A/N: Sorry about the wait, I was really busy over Christmas (what with all the obscure relatives to meet and greet, and lots of presents which required attention) but its here, finally! Enjoy.
Compass Point
4.
Glinda, the Good Witch of the North and Prime Minister of the Land of Oz, was having a bad day. No, not just bad. Terrible. Firstly, she had awoken to find herself not lying sprawled comfortably on her king-sized bed, but curled up on the floor with a pile of bedclothes tangled around her. This had not been a good start. Then the left heel of her favourite pair of shoes decided to snap, prompting a painful reunion with the floor; the first of many bumps and bruises she would gain that day.
A string of unfortunate accidents had stalked her all morning. Her breakfast had been burnt, she'd spilled her morning tea and the sleeve of her dress had caught on a candlestick and ripped. But all this wasn't the worst of it. Not by a long shot.
As she surveyed the practically liquefied metal of what was once the barred door to a particularly dingy cell, she wondered just how much worse things could get. The guard who had alerted her to this newest piece of bad news shifted uncomfortably beside her, looking incredibly guilty.
"I'm so sorry, madam. The door was secure, and I thought I heard a noise up the east stairs, so I just left for a minute or two to investigate. By the time I returned…"
The guard trailed off, gesturing wordlessly at the decimated door with a wince. It was certainly an impressive sight. The entirety of the metal crossbars which had once stood stiffly in place had seemingly melted, forming a solid pool of iron at the foot of the door. A gaping hole through which it was possible to squeeze mocked Glinda as she stood before it.
She drew a deep breath, pinched the bridge of her nose and pushed a few stray curls from her face, feeling an ache coming on in her head to join that of the rest of her body.
"Do not worry, soldier. This is not your fault. No doubt the treachery of Madame Morrible would have fooled any man in your place."
The guard heaved a sigh of relief and smiled gratefully, if a little tightly.
"Oh, thank you, my lady. But…how on Oz did she manage it, if you don't mind my asking? Some sort of witchcraft?"
Glinda frowned grimly, her mind conjuring up an image of Morrible's gleeful smile, taunting her. The old hag could be anywhere in the Emerald City by now, if not beyond it.
"We can only guess. I assume she managed to conceal some sort of concoction on her person, and then wait for the right moment to act. How long has she been free?"
The guard pulled at the leather strap of his helmet, stiffening, his face twisting in a grimace as he struggled to remember. Glinda waited patiently. After all, she wasn't really in a hurry to confront this particular problem.
"About a quarter of a clock-face, madam, or there abouts. What are your orders concerning the prisoner? Should I inform the Captain of the Guard?"
Glinda thought, idly twirling her wand in her hands as she did so. It wouldn't do much good to send out a search party. Madame Morrible would be far away by now, and practically impossible to locate without the use of magic. And even then, Glinda wasn't sure if her own magic was a match for the old University Mistress. She was only just mastering reading the Grimmerie properly, let alone casting successful spells.
Still, the citizens of Oz would expect some sort of action, so action she would give them.
"Yes, soldier. Please hurry to the Captain and inform him of the circumstances. Instruct him to send out search parties within and around the city; if anything is found, report back to me immediately."
The guard, relieved to have an excuse to leave, saluted her hastily and hurried from the room. The clank of his armour soon faded into the cold recesses of the palace walls, and Glinda felt her entire body slump in exhaustion. And it was only just after midday, as well.
Oh, what in Lurline's name was she to do?
Only a few short weeks in government, and what had she accomplished? Not a lot. She had set up a court of leaders from the different provinces, but all they did was argue. She had petitioned for the lifting of some of the bans on Animals, but this was met with immediate uproar and accusations of disrespect for the Wizard. Despite his absence, the people still adored his memory.
And now, this. Madame Morrible, the one person in all of Oz who could still make Glinda shudder in fear, had escaped. No doubt she would soon begin reaping mayhem within the outer regions. Maybe even attempt to overthrow Glinda herself. The witch of the North felt the cold claw of despair clench about her heart, and she swallowed. She was no good at this. She didn't know what to do. She wasn't ready.
And oh, how she hated being alone. Everyday, nothing but smiling and giving orders and arguing with prissy, stuck-up fools in stupid wigs over basic decency. She was sick of it all. She felt like she was trapped in one of her own bubbles, suspended high above the world in cold isolation.
And all the while, with the pressure and the loneliness and the farce, the raw grief of her loss made her heart stretch so hard in her chest she felt it would split in two.
"Oh, Elphie…"
The words had left her mouth almost of their own accord, and she bit her lip, sliding to the paved stones of the dungeon floor. She might as well be locked in one of those cells; she was a prisoner in a golden cage with gilded bars. But it was a prison, nonetheless.
"You'd know what to do. It should be you here, doing this, not me. I can't do this. Not without you. I thought I could, but I…"
She bowed her head, thinking of how pathetically slowly she was learning the language of the Grimmerie, how unsuccessful she was in restoring Animal rights, how little she had achieved. Elphaba would have been ashamed of her. No, no she wouldn't. She would have been disappointed, and that was even worse.
And look at you, Glinda! You can do all I could never do.
That was what she had said, right before she handed over the Grimmerie. Right before she…right before that wretched little farm girl had…
Glinda felt a stab of pain in her chest as a sob tore itself from her, and she realised belatedly that hot tears had gathered in her eyes. Oh, not again. Elphaba had always hated crying, especially when it was Glinda doing it. It was weak. Pathetic. But that was how Glinda felt, and so, why not?
"I'm not as strong as you. I never was. I wish you were here, Elphie. I miss you so much, and it hurts. It hurts so much I feel like I'm dying with you."
Elphaba would have called that melodramatic, and probably would have laughed and called Glinda silly. Maybe it was silly, but it was also the truth. Nonetheless…she wasn't doing anyone any good by wallowing in her own misery. Just who was she helping by sitting and weeping all day? No-one.
"Oh get up and quit the waterworks, Glinda, you silly idiot."
She muttered to herself, then laughed to herself a little hysterically, because she had sounded precisely like her green-skinned friend then.
No.
No more thoughts like that. No more misery, no more crying. She couldn't keep doing this to herself. She would have to put aside her grief in order to honour Elphaba's memory. Once she had done that…once the land of Oz prospered in peace and harmony…who knew? Maybe by then she would be old. She hoped so. Maybe she would die, alone, but…content.
Scrubbing at her eyes fiercely, Glinda drew in a sharp breath and sat up, shaking her head furiously at herself.
"Alright, then. I'll…I'll keep trying. For you. I will. You always said, you wanted better things for this land, and…and I'm the only one who can fulfil that dream of yours. So I'll keep going. Okay? I promised, so-"
Loud, stumbling footsteps interrupted her, and she snapped her head around and scrambled to her feet as the soldier she had sent away appeared in the doorway. For a moment he stood quite still, panting heavily, as well he might. The guard tower was all the way across the courtyard. Finally he caught his breath, and gasped out:
"Oh, my lady, lady Glinda! Come quick! Something wonderful has happened!"
Glinda raised an eyebrow, suspicious. Well, it would be the first time today. Surely this was some kind of mistake?
She followed the guard at a brisk pace, confused at his face, which held an expression of pure ecstasy. He led her up a flight of stairs to the West battlements, where she stepped out into the blinding sunshine with a wince.
The very air crackled with excitement. Joyous shouts and blurs of colours and shapes filled the palace, and as Glinda's eyes got used to the bright glare of daylight, she could see that the entirety of the Emerald City was heaving with people dancing and rejoicing in the streets. A seething mass of green. It made her feel slightly sick.
"Look! Look!"
"Look to the skies, up, up and away! Oh, happy day, happy, happy day!"
"Glinda the Good! Good news! Oh, such wonderful news!"
Oh, great. Fantastic. One of the members of the court seemed to have spotted her. Hastily plastering on a gentle smile, she turned to greet this particular member of the aristocracy. He was jogging towards her at an alarming pace, feathered hat askew, and she found it difficult to distinguish him from any other Lord.
Finally, she recognised him by his lewd strawberry-blonde beard. Ah. Lord Baal, of her own province of Gillikin. Although she hated to say such a thing of one of her own countrymen, Lord Baal was, inescapably, a smarmy bastard. His head was stuck so far up his own ass it was a wonder he couldn't talk out of his stomach.
Masking her detestation with a carefully monitored look of vague surprise at his arrival, Glinda fixed the obnoxious Lord with an inquiring gaze.
"What is it, Lord Baal? What is all this commotion about?"
He grinned, his cheeks bright red and shiny with sweat, and gestured upwards and to the West. Glinda frowned, and followed the direction he was pointing. After scanning the cloudy skies for a moment, she finally caught sight of the cause of all the furore.
The world stood still. Her blood seemed to freeze, and all warmth fled from her.
"Look, my dear Good Witch, look! There, on the horizon. The vessel of the Wizard! A great balloon! The Wizard has returned at last!"
And there it was. Starkly colourful against the greying clouds, drawing closer. A large wicker basket suspended below a huge bulb, like some giant, grotesque insect. Glinda could practically feel her heart beating in her throat, and was surprised to find she wasn't breathing.
"Oh." She gasped out, hoarsely.
What had she been saying about this day not getting any worse?
&&&&&&&
"So, Mr Fiyero…"
Fiyero almost jumped right out of his straw packing as Elphaba suddenly saw fit to strike up conversation. After about an hour of walking in silence, the scarecrow had begun to wonder whether his out-of-place companion had fallen asleep on her feet while walking. It was a very Elphaba thing to do; then again, this wasn't the Elphaba he knew. She would probably claim it was economising on oxygen, then launch into a lecture about respiration and energy conservancy or some such scientific waffle. Fiyero didn't understand it when he had a brain, so he couldn't really expect to do so now.
Noticing Elphaba looking at him expectantly, he shook himself from his thoughts and winced as well as his stiff features would allow.
"Just Fiyero, please. 'Mister' makes me sound so old."
Elphaba remained impassive to this statement apart from the smallest quirk of a dark eyebrow. Fiyero had forgotten just how guarded and inexpressive Elphaba had been in her early years at Shiz. Lurline, that seemed so long ago now…
"Fair enough. Fiyero, then. It's rude to ask, but…were you once human, despite your…well…predicament?"
Despite the fact he had no beating heart, no physical body, Fiyero felt his chest tighten and grow cold. It was strange. He had hoped he wouldn't be able to feel pain any more, now that he was in this wretched form…but it seemed pain came from mere existence, rather than getting picky over having a vessel with which to inflict itself.
"Yes. Yes, I was." He said, quietly. Elphaba seemed not to notice his lack of comfort speaking on the subject, and instead continued her questioning with a slight frown.
"Sorcery?" She inquired without taking her eyes off the road. Fiyero resisted the urge to laugh bitterly.
"You could say that."
He had hung from that makeshift cross for hours. Crucified, practically. In the middle of a field. The poppies had looked like a sea of blood to his eyes then. That was all he could remember. Red and dark and pain. Then he had awoken, to find that his arms were no longer stiff from being tied to the beams. In fact, they would never be stiff again.
Elphaba, meanwhile, slid him a sideways glance and said nothing for a moment as he gazed blankly at the yellow brick paving beneath their feet.
"I'm sorry. It's obviously a sore subject. I shall desist."
Fiyero shook himself from his recollections, and shook his head, managing a small smile which she did not return.
"No, no, it's quite alright. Really. It's been difficult to adjust, but I'm over it, I think. Besides, being made of straw isn't so bad. I don't have to eat or drink or anything."
Elphaba looked at him, obviously intrigued, but looking a little uncomfortable. She had always held a deep compassion for those who suffered, even if she was better at hiding it in her younger years.
"Do you miss it?"
"Miss what?"
"Eating and drinking."
Fiyero considered. Well, yes, he supposed so…but the need, the ache for hunger no longer existed in him. He missed being able to eat and drink, certainly. He missed the taste and the smell and the feeling…he missed the sensation of being that it gave him. But with the turmoil that had occurred over the past few weeks, he had not really noticed. That was an unsettling thought.
"To be honest, I haven't had time yet to think on it." He must be a paradox in the flesh. A thinker without a brain. "Not that I can, very well. Think, that is. Having a brain made of wheat isn't the best way to earn a scholarship."
He didn't mean to sound so utterly dejected, but at least this put Elphaba off asking any more blunt questions. She cleared her throat uneasily and hastily changed the subject.
"You said you knew of Shiz. Does this…parallel land or whatever it is…have a parallel Shiz University, too?"
Fiyero did not answer for a moment. He had to be careful what he let slip. After all, it was probably best that Elphaba did not find out she was currently in her own future where she was a banished, officially deceased outcast. Nope. That would not be a pleasant revelation.
"I couldn't say. It-" Suddenly, something caught his eye. Two blurred, dark figures had appeared around the corner of the road.
"Look!" He cried out excitedly, stopping suddenly and pointing. Elphaba squinted in the general direction of his finger, clearly looking up at the sky rather than the road.
"What?" She asked, exasperatedly. Fiyero would have rolled his eyes if he could, but as it was, he only emphasised the direction of his finger with a sharp jab.
"On the horizon, just coming round the bend! Travellers! Can you see them? I can't make them out, all I see are blurry figures."
Elphaba seemed to locate the two blurred figures, and took a few steps forward, straining to see in the darkness.
"There's two of them." She summarised helpfully, peering intently into the gloom "One tall and dark. The other short and…"
She blinked in surprise, then made an odd expression which made her look like she had swallowed a particularly large and bitter lemon. She wrinkled her nose in disgust and sighed resignedly.
"…and pink. Hm." Ah, Fiyero thought. Strong likelihood that was Galinda, then. Elphaba studied the other figure with increasing intensity, and Fiyero swallowed nervously. Bang goes the ruse.
"The companion you were looking for…do they wear a tall, pointed black hat?"
Or not, as the case may be. Latching onto this statement, Fiyero nodded eagerly, glad that he had found Elphaba – his Elphaba – at last. They had gotten separated a few days back when they had been forced to cross a river. He had not comprehended that, as a straw bale, he would soak up water like a sponge and either sink or float helplessly in the current. By the time he had realised this he had been dragged downstream too fast for Elphaba to follow.
"Yes, yes, the very one! At last…" He smiled, relief evident in his tone "And what of your Galinda?" He asked, feigning innocence, although he knew full well that only one person in the world would ever wear that bulbous, bright pink dress and manage to look vaguely normal " Is that her?"
Said pink blur emitted an excited shout (which was more like a banshee shriek than anything) as she spotted them and came charging down the hill. Elphaba pinched the bridge of her nose and drew a deep breath, muttering sullenly:
"Unfortunately."
A/N: Poor old Glinda! That girl never gets a break, does she? Ah well. Morrible escaped! The Wizard returned! This does not bode well for our band of mismatched heroes.
Please review, and thanks for reading! Have a great 2007!
