Hilda - Snow White revisited (4 page)

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.

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 -
- laces a bit - - 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.