Hilda - Snow-White Revisited

by Paul Kater

Published by the author at Smashwords - Copyright 2010 Paul Kater

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Contents:

1. Home sweet home

2. Liver, lung and prosper

3. Poetry

4. The kid

5. Queens and witches

6. Poison

7. Here's a gift

8. Who's the pretty one?

9. Feelings

10. A difficult morning

11. The black queen

12. An apple a day...

13. Riding with the king

14. We make brooms

15. Royal revelation

16. Scary Mountain blues

17. When witches meet

18. Wipe-out

19. Funeral day

20. Onwards and upwards

21. Change of plans

22. Wedding bells

1. Home sweet home

Grimhilda made her wand appear as she felt the splinters of what had been her magical mirror under her feet.

"Too bad about that one. It worked so well...", she mumbled. "I'll have to prepare a new one." Her face became a dark cloud when she thought of the one that had been stolen. She'd never had the opportunity to test that one.

The memory of the theft of that mirror filled her with rage again. If her mirror had not yet been broken, it might not have survived this hissy fit. Now the only victim was one of the chairs, and that was easy enough to fix.

"I hate that bitch," Hilda muttered, and tried to banish the thought from her mind, at least for that moment. With several brusque movements of her wand she magicked all the pieces of the mirror onto a heap. The clinging sound of the silvery shards made her even more angry. As the banishing had not really worked, this did not improve things, so with a curse that would have made a pirate blush she smashed one of the small windows in her room and hurled the stack of splinters out of it. The screams from the unfortunate and unsuspecting recipients of this malevolent gift only eased her mind slightly.

"If ever I get my hands around the neck of Rumpelstiltskin..." With that comment she breezed out of her room, to find the mirror-maker and pleasure him with her presence and an order for a new mirror...

The mirror-maker, Johan, promised he would make her a new mirror. And one as a spare, in case an accident like this previous one would happen again.

"I want it bigger than the broken one," Hilda had emphasised. "Bigger and better. And brighter."

Johan nodded. "I'll do my best for you, as always, honourable witch," he said. From second-hand experience, we'd call it hear-say, he knew that Hilda was not someone to mess with. The things she could do were pretty awesome, and that was putting it very very mildly.

"You'd better. Otherwise you'll become a mirror, and when I do that, believe me, it will not be a pleasure." Grimhilda turned and was about to leave the shop, when she stopped and looked at the craftsman again. "I need a mirror now."

Johan scratched his head. There was not much he had on offer at that very moment. "Let me have a look..." He got up and went into the back of his house, to the part that he referred to as the 'muck shed' when he was alone. There he found a mirror. It had only one crack in it.

"This is the best I can do for you, honourable witch," Johan apologised as he showed her the mirror. "When I clean it, it would not be too bad, I think."

Hilda considered the mirror. "A loaner, okay? You clean it and bring it over before evening falls."

Johan nodded and was relieved. If she was happy with this one, it would buy him a few days extra to get the real mirror done.

"But no fussing about, I want the real mirror as soon as I can," Hilda said, her hands on her hips. "I assume that is not too hard too understand?"

Johan did not let his groan surface. "Of course. Honourable witch."

Hilda nodded, turned and left, in search of a basket full of apples. That was a lot easier than the mirror.

In the evening Johan knocked on the door of Hilda's house. Carefully. After all, this was a witch's house, and not just the residence of any old witch. This was Grimhilda's homestead.

Hilda opened the door, an apple in her hand. Johan stared at it.

"What are you looking at?"

"Uhm, the apple..."

"So? It's just an apple. My apple, is that understood?" To make the point stick, she took a bite from it. "You gop the miwwow?" The piece of apple in her mouth severely impaired her speech, but Johan knew what she meant.

"Yes, honourable witch, I have it right here. I even managed to seal up the crack a bit," Johan said with fitting pride.

"Good. Come in, I'll tell you where I want it."

"Uhm, couldn't you just like..." Johan made a terrible mistake. He wiggled his finger over the mirror, hoping she could magic the heavy thing to its place.

Hilda glared at the finger. "Yes. I could. Digitus agilis in noctium."

Johan found out that evening that it is very difficult to carry a large mirror into a house with a finger that just won't stop moving.

"Your finger will be fine again tomorrow, in the morning," Hilda sort of reassured him when he left. "Just don't ever ask stupid things again."

"I won't, honourable witch, I won't!" Johan then, having become wiser in a hurry, kept his mouth shut and quickly left for safer grounds.

Hilda looked at the mirror. It would have to do. She'd work on it the following morning, now it was time to retreat and sleep off the ill effects of the insane world she'd been in. These were still too vivid in her imagination...

-=-=-

"Now. Let's see..." Hilda had her wand in hand and stood before the newly magicised mirror. She looked at the sun and estimated the time of day and where that singing pale princess would be. She should be... "Exhibio castellum."

The mirror did not respond. "Come on. Show me the castle, damn you, and the yard around it!" Hilda was ready to whack the mirror with a fierce bit of magic, but she held back. "Loaner. Cracked. Urgh. Patience." The latter was not her forte.

A knock on the door broke her concentration. She walked to it and yanked it open, to see Johan the mirror-maker there, holding up his still wiggling finger. "What?"

"Uhm, honourable witch, you said it would be fine again in the morning?", Johan carefully said.

"Is morning over already?", Hilda asked him curtly.

"No... not yet," Johan had to admit.

"Right." Bang, said the door, and Hilda stomped off to the mirror again. "Well, well, look here," she said as she saw that an image had formed in it. It was a bit crackled, with only faded colours, but she could live with that.

Hilda pulled up her chair and watched the slightly distorted image, checking out the castle and the grounds around it at her leisure.

"Now where's the kid..."

But no matter how she scanned the castle, Snow-White wasn't there. Also on the meadows around, where she used to sing her obnoxious joyful songs and pick the flowers, there was no trace of the girl.

"How did she pull that one off..." Hilda muttered and said a simple spell to locate the girl.

It took the mirror a while, but then it showed her an image that surprised her quite a bit. The queen's huntsman was in the forest, dragging Snow-White along by the arm. That was not exactly what Hilda expected to see. Curious, she watched the scene unfold, until the huntsman pulled a knife and got ready to turn the girl into filet mignon. The mirror, prepared in a hurry, did not give Hilda sound, but Snow-White clearly started crying.

"Hey, that's not going to happen," Hilda muttered. "I was going to take care of her. Whatever gave him that idea?" She got up and located her broom and cloak. As she was getting ready to fly off to the forest and stop the huntsman, she cast another look at the mirror and saw the huntsman letting go of Snow-White's wrist. The girl took off like a bat out of hell, through the forest. Hilda noticed Snow-White was not running towards home. "Weird," was her comment on that. "It's the place where she always runs to when there's trouble..."

With a wave of her hand the mirror became a regular mirror again. Hilda stepped outside with her broom, mounted it, and set course to the forest where the huntsman was. The wicked witch was determined to find out what this whole charade was about and he was the easiest prey for her to tell about it.

When she reached the huntsman's position, she was forced to circle over the trees for a while, until he had progressed onto a more open spot where she could land.

The man reached for his large hunting-knife and pulled it out as he saw the witch touch down. "Who are you? You must be a witch!" He held out the knife.

"My, my," said Hilda. "I bet you did not spend much time in school, am I right?"

The hunter frowned. "How'd you know that?"

The wand that appeared in Hilda's hand turned the impressive knife into several leaves of overcooked cabbage that then hung over the man's hand. "Otherwise you would have learnt that you don't stop a witch with a knife. And you don't threaten a witch like me with a knife either. Well, you see what that got you."

The hunter stared at his hand, then shook off the cabbage. "What do you want from me? I have nothing of value!", he then shouted at her.

"Hey, no need to yell, I'm right here!", Hilda yelled back, and much better than the hunter could. The force of her words made him topple backwards into a bunch of ferns. She waited until he had gotten back to his feet. "So, now you are going to tell me all about that thing with the girl just now."

"What girl?" The hunter tried some bravery, for which he was known and what had him selected as being the huntsman of the queen.

Hilda crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot on the ground. "Don't start like that, mister. What I did to that big knife of yours can just as easily happen to certain parts of your anatomy, and your wife would not be happy when she'd find that out. Would she?"

The hunter swallowed as he considered her words. "Okay, okay, okay. No need to go that far. The girl was Snow-White, the daughter of the king and the stepdaughter of the queen. The queen wanted me to kill the girl. I was about to do that, when she started crying and go all soppy on me, and I can't handle that. So I let her go. She won't make it out of the forest alive anyway, and at least this way I know I didn't kill her."

Hilda, the wicked witch, snorted. "Well, you did, just not the way you planned. But if that makes you happy, who am I to mess up your day. And that's it? End of story, everyone laughing?"

"Well, no. Not really. Just as you fell out of the sky I was thinking how I could get a lung and a liver."

"Eeeuw... you have a weird taste, buster," Hilda said as her face displayed her disgust.

"Hey, not for me okay? The queen wants to see Snow-White's lung and liver, so she knows the kid's been taken care of. I was going to stab a bear or so on the way back. But not much I can do now, since you turned my knife into cabbage..."

2. Liver, lung and prosper

"You. Stab a bear," Hilda snickered. "Do you have any idea how big and strong a bear is?"

"Huh, from a distance they're not too bad," the hunter said.

"Oh, right, so you are going to stab one from a distance. Yeah, do invite me when you're going for it, I want to watch that. Front row seat please," Hilda grinned.

The hunter thought, long and slow. Especially slow, he was good at that. "That's not a good idea, is it?", he decided then.

"No. Not really." Hilda thought, very fast. She was good at that. "Now listen, let me get this straight. The old hag is out to off the kid, right?"

The hunter had no problems at all translating 'the old hag' to 'the queen'. He nodded.

"Crap. That means I've been going after the wrong one." Hilda stood and thought some more. "I am going to do something really bad, my friend the hunter. I'm going to be good for a change."

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.

3. Poetry

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?"

She held out her left hand and snipped the fingers of the right, as there was only silence in response to her question. The arrangement of flowers in front of her feet jumped up from the grass and landed in her hand. Hilda looked at the faces of the five young women who were there. One of them had to be the witch, she knew. Obviously that woman had a lot of self-control, as nobody flinched.

Hilda took one flower. It turned black. She tossed it in the lap of the first young woman she saw. "So..." She tossed the second one, also turning black, in the lap of the next one. "Who is..." Another black flower. "The creative one... among you... liars?!" During each pause she tossed a black, stinking flower which landed in a lap.

There was no reaction. Quietly she admired the stamina of the witch that tried to hide. Tried, because Hilda had located her already. It was the only one who did not hold her nose because of the stinking flower; the witch had simply removed the stench from the black thing, and the experienced wicked witch had picked up the short, badly shielded flare of magic.

"No one, eh? So all this grew by itself." Hilda slowly walked up to a man who sat leaning against a wide birch. She looked at the tree.

"Abomination," she muttered.

"Hey, I resent that," the man said as he got up. He was almost a foot taller than Hilda and looked down at her. "I am not an abomination."

"So people say, so don't get your knickers in a knot, Anton. You're just the leader of the liars." Hilda looked around, entirely unimpressed by Anton. "So nobody has a fucking clue what to tell me? Nobody has the guts to say something?" Her voice was calm and chilled. Not yet cold. "Come on, guys, you are here for your rhymes and prose and stuff, you're good with words. Invent something to make the evil witch happy so she goes away!"

Hilda turned and looked the unfortunate young witch in the eye. "You. Get up."

The young woman slowly rose to her feet, avoiding Hilda's eyes.

"Now fix that tree." The wicked one pointed at the birch with its unnatural shape.

"Why should I?", the young woman asked. "What makes you think I did that anyway?"

Hilda snipped her fingers, making the scentless flower jump in her hand. She smelled it and then said: "Wrong reply." She stepped up to the young witch, took one of her hands and slapped the flower in its palm. "Hold on to this. It might help."

"Help? With what?" The young witch was puzzled.

Hilda spread out her arms (so she would not get caught in the folds of her dress), made her wand pop up in one of her hands and pointed it at the girl.

"Hey, Hilda, you can't put a spell on another witch!", the young woman exclaimed, as she understood what was about to happen.

Hilda smiled. "Grimhilda for you, kid. And who says I can't? Perhaps I shouldn't, but since when I am bothered by that?"

"Coloris flavens ab aqua." The Latin, combined by an adequate portion of magic, worked immediately. With a satisfied smile Hilda turned to Anton again.

The young witch let out a scream as she discovered that she was now completely covered in yellow watercolours. Her hair, her dress and her skin, everything. A whining sound crawled up from her throat as she rubbed the back of her hand and the colour did not come off.

"Now, what were we talking about," Hilda said with an amiable smile that gave Anton the creeps.

Anton stared at the young witch who had by now watercoloured tears streaming down her yellow cheeks. The man was afraid to speak. Who knew how a wrong answer would make him end up.

"I think," Hilda said, pressing the tip of her wand against his cheek to make Anton look at her instead of the yellow girl, "we were talking about liars."

"Were we?", Anton dared.

"Ayup, we were. At least I was, and you should have picked that up. It looked to me as if you were paying attention, Anton!" She whacked him on the head with the wand, then held it to his cheek again.

"Oh yes, I was!" Anton blushed.

"You really like it here, don't you?" Hilda waved at the surroundings, "with the grass and the trees and the water and the girls and such."

Anton nodded carefully, to prevent the wand from taking out one of his eyes.

"I thought so," Hilda smiled. "I can see you're one of the big boys, a born leader, and probably quite a poet also."

"Yeah, well, uh...", Anton enthusiastically confirmed her words.

"A poet who likes trees too," Hilda said, the smile still on her face.

"Yeah, trees are great," Anton took a dare.

"And you love this place so much that you get a witch to turn it into this farce. This mockery of nature." Hilda's tone became less sweet and understanding. "And you remove all the shrubbery and herbs. Which, of course, is not a big deal for you, Anton, for you and your friends here..."

Her eyes slowly went past each person on the grass.

"But it is quite a big deal for the gnomes, you know... They usually have their houses under the bushes. But these are no longer here. They have no place to live now the bushes are no longer here. Just so you and your miscreants can sit here once or twice a week with your fucking poems and what not?"

The wand was by now leaving a serious imprint on Anton's cheek.

The large man attached to the cheek, said: "Hilda- Ehm, Grimhilda. The forest is large enough. There are plenty of shrubs and hedges where the gnomes can live. And when you're talking about Quirrin... I mean, please, he's not the kind that lives under a hedge. We need our space, to let the fine art and poetry live. Only this tiny piece of land..." Sweat was forming small streams that ran down his face.

"Oh, Anton, you're sweating," Hilda said in a caring voice. "So this is all for the arts and for poetry?"

"Yes," Anton nodded, not sure about what pile of dung he was getting himself into. It sounded like Hilda was beginning to see his version of the light.

Sadly for Anton, she didn't. Hilda took her wand away from the sweating face and wiped it off on Anton's nice white shirt. "So the poet by the tree is in love with poetry..."

"Yes, very much!", Anton confirmed, "very much!"

"I see. I think we can come to some kind of arrangement, Anton." Hilda stepped back, not taking her eyes off the man. The other people, including the yellow witch, continued their silent presence.

Hilda calmly pointed to Anton with the wand, calmly mumbling words under her breath.

"What are you doing?", Anton asked, not feeling sure about the situation.

"I am making...", said Hilda, "poetree..." A big grin showed on her face.

Nothing happened for a few seconds. Anton carefully filled his lungs with air.

As usual, it took a while before the English spell took hold. Then the spell and the magic slammed Anton in the chest, threw him against the tree and next there was a flash of green light.

When the light had vanished, which did not take long, so was Anton. His silhouette was clearly outlined in the birch. The outline was, as everyone saw, all that remained of the poet.

Hilda turned to the shocked people. "Anyone care to belong to that poet's society?", she asked. "If so, do stick around. If not, get your asses off this field and never come back again. Except you, young lady," she added for the yellow witch.

"Me? Why can't I go?" The yellow face turned a bit more pale.

"Because you are going to fix this field, as soon as these losers have packed up their junk and left. I want every bush, every shrub, every herb and every heap of birds hit back where it was. And every tree too. Except that one." Hilda pointed with her thumb over her shoulder, to the poetree. "That one stays. Have I made myself clear?" Her voice was of such a tone that it would easily cut through iron.

The yellow witch stared at Hilda's thumb, dumbstruck, and nodded, as her former friends scrambled to their feet and disappeared in the surrounding forest as if... well... Hilda was after them.

After several hours, the young yellow woman was exhausted. She had drained herself while she was converting the field back to its original state. She was whining, complaining that it was too hard and too much, but finally it was all done.

"How do I get home now?", the girl asked, sitting on the rough floor. "My friends all took the carts and horses."

"Friends," Hilda smirked. "But I'll drop you off," Hilda said, summoning her broom. "Come. Get up."

With the girl in front of her, she flew her broom to the part of the village where she hardly ever came. Too decent people for her taste.

"What will my family say when they see me like this?", the young witch asked, rubbing her yellow arms.

"Don't know, kid, I am not your family."

"But when will I look normal again?", another thought made the young woman's heart jump.

"We'll see..."

As the broom came over the square of the village, Hilda kept her promise to the girl. As they hovered over a large cart with hay, she gave the girl a good push, dropping her into the hay. Before the young witch got there, though, she had plenty of time to let out a heart wrenching scream.

"Drop off service, please scream again," the wicked witch said.

As the good citizens of the village ran to the young witch's rescue, Hilda turned the broom and headed back home.

4. The kid

In the evening, the fireplace was burning with green flames just because Hilda felt like that, the wicked witch sat staring at the mirror. Despite the cracks and the lousy imagery, it wasn't half bad, she thought. Every place she wanted to see was accessible. Just a bummer that the sound was missing.

The problems that the yellow witch had had, explaining her colourful appearance to her fellow villagers, had amused Hilda for a while. Hilda had noticed some of the people who had been on the field being near there, but none of them had stepped up to help the girl. She memorised the faces of the cowards. For crappy behaviour like that they deserved a small reminder, and Hilda was just the person to supply that.

Quirrin had been overjoyed with the news that the field was the domain of the gnomes again, and he had hobbled off to 'inform all his brothers immediately'. Hilda still wondered if the giant gnome had actually gotten to talk to anyone of them. Knowing him, he probably had gotten sidetracked again.

And now Hilda was trying to locate the princess who had run off into the woods. Not getting killed by the huntsman had looked like a pretty good thing, but getting hunted down and captured by one of the big wild creatures in the woods wasn't exactly a prospect one would look forward to. At least, a stabbing by the huntsman's knife would have been a quick and merciful end. Wild creatures usually weren't that swift in their killings. Some of them, Hilda knew, liked to play with their food for a while before dinner.

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 smashing 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 - <gasp> - laces a bit - <gasp> - too tightly?", Snow-White asked as she sensed that the woman was giving her best to really tighten the laces.

"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.

The ride home to the castle did not take very long. The queen tossed the driver a handful of coins.

"Hey, we had agreed same fare," the man protested, "and this is one coin less!"

"Tough luck, but with the inflation and all that. Sorry," the queen snickered and entered the castle through the secret back door. Rapidly she took a royal bath to get cleaned up. Her stumbling through the forest had left many a green streak on her.

By the time she was all done and dolled up again, the dwarfs had reached their home, found Snow-White and cut open the laces. Snow-White, strong young woman as she was, slowly started breathing again. This was a very good thing, as none of the dwarfs had ever learnt CPR, and despite the many laws in the country, safety rules and regulations had not been invented yet.

Hilda, sitting in her home in front of the mirror, nodded with a sly smile around her lips as she saw how the dwarfs seemed to scold Snow-White, who was doing her best to keep her dress up. As the dwarfs had cut up the laces of the dress, her top had the tendency to slip down, and Snow-White did have the habit of gesturing as she talked, triggering many a curious and hopeful peek from the seven little men. Seven, because Sleepy now was wide awake also.

"Let's hope that's a lesson learnt," Hilda mumbled as she switched channels to the queen's chamber.

The queen was just getting over the shock of hearing the looking-glass tell her that Snow-White was alive and well, in the house over the hill. "What the hell is it with that wench," the queen whined, "is she a cat with nine lives or so? Well, I am going to make sure she dies, if it kills me!"

6. Poison

Hilda wondered what the queen was so worked up about, and for this time she really was about to throw something into the mirror as there was no sound.

There still was plenty of time in the day, so the wicked witch changed into her normal witchy clothes and headed out to Johan, the mirror-maker.

"Hey, silver-face," Hilda said as she came in, scaring Johan as well as two customers that were in his workshop.

Johan prevented a mirror from dropping on the floor. The two customers stared at Hilda, mumbled something and suddenly remembered they had pressing business elsewhere they had to attend to.

"How's things going?", Hilda asked.

Johan was smart enough not to take verbal offence to being called silver-face. He knew what he was bringing over himself in that case.

Johan held up his hand. "The finger is fine again, honourable witch," he said, "and the work on your new mirror is almost done. The last layer of varnish is drying as we speak, so in a few hours the mirror should be ready."

"Fantastic, mirror-maker. Can you make another one for me? No rush on this order."

"Of course, honourable witch, that is no problem at all," Johan said, bowing in thanks for the order.

"Shiny," Hilda said. She reached into one of her pockets and dug up a handful of golden coins. She looked at them, wondered and then took Johan's hand and slapped the money in it. "I guess that's enough?"

Johan looked at the coins. His eyes were too amazed to actually fall out of their sockets. "Oh, most certainly, honourable witch, for that money you can keep the spare mirror also!"

"Neat, thanks, but you can have that back. It has no sound."

"It has no-" Johan frowned. His mirrors never made sound, unless they fell and shattered, so her comment was somewhat unnerving. "-sound?"

"Nope."

"Oh." Johan hoped that it would pass without inflicting any damage to his thoughts.

Luckily for him, Hilda was not in the mood to pursue the subject. "So when you have the first one done, do call by the house and drop it off. I'm really in need of a good mirror."

Johan stealthily looked the witch up and down. "Oh, I can imagine that, honourable witch."

Back at the castle, the queen had regained most of her composure. She was near fuming from all orifices that Snow-White was still alive and was plotting a plan that would be sure to kill the girl once and for all. Then a memory came to her. There was some other thing to take care of. One that had obviously let her down in a very unfashionable manner. She went down to the large hall, sat down on her throne and ordered a servant to go and fetch the huntsman...

The huntsman entered the hall and in a constant bow moved forward as much as he dared. Which was not far. He preferred the vicinity of the door to being close to the mean queen.

"Right, huntsman. Or should I say... loser? Today I have gone through the woods myself. I went as far as past the hill, to the land where the dwarfs live."

The huntsman did not dare to look up.

"And there," the queen continued, her words lashing down on the hunter, "I saw that Snow-White, the same girl I ordered you to kill, was very much ALIVE!"

The big man cringed. Even holding on to the big knife did not make him feel better.

"Now... loser huntsman... I want to give you one more chance. Screw that up and you are, as we call it in the royal trade, phuqued for life."

"Oh, tell me, my queen, and I will follow your orders."

"Okay, loser huntsman. In the forest, where you neglected to kill Snow-White, there are a certain type of berries. They are poisonous. You know which ones I mean? The little blue ones, with the tiny yellow leaves around them?"

The huntsman nodded and now dared to face the queen. "Oh, I know, my queen, they are the blue ones, that never grow very high and all the animals don't eat them of course, and they are always near the red flowers that make you so sleepy when you sniff them-"

"SILENCE. You blabbering fool... Go to the forest and bring me a basket full of those berries. You basket-case..."

The huntsman was glad he got off this easily. He scurried backwards until he bumped into the guard that stood in front of the door, and then made his way out of the hall and through the long marble corridor as fast as he could.

The day carried on calmly in most other places. In the village the baker was sleeping, a young yellow witch was hiding in her room, women were weaving and talking, and the poets that had gotten away from the field were gathering in the pub and still attempting to drink away their sorrow.

The huntsman was stomping through the forest, muttering away as he was trying to fill the basket with berries. The berries were small and hard to find. The basket was large and hard to carry.

Quirrin the giant gnome was sitting in front of a wide birch and stared at the image that was imprinted in its bark. With a knife he had tried to make the figure look a bit more gnomish but it hadn't really worked out the way he had hoped. He'd also never seen a tree that had red stuff flowing out of it instead of the usual green-yellow sticky goo.

Hilda was already preparing everything to get the new mirror ready for its new purpose, to be a looking-glass over the kingdom and adjacent areas. The old mirror was on, as just no sound was still better than no anything.

There was a knock on the door.

"Who is it?", asked Hilda.

"If I tell you, will you paint me?", the house asked.

"You are getting on my nerves," Hilda grumbled as she stepped out of the magical room that she had been working in.

"Because you're not getting on a ladder to paint me," the house retorted.

Hilda rolled her eyes and opened the door. "Oh, hey, mirror-maker. That's it?"

"Honourable witch, it gives me great pleasure to-"

"Yeah, right, cut the crap and bring it in," Hilda snapped as she saw the package that contained her new mirror.

Johan cut the crap and carried the mirror into the house. "Where do you-"

"Over here," Hilda pointed, "and thanks for making it snappy."

Johan nodded and carefully put the mirror down. Then he unwrapped it, taking the strong ropes off it and removing the thick, soft cloth.

The new mirror shone and was really a masterpiece. Hilda bent over to look at it carefully, inspecting it for damages and irregularities.

Johan took the opportunity to look around in the room. It was not often one got to visit the house of a witch, so this was a treat. His eyes stopped moving as he saw the old mirror. Johan the mirror-maker blinked a few times, but the image of a girl with black hair and pale skin moving through a house remained on the mirror. He took a few steps so he could see more and then he said: "Isn't that-"

"What?" Hilda looked up. "Hey, no looking there! That's witchy business. Intelligence. Need to know only."

Johan jumped backwards. "I didn't see a thing, honourable witch, really! That girl doesn't resemble Snow-White in the least!"

"One word, mirror-maker," Hilda said, her wand under the man's nose, "any one word is fit to be your last, do you hear me?" Soft white light came from the wand and dazzled Johan. "You did not see anything. You delivered the mirror and we're all good friends and now you get the fuck out of here, right?"

"Yes, honourable witch good friend," Johan nodded sullenly, "I am getting the fuck out of here." With a smile he walked to the door and let himself out. As the door closed behind him, Johan suddenly wondered how he could be standing with his back to the door without a mirror as just a moment ago he had still been here, with a mirror, knocking on that very same door.

Hilda turned to the cracked mirror and looked at the imagery for a while. Her eyes became large.

The huntsman had managed to fill the basket with berries. After hauling all ninety lbs of them to the castle, the queen was delighted to see how well he had done. She devastated him by saying that a small basket would have done, she only needed about 200 grams.

The queen, mean as she was, then retreated with her berries, to her secret room.

Hilda watched the view of the dwarfish bathroom, where Snow-White had run a full bath for herself. Somehow, Hilda thought, this is odd. You'd expect seven small tubs instead of one big one. Perhaps there was something with these dwarfs that nobody knew. Snow-White hopped into the bath and started cleaning herself up.

Outside Hilda's view, in the dwarfish living room, five of the original inhabitants were fighting each other for a position at the keyhole of the door to the bathroom. Sleepy wasn't one of them, as he was doing what he did best: sleep. Doc, who had first right to the new, was reading the paper that had been brought to their house by arrow. He was so taken in by the news that he did not notice the suppressed uproar that happened near the door in question.

Hilda nodded and waved the mirror back to being a mirror. It was time for her to start working on the new mirror. It was a good thing, she thought, that the girl was raised well enough to insure her personal hygiene. She picked up the mirror.

A yawn made the five dwarfs look up and spread out rapidly, their cheeks red and each one of them fighting the battle of a specific bulge.

"Heya, guys... *yawn*... what's you all trying to do...", Sleepy said as he walked to the bathroom door. "We have a door, see, much better than trying to climb through a keyhole..." Sleepy shook his head and went into the bathroom. The smirking from five mouths never reached him, as the loud scream and a splash overruled the dwarfish pleasure.

Doc looked up. "What?" As there was no sensible reply, he turned back to the paper.

The five others sat on their beds, cooling down and counting the seconds before Sleepy would get out of the bathroom. But the seconds became minutes, and the minutes became fifteen minutes. The five looked at each other in wonder. Sleepy should have been out long ago, slapped over the head with the bath brush or something.

Finally, after about half an hour, the door opened and Sleepy came out of the bathroom. On his face, almost entirely pushing away the usual sleepy expression, was a smile. A grin two feet wide. He dragged his coat behind him. The buttons of his shirt were undone and he wore his pants backwards.

"Sleepy? What happened?"

The smile became even bigger. "I got to wash her back... And then she offered to wash mine... and then..." Sleepy fell face down in his bed and was off the world.

Only moments later Snow-White came out of the bathroom, looking all happy and refreshed, wrapped in a thick bathrobe. "Hi guys," she smiled, "it's all yours now..." With a very contented look she walked over to Sleepy and crawled on the bed, next to him, wrapping an arm around him.

A deadly silence started to flow through the room. Then, keeping the silence, the five dwarfs knew they had done the wrong thing by the keyhole. They got up, entirely sobered up and cooled off, and started doing the chores that still needed to be done...

7. Here's a gift

The mean queen was regally pissed off that her plan to murder the ungrateful child had failed. "No sense of decency or respect," she fumed, as she had retreated to her special secret room with all the interesting things.

This time she would not fail, she was certain of that. She'd think something up that would be dead sure the end of the beautiful nuisance. Her gaze went over the table with possible attributes, she needed something that was good for a killing and be inconspicuous at the same time. "Gotcha," the queen said, an evil grin in her face.

In the castle yard, the king was pacing, wondering how he could get his daughter back. The news that she had run off to the forest and had been killed by a wild animal had made him go crazy first, drunk secondly, and heavy-headed in the end. He was just getting over that last stage.

The outside air should do him good, the king thought. He had called for the huntsman who was the last person apparently who had seen Snow-White alive.

"Do you have ANY idea where she might be?", the king asked the huntsman, who was sweating from most pores as he knew more than he was allowed to say by the queen.

"No, sorry, king sir," the hunter said and wished he was anywhere else.

"Can't you go out and see if you and some men can find her or not? Or maybe not you but just some other men? Or not?"

The huntsman was still trying to find his way out of all the negatives when the king's personal lackey came running. "King, king, there's a letter!"

"About Snow-White?", the king asked.

"No, sir, it is from one of the neighbouring kingdoms, they want to know when you're able to pop over for a visit," the flunkey said.

"Oh. Well, I guess not." The king stood in thought for a few moments, trying to kick the alcoholic nebulas away from his brain. After some more moments he turned to the lackey. "Been reading my mail again, have you?" He did not try to lash out to the servant's head, as he was too fat and too tired to try. The man also was too tall, the king would never be able to reach up that high.

Hilda sighed. The new mirror was done. It had been quite a lot of work to get this big one to work properly, she'd been splashing magic over it in liberal amounts. She took the loaner down from the stand and put the new one up. Her next task was to make some herbal tea. She really was in need of that. Her energy-level had dropped so low that she didn't have enough magic ready to manifest the tea. So off to the kitchen it was for her, and do the old-fashioned handywork for tea. Hilda didn't mind. It had been worth it.

Doc prodded Snow-White in the rear. "Missy, it's time to wake up, okay? This time we made dinner, but we do hope that tomorrow you'll be able to hold back your urges and make our dinner as we agreed."

Snow-White looked up at the dwarf and smiled. "Of course, dear Doc." She sat up and kissed him on the nose.

"Oh, uh, gee," Doc said, blushing all over. "Well, dinner is ready. And served."

Somehow they managed to wake up Sleepy and then the group sat down for dinner, Sleepy's eyes fixed on Snow-White for some reason, a dumb grin on his face, which annoyed the other dwarfs to no end.

The evening went on calmly in the house of the dwarfs. Sleepy slept. Grumpy was in not too grand a mood. Snow-White took it on herself to wash clothes, and Happy and Dopey were trying to together a bed for her and intended it to be as far away from Sleepy's bed as they could manage.

As the little guys had to get up again early in the morning, they all went to sleep soon. In their own beds.

Hilda's tea had worked miracles in the way she usually did herself. She was all up and running again, with dinner already behind her and the new mirror working like a charm. She saw Snow-White wash clothes and nodded approvingly. The wicked witch saw the mean queen in the castle's dining room with a smile on her face, and knew that this was going to be trouble again. Hilda went to bed early, she wanted to be up in time to make sure the queen was not pulling any funnies without her being on top of them.

The queen, after dinner, had gone back to her chambers. She looked at the nice little red package that lay on the table. Inside it was the special comb she had prepared for Snow-White.

"Oh yes, child, that is the perfect gift for you," she chuckled. "Stick it in your hair, touch your scalp with any of the teeth of this sweet little comb, and kablam, down and dead. Done deal, case closed, no more Snow-White and I'm the prettiest one in the house again." She glared at the mirror. "I hope you got that too!"

The king sat on a chair near a window. He was looking out over the castle wall, to the few the trees that still were visible in the approaching evening. Somewhere the body of his daughter had to be, in there. Silently he cursed the few curses he had picked over the years.

He hoped that the huntsman would be able to go out there and look for her. He really wanted to see her again, if only a last time. The desperate king looked at a bottle of wine. No. Not this night. It would not be good.

He got up and went to bed, staring at the ceiling for a long time.

The next morning, very early, the queen dressed up again. Not as a peddler-woman, but as a regular person. As she was certain there was a bumpy cart-ride ahead, she had stuffed some extra padding in her skirt, at the back. Thus outfitted, and with the package containing the poisoned comb in a pouch, she slipped out the back door of the castle again and found someone who would take her to the house of the dwarfs. This ride was a lot smoother, but still she did not regret the padding.

The queen was well on her way already, when Hilda woke up. The energy she had used to charge the mirror had drained her and she was not able to wake up sooner than she did. It even took her a while to get herself together, but once she'd managed that, she flew out of bed and raced to the mirror to see what was going on.

"Queen. Bitch. Where are you?" Hilda scanned the places she knew where the mean queen often spent time. But of course, the queen was not there. "Drat. Of course today I have to sleep late," Hilda scolded herself, magicking some proper clothes onto herself. She grabbed a broom and ran outside, slamming the door behind her and taking off into the air without a word.

"Yeah. Good morning to you too," the house mumbled.

From a point high in the air Hilda surveyed the area, but as a lot of the ground in the kingdom was blessed with trees and forests, there was little of a queen to see. She tore through the air, to the castle, hoping to find Humbert the huntsman. Sometimes he knew things.

"Hey, big guy," Hilda said as she landed almost on top of the hunter.

His first response was to pull out the immense knife, which promptly changed into a fistful of cabbage.

"Never, but never pull a knife on me," Hilda said. "Now see what you've done..."

The huntsman looked at his hand and shook off the cabbage. "So sad. Such a fine knife."

"No more whining about the knife, big man. Do you know where the queen is?" Hilda liked coming straight to the point. Especially when she was in a hurry.

The hunter looked at her and shook his head. "No. Isn't she in?"

"Do you think I hadn't looked there before I came here to ask you?" Hilda snapped. He was not going to be a big help today, she knew.

"Maybe the king knows where she went," the huntsman tried. He assumed that getting on the good side of the wicked witch would yield more opportunities to get his knife back. It was however a very unfortunate coming together of circumstances: Hilda did not often bring her good side along with her. And today was one of those days.

"Really..." Hilda saw a few guards approach. They came closer slowly, not sure how to go about apprehending a trespassing witch, but they did not want to let their employer down either. Duty and self-preservation were obvious in a dispute among the men.

"No worries, boys, I'm off again already!", she yelled at the group of eight. She swung herself on the broom and she was gone.

"But... my knife..." Humbert stared at the speck in the sky, then kicked the bits of cabbage around. The guards made sounds of pity. And nervous laughter.

The queen had arrived at the house of the dwarfs again. Shrewd as she was, she knew that she had to take a different approach from the one she'd used as a peddler-woman. Snow-White was not a dummy and would not fall for the same trick twice.

Her disguise in place, she started walking around the house. The queen was convinced that singing a nice song would be a great thing to help her, but since she did not know any nice songs, that idea was off. So the queen walked up to the door and knocked on it. Then (and this is where the Grimm brothers went wrong), the queen announced that she was a neighbour and had a gift to welcome Snow-White to the area.

Now Snow-White was indeed not a dummy, and she also was a quick learner. The experience with the laces were still fresh in her memories when she heard the voice call out outside the door. Determined not to be caught this time, Snow-White yelled back: "I'm not sure what you are trying to sell, but we have everything. Please go away." It was a line she'd heard some of the maids call out to undesirable types at the castle gate at times, and usually that worked.

Alas, the mean queen wasn't prepared to be sent off that easily, so she tried again. "Dear child, this is simply a welcoming gift from the folks around. We'd be pretty insulted if you don't want to accept it and I wouldn't know how to explain it to the others if I have to return with the present."

"No, thanks, really. I was told not to open the door to strangers, and I'm sticking to that."

"Oh, right. You're one of those," the queen said, "one of those easy chicks that do everything a man says and that don't think for themselves."

Snow-White pondered that for a while. She did not want to be known as an easy chick, even if she had deserved that title the night before. But nobody had to know that. And also, a neighbour usually was a friend, her father the king had often said that. Or something along those lines anyway.

"You sure you don't want the gift? You'll like it, you know, you'll be able to make yourself so pretty with it." The queen suppressed a giggle, loving her own acting. "Well, too bad, I'll just have to go then."

Snow-White yanked open the door. "No, wait. I'm sure a neighbour is a good friend. My dad always said that."

"Ah, dear child," the queen said, resisting the urge to grind her teeth as she saw the girl, "here is your present, your welcoming gift. With love and hugs from us all." The queen knew she had to stop talking. It would not look good if she started throwing up because of her own sugar-sweet lies.

Snow-White took the nicely wrapped box and opened it. "Ohhh!! A comb!!!" Just what she needed, because most of the dwarfs were quite bald on top, and the excuse for a comb they had would die on her hair as she had so much of it.

"Go on, try it," the queen said, who could hardly wait.

In the meantime Hilda was pushing her broom to the limit. She had one fear, and that was the the queen bitch had gone to see the kid again, and this time she might have some really heavy artillery with her. Throwing all caution in the wind, Hilda dove down to the ground, aiming for the front door of the house. To her shock she saw the door was open and Snow-White was lying on the ground, her hand in her hair. And no queen in sight.

"Fuckadory," she muttered. "Too late again..." The broom clashed against the side of the house, leaving its equivalent of a skid-mark. Hilda kicked the door open wide and kneeled down with Snow-White. The girl's face was paler than usual, her breathing barely noticeable. Hilda quickly found the comb and a spell told her what was wrong with it.

As Snow-White had rather a lot of thick hair, the damage that the comb was meant to inflict had not set in completely. The tips of the comb had barely brushed the girl's scalp, so even though the poison had gotten into her system, it was not yet a lethal dose. Hilda knew she had to do something though, otherwise the comb, that was still in Snow-White's hair, would slowly but surely make it happen in the end.

"What an ass," she mumbled, referring to her majesty the queen. "Well, you're not going to be happy, I promise you that."

Hilda brought out the wand and conjured up a spell that modified the comb's behaviour. Snow-White still was floored. She would remain like that for a while longer, but as soon as the dwarfs got home, Hilda was certain, it all would be good. No need to seek out the little guys for this, they had their work cut out for them.

The wicked witch just pushed Snow-White into the house and closed the door. "It'll work out." With those words, Hilda got on her broom again and started looking out for the queen.

8. Who's the pretty one?

"Go faster, man," the queen said to the driver of the carriage, "I have pressing things to attend to!"

"Sure, lady," the driver said, "you can have all the pressings you want, but old Betsy here is not going to go faster than she can. If you can outrun her, feel free."

The queen was slowly losing her good attitude. This announcement threw tar over her shiny mood of having taken care of the female nuisance in the house of the dwarfs. Of course she wanted this verified by the talking-glass in her room, the one she had so successfully stolen from the wicked witch. She seriously considered to go by foot, but something told her a slow horse would still be quicker than a fast queen.

Hilda spotted the carriage as it passed through a patchwork area of fields. "Ah. There you are. Now let's see if we can make this more memorable for you..." With an invisibility-spell around her, she dropped down to almost carriage level. She enjoyed the unhappy face of the queen and knew that things would get much worse for the bitch in the cart. She calmly lifted her wand and aimed for the front wheels of the carriage.

"Sorry, old boy," Hilda said to the driver, as she unleashed her magic.

It dissolved the front axle of the carriage, making the wheels fall away from under it. The front part of the carriage reacted to that unnatural phenomenon in a most natural way: it slammed downwards, catapulting the driver onto old Betsy's back, his trajectory aided a bit by the wicked witch. She was wicked, not mean without reason. The mean queen, not prepared for this unexpected behaviour of the carriage either, toppled over and over, to the part of the carriage that was now at the lowest point and banged into it. And she managed to miss that side with her extra padded behind.

The scream, the thud and the oompf coming from the carriage were balm to Hilda's soul. "Alright," she mumbled. If there had been someone near to her, she would have had the irresistible need to hold up her hand and slap the other person's hand in mid-air. There was no one near, so the feeling ebbed away. With a appreciating smile, Hilda saw how old Betsy trotted off with what was now her rider on her back, leaving the stranded carriage in the middle of the dirt road. Then she diverted the broom and headed back home, as there were other matters to attend to. This would keep the bitch-queen off her back for a while.

By the time the queen had lost most of the blur in her eyes and brain, old Betsy and her rider had reached the village. The queen stared up, seeing part wagon, part sky. "This. Is. Not. Good." Her royal angriness let herself roll out of the broken down wagon. As she was not used to this kind of exit from a cart, something had to go wrong of course. A leather line caught her ankle. In itself this would not be bad, but as the weight of the queen now did not keep the front of the cart down, the cart obeyed the laws of physics and tilted backwards. It dragged the queen's leather-strapped leg upwards, making her end up in a very undignified position, one leg held up by the leather line and her skirt hanging over her head.

It took the mean queen a lot of time to get out of her awkward situation. It was determination and the unsinkable conviction that Snow-White was now for good out of her life that set her free. She cursed a few times, then started walking back towards the castle, which would mean a healthy stroll of some nine miles. At that point the queen had no idea of this distance.

At home, Hilda walked up and down through the room. There were things to arrange for the witches meeting on Scary Mountain, and plans to cook up for the follow-up to the queen's downfall. As often as she could, she glanced at her mirror and kept track of the queen's progress, which was not progressing very quickly.

"Oh dear," Hilda said, as she watched how the queen was getting all dusty on the dirt road. "Is it that dry out there?" She picked up her wand from the table, pointed it at the mirror and mumbled something. Nothing happened. "Crap. I hate Latin..." She mumbled almost the same thing in English.

Clouds pulled together over the fields and the forests of the kingdom. It took less than three minutes for them to accumulate enough momentum to be able to unleash interesting amounts of rain onto the land and queen below.

Drenched, covered in muddy streaks, cold, sore feet and legs, and very, very angry. That summed up the mean queen when she finally reached the castle. She slammed the back door behind her and stomped through the long halls towards her chambers. A clear trail of water and mud showed where she had gone, much to the despair of the cleaning crew who had just finished their job for the day. No one dared to mention a thing. They wanted their life more than they wanted justice, so they heaved a few heavy sighs, brought out the buckets and the mops again and started all over again.

The king saw his wife as she came barreling down the corridor. "Goodness gracious, my dear, what happened to you?" He had never seen her in a state of disarray like this.

"Shut up," the queen barked. "Not another word or it will be your last!"

Confused and slightly insulted, the king watched her disappear into her room. "A bit short-tempered today, are we?", he quietly asked.

"I told you to shut up!", the queen screamed at him, through the closed door.

The king put his hand over his mouth and chuckled. He knew he was being quite naughty, but the view of his beloved wife in that disheveled state had really made his day.

The queen stood in front of her magic mirror. "Looking-glass, looking-glass on the wall, who in this land is the fairest of all?"

The mirror considered the request and the person in front of it. "Would you believe that it is very hard for me to tell at this moment?", it then replied in a very diplomatic way.

Without a word the queen picked up a perfume bottle and raised it. "I should damage you for this. Do away with you over this insolence." The hand was lowered and the perfume bottle was spared a shattering experience. "But I can't. You're unique and I need you. But don't push it."

Her anger flaring up again, she made her way to the royal bath, to get cleaned up. The sand and dust that had accumulated on her body were giving her serious bother and they were also scratching in the most unmentionable places of her physique.

"Now what is this again," Doc asked himself as he came close to the house. He had decided to check on Snow-White after the mishap of the previous day. The door was ajar in a way it was not supposed to be.

"Mighty shovel!", the dwarf yelled out as he saw Snow-White lying on the floor. "Wake up!"

Snow-White didn't.

Doc kneeled down with her, fussing and honestly making a bit of a fool of himself at first. But soon he pulled himself together and assessed the situation. It did not take him long to find the comb, and as he got it out of Snow-White's hair, her eyes fluttered open.

"Doc? What..."

"Heck if I know, missy, but it looks as if you did the wrong thing again." Doc got up and helped Snow-White to her feet. "Who was it this time?"

"A neighbour lady," Snow-White confessed.

"Neighbour lady? We have no neighbours." Doc scratched his head. "And you'd better keep that door shut, lil' lady, or one day we're coming back and find you dead, meaning there will be no food on the table!"

Snow-White was shocked by his words so much that she started sobbing.

Doc was sorry about what he said, so in a comforting way he put his arms around the girl and patted her... bottom. After all, Snow-White was a human girl and Doc was just a dwarf, so he could not reach any higher without straining himself. "Now, come, come, I did not mean to be harsh," he said, trying to make the crying girl feel better.

"Oh, Doc," Snow-White said, a sudden smile on her face and the flow of tears stopped immediately. "Could you do that again?"

"What? This?" He patted again.

"Oh... yes... that... now don't stop..." Snow-White's voice became kind of husky and heated.

Back at the mine, Grumpy was feeling utterly himself. "Suck an elf... what is taking Doc so long? He should've been back here and help out with all this here."

Happy slapped Grumpy on the shoulder. "Relax, Grumpy, you know Doc. He's probably helping Snow-White with something." Happy had no clue how close he was to the truth.

Grumpy reached out for a piece of wood. He did not like Happy slapping him, so the next time the idiot would try it, he'd be in for a woody that would last him for a while.

Sneezy came out of the mine. "Wha.. haaa... haaachooo!!!!" He had intended to ask a question, but the hay fever hit him as soon as he appeared in the open air. The cart with ore they had dug that day keeled over, Happy tumbled over the sand, laughing, and Sleepy rolled onto his other side.

"Oops... sorry about that, brothers," Sneezy said, "I just wanted to know what you're talking about while we're doing all the work. Bashful down there says he could do with some water."

Happy slapped the sand off his clothes and grabbed a cup that he filled with water. "I'll take it to him, Sneezy, you and your sneezes will never make it to him with a cup filled with water."

Sneezy nodded. "Haa... haaa... haaaa..."

The other dwarfs ran for cover, but the expected storm didn't come.

"Hey, guys, I was only laughing," Sneezy said, quite dismayed.

The brothers came out of hiding again. Happy went into the mineshaft with the water. He hadn't gone but a few yards, when a thundering sneeze sounded, followed by Grumpy's words: "Now do that one more time and you won't see another sunrise. Brother."

In the castle, the queen got out of the bathtub. After a double clean-up she felt better again. Clean too. She put on her best clothes, her best make-up and, thinking about Snow-White's demise, her best mood.

She put herself in front of the talking mirror and asked her question again. It's response did not make her very happy: "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."

9. Feelings

Hilda was satisfied with her actions of the day. After seeing the queen go into the mother of hissy-fits after the announcement of her mirror, she took a while to wind down, read and think. About her outfit for the meeting on Scary Mountain for instance.

She wasn't surprised that no one had contacted her to help in the preparations for the meeting. Once they had asked her to supply some special effects, as a demonstration of what was she was capable of. In her enthusiasm Hilda had almost blown the top off Scary Mountain and that had been an honest mistake. Not that any of the witches believed her, least of all the ones that had gotten burnt. Which basically amounted to the same thing.

Then a ping sounded through her room. A ping on a frequency that was reserved for witches. Hilda frowned as she put her grimoire to the side. She walked to the crystal ball and grinned as she saw the emblem.

"Hey, Babs!", Hilda said after waving her hand over the ball, to make the image come up.

Baba Yaga grinned at her from inside the ball, in all her ugliness. "Hilda. I just -have- to talk to you. About Scary Mountain."

Hilda already felt what was coming and pulled up a chair. "Talk to me, woman, I am all ears. And I have a few things in mind for that meeting also. I think we are thinking similar thoughts..."

The king was on the loose in the castle garden. He had just told someone to send a letter back to the neighbouring king about the visit and stuff. "Regrettably blah blah death of my daughter blah blah and such blah blah. Sincerely, Walt. King."

Walt the king felt really crappy. Not about being short and snappy with the letter, but with the knowledge that his daughter was dead and gone and nobody could or would tell him a friggin' thing about it. Humbert the huntsman was no more than blabbering sorry heap when asked, none of the servants had seen anything of Snow-White on the last day she'd been around. And his wife, his dear little wife... she had been out all day, probably trying to find the little darling, and she had come back all wet and dirty He felt sorry for cracking his little joke on her and thought that a new flowerbed, a large gem and a box of chocolates would be in order to make up to her. At least that thought made him feel somewhat... less bad.

The queen was in her special room again, skimming over her potions, poisons, aphrodisiacs- oh, she would not need them for a while.

She slapped herself on the head a few times, trying to remember what Snow-White's favourite food was. If only she had been paying better attention to the girl when the wench had still been in the castle.

"Apples," she decided, "it has to be apples", as she recalled finding apple cores in Snow-White's room very often. "So an apple it will be." A mean and sly smile shadowed over her face as she reached for a few specific potions and poisons...

The dwarfs, except Doc, were coming home. A song came from their house, and they all looked at each other in surprise. As they came in, they saw Snow-White in the kitchen, singing out loud as she was preparing an incredible amount of food.

"Hello, boys," Snow-White chimed, "I hope you have a hunger like a bear, there is so much food!"

"What's up, Doc?", asked Happy as he found Doc sitting on his chair, his glasses on the table in front of him and clothes quite crumpled.

"Eh, what? Oh, nothing. Everything's fine, just fine," Doc said, as a smile came on his face. "I gave Snow-White a hand with some things. A hand, and... ehm.. we did well."

"Hah," Grumpy said, "and guess who got stuck with the dirty work." He marched off to the bathroom. Just before he reached the door, he turned and asked: "It's okay that I go clean up, right?"

"Yeah, yeah," Doc said, waving his hand, "just go. All of you."

Happy grabbed Sleepy by the sleeve, and they all followed Grumpy into the bathroom. Sleepy looked a bit sad as he was pulled along. Snow-White saw that and she grinned at one of the pots on the stove.

As the group of six was in the bathroom for quite a while, Snow-White got a bit worried as well as curious as to what was going on in there. "Doc, shouldn't we go and check on them?"

"Oh, no, they're big boys," Doc said, wiggling his eyebrows, "they'll be out soon. Just bang on the door when dinner's almost ready. And bang the door really loud."

"Oh, right. I think I can handle that," Snow-White said as she reached for a large spoon. She walked over to the bathroom door, much to Doc's pleasure as he was a lover of great vista's, and then Snow-White unleashed a few good bangs on the door. "Come and get it!", she yelled. "Dinner's almost ready, boys," she added in a sweet and gentle voice.

If things in the bathroom had not been quiet, they would have been after that. Seconds elapsed. Then Grumpy commented that one heart-attack a day would suffice, which probably meant that they had gotten the message.

In a large field were many gnomes, happy with their houses in place again. Quirrin was less happy. The gnomes had handed him a restraining order, as his size was a threat to the gnomish proportionally correct neighbourhood.

So, as everyone was more or less actively considering their feelings, the day packed its bags over the small kingdom, moved on as usual and turned off the lights. That way the darkness would feel at home again during the night.

10. A difficult morning

"Coloris ordinaris." This spell came from under the blankets in Hilda's bedroom. During the chat with Baba Yaga, about their recent activities and plans for the witches meeting, it had suddenly occurred to her that she still hadn't taken the yellow watercolour spell off the young witch in the village, and somehow she had not gotten round to it. Now she had.

The day did not feel good to Hilda. Somehow she felt kind of old, although she'd never admit that to anyone of course. The wicked witch hauled herself out of the bed and shoved her feet into her bunny-slippers. Then she opened the curtains and looked out the window. "Urgh..."

"With some paint the world would look much nicer. As would I," the house said.

"Oh. Shut. Up." Hilda had slight startup problems this morning. She left her bedroom and headed for the kitchen to make some tea. Halfway conscious she grabbed this and that, and when the water was boiling she poured the steaming water on the mix in her cup.

A whiff of it reached her nose. "Urgh. Why did I put laurel in it..." Hilda rested her head in her hand for a few moments. "Why do I always want to do this the regular way..." Then she waved a finger and the cup contained what she recognised as tea. "Better." She picked up the cup and had a sip. "Life," she mumbled.

The wicked witch dragged herself to the door and peeked at the wooden wall outside. There was no arrow. "No mail. Good." Door closed, she sat herself down at the large black table, playing with the cup. "If someone ever saw this...", she sighed, poking the eye of one of the goldfish on the cup, the one over the text that read "Cutest witch in town".

Luckily there was hardly a visitor coming to the house, and if there was someone, they had no business in the kitchen.

"I should get back to bed," Hilda grumbled. The house kept quiet.

"I should check on the bitch queen," Hilda then grumbled. "And the rest of the lot. Sometimes I get so fed up with the whole bunch. I should get me a hut in a forest. On chicken legs, like Babs has. That's so cool."

Hilda had seen the hut of Baba Yaga several times and was severely impressed by its ingenuity. A simple round hut on the outside, on four chicken legs, so it could move itself, and the door and windows would always be facing the spot were problems might arise from first. It was splendid in its simplicity.

Hilda moved her chair a bit and waved at the new mirror which came to life directly. "Show me the twat's chambers".

The mirror had gotten to know Hilda's ways to express herself. It displayed the chambers of the queen. The queen was still in bed, Hilda saw with slight envy. The queen was not alone in bed, either.

"Way to go, Walt," Hilda grinned, but as the view changed she saw it was not the face of the king that rested on the queen's bosom. "Figures. With an attitude like that," Hilda snorted.

She kind of liked the king. He'd always been a good guy, decent to the people, not too heavy on the taxes and stuff like that. Hilda wrote up one more dislike for the queen. "If she keeps this up I'm running out of slate."

Hilda changed the view to the house of the dwarfs, to make sure that Snow-White was still okay.

The dwarfs, busy buggers, were already up and running. Except Sleepy of course. Bashful, Hilda saw, came sneaking up to Sleepy and splashed a cup of water over the snoring dwarf's face. The only reaction it triggered was Sleepy licking his lips and turning around.

Well, Hilda thought, they'll get him out eventually. But where's the kid? Oh, there. Her own bed. That's good.

The girl had a smile on her face, which pleased Hilda. The dwarfs were certainly treating her right.

Grumpy, she saw, dragged Sleepy out of bed, stuck a lunch package in his hands and they left the house, as Doc said: "Quiet, boys, she's been real busy, she needs her sleep."

"Awhhh, so cute," Hilda smiled. She turned the two goldfish on her cup towards the mirror. "Did you hear that?" The goldfish refrained from comments.

"Right then. Onwards and upwards," Hilda said to herself. She got up, put the cup away and went to change.

A voice in the kitchen said: "Sometimes she is so dense..."

The other goldfish nodded. "No man for far too long."

The queen, having gotten rid of her night-time entertainment, headed out to have breakfast. She was up early as she wanted to avoid her husband. Again. As usual. And as long as he did not make any remarks about that, she'd be fine.

As she was eating, and it was a lot after the strains of the last night- ehm the long walk home from the day before, she demanded one of the servants to bring her four apples. The apples had to be specific in shape and colouring. The man nodded and hurried off. Being near the queen was not his favourite passtime, and most of all it wasn't if she was in such a commanding mood.

Quickly he returned with the four apples. The queen checked them, muttered over them and then ignored the man. Obviously he had done something right.

After breakfast, the queen got up, apples in hand, and left for her chambers again. On the stairs that led up, the king was coming down for breakfast.

"Good morning, dear wife," Walt said, "I hope you slept well after the dreadful experiences of yesterday?"

"I hardly slept, if you really want to know," the mean queen said.

"Oh, poor dear," the king said, ready to hold her in a comforting hug for a while.

The queen backed away from him, though. "I am sorry, dear, being close and sweet is something I just can't bear at the moment..." Quickly she fled up the stairs, leaving Walt with his arms wide open staring after her.

"Oh, oh, oh," he then sighed, shaking his head. As he walked down to the breakfast room, he worried about the queen. She was so sensitive, he thought, and now that Snow-White had disappeared it seemed to become even worse.

As he sat down at the table, the servant smiled. "Regular, my king?"

Walt shook his head. "No, Bart, I'm not very hungry. Just sausages, hash browns, macaroni and cheese and a beer."

Bart worried. "Are you sure you are alright, Sire? Should I warn the royal physician perhaps?"

"No, that's quite alright, Bart, I may have a light snack later on."

The servant nodded and rushed off to arrange for the king's food.

Snow-White woke up to find the seven other beds empty and the boys gone. She stretched out, purring like a kitten. Slowly she got up and walked to the kitchen, humming her favourite song as she made some breakfast and a cup of cocoa. She knew that things would be fine today. After a night that was good, the following day could not be anything else.

Snow-White frowned as she noticed that the watercontainer in the kitchen was nearly empty. That meant she'd have to go out a few times with a bucket to refill it. She shrugged. It would be fine.

After finishing and getting dressed, Snow-White located the bucket and armed with that she looked out the window. Nobody in sight. Not even fake neighbours. Fully empowered she opened the door and walked down the small road to the well where she filled the bucket and hauled it back to the kitchen.

"That's one," she said, happy. As the result of the big splash was barely noticeable it dawned on her that it would take more than just 'a few' buckets of water to fill the container. "Bummer." But then, she had most of the day for that, and she could find some change of mind in making the beds and getting dinner going for the boys.

In the secret room of the queen there were many things going on. She had candles burning under jars with spluttering contents, there were small bottles with liquids in unhealthy colours. On the far end of the table there was a bowl with a large amount of yellow fog in it. And there were four apples.

The apples were the most dangerous things in the castle. Probably in the entire vicinity until you reached Hilda's house. The queen was delighted at how well this all had worked. The fruit had come out of the treatment perfect. Now they just needed to cool down for a day and a night, and then they were ready to fullfill their purpose. Okay, one would be enough, but you could never tell.

Humming a tune she left the room, locked the door and hung the key from a fine gold chain. The key itself ended up between her breasts, which was perhaps the safest place for something to be stored in the entire vicinity. Until you reached Hilda's house.

Hilda decided it was time to go and do the rounds. In her casual outfit, broom in hand, she stepped outside. As she heard a woman call out: "Lady! Lady!", Hilda turned her head. "Yes?"

"No. Not you. I am looking for my dog, Lady."

"You are looking for your dog. Right. And for that you come down MY street, yelling as if a Banshee is behind you? Just to find your mutt?" Hilda started to feel that she should indeed have stayed in bed.

"Lady is not a mutt," the woman said, feeling very insulted. "It is a nice little dog from a good breed and she is very dear to me and my family. Lady!"

Hilda let go of her broom, which remained floating in the air. "Hey. Lady. Cut it out. Please. I am not having a good hairday, and your yelling is pissing me off like terrible."

"Why don't you help me find my dog, you... person," the woman snapped at Hilda. "La-" The next sound that came from her throat sounded like "gag".

Hilda waved her wand around a bit. "I like it when it's quiet," she said to her broom. She walked to the woman. "You know... have you ever heard the saying that it takes one to know one?"

The woman, her mouth open and unable to say something, nodded.

"Nice. Let's see if that is real, shall we?" Hilda smiled broadly. It was her 'this does not bring something good'-smile. She waved her wand again. "Okay. Now you tell me."

The woman had changed into a rather large, grey schnautzer kind of dog. It wagged its tail and looked at Hilda with high hopes.

"Get lost, you tramp!", Hilda yelled, stomping her foot. The dog took off. In silence.

The wicked witch returned to her broom and got on it. "I like it so much when it's quiet..." She made the broom rise and flew off.

Snow-White had no idea of what her stepmother was doing. Nor what Hilda was doing. Instead, she walked to the well for the next time. The container was now visibly filling up, which was good. Her back was starting to kill her, which was not good.

She threw down the bucket and rubbed her palms. Her hands were hurting from all the walking up and down with the heavy bucket.

"Why, hello," a gentle voice behind her said, "and what is a pretty woman like you doing, carrying water?"

Snow-White flushed as she saw a handsome young man on a white horse looking at her. From the expression on his face it was apparent that he liked what he saw. Quickly she messed with her hair, to try and get that in shape and form a abit. "Hello yourself, why is a handsome man like you peeking at girls that carry water?"

"Well, hello, I was just passing by, on the road to new adventures and undiscovered horizons, and I was thirsty. And here is this well, so I thought, oh well..."

"And you are going to show me how you drink water from the well, sitting on your horse?"

The young man smiled and with a move that showed experience he jumped off the horse. As he touched the ground, he immediately folded himself into a bow. "My name is Jordan, and I put myself at your service."

Snow-White grinned. "I like that idea..."

Jordan grinned also.

A few hours later Jordan was sweating all over and rubbing his sore hands. The watercontainer in the kitchen of the dwarf's house was full.

Snow-White carefully kissed the young man on the cheek, as he was quite smelly and sticky. "Thank you so much, dear Jordan. You may have saved my life!", she said. "I must go now, and start work on the house. Maybe we will meet again!" Snow-White skipped off, but as she reached the bend in the path she stopped and looked back at the pretty boy who had so unselfishly offered his help. She smiled and waved at him. Her heart jumped when he waved back at her.

Snow-White turned and went on towards the house. The young man, prince Jordan of the neighbouring kingdom, shook his head, looked at his sore hands and finally had the time to drink something. "What an extraordinary woman," he said to himself.

11. The black queen

The day ended.

The dwarfs had been very excited, finding the watercontainer all filled up. Snow-White had confessed that she had enlisted the aid of the handsome young man, but did emphasised that she had not touched the man except for the quick kiss on the cheek.

"That is good," Doc agreed. "If someone is useful, that is good. As long as they don't try to sell you something, because that's bad. You never know what junk they have. Or, in your case, in what way they will try to kill you."

Snow-White had trembled a bit after hearing that, knowing Doc was right, but as the dwarf had hugged and patted her in that special way, she felt better.

Dinner was a very cheerful affair, and to celebrate the fact that the watercontainer was full again, the dwarfs broke out their special brew of beer, and that was when the party really started.

The night came. It worried about the noise in the house of the dwarfs and the things that were going on in there. It was for sure a good thing that the seven dwarfs had no neighbours.

The night left, after a successful session around the rest of the kingdom, and then the sun came back to do the day-shift.

Sleepy had competition that morning. Nobody in the small house of the seven dwarfs was eager to get up, and once they'd achieved the upright state, there were only slow movements and whispers going around. The brothers got ready to spend another day at the mine, whispered their goodbye's to Snow-White and then trotted off. Instead of their usual song of 'hi-ho, hi-ho', only Happy was able to hum the tune for a few yards. A slap over the painful head later he also continued walking in silence.

Snow-White waved at them until they were out of sight. Then she held her head. "What did I do...", she asked herself. The girl dragged herself back to her bed and carefully lay down. Then she smiled. "And what did they do..."

King Walt was up early and enjoying his usual breakfast when the mean queen came into the breakfast room.

"Oh. You're here," was her cold comment.

"Yes, I'm here. Come, sit down, plenty of space," Walt offered from behind his plate of chicken. His face glistened from the fat.

The queen eyed the table and what was on it and repressed the revulsion. She was mean but her stomach was tender. She could barely stand the sight of this flabbergasting amount of food, nor the smell of it, so early in the morning.

She gave in though. "Very well." She slumped down with a sigh. The servants brought her water, her yoghurt and the oats and raisins that she usually had for breakfast.

Walt looked at the skimpy assortment of edibles on her side of the table. "Is that all you eat?"

"Yes, dear. That is all I eat. Why?"

"Now I know why you're so skinny," Walt said, charging another piece of chicken.

The queen snorted, but the sound went unnoticed by the king. "Why are you out of bed so early?", she asked the man with the sticky fingers, ignoring the assault on her figure that she was so proud of..

"Oh, I am going to get you a few nice surprises," Walt said. "A bit of things to cheer you up, and to thank you."

The queen froze. "Thank me? For what do you want to thank me?" Her mind raced, trying to find anything, even the slightest, smallest and most insignificant thing that might have given him reason for this. She liked surprises, but she would be damned if she wasn't going to find out what they were for.

Walt got up and walked over to her. He put his grubby, fatty hands on the expensive table and leaned over to her. The queen instinctively leaned back. "For the things you've done for Snow-White."

The mean queen's defenses shot up, as did her eyebrows. "I did nothing for Snow-White!"

Walt shook his head, on his face an expression that showed what he hoped would be a caring and loving smile. "You are so good. You really don't want anyone to know, do you?" His heart swelled with pride over his wifey. Going out of her way to find the girl, and not making any deal of it.

"I don't know what you're talking about," said the mean queen, "and I hope you will not bring this up again. I have to go. I have things to do." She pushed her chair back and ran out of the room, her breakfast mostly untouched.

Hilda was up and at work early. She was on her third cup of tea already, the goldfish not commenting on anything they saw and heard. The flopping sound of the bunny-slippers on the floor was the only thing that occasionally interrupted her humming, muttering and giggling.

Babs and she had come up with a bundle of great things to manifest at the witches meeting on Scary Mountain, and she had dedicated this entire morning to preparations. The crystal ball was on her worktop, the connection to the house of Baba Yaga open. That way it was easy for them to exchange ideas, recipes and gossip.

A knock on the door made Hilda grunt. "Babs, hang for a while, someone at the door."

Gruesome cackling laughter came from the crystal sphere as Hilda shuffled to the door.

Johan the mirror-maker almost lost his big package as he saw Hilda in the door-opening. "Uhm... good morning... uhm... honourable witch." He had serious trouble finding the word 'honourable' this time. Bunny-slippers, a house-coat with pictures of beheaded geese and a tea-cup with moving goldfish on it was a bit too much for an honest mirror-maker on this early morning.

"Hi, silver-face, what's that?", Hilda pointed.

"This is your second mirror. The one you ordered?" Johan was very careful. A wrong word could trigger the wrong thing. And with Hilda, wrong always had a very explicit meaning.

"Oh. Right. Ehm, come in and put it down somewhere." She stepped aside and slurped from the cup as Johan came in.

The mirror-maker found the nearest spot where he could put down the heavy mirror. Then he turned to Hilda and waited, with a smile.

"What're you smirking at?", Hilda asked, hoping that he would scoot off fast so she could go on with the festive preparations.

"Well, honourable witch, I had hoped that you could, in a way, reimburse me for the mirrors?" Johan was not sure if it was a safe thing to ask for money in a straight way.

"Reimburse?" Hilda frowned. "Oh. You mean money?"

Johan nodded.

"Cripes, say so man, instead of throwing riddles at me." She reached into the pocket of her house-coat and dug up a handful of gold and silver coins. "Something like that? Come here, pick out what you need and then leave."

Johan's hand trembled as he carefully selected three gold and one silver coin. That would be about ten times the price he would charge. Then he put one gold coin back. "This is enough, honourable witch," he said, bowing.

"Sure? You seemed nervous. Here, take the lot, it's too heavy in my pocket anyway." Hilda slapped the rest of the coins in his hand. "Now get lost, I'm busy."

Johan did his utmost to get lost in an expedient way.

Hilda looked at the wrapped mirror. "Not now." Then she returned to the crystal ball. "Right, girl, I'm back. Where were we..."

Back at the castle the mean queen sat in her hidden room, chewing her nails and pondering over the hints that Walt had dropped. What did he know? The pointers he had left were too obvious, he was clearly suspecting something. Maybe he should have an apple also...

The queen looked at the apples on her table. They looked perfect. Snow-White would not be able to resist them. One would be enough. Satisfied over her work, she opened her wardrobe closet and started rummaging through the clothes...

When she was done, she was unrecognisable. A blond wig hid her black hair. She had put something on her face to make her look more tanned. The clothes she wore made her look a great deal younger than she was. And boyish. The queen was certain that this approach would be best. Twice she got to the house of the dwarfs as a woman, and that might cause suspsicion with the child. So a boy it would be. She took a basket and put the apples in it.

"Now let's get this over with, the strap's killing me." She had put a strap around her chest, otherwise her attempt to look like a man would be completely destroyed by her bosom. The queen stepped out of her chambers, basket in hand, and started down the corridor when one of the more voluptuous maids saw her. The queen's disguise worked, because the maid saw a him.

"Oy, what are you doing there? Stealing apples?" The maid launched a charge towards the queen, who did not know how fast she had to run down the corridor, clasping the basket against her to make sure the apples would stay in it. At a neckbreak speed she hurtled down the stairs and once she reached the main hall she sped through that and out the large door as if shot from a bow.

The queen did not stop running until she was away from the castle grounds. Finally she dared to stop and catch her royal breath. She was not used to this kind of physical exertion, let alone being chased through her own castle whilst being accused of theft.

The massive maid had given up the chase already halfway down the stairs. She was even less used to physical exertion and had many more pounds to carry with her.

The queen caught her breath and found a place where carts were being loaded up. One of them was being filled with coal, one with fruit, one with pigs, and so on.

"Is anyone here going to the land of the dwarfs, over the hill?", the queen asked.

"Yeah, I do. Why? Want a ride?", one big scruffy man said.

"If possible, yes." The queen was proud she kept her role as a boy so well.

"Okay. Help load up the coal and you're on."

"The... coal..." The mean queen looked at the three black men that were slaving to get bucket after bucket of black and dusty coal into the cart.

"Yeah. Either that or you get to ride on my knee for a while," the man barked, "your choice."

The queen was not sure what the ride on the knee implied, but judging from the gory laughter of the other men it did not mean much good, so she put down the basket and started helping the three men. Soon after that there were four black figures loading the last bit of coal.

Some rags were handed around, so everyone could wipe their faces and hands a bit. That was a problem for the queen, as she would also wipe the tanning potion from her face. Very careful she dabbed her face a bit and that was it.

Her unwillingness to clean herself up better earnt her a place in the coal when the cart moved out.

People laughed at her as she sat in the black rubble, coughing from the dust that was still flying around. But the carts moved out, and she was on her way to the house where her enemy was still alive. But, she thought with grim pleasure, not for long.

12. An apple a day...

Despite her still throbbing head and a slightly 'over-used' feeling somewhere else, Snow-White had gotten up and had started doing her chores. The beds were made, the trash had been thrown out, and she now sat at the table, drinking some herbal tea. Doc had said it would help, but the healing wasn't really kicking in yet.

She had gone through drinking a lot of water also, even tried another beer, but that had proven to be the worst idea yet.

As sitting for a long time gave her slight trouble, Snow-White got up again and sauntered over to the window. She peeked outside and was surprised to see a boy sitting there, leaning against a tree. She giggled as she noticed how black and dirty he was.

The boy seemed to notice her looking, because he smiled. His teeth were clearly visible against the black surroundings that made up his face. He even waved at her.

Snow-White waved back. After a moment of thought she opened the door, only a small bit. "Hey, you. What are you doing there?"

"I am sitting here," was the answer. "Resting."

"Oh. Why are you so black?" Snow-White was a bit curious at times.

"I worked at a cart, loading coal. Coal is black, you know."

Snow-White nodded, she had seen that icky stuff several times. "I know."

"Hey you, inside. Do you think you could spare me some water? I'm thirsty." That was true. The queen had been on the load of coal all the time, getting dust in her throat, and all the way long she had not had a single drop of water to drink.

Snow-White was already running and less than a minute later she was outside, a cup of water in her hand. She gave it to the boy, very carefully to avoid becoming as black as he was.

"Thank you," the boy said and drank down all the water quickly. As he handed back the cup, that Snow-White took with two fingers, he said: "Hey, want an apple?"

The queen, because that was of course who the boy was, held up the basket. The cloth she had put over the apples had protected them, they were still red and bright and shining.

Snow-White immediately lusted after one of them. "Squeee!", she said, thrilled by the sight of such goodies. As good as the dwarfs were with many things, this was something they had not supplied her with. "Are you serious?"

"Sure, take one. You got me water, right? This way I can do something back."

Snow-White picked the biggest, reddest and most shiny apple from the basket. She looked at it, almost in awe. "Thank you." She smelled the apple. It smelled like an apple. "You know, I shouldn't be out here, so if you don't mind I am going back inside and eat the apple there."

"You do that. Enjoy the apple..." The boy's voice faltered in glee and anticipation.

Snow-White ran into the house and slammed the door behind her. She felt proud of how she had handled the situation. She put the cup with the black streaks on the floor and then took in the apple. How she had missed apples. With her eyes closed, the girl raised the apple to her mouth, opened her mouth and slowly took a big bite.

Her teeth sank into the apple, cutting through the outer skin and sliding through the good stuff. The juice of the apple streamed into Snow-White's mouth. The piece of apple broke off, as she bit down harder. This was the moment, she thought.

The black boy, who was the mean queen, was peeking in through the window. This was the moment, she thought.

The apple did its work. The fruit from the tree known as Malus Domesticus or apple tree, as soon as it came in contact with saliva, started to expand. As Snow-White was at that moment swallowing a piece, the expanding fruit got stuck in her throat

"Suck an elf!", Hilda screamed at her mirror. She saw the whole thing happen and was unable to do something about it quickly. This kind of stuff required proximity, and that was what she did not have at this very moment. She ran through the house, put on clothes and shoes, grabbed a hat, wondered why the hell she did that, threw the hat back, raced to the broom-rack, took the one she liked best for speed and with that in hand she quickly left the house.

"Are you-", the house started, as Hilda jumped on the broom and dashed off. "Yes. You are leaving."

Hilda pushed the broom to its limits. She knew this was a dangerous thing. The bristles of the broom provided its stability; riding a broom at these insane speeds could make the bristles break off, turning the whole thing into an unstable stick, usually with devastating endings.

Luckily the broom was a golden oldie, a tough one that could handle a beating. By the time Hilda arrived over the house of the dwarfs, there was no sign of the black person. Hilda was certain that this had been the queen again.

Sharply turning, she made a perfect landing on both feet, dropped the broom and magicked the door open. Rather rudely the door shoved the suffocated princess to the side, but this was an emergency and Hilda was not squeamish.

The wicked witch looked at the apple and recognised the signature of the queen in it. The combination of potions and poison was exactly how she would go about this.

"Right, Grimmy, quick thinking and fast acting," Hilda said to herself as she tapped the palm of her free her hand with her wand. Fast she ran down the list of option she could think of, which was rather a short list. She took the second option, as this meant another option to get at the queen. The first option, doing nothing, was not an option.

Hilda used a long and complicated spell. In English, so she knew she'd get it right in one go. The few extra seconds would not make a difference in this case. And it worked.

The apple that was stuck in Snow-White's throat formed microscopic holes through which a minute amount of air could reach the girl's lungs. It would allow her to breathe and keep her body going, but that was all.

The next part of her inpromptu plan involved boredom: she was going to wait until the dwarfs got home...

The queen, gloating and overjoyed, had walked back to the road where she had jumped off the coal cart. From there she had started the walk back to the castle and had had the good fortune to be picked up by someone with a large wagon and some rags. She could ride along to the village, and use the rags to clean herself up a bit, which she did with a vengeance. She had already thrown away the blond wig, as that disguise was no longer needed.

The cart took her to the village square where the queen crawled off the wagon, remembered to thank the driver and then headed back to the castle. This time she used the backdoor again. The servants who were in her way looked at her in a state of fright.

"My queen! What happened to you?", one of them dared to ask.

"You don't want to know. Go and run me a bath. A hot one. I am in dire need," she commanded.

"Certainly, my queen." Somehow the servant had taught himself to run and bow at the same time, which made for a very amusing view.

The queen strolled along at her leisure, giving the man a fair chance to get her bath in order. He wasn't bad looking, she thought, so maybe he could get something else in order also.

Smiling she walked up the stairs, hoping that Walt would remain out of view for a while. The remainder of the week would be good.

Hilda was about to gnaw off the end of her broomstick when finally she heard a number of feet shuffle about outside. She opened the door and saw the seven dwarfs.

"Grimhilda?", Happy asked, "what're you doing here?"

"Put a sock in it, before I do that, and come in. All of you." Hilda's voice told them that she did not want to wait. Before all of them had gotten inside, she was already explaining what she had seen, pointing at the body of Snow-White that was still on the floor, behind the door.

"So, I have a plan. And you're going to listen and help me pull this off."

Hilda laid out her plan to the dwarfs, who all were quite shocked about seeing their girl on the floor and hearing Hilda's words of how this had come about, but the plan the wicked witch had was so ingenious that they began to radiate with the idea they were allowed to assist in it.

"So y'all got that, right? Okay, I'm off to do my part, you do your part and we'll have a blast, I promise you."

"Oh, certainly we will, Grimhilda," Bashful said, trying to hide behind Doc. "We will help you. Someone did something to our Snow-White..." He stared at the silent body behind the door for a moment.

"Cool puppies," Hilda said. "I'm off. Good luck, I'll check in on you when I have time. See you around, boys."

As Hilda took to the sky again, Doc wondered what a witch, even a wicked one as Hilda, would want with dogs that were cold.

13. Riding with the king

The wicked witch set course for the castle. She did not want the queen to notice her, so she put on the invisibility-shield as soon as she came near. She landed in the garden, put her broomstick against a tree and started walking around. Hilda was looking for a specific someone.

After a few minutes, she heard him before she saw him.

"That's good lads, I want the roses there, the blue whatever their names are there, and then the berry-bushes around it."

"You mean the lilacs, my king?", another voice said.

"Yes, them." Walt the king was designing the new flowerbed for his wife, the queen.

Hilda looked at the scene from a distance. Walt was wearing his long red royal robe rolled up and tied around his impressive belly. His legs were hidden in big boots as he was walking around the gardeners in a wide circle, gesturing and directing. The witch grinned. Then she walked up to the small group of garden-improvers, dropping the shield as she approached.

One of the gardeners saw her fade into existence, shrieked and fell into a rosebush. The others turned their heads into the direction the unfortunate man's finger was pointing.

"Hi, king," Hilda said. "Can you spare me a moment?"

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."

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."

"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 Mountain 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 they 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."

The latter was rather obvious. The moon seemed to touch the top of the mountain already. Hilda poked it with her wand. "And up you go, back to where you belong!"

Nothing happened. "Are you sure this works?", Magrat asked, never taking her eyes off the immense looming object.

"Yeah, no worries, just takes a moment in English. I hate Latin, you see." As Hilda spoke, the moon started to move up, faster and faster, until it was back high up in the sky.

"So, now the colour... Bright white?"

"A kind of pastel beige would be nice," Magrat managed to make Hilda grunt.

"So, bright white it will be," the wicked witch said. She said the spell, hit the moon with it, and the entire landscape bathed in a silvery white light, making the sun wonder what it was still doing there. "Much better. And you need to practice, kid. Seriously. And start with smaller things. This is a few sizes too large for you."

"Impressive, Hilly," said a small man that had come up to her without a sound.

In one fluent motion Hilda turned, aimed and made Rumpelstiltskin fly through the air, landing him in a group of thorny bushes. "I told you not to call me that," she said, putting away the wand.

"Grimhilda!", Mother Elderberry screamed, "that is not a way to treat a guest!" She magicked Rumpelstiltskin out of his painful position and cast an angry look at the wicked witch.

"I warned him not to call me that or he'd suffer the consequences. Now he suffers the consequences." Hilda showed no remorse whatsoever.

"Child, we do want this meeting to be a peaceful event, remember?"

Hilda swallowed the "child", as Mother Elderberry was a very old and very respected witch, but did say that she had not started it. "If mr Big there keeps his trap shut, I'm fine. Just warn him." She threw back her long grey hair and ignored the little man who was picking thorns from his private parts.

17. When witches meet

After the painfully bad start, everyone did their utmost to make things nicer. For Hilda that meant that she would try to keep her sharp tongue under control. Baba Yaga was frowning over her girlfriend's behaviour a few times, but could understand her annoyance with the little prick with the spinning wheel fixation.

Berchta and Glenda had arrived also. They had run into a bit of a storm that had thrown their brooms off course, so they had had a bit of a struggle to find their way, but "all's well that ends well," Glenda said with her perpetual smile.

Glenda looked splendid and brilliant, as ever. Her dress was white as pure snow, flowed around her like a cloud. The silvery effects in the fabric heightened the shine. The high pointy hat, white also, had long silvery veils hanging from it, and carefully applied magic provided that they never were in Glenda's way.

Berchta, the friendly witch from the north, wore her usual brown pants and a comfy red shirt. She lived in the mountains, and long flowing dresses made it impossible to get around there, according to her. Hilda had always suspected that Berchta should have been a boy. The northern witch had her hair short and in a lot of braids with beads woven into them.

"What's that?", Baba Yaga asked, as she noticed the beads. She took one of them between her boney fingers.

"Oh, isn't that progressive?", Berchta asked. "I have seen that somewhere and I thought it to be so cute that I had to try it myself."

"Your hair is a bit short for braids," Hilda remarked.

"I know," Berchta giggled, which gave the wicked witch the creeps. "But there's nothing that magic can't fix when the hairdresser gives up."

"Ladies? Can we start, or is your tea-chatter too important to interrupt?", Strega Nona asked, tapping her fingernail on a hovering broom and looking impatient.

"Wanna try me?", Hilda fired up immediately, striding up to the southern bad witch and standing almost nose to nose with her.

"Oh deary," said Nanny Ogg. "Come on, ladies, peaceful event, do you remember?"

Witchy adrenalin only lowers slowly, so there was the need for a bit of time before both Hilda and Strega Nona had cooled down again.

The witches and the still sore little man assembled in the middle of the open space, where Granny Weatherwax welcomed everyone, after which she invited Magrat Garlick to cast the magic circle.

Magrat thanked her, took out a really amazing big knife and made a circle with that, slicing a rift in the ground around the people attending the meeting.

Hilda kept all her snide remarks to herself, seeing the skinny witch go round.

The meeting then got on the way, with everyone talking about the things they had done, the novelties they had discovered either by themselves or the once that were proudly found elsewhere. Of course, the short gossip-moment could not be forgotten.

Nanny Ogg and Mother Elderberry had taken the roles of hostesses onto themselves and were going round with tea, coffee and home-made cookies.

Frau Holle went off on a tangent as she was describing new ways to build wishing wells, but nobody minded really, as she had a very funny accent and that made the entire story quite humourous to listen to.

Rumpelstiltskin had a small show prepared in which he had an automatic spinning wheel that could not only produce gold, but also silver and silk from straw.

"Neat," Hilda had to admit, "but you can only have so much gold and silver. I can see where the silk comes in handy, though." She was already imagining a silk nightgown. With skulls and bears.

Rumpelstiltskin smiled. "You are not moving in the right circles to see the advantage of lots of gold and silver, that is obvious. I, on the other hand, rub elbows with kings and queens."

Hilda's eyes reduced themselves to slits. "You - say - what?" Slowly she got up and stared at the small man with the head full of hair.

Rumpelstiltskin, obviously unaware of the extremely thin ice he was venturing out on, repeated his words. "See, royalty is always up for the glittery stuff."

Hilda, hands on her hips, shook her head. "Listen, buster, I don't know your kind of royalty, but mine has other things on their mind than gold and silver. They are people who care about things. Perhaps not the right things, but they take responsibility for what they do. And when they neglect that, that's where I come in and bend things a bit. So don't give me that crap about rubbing elbows with royalty. I talked to the king a lot lately."

Her face a thundercloud, she sat down again, glaring angrily at the small man.

"Tut, tut, tut," said Granny Weatherwax, "this perhaps was a bit uncalled for..."

"Think so?", Hilda snapped, holding back the rest as Baba Yaga and Strega Nona both put hands on her shoulders.

"Calm down, girlfriend," said Babs, "no good in making people angry. Not this kind of people anyway, okay?"

Hilda grumbled something which was probably very offending but it was also so quiet that nobody had to take offense.

Rumpelstiltskin was quite shaken up by the interruption; he just barely managed to twist things into an end and sat down. Far away from Hilda. He had not forgotten his airtrip into the bushes and he was certainly not looking forward to a repetition of it.

Strega Nona then brightened things up by making a group of musical instruments float around. They accompanied her in a few songs she was singing; songs from her country, with rather naughty lyrics. That was something Hilda appreciated very much, and she sat clapping her hands to the rhythm.

Berchta then went into a lecture about moss and its use in magic.

Hilda kept her mouth shut, exchanging meaningful glances with Baba Yaga.

By and by all the witches performed or talked about something, until only the wicked witch and her illustrious girlfriend had not been up for their part of the show. The two looked at each other and nodded.

"We will need a few moments to prepare our bit," Baba Yaga said as they got up. "Perfect time for more coffee, tea or something stronger."

That was accepted with a cheer from the others. Rumpelstiltskin was up very quickly and made his way to the large drinks cabinet that was there to be plundered.

Meanwhile , Hilda and Babs brought in the massive cauldron and all the other goodies they had been working on. This was going to be the paramount of displays on this meeting. They readily ignored the fact that it had supposed to be during the last meeting also. That event had literally blown up in everyone's face. Nothing like that should happen this time.

After setting up their improvised stage, Hilda noticed that the attendants to the spectacle had not forgotten last time. They sat around the area, but at more a respectful than respectable distance.

As the two witches were fussing over the last preparations, there were several whispering conversations going on among the spectators.

"Do you think they are afraid that we're setting them on fire again?", Hilda asked Baba Yaga.

"Wouldn't really surprise me, after last time," Baba Yaga replied. "We did a helluva job on that then. I am honestly surprised that they let us do the closing boom again this time."

"Perhaps deep down they are perverts," Hilda snickered, "and I think we are set for the grand finale, girlfriend."

On the bottom of the insane cauldron all the ingredients were already bubbling and producing the right smells and fumes. Four brooms were placed around the cauldron, simply lying on the ground for now, and the two friends nodded at each other. Baba Yaga would do the honours of introducing their act this time.

"Ladies and... Rumpelstiltskin. Tonight we have a special treat for you. No worries to be set on fire, or being green for a few days, for which we again apologise. We've prepared a rather harmless, yet, as we hope tasteful display for you all to enjoy. There is absolutely nothing to be scared of, you have seen flying brooms before, and the ones we use are well-trained for the job. Thank you. Grimhilda... let's do it."

The two took positions next to the cauldron, Hilda on the left, Baba Yaga on the right. They spread thei arms and hands, and together they started to conjure up a strong magical field.

"Do you think we're safe here with them at it again?", asked Granny Weatherwax.

"Oh, come on, they promised to be careful this time," said Nanny Ogg.

"Remember what they promised last time?" Granny Weatherwax held on to her skirts and kept half an eye on the broom closest to her, to facilitate a safe and fast getaway if worst came to worst. With the dynamic duo near the cauldron you could not be careful enough.

Rumpelstiltskin, sitting between Strega Nona and Glenda, stretched out his arms as did the magical couple near the cauldron.

Glenda's eyes got very large for a moment and a smile appeared on her face. Both expressions disappeared promptly as Strega Nona slapped Rumpelstiltskin over the head. "Keep your hands where we can see them. Both of 'm!" she hissed.

Glenda looked disappointed for a moment, but said nothing.

Hilda and Babs were done summoning enough power. The four brooms rose up into the air and formed a small pyramid over the cauldron with its smoldering contents. Then the brooms shot out to the four directions of the compass, hovering near the corners of the field where the meeting was taking place. They started pulsating in all colours of the rainbow, following each other in shades, as if the light was running around along the perimeter. The effect it had on the area was sublime.

In the nearby villages (and you should take 'nearby' very loosely) the people started closing their curtains and doors, as the insanity of lights had started again.

The duo stepped back from the cauldron and injected a healthy dose of magic into the cauldron.

"Enough?", Hilda asked, as this was not her trick.

"Nah, slap some more into it," said Baba Yaga, and she put the action to the words. Hilda followed Babs' lead and threw in a good portion also.

"Cool!" Baba Yaga stepped back some more, and Hilda did that too. And not a moment too soon.

The herbs and magical potions arrived at their optimal magical boiling point and started to react. A chemistry professor would have given his left arm for something like this.

A long string of colourful stars shot up from the large iron kettle and ran circles around the moon. Hilda grabbed her wand and made the moon pulsate in sync with the four brooms that were still doing their flashy jobs on the four corners of the round field. The stars they had sent up would shine in the complimentary colour to that of the moon and the brooms, giving the whole show a striking effect.

As the spectators were still watching the stars making their rounds, the next trick came out of the kettle. Slowly a blobbish shape seemed to crawl from it, hovering over it in a kind of blackness that was clearly visible and yet remained a challenge for the eyes. Then the shapeless blob turned mauve and changed into a giant replica of Nanny Ogg.

The large Nanny Ogg turned black again, and as it turned yellow it changed into a giant Mother Elderberry. And like that it went through many colours, each time taking on the shape of one of the witches that was present at the meeting.

A big applause was theirs, as each of the witches had had a turn to admire herself in a colourful XL edition.

Hilda and Baba Yaga were ready to draw down the energies, when Rumpelstiltskin got up and walked over to them, not worrying about breaking magical circles or interrupting the magical flow around the field and the cauldron. "So what about me? Can't you do me?"

Of course, the two could not do Rumpelstiltskin, simply because they had not known he would be there. The goo in the kettle was almost dissolved, and they had not had any time to practice bringing up his shape.

"We could give it a shot," Baba Yaga said, winking at Hilda.

Hilda nodded with a hidden grin. "You lead, girlfriend. I'll fill in the open spots."

Baba Yaga drew up magic and shot it into the embers of the goo in the cauldron. There was a slighty wavering blob appearing again. Baba Yaga had to give it everything she had on it to keep it intact, so Hilda took her chance...

The blob shrunk somewhat and turned into a giant spinning wheel. Rumpelstiltskin's face shone as a microscopic sun as he saw his favourite utensil appear, floating in front and over him.

The little man had not counted on Hilda's ability to hold a grudge. He stepped up to the spinning wheel, making that the best mistake he could have made that evening.

As if a giant was working on the spinning wheel, an enormous amount of cotton came spouting out of the thing, covering Rumpelstiltskin in a matter of moments. Hilda was Hilda of course. The cotton was not only cotton, it was also sticky as if it was drenched in honey...

Some muttering sounds came from under the sticky umbrella. Hilda stopped the flow of honey-laced cotton and then the spinning wheel disappeared, but not the goo covering the small man...

Granny Weatherwax looked quite dismayed as their guest of honour had turned into a ball of dishonour, but could barely hold backthe giggle when she saw it unfold. Glenda and Strega Nona heard it and grinned also, as they got up and waited for the magic to calm down so they could help Rumpelstiltskin.

Baba Yaga and Hilda started to bring the brooms back. The stars dissolved and the moon returned to its original colour. Slowly the magic died away and then Glenda and Strega Nona came forward to rescue Rumpelstiltskin from his sticky prison.

Strega looked at Hilda. "You shouldn't have..." Her face however showed that she was only saying the politically correct words. The expression she wore showed that she really appreciated the special touch Hilda and Baba Yaga had added to their performance. It was evident that Strega Nona did not have too much respect for Rumpelstiltskin either, although she managed to hide that perfectly.

With a quick grin, so Rumpelstiltskin would not see it, Hilda nodded at the wicked witch from far away. A cool lady, for certain.

Once the harassed little man had been freed (Hilda noticed that nobody was in a rush or used magic), relative peace and quiet returned to the top of Scary Mountain.

Mother Elderberry stood in their middle. "Dear friends..." -she cast a doubtful look at Hilda-, "I think we have all seen a grand display of our newest achievements and abilities. Too bad about the little mishap with that last bit of magic, but that shows that magic is something that needs to be prepared, and handled with care. Let this be a warning to all of us."

Hilda chuckled behind her hand. She had not expected such a hidden thumbs up from the good witch that was doing the closing speech.

"For now, I would like to ask our dear Magrat Garlick to open our magical circle again, so we can all go our merry way, after restoring this place to its regular order again of course."

Magrat managed to make the rounds without a problem. Magic dissipated, causing weird effects in the greater area around Scary Mountain. These were not things that the good people of the nearby villages couldn't cope with though, history had shown that.

All the witches started to pack their things together. Berchta watched with interest how Hilda shrunk the giant kettle to manageable proportions, and not much later everyone was ready to go leave. Strega Nona and Granny Weatherwax were putting the top back on the mountain before heading for home. Nanny Ogg and Magrat were waiting for them.

Nanny Ogg was quietly singing her hedgehog song: "The spines on his back are too sharp for a man; They'll give you a pain in the worst place they can; The result I think you'll find will appall: The hedgehog can never be buggered at all."

Magrat stood next to Hilda as the two witches were doing their massive trick with the mountain top. "That is some big magic, isn't it?", the skinny witch in the white dress said.

Hilda, who had changed in her travelling clothes again, nodded. "Yeah, pretty spiffy how they do that. How's your magic going? Just curious, okay, as the moon was a bit too much for you."

Magrat shrugged. "I am not so much focussed on the real magic thing. It's kind of... not me. I still feel more for nature, plants, good things like that. All the things you don't like."

"Right. Well, next time you start playing with the moon or so, let us know in advance so we can set something up in time." Hilda rummaged in one of her deep pockets. "Here, something for you. Plant stuff."

Magrat looked surprised at the gift of the wicked witch. "Why, thank you! I had never thought that you would do something like that."

On the way home, Baba Yaga asked Hilda what it was that she had given Magrat.

"The Latin name is Filix Sternui, I think. Not sure, because I hate Latin."

"Ah. And what does that mean?", Baba Yaga asked on. She knew that Hilda never did things like that out of kindness alone.

"Sneezing fern. As soon as it starts sprouting, it spreads stuff that will make you sneeze. A lot." Hilda laughed so hard that she almost toppled from her broom.

18. Wipe-out

Hilda had spent the night at Baba Yaga's. After a good breakfast and a short night, she hopped on her broom, took the spare one in tow and headed home again. Out of curiosity she swung by the castle, but except for the new flowerbed there was nothing that looked different.

Satisfied that nothing out of the ordinary had gone on there, as far as she could see, she pointed her broom towards her house.

From a distance she already saw the heap of chains that she had put around her sanctuary. As she had landed, she saw that someone had tried to mess with the big metal padlocks. That was quite obvious. A witch like Hilda would not leave her home without some additional safeties installed. One of them was inside the large chain. The insolent that had tried to tamper with the padlock, the one with the note even, had been nicely wrapped and trapped in the chains.

"Shiny," said Hilda as she came closer. The spelll that was on the chains and the padlocks was the same one that would keep all kinds of nosey folks away from a certain castle that had loads of thorned rosebushes around it, keeping Sleeping Beauty safe from idiots who thought they were entitled to her lips. "So, what do we have here?"

The man who hung in the chains looked at Hilda. "Oh, crap."

"That's my line," Hilda calmly said. "Who are you and what are you trying to prove here?" She folded her arms over her chest and waited for an answer. And it'd better be good.

"I'm sorry," said the failed burglar.

"I'd think so, judging from where you are," Hilda agreed, "but I asked who you are, not what you are. I'll decide on that."

"I am Rodolfo."

"Right. And you have family that makes brooms, right?"

"How do you know?", Rodolfo asked her in amazement.

"Well, first there's the name. And then the clothes that are copies of what Ribaldo and Ronaldo were wearing when they made their mistakes here. Only they did not have that stupid goat-beard you are growing on your chin."

Rodolfo looked hurt. "My beard, dear lady, is my pride."

"Damn, did you sink that low?", Hilda snickered. "Black-dressed sheep of the family, eh? So, to what do I owe the doubtful pleasure of your visit?" She magicked up a chair and a cup of tea and sat down, all ears.

"Oh,"Rodolfo said, "tea. How nice."

"Yes, But I did not ask that. Suck an elf, you people really have a hard time answering a simple question, don't you? What the hell-"

The last bit was not planned, but as all light disappeared from her surroundings, Hilda did need a moment to express her surprise.

"We have her, Rodolfo!", screamed an ecstatic Ribaldo. He quickly wrapped a big rope around the sack that he had thrown over Hilda, immobilising her arms. He knew what she could do with a wand, and as long as her hands were tied, there was no way she could get to her that blasted thing. At least, that was what the gypsy broom-maker thought.

"Regina, Ronaldo, come out and get these brooms!", the man yelled.

Rodolfo, from his unpractical position, could only nod.

Inside the sack, Hilda cursed a few times and then fired off a handful of spells. In case of an emergency there was no time to hate Latin.

Several things then happened at roughly the same time. The two brooms that Hilda had been travelling with rose up and blocked the path for Regina and Ronaldo. The brooms did not go into attack mode yet, they just kept the two away from Ribaldo and the sacked witch.

Ribaldo was having problems of his own. The rope he was holding, the one that he had wrapped around Hilda, had turned into a thin, but very agile and offensive snake. It curled around his wrist, then slid up over his arm as it flowed away from Hilda. Hilda pushed away the sack and momentarily had her wand in her hands.

"You again!" She stared at the three that had left her house in a great hurry not too long ago.

"Yes. Us again, you ugly witch!", Regina yelled.

"I am NOT ugly," Hilda remarked truthfully. "And you are trespassing. And do you know what happens to trespassers here?"

Ribaldo was not very interested in her words. He was trying to get the snake off himself, but the harder he tried, the longer, thicker and more tenacious the serpent became. Rodolfo was almost relieved that he was only wrapped up in the chains of the house.

Ronaldo decided that it was his turn to be heroic. He grabbed the broom that was holding him back and tried to force it to the ground. The broom did not budge immediately. Only when Hilda had hissed a short spell, the broom came to life. The length of the broomstick slammed into Ronaldo's stomach, making the man attempt to wrap himself around the broom. Then the broom went up into the air ten feet.

"I suggest you do not move," Hilda advised the hero. "It's a nasty drop from up there." She turned to Regina. "And as for you..." A spell later, the broom that held Regina back shot up and plummeted back down. The end of the stick slipped down Regina's back, inside her dress and then drilled itself into the ground as the broom elongated itself to a length of twelve yards. Regina stood pinned to the ground, the bristles of the broom scraping her neck.

"What is it with you people? All that just because I did not want to get one of your brooms??" Hilda paced up and down, shaking her head, barely taking notice of the four people in their precarious positions. "I must have pissed off someone very powerful, if this is my reward."

The wicked witch stopped pacing and smiled. "You know, I have things to do that can't wait long, so I have to find something to do with you, and I think I just got the perfect idea..."

"Get this snake off me!", Ribaldo screamed all of a sudden. He had become more and more frantic and wild in trying to get the infernal animal from his arms, and as a result it had wrapped its long and rapidly fattening body around him. There was no way he could do anything else than fall over, which he did. Perfectly.

"Pathetic," Hilda commented. She took her wand and pointed at the chains.

Rodolfo grew pale.

"Don't worry. I just want a cage. A big one," Hilda failed to make the man feel better. Several seconds later, as English did not work as fast as Latin, a large cage appeared on the grass in front of the house. At the same time part of the chains disappeared, releasing Rodolfo and making him fall on the ground. The man could not move well, after having spent the night tied to the house. His moaning had improved though.

"Ordinaries. Nothing but trouble," Hilda sighed as she employed the wand to move the four invaders into the cage. Ribaldo's snake disappeared, and the broom that had held Regina in place peacefully settled in a spot near the house.

The cage was a remarkable contraption. It was quite large for four people, with a solid floor and bars that were at least two feet apart. Ribaldo and Regina looked at eachother as they had taken in the measurements of their prison and grinned. Getting out of this was child's play.

Hilda stepped back. "Oh, yes. You are of course free to escape if you want. I am not going to stop you from that." The wand didn't even move to make the cage move. Upwards. Until it was fifty feet over the grass.

The wicked witch turned and walked to her house, removed the chains, collected her brooms and went inside. She ignored the screams.

In the workshop of Johan the mirror-maker, the glass coffin had reached its completion. Happy and Bashful were very pleased with it, and so was Johan. For the mirror-maker there was an extra reason to be happy, which had the form of a leather pouch with raw gold in it. Happy had handed that to the man as payment, on the condition that Johan would also arrange transport of the glass coffin to their house.

Katrina was already out in the village to find a person with a good cart to bring the coffin away, as Johan was wiping the glass sides for a last time. "I hope you are pleased with the work," the man said to the dwarfs. It was an interesting thing to make but I still like mirrors better."

Happy and Bashful did not mind that. This part of the plan was done, and the result was amazing, and when Katrina came back with a willing person to take them and the coffin back to their homeland and their house, they were even more enthusiastic. Life with the humans had not been bad, but it was a lot different than life with the boys.

After the coffin had been wrapped in straw and carefully loaded onto the cart, the dwarfs were hoisted on board also. Katrina had packed them a good lunch and some bottles, for during the trip.

"Is this water?", Happy asked, glaring at the bottle.

"Not exactly," said Katrina as her husband Johan climbed down from the cart after a final inspection.

"Oh, you make me even more happy!", said Happy, blowing a kiss to the woman. "Hear that, Bash? We're going to get so smashed, you and me, the trip will be over before we know it."

"Uhuh," Bashful said, ogling the bottles.

"Carry on, driver," Happy said, waving at Johan and Katrina. The cart started to move as the mule pulled. They went through the streets of the village, and by the time they had left this paramount of civilisation, the first bottle was already open.

Hilda had put on her comfy stuff and sat in front of her mirror, the goldfish-cup in hand. She saw the two dwarfs ride out of the village. With a well-packed bulk. "Good boys. I hope they behaved themselves." You never knew with dwarfs, they could corrupt anyone if they set their mind to it.

In the castle things were calm but the atmosphere appeared to be weird, Hilda noticed. The king and queen, never very close, now seemed to be the best of mateys. The queen paraded around in her best clothes, the king was never far away to keep an eye on her...

The mean queen swallowed the next sigh. Why won't he just go and do what he does otherwise, she wondered. Walt had been after her all day already and she did not like that one bit.

Walt on the other hand had a lot of fun, seeing how his dear wife was trying to lose him, squirming and sighing without much luck. He had heard from several more independent sides how queeny had been spending her time and this was just too easy to get on her nerves.

He did feel bad about the slight inconvenience he had caused his servant, but hey, Walt was king, and if the king couldn't get things sheetwise with the queen, then why should his servant? Even Walt had to draw the line somewhere.

Around noon the queen was entirely fed up with Walt's little espionage affair and retreated to her room. She ordered a nice lunch to be delivered there and lay on her bed until it arrived, staring at the ceiling as a thousand thoughts ran through her head.

Lunch came and went. Boredom also came, but refused to go. The mean queen asked the despairing mirror once again who was the fairest in the land, but even that didn't make her feel good anymore.

Annoyed, she got up and walked out of her room, not caring if Walt was there or not. He wasn't. The queen rubbed her eyes and looked the long corridor up and down again, but the king was not there. She couldn't believe it. And she didn't. Indecisively she stood in front of the door to her chambers, not knowing if she should retreat inside again or to go out and about and find herself some fun as usual. She ended on the middle road. She went out for a walk but refrained from finding fun.

"Oy," Hilda said to her teacup. "I hope Walt is not putting this on too thick, otherwise the plan might still blow up. Would be a shame.

19. Funeral day

The cart arrived at the house of the dwarfs. Happy and Bashful lay happily snoring in the back. The driver of the cart made several attempts to wake the two up, but failed time after time. He shrugged, lifted the two little men from the cart and put them on the grass near the house. They'd be fine there.

As the man was doing this, the two dwarfs who had stayed home from working in the mine looked out of the window. Grumpy mutteted something, Doc elbowed him to be silent. It had the adverse effect.

"Come, we have to help the man," Doc said and opened the door. "Howdy, dudey, what are you doing with our friends?"

"Oh, hello mr Dwarf. I am taking them home, and bringing the glass coffin. Rather kinky if you ask me, but since you don't ask me..." The man took off a plank from the cart to make the lifting of the coffin easier.

"Oh, good, yes," said Doc. "We'll help you. Just let me get some steps, so we can reach up to that high wagon of yours."

"Good? Speak for yourself," Grumpy grumped, shaking his head as he stared at the two almost lifeless shapes that were his friends. "They got it good. You know nothing."

Doc did not care. He went off and returned with a small ladder, just high enough to reach the loading floor of the wagon. "You get up there, Grumpy, and help the good man. I am too old for circus acts like that."

Grumpy cast a look that would have killed, but Doc was used to something. It also helped that Grumpy was a dwarf, not a witch or a warlock, and that was a good thing for all lifeforms in the area. Unhappy the grouchy dwarf climbed onto the ladder. "I'll probably break my neck and legs. And if I do, I'm going to break yours as well, Doc."

With considerable effort, they took the glass coffin from the cart and put that on the grass also. Somehow it all went well, nothing was broken or scratched.

The man from the village wished them well, got onto his wagon and drove it off again.

Doc stared. At the two sleeping ones, and at the coffin. "We'd better get started then," he said to Grumpy.

"Start all you want," the addressed dwarf grumbled, "I have done enough for today, risking my neck and all."

"Hey," said Doc, slapping Grumpy over the head, "we have to prepare this coffin for Snow-White so she lies comftorably, remember? Now, if you don't want to help me with that, you are one mean piece of-"

"Okay, okay, no need to say that word out loud," Grumpy grumped. "You made your point. Do you want to bring the stuff out here, or do we take the coffin inside?"

They took the coffin inside.

By the time their mates came home, Happy and Bashful had regained most of their consciousness again and had been helping to make a nice resting place for Snow-White inside the glass coffin. Bashful, as he had the neatest handwriting, had taken it upon him to write her name in large golden letters on the cover, near the part that would be over her legs and feet.

"Are you sure this is the right thing to do?", Dopey asked as he put yet another silk pillow in the coffin, next to the twelve he had already stuck in there.

"Depends on what you are referring to, Dope," Grumpy said. "If you keep that pillow-fetish up there won't even be room for a shoe in that coffin, you twit."

"Oh. Think so?" Dopey took off one of his shoes. "That still fits..."

"I sometimes want to hurt you so much..." Grumpy hung his head and trotted off in despair, looking for liquid sanity.

"He's really having a mood again today," Dopey said to Sleepy, pointing his thumb over his shoulder to where Grumpy had sauntered off.

"Hmm...", Sleepy responded, agreeing with his eyes closed and his mind wandering.

"Thought you'd agree," Dopey nodded as he went looking for a pillow. A small one.

Doc, Bashful, Happy and Sneezy sat at the table, watching things unfold.

"Uhm, sorry folks, gotta run," Sneezy said as he made for the door.

"Uh-oh," said Bashful as he dove under the table. When the thunder was over, he and the others reappeared from under the table as Sneezy came in again.

"No harm done," the sneezer announced. "Well, nothing worth mentioning. We just won't have vegetables for a while."

"Not again," Grumpy moaned. He walked over to Sneezy and hit him up the head. "How often do I have to tell you not to sneeze at the vegetable garden. Or the potatoe garden. Or the flower garden."

"Uhm, well, that would only leave the house," Sneezy said, angered as he had been whacked for something he could not help. "If you don't care about that, it's fine with me. Sleeping outside is fine in the Summer."

"Maybe I just should get done with you then," Grumpy threatened Sneezy, his hand slowly going up to grab his mate by the throat. Suffocation was a clean and merciful death, someone had once told him.

"Uhm, don't you think that's a bit harsh with Snow-White still in the house, Grumpmeister?", asked Doc, who grabbed Grumpy's arms to prevent a killing.

"You damn always know something to say that makes friggin' sense. I hate you for that."

Doc couldn't care less. At least everone in the house was safe now. For now.

They inspected the glass coffin one more time. They took out the pillows, much to Dopey's disappointment. And then they had to take the difficult and drastic step: putting Snow-White in there. Six of the seven had a bit of an argument who would hold Snow-White where, making Sleepy complain about their noise. The problem was solved in the end though, and the six positioned themselves around Snow-White's bed, where she still lay sleeping, the piece of apple in her throat.

"She looks pretty darn dead to me," Grumpy muttered.

"Be quiet andlift, you're just pissed off that you have a foot," said Happy who already had his hands under Snow-White's behind. If his smile would get any wider, the top of his head would fall off.

"Come on, boys, on my mark of three," said Doc.

"Three what?" Dopey was scared he had missed something and pulled his hands back from Snow-White's head and shoulder.

Doc closed his eyes and counted to ten. Twice. "Dopey, listen. I will count to three and then we lift Snow-White up to put her in the coffin. Got that?"

"Oh, that, yeah, sure, no problem, just count fast and be loud on the three!"

Five sighs later and all hands on board, which in this case should be read as under body, Doc counted. "One-two-THREE." Snow-White became airborn as the six little men lifted, putting their muscles they had earned while working at the mines to good use. As if they had practiced many a time, very quickly the black-haired, red-lipped, white-skinned princess lay in the coffin.

"Shame, really, isn't it?", Doc said, his hat in hand.

"Yeah, she was so good for us," Happy said, his hat in hand.

"I think we could put another pillow between her legs," Dopey said, his hat in Doc's hand.

"Hufff...", Sneezy said, his hat in hand and a finger under his nose.

"I think she liked me," Bashful said, his hat in hand and red in the face.

"Bunch of whimps," Grumpy said, his hat in hand. "I sure hope that witch knows what she's doing."

The witch in question was staring at a green flame that was walking over her table, leaving a green trail of goo behind it. "This is wrong again," Hilda muttered, as she slapped the flame into oblivion and took the rag to wipe off the green smear before it got too attached to the table. "What the hell am I doing?"

The rag was remarkably green already, from all the attempts she had made to get this right.

Hilda fell into her chair again and looked at the red and the yellow flames that were happily walking around the jars they lived in, without leaving traces. "Damn it, I can't stand this. I get this fantastic idea to annoy people that use roads and pathways, and then the green light keeps dribbling all over the place. That's not going to cut the mustard."

The two goldfish on her cup sat silently in their place.

"What are you looking at?", Hilda muttered and turned the cup around.

Carefully two fishfaces crept around the cup, trying to stay out of sight and yet keep up with the happenings. Their efforts were in vain, because Hilda extinguished the two flames that were not drooping and went to her mirror again.

She giggled. "Fire-light, sun-light and mustard-light. Shiny. Already got the names done." Then she paid attention to the imagery the mirror had to show. Silently she praised Johan's craftsmanship in making mirrors. His products with the best. Simply the best.

"Right. First let's see how the boys are doing with the coffin." She saw Johan working on mirrors. "Ah, good. The midgets left. Oh, bad Hilda, calling your co-conspirators midgets. Oh well, they're small enough for that."

The two fish on the cup looked at each other and frowned. "No man for far too long," they silently agreed.

Hilda switched channels on her mirror and checked the proceedings at the dwarfish house. She saw the six- (six? Oh, of course. The sleepyhead was missing.) -stand around the glass coffin, hats in hand. "Awwhhh... so sweet... they really admired her." Hilda's eyes went all dreamy and a smile was on her face, wondering how the hell it got there. "I wonder if they'd do that for me too..." Her wand was in her hand and her clothes changed to pink, with tiny yellow brooms and blue piglets. The tiny off detail was that each piglet had a broom up its arse.

One of the goldfish tried to cover its eyes. The other wished it could reach its ears. They were out of luck.

"She looks really cute like that," Hilda commented as she inspected the sleeping princess in the glass box. "Maybe I should go for black hair too. And the- nah, no red lips. Come on, Hilda, that's not you! But still, the black hair looks spiffy. But perhaps only with the pale skin, and I am not going there. Been stupid once and I am definitely staying away from that."

Hilda went on and on, until the dwarfs had put the cover on the coffin and carried it out of the room. And during all that time, the fish were trapped on the teacup...

Walt sat outside the castle, enjoying a very mundane and well-chilled beer. He stretched his royal legs and rested them on the seat near him, while taking a sip of the golden liquid. He found that he deserved this. He had been running around after the queen a good deal of the day, and such strain should be rewarded. Without overdoing it of course, so he had promised himself that he would only have two beers.

Little did he know that at that time the dwarfs were lifting his little girl up and depositing her into a glass coffin. He was unaware of their grief and Sleepy's snoring. Unaware of the goldfish that wanted to get away from the cup and Hilda's fluffy-bunny babbling.

The thing that worried him was the rapidly receding level of beer in his pitcher, and that the first pitcher was already on the ground, empty. Only two beers. Walt frowned and tried to find a way to get around his self-imposed limit...

The mean queen sat in her room and stared at the mirror. She did not want to ask, did not need to ask. She wanted and needed something else, but she was afraid to go out and get it. Walt was a seriously inhibiting factor in her life all of a sudden, and she did not like that one bit. She stared at the door of her hidden room. Perhaps she had to go in and think of something queenly constructive that would also be kingly destructive...

20. Onwards and upwards

Hilda had returned the mirror to its reflective state and sat thinking for a while. Things were all going according to plan, more or less. Walt had done what he could. She could not expect a flabby king to turn into a skilled spy within the timeframe of a talk.

The mean queen was getting nervous, and that was good. The coffin was done, and that was good too. She got up for the next step in her plan and caught her image in the mirror. Pink. Piglets. Brooms in strange places. "Oh... I should change that."

A fair amount of minutes later she was dressed as the witch she was. The burgundy dress always looked good on her. She had also put on a long black cloak made of velvet, flowing around her like a liquid in slow motion. She admired herself in the mirror for a while and had the feeling that something was missing. Her necklace was there, so that was not the problem.

The wicked witch wiggled her eyebrows. "Shouldn't be a biggy..."

Dressed up as she wanted to appear, she got her broom and walked out. She turned at looked at her house. "Hey, you awake?"

"Do I ever sleep?", the house asked.

"Right. Well, I saw Baba Yaga's hut and that is still talking to her in the normal way. Unlike you. And the hut is not painted at all, so there." Hilda folded her arms over her chest, the broom floating next to her.

"That is the difference between a hut and a house," the house argued. "Magical huts are hardly ever painted, so feel free to change me into one if you want. Huts get nice decorations at the Solstices, so I would not mind being a hut."

"Smart-ass," Hilda spew and turned around to walk off.

"Smart-house, you mean."

"Oh, shut up!"

"Bad loser," the house threw at her.

Hilda ignored it, trying to carry her defeat with dignity. She walked over to the floating cage, mounted her broom and went up.

The four people were lying sprawled over the bottom of their elevated prison.

"Good morning, guys. Had a good time so far?"

At the sound of Hilda's voice, four heads rose. The people attached to them felt wretched. "Let us off this thing," Ribaldo demanded. "We are all seasick. This cage wobbles worse than a boat!"

Hilda giggled. This was a bonus she had not anticipated. Good to know, though. "You know, guys, I am in a splendid mood at the moment, so I am going to be very gentle with you and let you go. See you downstairs!"

She dropped to the ground like a brick and made a soft landing. There she made the cage come down slowly and made sure it did not make a soft landing. The fourfold 'oompf' was highly satisfying. "Now, do me a favour, guys. Go. Go away. Far away. And do not come back. Ever."

The four broom-making gyspies did not fall on deaf ears. They stumbled over each other in their haste to get away from this crazy bitch witch, and soon they had gone from view, as they ran into the forest, to where they had left their wagon.

"Nice job, Hilda," she praised herself. "Nothing overdone. Very slick." Then she took her wand and turned the cage back into chains that then disappeared.

She turned to the house. "I'll be back. We'll talk later."

"I'll be here," the house said as she took off, "I'm not going anywhere."

"Welcome to the club," one of the fish on the cup said.

Somewhere in the forest, a man got off his horse. "Oh, man," he said as he started to take the pressure off his bladder. The man grinned at the horse. "I hope you are not in a hurry, this is going to take a while."

The horse couldn't care less.

The six dwarfs had left Sleepy where he was. They had carried the glass coffin out of their house and were on their way to a very nice clearing in the forest, close to their house. They knew that Snow-White loved that spot.

"I didn't know she was that heavy," Grumpy said. He felt that he had put this very nicely, considering his mood.

"Shut up," the others said.

They walked on, maneuvering the coffin among the trees and avoiding treestumps that invited the dwarfs to fall over them.

"Are we there yet?", Grumpy asked. He was in the back so he could not see clearly where they were.

"Shut up," the others said.

"Hey, I'm only asking!" Grumpy felt bad about their remark: he had not used any foul language.

Finally the six reached the nice spot. They put the coffin down and looked around if there was a better place for it to stand.

"This is fine with me," Grumpy said, sweat on his face.

"Perhaps it is better over there, near the oak," Happy pointed.

"No way, as soon as it starts dropping its acorns, do you know what that will do to the glass cover? Are you up for fixing that?", Doc said.

"Then how about there?", Sneezy said.

"Ants. Too many ants."

Each dwarf had another idea for the best spot. In the end they agreed that the place where the coffin was now would be the best place.

"Someone for beer?", Dopey asked, having one of his superior moments.

They all voted in favour, so they sent him on his way and urged him to hurry back.

"So what are we going to do while he's on his way?", asked Bashful.

"Hope he's not losing his friggin' way like last time?", Grumpy shared his sentiments.

Doc shook his head. "Boys, boys, remember why we are together, okay? After all, this is still Snow-White who is lying in this coffin, so a little respect would be called for."

"Perhaps we should sing our song for her again," Happy offered. "She loved to her us sing."

The others could only agree, so the five of them sang their "hi ho, hi ho" a few times. After three times however they got fed up with the lyrics. Happy tried to brighten things up a bit by adding some lines that were not exactly appropriate so Doc slapped him on the head. That settled the singing.

Dopey returned at the coffin space, to find his mates sitting in the grass around the coffin, all looking rather miffed. "Hey guys, look what I found!"

Hilda had landed her broom in front of the dwarfish house. "Yo, people," she said as she rapped on the door. The door swung open slowly. Hilda drew her wand, as this was not standard operational procedure. The door should be closed. Dwarfs were reliable with that.

A rasping sound came to the wicked witch from inside the house, so with her wand ready to strike, she entered the room.

"Crap. I should have known." The wicked witch put her wand away and walked over to the bed where Sleepy was snoring his dwarfish heart out. "He's getting worse every week, it seems," Hilda muttered.

A short spell later, the bed rose up a bit and tilted sideways. With a solid thud Sleepy hit the hardwood floor. The snoring stopped.

"Don't tell me...", Hilda started, but nobody had to tell her.

"Ouch." Sleepy sat up. "Who the- oh, it's you." He cleanly ignored his floating bed. "Whassup?"

"Where's the coffin? And Snow-White?"

Sleepy scratched his head. "Gosh, dunno really. I just nodded off for a second..." He gazed around the room, finding his mates gone. "Looks like it's gone, eh?" He got up and looked around again. "Yup, it's gone. And it took the boys with it."

Hilda closed her eyes, breathed in and breathed out. "I could swear I am hearing Dopey..."

"Nope, he's gone too," Sleepy informed the wicked witch.

"Shut up, you fool! I love it when a plan comes together, but this is seriously getting out of hand." Hilda was tempted to do something very nasty to Sleepy. And why not, she thought. She grabbed her wand, pointed it at Sleepy and said something in Latin.

"Uhm?" Sleepy frowned. "Am I supposed to be scared now? Or green and hop around the room?"

"Do what you like. I am going to find these little twats and see what they're upto." Hilda turned and walked out of the house. Lacking witchful attention, Sleepy's bed banged onto the floor again.

"Yikes, I wonder what bug crawled up her ass," Sleepy said as he lovingly eyed his bed. He sighed as he lay down, a blissful smile all over his face.

He stared at the ceiling.

Several minutes later he still stared at the ceiling. His blissful smile had faded. "Don't tell me...", he moaned. But no one had to tell him. Hilda had taken his sleep away.

The wicked witch was by then nearing the open space where the dwarfs were sipping beer and chatting away a mile a minute. Her wand beat any satnav system, although she had no idea about that. She had heard the voices already and progressed as fast as she could, wanting to see what was happening and perform damage control were needed.

The view she was treated to made her stop before she was completely out of the woodwork, in this case the bushes that were between her and the others.

The dwarfs were sitting around near the coffin. There was a horse in the open area, and that was definitely not something the dwarfs owned.

But the biggest shock was that a MAN was kneeling next to the coffin, and he was taking the lid off! As he was holding the glass cover, Hilda burts into the space. "Don't!! Get away from there!"

At that point things went very fast, despite that here they are described in slow-motion.

Some of the dwarfs jumped to their feet and stared at the witch that came from the bushes, waving her broom and wand.

The man dropped the lid. That shattered in the proverbial million pieces. He too got up and turned to see what was causing all the racket behind his back.

Hilda cried out as she saw the top of the coffin break into shards and lashed out to the idiot man with her broom. He was getting in the way of her plan, and that was unpalatable.

One of the dwarfs (it was Bashful, although this information is rather irrelevant) yelled out: "No!"

This caused Hilda to look where the sound came from. Because of that she did not see the large twig in front of her feet that caught her shoe. Hilda fell forward.

The idiot man, standing close to the glass and now also open coffin, saw the woman in the burgundy dress lose her balance, waving her arms. Galantly he held out his arms to catch her whilst at the same time trying to avoid being whacked by the broom that was now in free flight as Hilda had let go of it.

Hilda shrieked as she saw the man come closer, even while he did not move. She did not want to touch him, but gravity and her falling made her wishes subordinate to reality.

Several dwarfs closed or covered their eyes or ears, as they saw impending doom come up. It was unavoidable.

Hilda bumped into the man.

21. Change of plans

Hilda and the strange man who caught her fell. Their downfall was accompanied by the sound of even more glass crashing and it ended with an 'oompf', coming from the man who landed under Hilda and a "that must have hurt", from one of the dwarfs.

The next sounds were of someone gagging and coughing and then the polite question: "Can you please get off me?"

Hilda groaned. She sat up on the man's chest and slapped him in the face. "Now see what you did, stupid ignorant son of a bitch!"

"King," the man said as he warded off another slap.

"Hey, did someone hear me?" Snow-White started pounding at anything in her reach as there were several legs prodding in her belly.

Hilda looked back at the source of the voice. "Damn it." That was her mistake.

The man on the ground, the stupid ignorant son of a king, saw his chance and whacked Hilda against the chin, making her world spin around and then go black. Granted, it was one of her favourite colours, but not this way.

Throbbing head. Hilda kept her eyes closed. Throbbing head. She was certain she had not touched any mead, as that always had such an effect on her. Sore jaw. No, that was certainly not a known side-effect of mead. Slowly she reached for her face. It hurt, but it was still there.

"It looks like she is waking up," a young girl's voice said. "Hello, mrs Witch, are you okay?"

Eyes still closed, Hilda groaned again. "Stop - shaking - me..."

"Oops..."

The shaking went away.

"Grimhilda? Are you okay?" The voice of Doc, soft and caring, still was loud.

"My head hurts. My brain buzzes. I am lying on my back in the dirt. What gives you the idea that this has any resemblance to okay?" Hilda opened her eyes carefully and saw a big nose, small glasses on it and a dwarf's hat. "Are you leaning over me?"

"Yes," Doc nodded.

"Don't. Don't ever do that again. The sight of your nose is heartwrenching."

The big nose removed itself from view, and was replaced by the face of Snow-White, who kept a rather respectable distance. "Mrs Witch? Can we help you sit up?"

"Do I look like I need help?", Hilda asked. She hated this. She hated this very very much.

"Yes, you do."

"Urgh..." Hilda let several hands get her in an upright position. The world started swimming before her eyes for several nauseating moments in which it proved impossible for her to conjure up her wand. As soon as the world had decided on a state it wanted to stay in, her wand popped in her hand.

"Great gods," a male voice said as the wand appeared. "She is a real one!"

Hilda pointed the silver stick at herself, muttered something, and felt normal again.

She got up and stared at the man who sat just too close to Snow-White. "And who might you be? Yes, I am a real one. And you may find that I am the worst one you could have pissed off."

"My name is Jordan, honourable witch." He got up and made a professional bow. "I am the son of king Louie. He owns the property next to this kingdom. You may have heard of him, he's somewhat of an expert on jungles. Wrote a book about them too."

Snow-White had gotten up also and wrapped her arm around the prince. "Isn't he cute?"

The prince's natural reaction was to put an arm around the girl's shoulders, kiss her hair and whisper something in her ear that made her giggle.

"Hey, do you have any idea how long she hasn't washed that hair?", Hilda inquired. "You should be careful."

Jordan blushed. "I am sure that it is all fine, honourable witch."

At least, she thought, he knew how to address her. Hilda repressed her revulsion as she saw how Snow-White almost crawled into Jordan, displaying an amount of affection that was revolting.

"We have to talk." Hilda whipped up a set of chairs, large and small. Also a table with cups of tea. "Sit. Powwow now."

They all sat.

"Right. First thing: you messed up my plan big time, buster." Hilda's wand pointed at Jordan. "I had fabulous plans with that girl, and here you come and screw that all up."

Jordan wanted to say something, but the wand prevented that.

"Not yet. Second thing: I do not like it when people sock me in the jaw without proper introduction. Come to think of it, I don't like that when I know someone either."

Jordan tried to make his point clear by waving his hands, which was a waste of his energy, as Hilda ignored him.

"Third thing: we have to come up with something good and fast. The kid's Dad is in on the plan also, and now I have to get to him to let him know about the change in events. Thanks to you." The glare at Jordan was far from friendly, while Snow-White looked offended by being called a kid. "So. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Prince Jordan boggled as he pointed at his lips that did not want to part.

"Oh, right. Sorry."

A flip of the wand later, Jordan gasped for air.

"Good grief, don't exaggerate. Speak, boy." Hilda was becoming a bit impatient. Just a bit. The tip of the wand tapping on the table made that very clear.

"Well, honourable witch, I have fallen in love with Snow-White and I am taking her to my father's castle so we can get married."

"Really..."

"Yes," the prince said happily, "really."

"And does she have a say in this?" Hilda pointed her wand at Snow-White.

"Oh, yes, she does! I told her that I love her and that I want to marry her and she said okay."

"That simple, eh?" The happy couple showed Hilda that it was indeed that simple, by becoming one heart with two bodies, joined at the lips. For a long time. "Hey, alright, you made your point, back to business now."

A disappointed sigh rose up from the mouths of the dwarfs who would have loved to see where that kiss would lead.

"Looks like you two made up your minds." Hilda shook her head.

"Mrs Witch, can you tell us what you were planning?", Snow-White asked.

"Wow. She makes sense," Hilda acted surprised. "I want to get rid of your step-mother. She's no good, screws half the kingdom but not your Dad, and she has something that belongs to me."

"Oh. I never liked her much either," Snow-White admitted. "What can I do to help you?"

Talk about getting to the point, Hilda thought. "Well, I am thinking... maybe you can invite her to your wedding..."

Faces became question marks, and Hilda started talking to them, bent on making them exclamation points. That took a while, but in the end there was a general consensus that Hilda's quickly revised and changed plan was a good one.

The dwarfs got ready to go home. Before they left, Hilda warned them to take care of Sleepy. She did not reveal more, even though they asked her several times why she had said that.

"So you two lovebirds are off to the next kingdom, right?"

Prince Jordan nodded. "We're going to prepare the wedding as we agreed, and get the invitations out also. We'll have a blast."

Snow-White hugged Hilda. "Thank you for everything you did."

"Sure. Just leave out the soppy stuff next time, okay? I don't go for the huggy kissy stuff. Oh, wait... before you leave..." Hilda looked at prince Jordan. "One last thing... Manus saxeaus."

The wicked witch took a swing at the prince, her hand, changed to rock, hitting him square on the jaw. He went down like a brick. "Payback. He'll be around again soon, kid, and then you can go. He might experience some dizziness, but that will go away also. Just later."

Hilda changed her hand back, took her broom and winked at Snow-White. Then she took to the skies again.

The wicked witch landed on the dot. There was a nice green dot in front of the door, and she often tried to land on it, to see if she could still handle precision landing. This time it worked. "Cool," she said to herself and pulled the door... not open. "Now what?"

"Hilda, we need to talk."

"Not now, I have things to do." She stepped back and looked at her house. "Don't give me this. Not now. Well, not ever actually."

The house was not impressed. "You have been neglecting me. In the housing codex for witches it states clearly that the inhabitant of the house should take proper care of the building and its surroundings, including the area underground for at least six feet."

"Yeah, so? Have I burnt you down?"

"Not recently," the house had to admit.

"Did I bang nails in your walls to put up all kind of junk that nobody is interested in?"

"No, but-"

"Do you see any dirt here? Debris? Some sort of mess? Well? Well?" Hilda put her hands on her hips and looked challenging at her house.

"Uhm, no, the area is clean, I have to admit that."

"And look here..." Hilda drew her wand and lifted fifty square feet, five feet deep, out of the yard and had it hover several feet above the surface. "See? Nothing. All clean and sandy and worms, like new." She put the lump of ground back. "So, what are you whining about?"

"I need to be painted."

Hilda magicked up a chair and sat down on it. "You really are not giving up, are you? You go on and on about the paintjob, as if it is the best thing since magical wands and brooms."

"Yes. Because it is."

Hilda sighed. First this thing with the coffin. Then the idiot prince who punched her lights out. And now this. Would this day please end now?

The day did not.

"Okay... you win..." Hilda shook her head. This happened every so many hundred years and she still wasn't used to it.

She got up and drew her wand. "Right. What do we need..."

"Paint," said the house.

"Don't push it. I know that. Paint. Brushes. That sounds about right, right?"

"It does. Lots of paint."

"Quiet you, you sound like an addict. Any favourite colours?" She might as well do it right while she was going to do this.

"White. And red. And black."

"No purple? You always want white, red and black."

"I like white, red and black," the house commented, "and I hate purple. You always bring up purple. Have you ever heard of a purple witch-house?"

"No, sadly not, it would look ultimately cool though. Why don't you try? Just to be the first?", Hilda tried one more time.

"I am a conservative house. I do not do purple."

Hilda understood that this was not going anywhere. "Okay...", she sighed. Large buckets of paint, white, red and black appeared in front of the house. Also a small army of paintbrushes in all sizes materialised, resting peacefully and waiting for the real work.

"Paint." Hilda muttered. She shook her head and sat down again.

As always, it took a while for the English spell to take effect. Then the myriad of brushes flew up, plunged into the paint and went to work on the house at an astonishing speed. The roof was even painted, bright red, and it looked as new. The walls were really white again, the woodwork along the windows was shiny and red, the doors became seriously black. Gone were the smudges, the scratches and the bits of peeled paint. Magically, everything was repaired as the witchy paint covered spots and filled cracks, leaving the house as new within five minutes.

Hilda was picking her teeth with her wand as the paintjob came to an end. She got up, made the chair vanish and came up to the house. "So, happy now?"

"Yes!", said the house, "I feel brand new again. The door is open, but mind the paint, it could still be wet."

"Yeah, yeah, and I'll wake up with a headache the coming days because of the smell of it..."

22. Wedding bells

"You are kidding me, girlfriend." Baba Yaga's voice rang with disbelief.

"No, ma'am," Hilda said, "he knocked me out cold. Not for long but still, it's a disgrace how they treat us witches these days."

"But knowing you, he didn't get away with that unscathed, I dare hope?" Baba Yaga's face shone with anticipation of what had to come.

"You know me, Babs. I did the nice and friendly thing, and just before they were heading out I gave him a taste of the rock hand. Kapow."

Baba Yaga's cackle reverberated through the room. "Subtle as ever, that's my Hilly."

"It's a gift," said Hilda. "So now I am cooking up some of the wedding preparations. And as I was working on those I thought that it would be the polite thing to invite you to the wedding."

"A wedding? Me? Hilda, that's been centuries ago."

"About time then, don't you think? Just put on your best slinky, or bring something cool and colourful, as you are into those things these days. They'll love it."

Baba Yaga still wasn't convinced. "You sure?"

"Hey, girlfriend, basically I am the one who got these two kids together, so they owe me one. Or two. You get yourself over there for the wedding. I don't take no for an answer."

"Right, then I'll give you a maybe, and no more discussion."

"Cool puppies. We'll talk again, Babs, I still have some things to attend to. Have a good one, kiddo!"

The light in the crystal ball faded.

"Sheesh, why is she always so worked up about public appearances," Hilda muttered.

Several days had gone by since that crystal-balled conversation. Wedding invitations had been sent out, received, RSVP'd and appreciated. Hilda had arranged for one to go to Baba Yaga also, and with some magical persuasion it made it there in time.

On Hilda's advice, the name of Snow-White had been left off the invitations, she was only referred to as the 'lovely bride to be'.

"There is no reason why we should alert dear stepmom that Snow-White is still alive," she had told the happy couple. "If she gets wind of that, she might go for the heavy artillery and level this entire castle in her urge to be the most pretty one."

After all that had happened, the couple could only agree.

Hilda had also had another meeting with Walt, in which she outlined the change of plan. Walt did not like that, but as things were the way they were, there was little he could do about it. Even a king of his size had to bend his crowned head circumstance. "Okay, okay," he had sighed, "I'll think of a nice wedding present." Then all of his face had lit up: "And I may be able to supply some entertainment also!"

Hilda had no idea what the man was talking about, but a smiling king was a useful king, she thought, so she had left him to work out the details of his plan.

The queen had eyed the invitation suspiciously. "Do you have any clue who the girl is?"

Walt had shook his head. "Doesn't say a name, does it? Louie and I aren't the fattest buddies around, so the card is a surprise for me too.

The mean queen glared at the king's rather bulging belly, but had to agree that Walt and Louie were not the closest of old chums.

And then came the big day. The day that Snow-White and prince Jordan, son of king Louie, were getting married.

All the streets in Louie's realm had been wiped clean, the entire kingdom was one flurry of colourful banners, flags and pictures of prince Jordan and a veiled bride, as no one had been informed about the name or origin of the princess that had gotten their prince. The official streetcleaning guild was already sighing as they beheld the amounts of confetti and other well-meant junk was going over the counters in the festivity-shops.

Guests from every kingdom around had shown up, all in their most festive and magnificent outfits. Many of the dresses were especially tailored for this wedding, as such occasions did not come by every year, due to a lack of princes and princesses falling in love enough to tie the knot.

Oh, there was no shortage of princes or princesses. The main problem was that they usually did not live closeby. And the ones who did live close to each other were not allowed to marry most of the time, as they were brothers and sisters. Of course, there were some well-guarded, hidden chronicles that mentioned slip-ups of this rule, but hardly anybody knew about those. This shows that hiding and guarding chronicles works quite well.

Weddings like these were considered royal matchmakers, as these happenings were the perfect stage for marriageable members of the jet-set to meet.

Hilda had dressed very abundantly for the day. She had put on a terrific crimson dress which ended very high above the knee. It also started very far below her shoulders. High-heeled shoes in the same shade of crimson, and ditto gloves upto her elbows. Crimson streaks in her hair completed her attire. For the occasion she had flown in on, what a surprise, a crimson broom.

"Uhm, Grimhilda?"

Hilda was leaning over a bit, peeking through the curtains that were present everywhere in the large hall where the marriage ceremony would take place. She looked back, seeing nobody, so she was about to return to taking inventory of the assembled guests, when the voice spoke again.

"Down here, Grimhilda."

She looked downwards and saw all seven dwarfs look up at her, obviously enjoying the view. As they had taken such good care of Snow-White, they had been invited to the party as well.

"Oh, it's you. Oh!!" Quickly she stood up straight and turned around to face the group. Without premeditation, her cheeks coloured red also, which clashed quite violently with the crimson of her clothes. "Hey guys, what can I do for you?" Unwillingly she held her hands over the lower part of her dress.

As the grins faded, Doc asked her where they should be when the bride and groom would enter the hall.

"Heck, I don't know. Just mingle and be careful that nobody steps on you. What do you do on weddings?"

"We get plastered," Happy said, looking happy at the prospect.

"You're in luck then. There is a large buffet with food and drinks planned for after the ceremony."

"After?" Severe disappointment.

"Sorry guys, you'll have to wait. Come, let's go in and find a good place to watch from." Hilda grabbed her crimson broom, went upwards on it and carefully maneuvered her way through the curtains. She did not notice the attempts of the dwarfs to strain their necks and eyes.

The ceremonial hall was huge as in very, very large. Its white marble floor was almost a mirror, so well-polished was it. All the way up to the ceiling were marble pillars and columns, looking as if they were made of white, grey and black swirls. From the regular entrance of the hall to the spot where the marriage was to take place, lay a large red carpet, meticulously cleaned. To each side there were nice comfortable chairs for all the guests, including seven smaller ones near the front; the dwarfs' seats.

Sunlight streamed in through all the windows. These were the windows on the east side as well as on the west side. This treat was a small addition to the festivities, courtesy of Baba Yaga, who was brilliant with all things weather.

Hilda parked her broom next to the one of Baba Yaga. They had top-row seats "Hey Babs."

The Russian witch looked her girlfriend up and down. "Hilly, good to see you. I already wondered - oh my, your dress..."

"Yes, cute colour isn't it? Oh, neat touch what you did to your broom." Hilda pointed at the end of Baba Yaga's broomstick that had a jolly white skull fixed to it. From each eyesocket hung a pink ribbon, a tiny pink femur dangling from it.

Babs grinned. "Yeah, thought I'd liven things up a bit as I am here anyway. His name was Roger, so I was told."

A dozen hidden trumpetplayers lifted their unseen instruments to their equally unseen lips. The sound they produced was wonderful and melodic. It was a clear call for attention. It also was very loud and gave Hilda a shock.

"Not now, girlfriend," Baba Yaga whispered as she covered Hilda's hand that had the wand ready to strike.

"Sowwy," Hilda mumbled as she made the wand disappear.

Below them, the ceremony began. Hilda wished they would hurry up. There was one moment she was waiting for, the one moment she had set all this up for.

The couple to be wedded came into the hall.

Hilda enjoyed the view of the couple and tried not to let it show.

The ceremony started.

After listening to the singingin and the talking for a while, Baba Yaga tapped Hilda on the arm. "Hilly. You're drooling."

Hilda wiped her mouth and said: "Am not."

"Are too."

Hilda frowned. "The kid looks pretty, doesn't she?" She looked down at Snow-White in the long white wedding dress, the veil still over her face, who was going through the endless list of vows she'd keep to, as Jordan had already done. The wicked witch sighed and got a dreamy look in her eyes, as well as a smile on her face.

"Grimhilda, stop that. I am worrying about you." Baba Yaga poked Hilda gently in the side with a bony finger.

"Oy, quiet up there," a male voice came from below.

"Shut up yourself," Hilda commented, snipping her fingers.

The man who had made the comment started to hick-up. He diverted his eyes and refrained from further remarks.

"That'll teach him," Hilda grumbled.

"That's my girl." Baba Yaga leaned back against the solidified air behind her broom and relaxed.

Hilda's moment came. Prince Jordan was only a breath away from lifting the veil, as the priest had told him to kiss the bride.

The veil went up.

Seconds later the mean queen went down.

Hilda chalked one up for herself and made 2 glasses of pink champagne appear, complete with a cherry in each glass. A toast with her best girlfriend was definitely in place.

Baba Yaga took a sip and then frowned as she looked at the glass. "Is that watered down, or what?"

Hilda nodded. "You know I can't take that stuff."

"Oh, right." Baba Yaga pulled a little black thing out of a pocket and dropped it in the champagne. It bubbled for a moment and turned dark. She took another sip. "Yeah, that is more like it. Hilly, here's to you."

As the two witches sipped from their glasses, a clear female voice chimed up to them. "Hey there, witch ladies, when you're done up there can we finish up down here?"

The magical women laughed out loud for a moment, filling the hall with some serious cackling laughter that adequately frightened people. Then Hilda stuck up her thumb at Snow-White that the floor was theirs again.

The priest was rather ticked off about this improper behaviour but let it pass. The fact that the evildoers were riding brooms and at that moment were located some fifteen yards over the floor had certainly a big part in his decision. To his silent pleasure, there were no more distuptions and the rest of the ceremony went along according to the book.

As the ceremonial hall was emptying, after the official part of the wedding, Hilda located the hickupping man and released him from the spell.

He looked up and said: "Thank you. It was becoming quite annoying. But at this moment, it was worth it." Then he quickly fled from the hall.

Baba Yaga watched Hilda for a reaction, but there was none. Again she worried.

The ceremonial hall had gone all quiet now, except for the talking of dwarfs. The two witches descended to the marble floor.

"So, guys, I hope you were not too bored during this," Hilda said as the witchy women made their brooms vanish.

Bashful looked at the floor. Like Happy, he was still rubbing his neck.

"It was not too bad," Doc commented, "the intermezzo with the queen made up for a lot. But I do think that it is time for the handing over of the present and then we should find our way to the good stuff." His suggestion was well received by his fellows, so they headed out of the hall and into the direction where the real party was taking off. The sound was hard to miss.

As the dwarfs and the witches came into the large lounge, there was a small orchestra playing music. Hilda frowned. "They'd better improve quickly, or I'm going to give them a hand."

"Oh, uhm, boys, who has the present?" Doc was in a frenzy, searching his pockets.

"Calm down, Doc," said Sleepy. He picked a small leather pouch from his pocket. "Here you go. Looks like I am still the one who is most awake here..." He shot a dirty look at Hilda.

"Really? Oh man, I am so sorry," Hilda said, entirely not sincere. "I must have totally forgotten. Come here, let me tell you something." She bent over to Sleepy, who hoped to bury his nose between her breasts as the opportunity delivered itself. There was certainly not much fabric that would prevent it.

Hilda whispered something in his ear.

Sleepy stared at her. "You're kidding me..." Then he keeled over backwards, and slept.

"Nope. English just takes a while," she giggled. "Come on, Babs, let's go and congratulate the happy couple." Arm in arm they left the seven dwarfs.

The witches walked straight up to the newly-weds, everyone making room for them to pass unhindered. Many a man was yanked on the arm or faced a worse fate as Hilda paraded by. Her daring outfit attracted eyes like an electro-magnet would attract chain-mail.

After a while, as everyone was equipped with drinks and snacks and Sleepy was shoved into a corner, King Walt stepped forward. "Lovely couple, honoured folks. Now all lips are burning from the kissing, and all cheeks are raw from the same, I would like to introduce a bit of entertainment to you all."

"Dad?" Snow-White was amazed by this gesture of her father. He had already given them a new bed and a few horses.

"Trust me, kiddo. This will be fun," he beamed, patting her on the arm.

Hilda and Baba Yaga, sitting at the table with the happy couple, exchanged glances. This was a suprise for them as well, since Walt had worked this out all alone.

"Right then. For this surprise I require the assistance of my wife, the lovely queen..." Walt obviously basked in his moment of glory as he pointed out the lady to the others.

The mean queen, who had been brought back to awareness a while ago already, flustered and did not want to be part of this. She did not like surprises. And certainly not when they involved her. "Walt," she hissed in her sweetest voice.

King Walt however was not shaken, nor stirred. "And I will also need this." He clapped his chubby hands, and at that mark a servant came in carrying a beautiful yellow cushion made of satin. On the cushion were two fantastic shoes, looking as if they were made of glass.

"They are not made of glass," Walt said with pride, "they are made of diamond. And they are a gift to my wife, who has done so much for my daughter."

The mean queen stared at her husband and then turned her greedy eyes at the two sparkling shoes that the servant had placed in front of her. Quite excited suddenly, her hand on her heaving bosom, she said: "Oh my... I didn't... I mean..." Quickly she kicked off her ordinary silver-and-sapphire shoes and slipped her feet into the cool diamond ones. They fit like gloves, despite common knowledge that gloves usually go on hands.

The queen got up as everyone looked at her shoes in awe. Carefully she took a few steps. The shoes felt amazing. She stepped some more steps. Attempted a royal twirl. The shoes responded well to that, and the mean queen was surprised. Somehow, without knowing it, she had done something very good for Walt. She was convinced of that. Why else would he give her such a brilliant and shiny present?

"Maestro," Walt said, addressing the man in the preposterous wig that was standing in front of the orchestra. "Hit it."

A shriek escaped the mean queen as she started to dance. She had no choice. The shoes did all the work, but she had to follow, willing or not.

"Dad, that is so cool!", Snow-White said, unable to peel her eyes from her step-mother. "Did she practice that very long?"

Walt shook his head. "No, it's all in the shoes," he snorted.

Hilda and Baba Yaga did some witchy stuff to check out the step-queen's lower extremities, and giggled. There was magic in the shoes. Heavy Magic. And the queen would have to live with that for the rest of her life, since she would not be able to take the shoes off again. She would have to dance whenever there was music, because that was what the shoes were specifically made for.

Hilda snickered, as she was convinced that Walt would see to it that there would not be a lack of music.

Then a menacing thought developed in her mind and clawed its way to her vocal chords. She looked at Baba Yaga, and said: "I wonder where the fuck he got those shoes from..."

###

About the author:

I am an IT consultant who loves reading and writing.

I've been an amateur-author since years, writing SciFi, Fantasy and lately also Steampunk. My home is in the Netherlands.

I hope you liked "Hilda: Snow-White Revisited".

Other books I published:

Hilda, the wicked witch (Smashwords, July 2010)

If you want to connect with me online:

Twitter: http://twitter.com/pagan_paul

Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/paulkater

My website: http://www.nlpagan.net