Hilda - The Challenge (12 page)

It suited Hilda fine, it gave her time for
the same.

"Well, looks like I am done," he said when he
walked up to Hilda, a modest stack of books under his arm.

The wicked witch was secretly relieved to
find he only had the eight books with him. "Are you sure that is
all you want to take with you?"

"Yes, that will be all. Those are my most
precious ones."

"Okay then. Best to put them down before I
make them portable," Hilda grinned. "I might forget myself and
include you."

Grinning, William put down the books and
stood at what he hoped was a safe distance. "I would be curious
what it is like to ride along in your pocket, Hilda."

She frowned at him for a moment, then grinned
and shrunk the books.

William picked up the dice that remained of
them. "Amazing, simply amazing." He slipped the books in the secure
pocket, next to the crystal ball. As Hilda did not make any signs
towards leaving, he sat down next to her and looked at the barren
rocky landscape, with the large boulders, the cracked mountain
walls.

"Do you miss your world?", Hilda suddenly
asked.

William needed a while to consider her
question. Life here, and arriving at this place, had been so
overwhelming and filled with surprises that he had not had the time
to wonder about that. He then reached a decision. "No. Not
really."

Hilda nodded. "I think I understand. But can
you explain it to me anyway?"

"I will try. Is it okay if I hold your hand
while I talk?" William held out his hand and felt good when she put
her hand in it. "My world is not bad. Work, fun, friends and things
like that. But it is a solo trip nonetheless. I'm always on my own,
since the people I meet are not the people I can connect to . Don't
get me wrong, they are nice and friendly and helpful, but they are
never what I could call my close friends. Except perhaps Bert, but
he is an oddball if ever there lived one. Well, you met him."
William grinned. He also felt Hilda's fingers closing just a bit
tighter around his hand for a moment. "And now I am here, in this
crazy world of yours-"

"It's not crazy!", Hilda threw at him. "Well,
not to me. To me, your world's crazy."

"In this crazy world of yours," William
repeated, "where everything is new, fascinating. And where you
are." This time it was his turn to lightly squeeze his fingers a
bit more for a second, and Hilda looked at him. "I can't say that I
miss my world. The coffee perhaps. The murky monasteries where I
snoop around for books. But if I had to choose, I would gladly
trade that for you. Your world, I mean."

Hilda kept her eyes on the man next to her,
his words making her heart beat faster again, the feeling of his
hand in hers sending a rush into her blood. She noticed all that
and still was distrusting herself. "When I hear you talk, I'd
almost get the impression that you like it here. Even with me
around."

Without any hurry, William raised his other
hand and gently knocked the top of Hilda's head.

"Hey, go suck an elf, will you? Why are you
doing that?"

"Just testing how thick your skull is. You
really don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?" Hilda wanted to throw up all her
defenses, but she couldn't. The way he looked at her, the calmness
she felt while he was sitting there holding her hand, all that made
it impossible to get totally angry and turn witchy bitchy on him.
The tone of her voice apparently made that clear to William, as he
did not react immediately.

The wicked witch lifted his hand up and
folded her other hand around it. She then rested her hands, holding
his between them, on her knee. "I do get it," she said as she kept
her eyes locked on her hands. "I really do, William, because I
have... I have missed you."

The book salesman looked at her, but her face
was hidden from his view by the hair hanging down. He waited for
her to go on.

"Damn," the witch muttered, "why is it so
hard to say this? Why is it so hard to tell you that I am glad you
are here, that I feel happy about it, that I am happy you are
living in my house. I'm not good at saying things like that,
William, because I am scared." She turned her head, so she could
look at him. "Do you understand that?"

He gently squeezed her hand. "I'd be lying if
I said I understand you completely, but I can understand that you
are scared. You don't have to explain now if you can't, or are
afraid to do so."

Hilda held William's hand even tighter as he
spoke.

"See, I am scared too. Perhaps for some of
the same reasons that you are. I really like you a lot, Hilda, and
I am deliberatly avoiding stronger words now. The way things are
now, it looks as if I am going to be around for a while, and I am
glad that I can be around with you near. Near... and also close. I
don't have the faintest idea what I am getting myself into, what
more things this world of yours has in store for me. Or, dare I
say, for us? But if I have to take on this world, you are the best
person for me to do it with."

"Uhuh," nodded Hilda. "Some of that goes for
me as well." A shiver ran down her spine, while there was no wind.
In fact, a nice bit of sunshine was warming them. Suddenly
suffering a shyness she had no experience with, she let his hand
slip away. "Maybe, uhm, we should go home again now. I mean, you
have your books, and we have talked and all that, right?"

The wicked witch did not wait for his answer.
She hopped off the rock and made the brooms lift and wait for their
riders.

William nodded. They had talked enough for
now. He mounted his broom and looked at Hilda who smiled at him for
a split second.

"Ready?" As he nodded, she made them fly up
and with a wide circle got their bristles pointing towards her
house.

They had been flying in silence since their
departure. As they were passing over a large lake, much different
in colour than Mirror Lake, as Hilda suddenly turned to William. "I
don't know if this is an appropriate question, William, but have
you had female... uhm... friends in your world?"

William nodded. "Yes. There were a few
ladies. Quite a while ago. Years." As he thought of it, he could
with a sincere heart say 'many years'. "And how about you, if you
want to share?"

She grinned. "I can share that, without a
problem. There were or are no ladies in my life whatsoever."

William stared at her, then he nearly fell
off his broom for laughter.

Hilda grinned widely as she saw how much her
remark had thrown William.

"You might be surprised, but I was not
actually asking about ladies in your life, Hilda. More about male
friends. Boyfriends. And such."

She grinned again. "I thought so, but your
reaction was worth the twisted answer. I've had a man, yes. But
that is really long ago. Was not a nice ending, so I really don't
feel like talking about that. Not now. Maybe another time."

William accepted that, without a moment's
thought. "Of course."

After another period of silent flight, the
house with the red roof came into view, and Hilda made them land
less gently as she usually did.

William picked up his broom and hers also, as
they remained on the ground. "Hilda, are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine, just tired. Sorry about the
crash." She touched his hand for a moment, smiled a tired smile and
walked to the door that swung open.

William shook his head. "Stubborn woman."

"I heard that, and you'd better get used to
it!", he heard her yell from inside.

He laughed loudly and with the brooms in hand
he walked to the door. He noticed three arrows next to the door. He
shook his head, and pulled them from the wood, then he walked
inside.

The door remained open.

"Hello, house? We're inside now," William
remarked.

"I know," was the door's response. "Is there
something wrong with your hands?"

"Nothing wrong with them, but they are full
with stuff."

"Oh. Good point." The door closed.

William put the brooms near the fireplace and
put the arrows on the table. He looked around but could not see
Hilda.

"Bedroom," said the house. "I assume you are
looking for the witch."

"Yes, I am. Thank you."

The goldfish silently followed the exchange,
wondering why the house was getting so familiar with this strange
ordinary.

As William went up the stairs, one of the
fish asked: "Why are you talking so much to him?"

The house said: "I think he's okay. He's
polite at least."

The door to Hilda's bedroom was wide open.
William hesitated to go in, but then he saw Hilda lying on the bed,
face down, cloak still over her shoulders.

"Holy Bejeebus," he muttered. "Should have
told me you're wearing yourself out, dumb witch."

He undid the button and chain from her cloak,
put it on the chair, and then he carefully picked her up, to put
her on the bed in a more normal way.

"Uh?", she mumbled. "I'm not dumb." Then she
sunk away in sleep again.

William stood by her bed and watched her for
a few minutes. The wicked witch remained asleep, which put his mind
at peace. He wanted to stroke her hair, but did not. He did not
want to do anything that would wake her up.

He'd let her sleep until dinner was ready.
Dinner. That would mean another battle with the loony-bin she
called her kitchen. William repaired to his guestroom where he
first changed into the more normal clothes Hilda had gotten him. If
those got messed up, it would not be too bad.

"So, are you winning?"

The sound of Hilda's voice made William turn
around. He let go of the spoon that did not want to stop stirring
and saw the witch standing in the door opening. She wore her pink
nightgown with the skulls and the brooms. She also laughed loudly
when she saw William's front side.

"I have my answer," she snickered, "but do go
on, I can do with some entertainment."

"Good to see you. Did you get some rest?"
William almost instinctively ducked as he noticed a bowl flying to
the stove.

"Hey, that was good!" Hilda sounded genuinely
impressed. "Really, that stupid thing knocks me in the head at
least once a month."

William nodded. "I sometimes feel I get the
hang of this." A cloth folded itself around his neck. "Sometimes,
see, it's the things like this that get to me." He undid the cloth,
threw it on the worktop and said: "And now you stay there!"

"It helps when you put a kettle on it," Hilda
advised him.

"Really?"

Shlop said the cloth, and William peeled it
from his neck again. This time he held it in his hand until he had
located a kettle. Then he put the cloth on the worktop and placed
the kettle on it. "Warned you enough." The cloth made a few more
attempts to fight itself loose, but it gave up after a while.

"Thanks, Hilda," William said with a wink.
"Now, you go in. I'm getting there." He grabbed a large piece of
cloth and picked up a hot iron pot. He put that on the massive
granite table. The soupbowl that he had put there already started
moving over to the other side.

"Don't tell me it has a problem with soup,"
William muttered, as Hilda watched with baited breath how he was
going to handle that one.

"It doesn't. It's just hot stuff it doesn't
like," Hilda informed him, feeling that she should assist him
somewhat as he was obviously doing his best in her rather
selfsufficient kitchen.

"Oh, is that all," William said, making Hilda
very curious what he was going to do. He walked to a large cabinet
he had discovered in the kitchen. He'd seen it another spot a few
times, but for now it remained where it was. "Right, then."

William opened the top door of the cabinet
and grabbed a small sack. Hilda stared as he did so. She knew what
it was, and she was absolutely baffled that he had found it.
Without a word William walked back to the granite table and dumped
the sack in the large soup bowl. The bowl immediately stopped its
evasive action, as if it suddenly was a normal, unmagical one.

The sack was ice cold.

"Now stop, William. Tell me how you found
that thing," Hilda said as she walked over to him. "Nobody knows
it's there!"

He turned to her and smiled, his face smudged
with green vegetable streaks, a trace of tomato and some flour. "I
banged my finger when I wanted to bang the chicken meat. The damned
cutting board jumped away, I guess it took things personal. So I
asked the house if there was something around to cool down my
finger."

"And the house told you." Hilda looked around
the kitchen, her hands on her hips again. "Is that so, house? Are
you making things easy on him?"

"How about less difficult?", the house
tried.

"Hmmm. I think you and I need to have a
proper talk one of these days. Witch to house, you know."

"Hardly," said the house, "it's been so long
ago that I am surprised you remember that exists."

As this conversation was taking place,
William took the cooling sack from the stunned soup bowl and ladled
the soup from the hot pot in it. The weight of the soup then
prevented a further retreat of the bowl, hence all things soup were
settled.

"Don't you go smart on me, house, after all I
am the one that painted you a few years ago, remember?" Hilda
walked round in the kitchen, trying to outsmart the house.

"And I am the one who had to bother you for
it for some century. Remember?"

William put the soup bowl on the stove to
make sure it was keeping warm. Then he tried to open the door of
the oven to see how the chicken was doing, but the door would not
yield to his pulling. He yanked the door a bit harder, and was
warned not to do that again by a deep metalic moan that seemed to
come from inside the oven.