Pg. 389: Wicked. The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West
What had made Liir cry was that his friends had reported the soldier's remarks to their superior. The soldier had been stripped and castrated, and tied to the windmill. His body rotated in circles as the vultures came to pick at his entrails. He still wasn't even dead.
Under the cover of the darkness the Witch slipped away on her broom, and saw to it that the suffering soldier died at once.
The Soldier's Testament
When Elphaba arrived she could see the soldier clearly. He was tied up on the windmill almost like some sick unnatural sacrifice to the Unnamed God. Vultures circled overhead, taunting him with their freedom.
The soldier groggily opened his eyes at the sound of approaching footsteps, hoping perhaps it would be someone from the Force come to untie him. Then he saw her. She had green skin and dragged an old mangled broom behind her. Yes, he had heard of her before. Some said she was a crazy old Witch that had taken over the castle of the crowned prince of the Vinkus. Some called her the Wicked Witch of the West for doing deeds so wicked that they were unheard of and children were shielded from them.
The mill stopped rotating and the harsh winds died. He was now upright, but still suspended in the air.
"What do you want?" He asked wearily and suddenly. "Have you also come to taunt me with these blasted vultures?" He spat in front of her to the ground and clenched his teeth, ignoring the sting of his wounds. He would not give in that easily.
Elphaba stayed silent for a moment before answering. "Do you believe in mercy, soldier?" She asked quietly, he could barely see her mouth move for her face was overshadowed by a huge brimmed hat.
But he was also taken aback by this response.
"I do have a name; I am not a faceless soldier of the Wizard anymore. My name is Freyver… and at this point no, not anymore. Mercy is a concept, a state of mind made from wallowing pity."
Elphaba nodded in understanding. She herself knew what it was like. She flew up to him on her broom and pulled out a knife. Freyver saw it and his breath hitched in his throat for a second.
"Go ahead, do it," He choked out. "It would be better anyway. I have no dignity anymore- look at me. From miles around people can see be bare, hanging here. I'm suffering everything mocks me and I don't know how much longer I can hold out. I doubt even my wife and children would want me now."
Elphaba considered what he had said. It had been her original idea to kill him and relieve him of his anguish and distress, but she couldn't do it now at the mention of a wife and offspring. Elphaba cut the ropes that bound him to the mill and carried him to the ground on her cloak. She pulled out the Grimmerie, placed it on the ground, and began to chant.
"Ahkay, haylos, ah tum, contaytum." Instantly Freyver's wounds began to bleed again and Elphaba panicked, but then healed quickly with a few bruises.
"They were bad wounds. So I warn you they will still hurt a bit." She magically supplied him with a pair of pants and shirt. "But I'm afraid there's nothing I can do for your more… manly parts. Now tell me, where does your family stay?" Freyver nodded and pointed over the horizon, to somewhere near Kellswater. Despite the journey she flew him there, hiding in the shadows of the forest when they got there. The house was by the water and when Freyver went to greet his wife in a happy embrace his two children, a boy and girl, ran out to him.
Freyver picked up one of the children, the girl, and tucked a stranded piece of hair behind her ear. He then looked back up to the forest and spotted Elphaba. He saluted to her with a broad smile.
Only then did she realize why she had really saved him. He reminded her of Fiyero, his short intake of life, acting to quickly and speaking to fiercely in a tense situation, not to mention the way he looked.
She could not have left him to die as another casualty of the Wizard's campaigns. He had something she never had but so longingly wished for with Fiyero.
A family.