A/N: Hello again; I know it's been quite a while and I apologize for that, but the past few months were hectic and I'll admit, Bird of Song was pretty low on my priority list ahah. But I'm very excited at all of the positive feedback I've received on this, and I've decided (already) to bump it up to a T rating.
Though, as I said last chapter, I do have to make a few notes. First, Elphaba may seem somewhat out-of-character, and that's because this isn't exactly Elphaba. She's a very vocal and opinionated character, so she learned how to detach herself, basically. This will be much more explained in this chapter and following ones, but just trying to quickly assuage anyone who might be upset about her seeming OOC. Also, Junta is going to be a pretty important character. Since Ama Clutch will only be in this in passing mention, Junta kinda took over her role, denoted especially with the 'duckie' affectionate, but she also has hints of Nanny in her role; apart from that, she is her own character.
I think the only other comment I wanna make for now is that in this fanfic, as hinted at in the description, motives are important, and not always clear. Some will be, mind, but others... Not so much. They're for you to figure out :).
I own nothing of Wicked. Please read and review - as I say, reviews keep a writer alive!
"Galinda, dearest," came Chuffrey's voice from the bedroom. The blonde in question was currently freshening up in the bathroom. She exited and returned to him, sitting next to him on the bed as he patted it for her.
On the other side of the room, Elphaba was pouring tea into cups for them. For the first two days after the syringe incident, the green girl had been curiously absent, but afterwards, had returned as if nothing had happened, jerky and blank as ever. Her wrist had been wrapped in a dusty gauze, but it was Galinda's opinion that the appendage shouldn't be used so much only four days after having been broken, and yet, it didn't seem to bother Elphaba.
Chuffrey took one of Galinda's hands and massaged it gently. "We're going to have a guest for supper today. One woman named Madame Morrible. She said she is an advocate of a very wealthy man who might be interested in purchasing a slave of ours. Make sure you dress as your lovely self, yes?" he smiled.
She grinned and nodded in return. "Oh, I think I shall wear my lavender dress! The one with the pink flowers attached?" she suggested and he shrugged, then kissed her hand.
"Anyway, I must be off. Have some finances to take care of," he put her hand down and patted it before heading towards the door. He stopped to grab a cup of tea that Elphaba had finished. "Wonderful work, as always, Witch," he complimented the slave before leaving.
So, that left just Elphaba and Galinda. The green woman fidgeted over to the blonde with a boiling cup in her hands. The Frottican was surprised that the liquid didn't spill over at the flicking movements.
Galinda cleared her throat a bit as she took the cup. "Thank you. How're your ribs, and wrist?" she asked. Elphaba didn't make any acknowledgement that she had heard her, merely stared at her, wide-eyed. Galinda shuddered a bit under that intense gaze. "Did you end up having any ribs broken?" Nothing, and then a small, fast nod. Galinda looked away for a moment before returning her gaze. "How many?"
To this, Elphaba did not respond once again, just continuing staring unabashedly. Galinda tried again. "Can you show me on your fingers?" A nod. Galinda was starting to catch on. "Will you show me on your fingers?" A pause, and then a nod, and then two green fingers were held up in the air for a solid five seconds before shooting back down.
"I see," Galinda mused. "You really only acknowledge 'yes-or-no' questions. Is that right?" A nod. "Am I allowed to ask you more?" Another. "Hmm… Do you remember your last name?" A nod. "What is it?" Galinda had asked the question before realizing it wasn't 'yes-or-no', and then smacked her forehead with her hand, not at all surprised when Elphaba remained standing with a blank expression. "Can you tell me?" she tried again. At this, Elphaba shook her head, surprising the blonde. "Oh? And why not?" Of course, no answer to that one.
Galinda made a noise of frustration and threw her hands up in the air while standing abruptly. Elphaba leapt back a step. "I do not understand you!" Galinda despaired. Then, she turned melancholy and took a step forward, placing a hand on Elphaba's arms and gently stroking the impossibly soft green skin with her thumb. Touching that smooth flesh was almost intoxicating. "How can you live, so trapped? You cannot fly, and you cannot sing. You are a mute swan who has had her wings clipped. What life is that?" she murmured.
If the girl had any ears, Galinda expected Elphaba to react to that. Not that Galinda meant to say it out loud, but since she did, she actually expected a reaction. But rather, Elphaba just remained as still as ever, her chest rising and falling quickly, likely a result of her two broken ribs, and rhythmically. If Galinda's words had any effect on her, the slave certainly didn't show it.
Shaking her head slowly, Galinda looked away. "You are dismissed," she muttered, and when she looked back, Elphaba was gone. Just like that.
"I am most pleased that you were so eager to receive me," Madame Morrible, a fish-like woman who wore more colors at once than ever should be worn, crowed as she strutted through the Chuffrey Manor beside Sir Chuffrey himself.
Chuffrey smiled kindly. "Why, of course, Madame. Would you like to look to the slaves before or after our food?" he questioned.
She considered this, placing a finger on her powdered chin. "I think before shall be well," she decided.
The answer caught him a bit off guard, but he quickly recovered. "Why, of course, Madame," he breathed, and then spotted his wife meandering through the halls with two Quadling slaves behind her. "Ah, Galinda!"
She approached curiously, a basket of flowers in her arms and each slave carrying two baskets. "Hello, Chuffrey," she greeted him, then smiled dazzlingly at Madame Morrible. "And are you the famed Madame Morrible he's informed me of?"
Madame Morrible adopted the air of smug that Galinda bestowed upon her. "Indeed, I am. The one and only. And good Sir, who might this be?"
Chuffrey placed a hand on Galinda's shoulders. "This is my wife, Galinda," he grinned, and then turned towards the slaves. "Perch, Munk, go set the baskets down in our bedroom and call all the slaves back from work. Line up against the wall outside the coops," he instructed. The two Quadlings nodded, took Galinda's basket as well, and left.
"I was simply picking some azaleas to brighten up the manor," Galinda explained. "Perch and Munk were more than willing to help."
Morrible frowned. "Did you not order them to help you?"
Galinda felt her face heat slightly. "N-no. I mean, yes. I mean…" she took a deep breath. "I approached some that were on break and asked if any would like to accompany me. Perch and Munk offered. If no one did, however, then I would have ordered two to."
The older woman did not seem to approve. "Slaves are not a matter of willingness. You own them. You can make them do whatever you wish. If you wanted old Munk there to throw himself off a cliff, he has no right to disobey you. Do not treat your property like they actually matter. Like they are anything more than a means to an end."
The Frottican swallowed, hard. "Y-yes, Madame…" she agreed. "You are completely correct," she added, just for extra measure.
Chuffrey cleared his throat, as if trying to slice the tension between the two women in half. "Well, regardless. Madame, while we wait for the slaves to gather along their line, why don't I give you a tour?"
Throughout the duration of the tour, Galinda paid very little attention. She already knew the history of this fantastic building. She often fiddled with the silk flowers attached to her dress. Sometimes, she would occupy herself in her thoughts, however. In fact, a good portion of this time was spent thinking about Elphaba, and how frustrating the girl was.
And how confident she had been when she had rescued her.
Galinda shuddered slightly at the memory. She could have died, but she didn't. She was pulled back into the present as Chuffrey concluded the tour, and then led both Morrible and Galinda out towards the slave coop.
In all honesty, the blonde was pretty curious about it. She had never actually seen where the slaves slept. It seemed big enough from the outside, from a distance, but as they got closer, she frowned as she realized it really wasn't all that big at all.
The slaves were all lined up against the outer wall of the coop, in a military-style with their heads dipped and hands held low in submission. Green Elphaba stuck out among the red, making Galinda zone in on her really quickly. As they stood at one end of the line, Galinda risked a peek through the window of the coop.
All there was inside, from what she could see, was blue mats, stretched out in rows with very little room in between. Galinda shuddered again, and hoped Morrible didn't catch that. Luckily, the carp-like woman didn't say anything.
"…Yes, I have many eligible slaves," Chuffrey was saying. "Thirty-four of working age and eight children that will grow into able-bodied workers someday."
Morrible nodded along, impressed. She reached Junta and a look of disapproval crossed her face as she flicked one of Junta's flabbing cheeks. "Some of them are in awful condition," she stated, but then nodded as she reached a Quadling man in his prime whom Galinda knew to be called Lovn. "And some of them are not," Morrible acquiesced.
And then, Morrible reached Elphaba. She recoiled slightly, but then a curious look lit her features. "This one. What is its name?"
Chuffrey cleared his throat before responding. "That one there is Elphaba."
Fish eyes widened ever so slightly, but Morrible's face was quickly a blank canvas of disapproval again. "What a pretty name for such a disgusting creature," she shook her head. One of her hands gripped Elphaba's shoulder. "She's strong. What does she wear on her head?"
Chuffrey's smile turned proud again. "A contraption of my making. She had a rather sharp tongue, so I fitted that to her." Morrible nodded approvingly.
She then lifted Elphaba's chin, but brown eyes remained down. "Look at me." Those intense irises flew up to stare through Morrible, rather than at her.
Morrible made a sound, deep in her throat, much like a grunt. "What do you think of this place, girl?" she addressed the slave. Much to Galinda's expectations, Elphaba did not acknowledge that a question was even asked. This did not please Morrible in the slightest. "I asked you a question," she growled. "What do you think of this place?" When Elphaba disregarded, again, the notion of being addressed, the Madame snarled and slapped a hand across Elphaba's face, right above the bar of her contraption. Her sharp nails drew blood on a green cheek, but Elphaba straightened back up, showing no acknowledgement that anything had happened. "I asked what you think!" Morrible burst.
"Please!" cried Junta, stepping out of the line. "She don't think!"
"I did not address you, slave."
"She don't think," Junta repeated, hobbling over to where they were. She gently held a piece of cloth against the new gashes. Junta gave Morrible a hard look. "She don't think, Madame. She don't talk and she don't think. She just feel."
Morrible's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean? Everyone thinks."
"She don't think," Junta countered again.
The advocate took a step back and turned to Chuffrey. "I see your slaves are rather out of hand," she drawled disapprovingly. "I doubt, at this point, that you'll even punish this one that spoke and moved out of turn."
Chuffrey's face was red with anger, though not particularly towards Junta. Regardless, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I shall punish her right in front of you," he declared, then withdrew a long coiled something from within his coat pocket.
Concerned, Galinda placed a hand on his arm. "Chuff, what are you doing?" she asked softly.
"Junta, you know what to do," Chuffrey stated. Nodding in spite of her trembling, Junta removed the loose blouse she wore, her entire torso except for her brassiere being exposed to them all. She knelt down in front of Chuffrey, facing away from him. Her back bore signs of having been whipped before, but many of them looked very old and very faded.
Chuffrey uncoiled the whip and threw it back over his shoulder. Taking a deep breath again, he lifted it high, poised to strike. When he moved to bring it down, however, Elphaba darted in the way, the whip bearing down on the back of her left shoulder. Galinda screamed in fright, her hands coming up to cover her mouth.
The whip sliced through Elphaba's tattered shirt, leaving a bloody streak down her shoulder. "Elphaba!" Chuffrey shouted. The woman jumped into a stand, giving him a defiant look. He growled and hooked a finger through one of the loops piercing her lip, tugging on it sharply. Galinda imagined that probably hurt. "So, am I to take it you mean to claim Junta's punishment for her?" he asked softly, his voice dangerously low. A fierce nod from Elphaba. "So be it then."
Jerkily, Elphaba removed her shirt and tossed it aside. Galinda's face heated as she found the green girl did not wear a brassiere. Elphaba knelt and turned, baring her expanse of scars on a grass-colored meadow of a back to them. And there were so many scars. Galinda didn't remove her hands from her mouth, her eyes wide.
"No, duckie, I can take my own hits," Junta cooed, sitting up straight and stroking Elphaba's mane of spun night. "Don't you take no hits for old Junta."
However, Elphaba's mind seemed to be made up, and she would not move from the spot, refusing to so much as flinch at the fifteen whiplashes that sliced through her green flesh after that.
Chuffrey recoiled the whip and stuffed it into his coat again. "Well. Then, Madame, how about I show you to the dining room and we prepare for our meal," he suggested with a smile, though Galinda noted how exhausted he looked. "Galinda?" he questioned.
The blonde took a steadying breath, letting her hands drop to her sides, and shook her head. "Not yet. With all due respect, I'd like to freshen up first," she plastered a smile on her face.
Chuffrey nodded and headed off with Morrible.
Galinda turned back to where Junta was muttering soothing words to Elphaba, despite the green woman not responding to it. "There, there, duckie… Junta's got you… Junta's gonna take your pain away…" Elphaba just sat still, moving every now and then to allow the Quadling to slip the shirt back over her torso. The rest of the slaves disbanded, some patting Junta and others simply returning to work as if nothing had happened.
"Is she okay?" Galinda asked tentatively, taking a step forward.
The older woman sighed and stood, bringing Elphaba up with her. "Ah, she's fine," Junta shook her head. "I just gotta tend her lashings so they don't infect. Junta tends all her hurts."
The Quadling then guided the green woman into the coop, Galinda following silently. Inside, it was hot and stuffy and Galinda couldn't figure how anyone could ever sleep in this. They wove through the endless maze of mats, some occupied by slaves. Galinda figured there should be no more than forty-two mats in here, but it was still way too cramped in the small space.
They made their way to a corner, where there was a smoother mat, which Elphaba gravitated towards and sat, cross-legged, on. Galinda figured it must be her bed, but it looked nicer than the others, as if it wasn't used often. Junta travelled to a nearby one and grabbed a bottle from within her pillowcase before returning. "There, now, duckie, let's get your shirt back off." And they did.
"Does she feel pain?" The question seemed stupid the moment it left Galinda's lips, and yet, she had to know, because it was really hard to tell with Elphaba.
Junta grunted and squirted a bit of the contents of the bottle onto her hand. She rubbed her pink hands together and began to massage the liquid into Elphaba's back. The green girl's head promptly fell, hanging limply down as her back arched slightly.
"She feel it, Lady Chuffrey," Junta answered. "She feel it all. She feel everything, all those feeling, and she don't do nothing about it. She don't care. She don't think."
Galinda wrinkled her nose slightly at the smell of the liquid. "What do you mean by that? By saying she doesn't think?" she questioned, wrapping her arms around herself. She was not the least bit comfortable in this coop.
Junta applied more pressure to her rubbing, skillfully avoiding injuries now. "I mean she don't think," she sighed. "When Fae came here, she were no more'n eight. Junta practically raised her, she did. She were ten when that thing were put on her. Bad thing, Junta said, but Chuffrey didn't think. Poor Fae didn't know nothing. She liked words. But ol' Chuffrey quiet her, and keep her out of library. It were easier to not think. So she stopped. She don't think, Lady. She don't think."
Shuddering slightly at the tale, Galinda looked away. "Does she hear us? Is she aware of what goes on around her?" she pressed.
"She aware of it all, Miss Galinda," Junta said softly. "Junta try to get her to think again, but she don't. She don't got reason to."
Galinda shook her head slowly. "You know her so well," she murmured.
The old woman took her hands from Elphaba's back and began to capture her hair, running pink fingers through raven locks and pulling Elphaba's head back up. "Junta about raised her," she sighed. "Junta know her, Junta do. Junta love her. Fae don't know that, but Junta love her." The Quadling looked away, blinking tears away.
Sympathetically, Galinda laid a hand on Junta's shoulder. "I think she knows, Junta," she murmured gently.
"No, she don't. She don't."
Ten minutes after, Elphaba was summoned for serving and Galinda was summoned for the dinner.
Although the coop hadn't been comfortable, Galinda found that the dinner table, with its luxurious padded chair, was even less comfortable, if only for the air about the company. Currently, Chuffrey and Morrible were discussing the Wizard's plans to extend the Yellow Brick Road and have it travel through all parts of Oz, and Galinda was wishing she could be anywhere else right then. The conversation was so boring, and all they were doing was passionately agreeing with one another.
Through the dinner, Galinda hadn't seen much of the green woman. Elphaba mostly came and went, and Galinda actually found herself despairing slightly over the absence. The green slave was just so intense, even if she couldn't speak.
The food itself was absolutely delectable. The corn was cooked to a golden brown perfection, and the pork was an equal blend of rare and well, to the point of which Galinda found the food much, much more interesting than the conversation. By the time they had finished the main course, the slaves had brought some cakes out as dessert.
Galinda was stuffed already – well, not too much, as she knew how to set limits to what she ate – but Chuffrey had an endless black pit.
"So, Madame Morrible, did any of my merchandise catch your attention? Perhaps Lovn, the strong one you were eyeing?" Chuffrey suggested.
Morrible hummed and took a sip of her tea. "Slaves! Refill this!" she shouted back, and then returned her attention to Chuffrey. "I do have my eye on one. But I need a little more time to be sure, if that is alright with you, good sir."
Chuffrey smiled good-naturedly. "That is perfectly fine. If you choose that you do want one, we can discuss a price from there based on fitness and ability and ethic, yes?" he offered.
The Madame took another bite of cake, chewing it slowly and swallowing it before replying, if only to create an air of suspense. "Indeed. I have much to offer for the right one," she explained.
From the back kitchen, Elphaba entered, a pot of tea in hand. She crossed over to where the three sat and began refilling their cups. Morrible seemed to think this a fine time for a conversation change.
"Oh, have you heard of the old Eminent of Nest Hardings? Poor Peerless Thropp," she shook her head slowly. Chuffrey made a nose of acquiescence, listening intently to her. "All those years ago, losing his granddaughter and great-granddaughter. He's getting all old now, and the only other young Thropp girl is an invalid."
Galinda buried her head in her arms, and thus, didn't notice when Elphaba began to tremble, her eyes widening even more so than usual as she poured the tea into Morrible's cup, and then stood straight.
"Oh, yes," Morrible continued. "Ever since little Shell was born, that invalid and her crazy aunt are all that's left of the maternal line."
Chuffrey frowned. "And what happened to the mother and elder sister, again?" he questioned.
Morrible shrugged half-heartedly. "The elder was hideous, but she wasn't invalid. It's said that there was complications when the mother was birthing Shell. Frexspar Thropp sent his eldest out to find a medic, but she ran off instead, and the mother died. Killed for her own child's defiance." She sighed. "Poor Melena…"
There was the sound of shattering glass. Galinda's head flew up and she saw Elphaba, standing a foot now away from Morrible, who had turned to see the commotion. Elphaba was quivering, the broken pot of tea lying at her feet. Very slowly, her gaze travelled to Galinda. A verdant hand gently touched one of the metal loops that extended from her lower lips. Galinda had never seen her move so fluently.
They stared at each other for a few solid seconds. Simply by the rise and fall of her small chest, Galinda could see that Elphaba's breathing was erratic, and the green girl gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head before turning and fleeing the room. Galinda wanted to go after her, but fear kept her rooted to the spot.
Elphaba couldn't breathe. She couldn't hear anything, nor smell anything. She couldn't taste anything other than the rotten metal in her mouth. She ran until she found an empty closet and locked herself inside of it. No, no, she had stopped thinking, she had stopped!
"Melena, give me back that child!"
"No, you can't have it! It may be disgusting, but it's the only one I've got!"
She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe. Her shaking hands pulled at the contraption, but all she got was shooting pain through her tongue as the serrated covering of the metal rubbed against her sensitive appendage.
"Go find a medic, Elphaba! Your mother needs help!"
She had been so peaceful, but now, everything was coming back. The chaos was returning, and she couldn't let it. She couldn't succumb again. A strangled sound escaped her as she hit her head against the door. This wasn't okay.
There was so much pain. Her wrist was in agony with every movement. It felt like there was a permanent crushing weight on her ribs. Her back and shoulder were on fire. It was so easy to ignore the pain when one didn't think, but when one thought, the pain was always on the forefront of one's mind. When she didn't think, the only pain she was forced to acknowledge was when Chuffrey would try to burn her from the inside out.
She had worked so hard. She had fought so much. Just to find her peace, and now, it was escaping her. She closed her eyes and struggled to control her breathing. All she needed to do was forget. Forget about everything that mattered. Forget about what it was like to think. To matter. To care.
Back in the dining room, Galinda, Morrible, and Chuffrey had been silent for a few minutes before the latter two resumed discussions. Before long, the dinner and dessert had completed, and it was time for Morrible to leave.
"So?" Chuffrey prompted as he offered her a hand to help her up, which she gladly took. "Have you made a decision?"
Morrible's lips twisted into a smile that Galinda altogether didn't like. "I have," she stated. She took her sweet time adjusting her dress to fall perfectly, creating even more suspense, before looking back at the baronet. "I want the green one."
There was a moment of quiet. Both Sir and Lady were shocked out of words. "Elphaba?" Chuffrey sputtered. "You want Elphaba, surely?" he confirmed.
The Madame nodded. "Indeed. I am prepared to offer quite a large sum," she answered.
"No," Galinda interrupted. "No, not that one. Not Elphaba."
Morrible frowned. "I don't see how you have a say. I was addressing Sir Chuffrey," she stated.
However, Chuffrey shook his head slowly. "Elphaba's not for sale, Madame."
The older woman made a noise of disapproval. "Not even for enough green pennies to cover the Yellow Brick Road from Center Munch as far as Nest Pastoria?" she offered.
Chuffrey's eyes widened in surprise, but then shook his head again, quicker this time. "Not Elphaba," he repeated Galinda's words.
"I'll double it. Pine Barrens."
It was obvious that Chuffrey was struggling, but he held fast. "No, Madame, I must refuse," he choked out.
Morrible's frown deepened. "Then you name the price. What will get you to part with the green girl?"
Taking a deep breath, Chuffrey steadied his resolve. "I will not sell Elphaba. Madame, with all due respect, I will sell any other slave, but not Elphaba. I spent many years training her. Taming her. I have no wish to throw that out the proverbial window. Surely, there is another slave you're interested in?" he asked.
The advocate stood abruptly. "Not at all. I will have the green one, and no other," she demanded.
A bout of courage shot through Galinda and she stood up, as well, facing off with the fish-like woman. "Then you shall have no slave of ours," she spat.
"The slaves are not yours, dear. They're his."
"Leave," Chuffrey now stood, as well, his gaze hard. "As Galinda said, you shall have no slave of ours. Leave." And so, Morrible did.
She left, but she knew that she was not at all done with the Chuffreys, nor the green girl. Oh no, she thought to herself as she approached the carriage that had been waiting outside the whole day. If anything, she had just begun.
Once inside the carriage, she pulled a color-changing dark stone out of seemingly nowhere. She ran her middle fingernail from her left hand along its length, and it began to glow. She tapped it three times, in a rhythmic pattern, and the glowing ceased.
"Good evening, Madame," came a distorted male voice from the stone, a magic means of communication that had been lost for many, many years. Ever since the Kumbric Witch's supposed disappearance.
Morrible's lips twisted up in a wicked smile. She did not even greet the man with which she was communicating. All she said was, plain and simple, "I've found her, your Ozness. I've found your daughter."