A Note From The Author: Hello everyone, I was introduced to the Discworld at a young age, it being my mother's favourite series of books, and Sir Terry being her favourite author. Over time, he also became mine. When Terry died I was distraught, I wrote tributes and expressed my sorrow, but have since struggled with a severe writer's block. This is my first attempt to write a Discworld fanfiction, so please bare with me. I just hope that I can do Sir Terry Pratchett's wonderful work and unique writing style justice. Thank you for reading and giving me a chance to prove myself.
Chapter One: A New Kind of Headology
Tiffany Aching stood, as she had done many times before, in a small clearing of Lancre forest. It was the clearing, flowers had grew over and bloomed quietly over the unmarked grave of Mistress Esmeralda Weatherwax, a woman who had come to be known to those she had come to call friends, as Granny. Tiffany remembered the first time she had met Granny Weatherwax, the unofficial head of the witches* had bowed to her. Tiffany had thrown the Queen of the Fairies out of their world and off her land, and Granny Weatherwax had bowed to her, and given her a special hat that only she knew was there. It was a long time ago, Tiffany thought, and now close to her twentieth birthday she was spending more time remembering. Tiffany had inherited Granny's steading, which was now being looked after by Geoffrey, the young man that decided he wanted to be a witch. Tiffany had dubbed him the Calm-Weaver, as a comfort to those who found traditions and habits difficult things to break. Geoffrey was albeit male, undoubtedly a witch, and a bloody good one too.
"Thought I might find you 'ere, Tiff!" The cheery tone of Nanny Ogg was muted in the clearing. Granny Weatherwax was still here in spirit, and far be it for Gytha Ogg to disrupt her grave with noise. Tiffany refused to let Nanny's sudden appearance startle her, or at least, refused to let NannyOgg see that she'd startled her. "Nearly another anniversary Nanny, how long has it been now?" Tiffany's voice sounded weary, as if she hadn't slept in a week. "Three years? Four? Not doin' so well at the rememberin' in me old age." Nanny didn't sound much better, as of late her elbows had been playing up, trying to tell her that something bad was happening. But they'd shut the Fairies out of the Discworld years ago, and Granny had beaten the bad vampires and her evil sister Lilith Weatherwax over in Genua, so what was left?
Tiffany Aching and Nanny Ogg walked quietly along the track towards Geoffrey's cottage* "Something's happening Nanny. Things are changing on the Chalk and something wants to use it to their advantage. Something bad is coming, I can feel it in my boots.*" "Aye, Tiff. Can't say I know what it is, but I feel it too." Tiffany sighed, listening to the quiet, comforting sussurus that slipped through the trees of Lancre forest. "The Chalk is worried, Nanny. More than when the Queen came, more than even when Peaseblossom lead the raid." Nanny nodded solemnly, as a feeling of severe anxiety knotted itself into a ball in the pit of her stomach.
Geoffrey was feeding Mephistopheles as the ladies boots crunched on the leaves of the path into the garden. A witch never needed a fence on her garden, no one would dare to cross a witch, specially not one with a pet like Mephistopheles. A clever goat, Geoffrey had trained him to count and even use the privy, but he was a fierce guard goat if his master was ever threatened. "Hello ladies!" Geoffrey's voice failed him as he tried to ignore his uncomfortable gut feeling. "Petulia's doing well." He stated, trying to distract Nanny Ogg before she pounced on the tone of his voice. "The twins came without too much trouble. She was built for it, I must say." Petulia was a witch just like them, but she had a rather peculiar speciality, she was referred to as a Pig-Borer* by some and as The Pig Witch, by others who, quite frankly, were much less kind than Geoffrey. As a result of her prowess with pigs, she had married a pig farmer, and had given birth to twins, one girl and one boy. Her husband had decided that Curiosity was a good name for their son, staying true to the old Lancrastian naming traditions*. Petulia had decided to call their daughter Prudence, after her grandmother, believing it to be a good strong name.
"Have your old boys picked up on anythin' Geoffrey?" Nanny asked, fearing the answer. Geoffrey had good relationships with the old men of the Ramtops, he'd introduced them to sheds, little things just for their hobbies and to get them out from under their wives feet. As Geoffrey was about to respond a small flash of blue and red caught the corner of his eye. "Ye stop righ' there ye scunners!" A small blue man froze, his red hair a mess of braids, feathers and beads. "Ach crivens! Ye be doin' the seein' well master hag!" said Rob Anybody, big man of the Chalk clan of the Nac Mac Feegles. Tiffany laughed loudly, plenty used to the Feegles following her around by now, it was ten years ago when she'd first met them, and since being their Kelda temporarily, they had been watching over her ever since. "Jeanie sent me, ye ken. Said somethin' is comin', but she disnae ken wha' it is yet." Rob looked worried as Tiffany looked at him with dismay, she was afraid of this. "Let me guess, Rob." Tiffany began "she's asked to see one or all of us?" Rob nodded glumly "Aye, yer right enough Mistress. All o' ye this time. 'Tis nae a good thing Jeanie is feelin', I am afeared for our mound, ye ken. She's just had our second girl, Mistress. 'Twas always said tae be impossible, Mistress." Tiffany gasped with surprise, as she ran for her broom, shouting over her shoulder for the others to do the same.
As the three witches rose into the air on their brooms, with Feegles hanging from the bristles, something stirred.
I say unofficial because as everyone knows, witches didn't technically have a leader. If they had they would have eagerly agreed that it was Granny Weatherwax. Even if they did only agree because of the sharpness of Granny's stare.
Tiffany still found herself referring to it as Granny's Cottage, but it had recently gotten easier not to do so. Out loud at least.
Nanny paid great heed to what her body told her, her left kidney had always been good at warning her of bad happenings many times. Tiffany however, felt things in her boots.
Yes, she did literally bore pigs to death. She also found her talent useful for the Elves when they'd tried to invade.
Tiffany was surprised that there still failed to be a Chlamydia Weaver wandering around the Ramtops.
The Kelda of a Feegle clan was always the only woman in the mound, she'd leave her home and find a new clan, pick a husband and have hundreds of tiny Feegle babies, but usually only one girl. Like bees, it never ended well if there was more than one woman in a clan, they resembled too many witches all shoved together. An enormous bloody argument.