddle off, his
enormous gnomish shape hindering him

Then Hilda heard a soft whistling sound, and
with a loud "twack" an arrow pierced the wood of her house, next to
the door. Attached to the arrow was a scrap of paper.

"Ah. Mail," she said, pulling the arrow from the
boards. Taking the paper from the arrow, she went inside again and
closed the door behind her.

Coming into the room, Hilda glanced at the
mirror. It still showed the kitchen, but the queen as well as the
cook were no longer there.

"Happy munching, darling," the wicked witch said
with a grin. Then she looked at what the arrow had brought her. It
was an invitation for a witches meeting, at the next full moon, to
be held on top of Scary Mountain. That would be in about a week.
Hilda grinned. Full moon had just happened five days ago, so there
was another round of confusion coming up for the people in the
villages near Scary Mountain.

She then sat down at her large black wooden
table and considered the things at hand that needed her attention.
First there was the issue that Quirrin had mentioned. Then there
was the thing with Snow-White. She'd have to locate that girl and
do something about her plans that involved that kid.

"Right then. Let's help Quirrin first." Hilda
rose and started to exchange her average witching clothes for the
really impressive stuff. She was going to look her best this
time.

Hilda did not need a mirror to check on her
appearance. She wore her shiny black leather boots that went up to
her knees and felt very snug and comfortable around her legs. The
long black dress, wide and with an uneven hem, an fabulously eerie
sparkling effect when she moved in it, was something Hilda loved to
wear. It felt nice and made her feel even more confident than she
already was. Then there was the large hood. Simple, black as the
night, covering most of her hair and also, if she wanted it to,
part of her face. Her long grey hair hung down freely over her
shoulders, as a nice contrast to the dress. It also heightening the
effect of the dark clothes.

As she walked up to the black broom, which she
had made especially for this outfit, she reveled in the sound the
hard heels of her boots made on the stone floor. That sound in a
dark alley, she thought, was bound to scare the creeps out of
anyone. The mere idea made her smile. Maybe, some night, she'd
actually give that a try.

Hilda looked at the broom and as quickly as she
could, she made her wand appear, swooping her hand up. Damn. That
was the only bad thing of the wide black dress: fast movements
almost always got her hand caught in the wide folds. She tried it
again, with the same rotten result. Hilda had to be swift enough to
be convincing, yet slow enough to keep the wand from ripping up the
dress. She sighed. "Crap. Will have to do it the usual way again. I
have to dream up something for that..." She looked at the black
broom. "You. Come with me." She snipped her fingers and walked to
the door, the broom floating along behind her.

Outside, in the sunlight, she looked at her
house. "New paint job this year," she declared.

The top floor of her house nodded. "Like you
promised last year," it complained.

"Oh, shut up you!" Hilda swung herself on her
broom and flew off.

It did not take very long before she reached the
area that held the unsuspecting objects of her attention. The area
was a small meadow along which a brook trickled. There were low
reeds among the water, the grass always looked as if it had just
been mowed. A few trees stood here and there in strategic places to
supply shadows to each and every dweller that rested his or her
weary head here. Hilda saw the neat arrangements of flowers in
perfect watercolours, that stood exactly right to catch the proper
amount of sunshine. It was so idyllic it made her shudder.

Obviously some young witch had been at work
here, someone who had way too much time on her hands, or was in
dire need of some friends in convenient places. Why (and how) on
earth that twit had gotten involved with the people who were
occupying this place regularly, was an absolute riddle for
Hilda.

The wicked witch landed her broom on the edge of
the meadow furthest from the brook, and put her broom against one
of the perfect trees. Her arrival did not go unnoticed. It was, in
a whispering way, accompanied by statements from the assembly, such
as "Shit, there she is", and "We'd better not say another
word."

Hilda arranged the hood again, that had been
blown off her head during the flight over. Then she turned to the
group. "Well, well...", she said. Then she slowly walked up to the
people. There were about a dozen of them, sitting or lying on the
grass, some in the sun, some in the shade.

Hilda stopped in front of a small, perfect
setting of flowers. She looked at it, shook her head and sighed.
"Okay. Who's the creative one here?"

Her question did not trigger an answer. It only
provided a ripple of unease that went through the group.

"Listen, folks," the wicked witch said, looking
everyone in the eye in turn, "we've been through this before more
times than I care to remember. You said you were not going to show
again. And that went well for what, a whole amazing four days?"