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.