Dear Readers,
So, here it is! I know I'm a little late, and I apologize. I had to make sure I had just the right amount of evil in this chapter - though I'm sure you will determine if it is too much or too little. A very big thank-you to Tori7, Fauna Greywolf, Hobbit Babe, and pucktofaerie for their reviews. They helped tremendously, and it's nice to see that you're loyal to your king (and a tad evil yourselves.) I hope this chapter does not disappoint. I'll let you get reading now. Thank you all once again, I appreciate it! Please enjoy!
-H.C. Glennteade
Edit 11/7/06 - It seems as though silly me made an error in my hastiness last night and posted the unedited version of the chapter! My apologies for those of you who had to endure my annoying grammar errors. They're all fixed now, and a few little things change about, but the actual storyline hasn't been changed at all.
Disclaimer: I do not own, nor claim to own, any part of MGM's 1939 movie, The Wizard of Oz. All characters and locations mentioned here are property of their respective owners and creators.
She could not contain a giggle as they trudged down the hallway, leaving the aperture of the balcony farther behind them with each step. It was her happiness, her modesty, and her ever-present sense of unreality that made her do so. Dorothy could not help but notice how empty the hallway was, vacant of its occupants who were still down in the city streets.
"I'm sure it will fill right back up now," the witch observed. Scarecrow chuckled himself.
"Perhaps, but I believe we've got a bit of time - Glinda is still out there."
"Enough time to meet up with Tin Man and Lion?" Dorothy questioned.
"I imagine so . . . hah - my overzealous Advisors! They're practically the only ones in this city left working. I made sure that they agreed to meet us in The Garden, however, and I'm sure they'll honor their word," the king mused.
"Oh dear, I've turned this place upside down, haven't I? I feel just horrible," the girl admitted.
"There's no reason for that," Scarecrow insisted, "it's a glorious occasion. We've all missed you terribly. You know that."
She couldn't help but blush, and the two continued down the winding corridors in silence for a few moments.
"Dorothy," he began, slowing his stride a bit, "have I made you proud?"
"Proud?" Dorothy asked, astounded, "what do you mean?"
The king hesitated for a minute, gathering his thoughts and words. "Just what I asked, I imagine," he reassured, "if I made you proud. I know at first the people were a bit fearful of me being king, with my whimsical ways, but I showed them that I can rise to the occasion and they no longer worried.
I've tried my hardest for them, Dorothy. I've used every ounce of the brains I've come to realize I have, and I truly thought that Tin Man and Lion and I had done great things. But now you've come to find the citizens in disarray, worrying about danger and evil, and I must be a terrible disappointment, mustn't I be?"
The witch could hardly believe what her friend had said. "Oh, Scarecrow, just the opposite! You've done a wonderful job. You love the people and they love you, too. Fear is a very big thing to lose, and they know how much you're trying to help them. Back in the world where I came from, we learned about the kings who throughout history tried to rule one piece of land or another. And, most of those kings had put their own desires before their subjects'. You're not like that, Scarecrow, and that's what makes you different from any king I've ever known of. That's what makes me so proud of you."
It was a rather large compliment from a person the king very much admired. Just moments earlier he had thought himself a mediocre ruler, but the sincerity in Dorothy's analysis had given him new hope and new strength.
"Thank you," he said, finding himself in a friendly embrace, "I trust your judgement most of all."
It was at this time that the two realized they had stopped, just before the gigantic doorway of The Garden. Thinking their friends were probably awaiting them inside, the two went to greet them.
"A rarity indeed," the king marveled as he entered, finding the grand place deserted of everyone except Tin Man and Lion.
The Garden was more magnificent than any other in the Emerald City. It covered a massive area. Broken was the usual backdrop of green with the most beautiful plants of every hue. Gorgeous flowers of all shapes and sizes could be found neatly throughout. There were small copses dotted about, their little trees symmetrically planted and neatly trimmed. A shimmering pond could also be seen, on which swam graceful swans - some pure white and others a dazzling jade. In the center of it all was a large, exquisite gazebo crafted from natural wood, meeting the garden with a gently sloping ramp made of timber planks. It was here on the veranda that the Advisors stood waiting.
"Glad ta see ya were able to avoid the rush," Lion remarked as his two friends made their way up the ramp.
"For the time being," Scarecrow replied, "I'm glad to see you were able to tear yourselves away from you work."
They all laughed. "A humanitarian's work is never done," commented Tin Man. The other three agreed and plunged into conversation.
It was not long, however, before the first town's person found their way into the Garden.
"I told you so," an amused king whispered. The grin, however, was wiped off of his face as the many titanic doors to the garden swung shut violently at once and what had previously been the citizen became a great billow of red smoke. All four were nearly numb with fright as an all too familiar cackle erupted from an all too familiar green figure, who was standing at the base of the ramp.
"So, we meet again," snickered the Wicked Witch of the West shrilly. "I hope you've enjoyed your little folly, gentlemen, but I fear your fun is over. Don't worry, I'll make sure your kingdom is well looked after." She screeched again before turning to Dorothy, as if realizing her for the first time.
"Why, if it isn't our heroine! You've returned to help us all, have you, my pretty? Well, you have my gratitude for bringing me back my shoes!"
The Wicked Witch gazed hungrily at them, appearing greener than ever. The four stood stone still, as if paralyzed by her very gaze. "I told you my plan for your demise long ago, and I have little alterations to make - except that it looks like someone has taken care of the little dog for me. But you, my pretty," she addressed Dorothy with the most vicious stare, "will not be as lucky as you were once destined to be. I wouldn't dream of killing you now. Oh no, you're going to live a long, miserable life, watching everything you love whither and die.
And we're going to start with your three noble friends. They have the luxury of a swift death, but not without pain I assure you. The sooner they're gone, the sooner I can get on with my plans. We'll see which one you miss most of all, my pretty."
Dorothy remained affixed in her place, watching the witch below begin a spell that would surely destroy all three of her dear friends. She could hardly bear to witness such an event. There before her was a witch who was supposed to be dead, resurrected and trying to murder the rulers of Oz, whom she loved very much. She glanced quickly at the three, who were immobilized by the Witch's evilness. It was a cruel fate indeed that the witch had constructed for her, much worse than the first threat she received.
It was then that Dorothy suddenly realized something. The last time the woman had been threatened by the Wicked Witch of the West, she was merely a young girl. Now she had returned much stronger, much wiser with life's lessons and with abilities that deemed her a witch. She had become much more powerful, and suddenly realized that if she put her mind to it, Dorothy could overcome the problem before her, or at least try to. She had to try. So much depended on this one attempt. The citizens of Oz needed her, and that was the exact reason Dorothy was there to begin with.
But what could she possibly do? Time was of the essence, she knew, and Dorothy began searching her brain for something that would work. It dawned on her then. She would have to try the very first spell she had ever heard of - the spell Dorothy was convinced she was not capable of casting. The Reflection Spell. This seemingly impossible task was the only chance the good witch had of saving everything. The spell suddenly vivid in her mind's eye, she began to lowly mutter the incantation as the Wicked Witch was chanting an invocation of her own at the Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Lion, seemingly oblivious to Dorothy.
She uttered the last words before pointing her wand at the Wicked Witch of the West and lunging forward. The heel of one of her Ruby Slippers became entangled in a crack between two of the ramp's planks, and Dorothy found herself falling even faster towards her enemy. Just after a blaring red light shot from the Wicked Witch's fingers, a brilliant white light burst from the end of Dorothy's wand, hitting the red light's path head on. A shadow of the scarlet light flooded Dorothy's body and even more of it ricocheted off of the wand's milky beam and struck the Wicked Witch squarely.
Both witches fainted swiftly to the floor and a blood curdling moan of pain and defeat shattered the air. Suddenly free from the Wicked Witch's icy gaze, the three rushed to Dorothy's side, incredulous to what had just happened.
"Dorothy?" Scarecrow asked as the other two rushed to prop her up. He could hardly stand the sight of the girl, his dear friend who he depended so much on for support, laying limply on the ground as a result of her attempt to save him.
She opened her eyes laboriously, making a great effort to prop up. "It will be all right now," she insisted, "it'll be all right now." With that, the little strength Dorothy had left escaped her body, and she sank back into the arms supporting her.
The three stayed in their positions, devastation and shock permitting them from moving any further. Just a split second later, the doors reopened as fast as they had closed, and a panic-stricken Glinda rushed in.
"Goodness! I'm too late!" She shrieked looking at the display before her. There lay the two witches of the West, the exact opposites of each other: one very good and one very wicked, one hideous and one beautiful, one rather old and one still young. As the Good Witch of the North took another glance at the two, another more distinct difference became visible. One of them was dead, and one of them was still faintly breathing.