Hilda - Snow White revisited Page 11

  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 alrea
dy 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, a
ngered 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.