Dear Readers,
My apologies for taking another two months to update but many many thanks to all of you who left encouraging comments. Your kind words always bring me back to the story and give me the strength to see it through. It is because of your comments that this story exists.
Before I turn to the next chapter, I thought I would share an observation. While (thankfully) many of you are enjoying this story, there have been a few others who have not. I expected as much when I agreed to write a dark taboo Gelphie. Yet something surprised me in the more angry comments. I realized that more than the taboo sex scenes (although I'm sure some felt those insufferable as well), what seemed most unbearable was forgiveness. The possibility that Elphaba might come to love Glinda in spite of everything. It gave me a chance to think on the grey conditions, the black and white boundaries, and the taboo nature of forgiveness. I hope all of you who do continue reading this will enjoy finding out where that taboo will land Elphaba and Galinda, if it lands at all.
A heartfelt thanks to all of you who shared your encouragement, feedback, and criticism!
Happy Holidays!
Wishing you all much love and warmth,
Lola
Warning: Mild violence. This chapter is a bit bloody, for more reasons than one.
The warm oil slid between her thighs. A wet cloth swept her bottom, over cuts and welts that burned and goosebumped. Her dress. It was open. She remembered. The lashes. The sisters. One cruel and one green. That disfigured face. It couldn't have been real, could it have? Glinda blinked until hazy colors came into focus. She was lying face down on the wood floor of a dimly lit bedroom. She could smell birch burning in a nearby fireplace. Someone was kneeling to her right, brushing her with a cloth. Coming between her nether cheeks. Glinda bit her lip. Would they molest her? What asinine impulse had driven her to sass her captors?
Glinda moved her legs. They were stuck, no—tied—together. Her left foot burned as if it rested on a hot ember. Her shoulders pulsed with a brittle needling, no doubt from hanging for hours in the barn. The cloth wiped the edge of her vaginal leaves and she gasped. Not this. She wiggled fiercely, trying to roll left, right, then left.
"Hold still, you idiot," the brusher said. It was a Munchkinlander's voice, but it wasn't the piercing tone of the butcher in the barn. It was a smooth, yet gravelly female voice that made Glinda's stomach knot.
"I shall not warn you twice," the woman said and yanked Glinda still. "Roll again and I shall leave you for your wounds to scar worse than they shall."
Scar? Glinda propped herself on her elbows and turned to look at herself. And screamed. The green face had been real! The figure flinched. Her face hardening before she said,
"Does my appearance disturb you? Shall I call for Nessarose?"
Who? But before Glinda could ask, the green woman answered.
"You met in the barn. Perhaps you'd prefer if she'd finish dressing your wounds, instead of I?"
That sadist? Glinda shook her head.
"Then keep still," the green woman said.
"But, I don't want this," Glinda said.
"Don't want what?"
"I don't want you between my legs!" Glinda said, her face heating.
The Munchkinlander darkened.
"No one in this cabin wants anything between your legs! I need to remove the dry blood to see the extent of your wounds. That is all."
Not believing her, Glinda asked,
"But why would you want to help a thief?"
"I don't! What you did was unforgivable! You took everything from this family—everything! I want your ugly body removed from my rafters and cleaned, so you can start your service."
Ugly? Her? Glinda couldn't remember what she looked like, but surely she wasn't ugly. She would have remembered that. Wouldn't she have? Before she could respond, the Munchkinlander snatched the rope collar around her neck, and yanked. "Now keep still," she said, the coarse rope tightening as Glinda's cheekbone hit the floor.
Glinda kept prone while the Munchkinlander dabbed more oil across her cuts and tied cloth over the gash in her foot. Who was she? Galinda, now Glinda. She couldn't even remember her last name nor why she had been raiding some cabin in the dark. Try as she might, Glinda couldn't conjure one single memory, only an opaque heaviness.
The Munchkinlander finished, closed Glinda's dress, and rolled her over. Glinda looked at her captor's face. Despite the discoloration, the woman wasn't unattractive. Her nose dipped at the end like an eagle's. Her cheekbones sat high. Her sharp yet wide dark brown eyes were shaded by long eyelashes. All of her features went well together. Quite well. Glinda's eyes trailed down to her mouth that was pursing into a M shape. Luscious. The Munchkinlander was stunning. Galinda's heart sped up, dancing against her bones. Dancing even more, when she realized the green woman was looking very much annoyed.
"Pardon," Glinda said, "I didn't mean to stare. And, well, I wasn't staring at your skin."
Elphaba raised a disbelieving eyebrow.
"Not this time. It was more your eyes—I mean, your cheeks—well, your lips..." Glinda babbled, her face flushing. It was coming out all wrong.
"What?"
"It's just...you... you're...rather—well put-together, yes, well put-together!"
Surprisingly so, Glinda thought.
The green woman trembled. Wondering if she heard her, Glinda clarified,
"I mean to say you're comely."
The Munchkinlander's face grew tight, she swallowed, before she rasped, "Are you so bold to mock me?"
She grabbed Glinda by her arm and hoisted her to her feet. Galinda winced as the weight of her body came down on her wounded foot, the pain so raw she felt it in the back of her throat. Elphaba glared. Glinda swallowed down a whimper and whispered,
"I wasn't mocking you, my lady. I meant it. Despite your coloring, your features are of great beauty."
The Munchkinlander's eyes narrowed, looking annoyed Glinda dared to repeat herself. She was in for a very sore evening. Glinda twisted her eyes shut, waiting for it, the slap, the punch, the lashing, the pain that would tell her she had done something wrong. Instead Elphaba tossed her face first against the wall, forcing her arms behind her back, grabbing the extra rope from her ankle, and tying her wrists as if preparing a roast. The rope cut like fire over Glinda's red and worn skin.
"Stop!" Glinda said. "I meant no offense!"
The Munchkinlander shoved her. Glinda teetered, the bell around her neck tinkling. With legs and arms bound, she fell, bouncing on her side, her bones smarting.
Glinda hissed.
"Sleep," the green woman said.
"Tied on the floor?" Glinda asked.
"We wouldn't want you stealing anything else and running off."
Running off? Glinda couldn't even stand, let alone walk. She had no idea who she was. Where she came from. Or where to go. The Munchkinlander walked to the bed beside the fireplace. Sitting down across from her, she eyed her, as if half-expecting Glinda to break out of her bindings and dash away. But, Glinda was stuck here. Bound and beaten, without any memory, without anyone at all in the world. Glinda's nose prickled, a sob gathering in her chest, but before it crept out, someone crept in. The red-slippered butcher, dressed all in black. Glinda cringed.
"Shall we gag her and lock her in the trunk?" the butcher asked from the doorway.
Glinda's heart stopped. Locked in a trunk? Gagged? How would she breathe? And the darkness. Would she even be able to turn around? Her hands grew moist.
"That won't be necessary," the green sister said.
"It won't take much work, Elphaba."
"She'll be fine on the floor."
Glinda never felt so grateful to Elphaba. The woman's name sounded good, saintly—familiar.
"Are you certain?" the butcher asked. "What if she tries something while we're asleep?"
Elphaba rolled the thought over for a moment, gazing at Glinda.
"I wouldn't!" Glinda blurted.
Nessa glared. Then popped Glinda in the mouth with her slipper. "Who asked you?" Nessa asked. Glinda's tongue ran over where the butcher's foot had been. Iron. The butcher split her lip.
"As you can see, it doesn't appear she can try anything," Elphaba said.
"I suppose. But, if you change your mind, I'll be in my room," Nessa said.
Elphaba nodded.
When Nessa left, closing the door, Glinda caught Elphaba's gaze.
"Thank you," she said.
Elphaba snorted. "I didn't do it for you," she snapped.
For who then? Elphaba didn't elaborate. Glinda closed her eyes. Despite being tied on floor, the pain and exhaustion of her day carried her into sleep.
She awoke the next morning with a stiff soreness throughout her body. The stiffest one in her bladder. She looked to see Elphaba asleep in the same position, her lips open, a line of drool falling out the corner of mouth. Even now, Glinda couldn't help but find the contours of Elphaba's face strangely regal. She tried to rock herself into a sitting position, yet the slightest resistance against the ropes was painful and her bottom ached from the whippings. She would have to stay still until Elphaba awoke.
Laying there, she tried to remember her life, her parents, her home, but was greeted again by a white abyss. What about her company of thieves? Vague misty shapes came to mind— a beard, a gruff laugh, a ducking, a hiding, a warm hand at her back but nothing clear. Everything felt stuck behind an impenetrable curtain. Did her friends even care that she had been caught? Would they come for her? Would she be stuck here forever with these two witches of the woods? Permanently lost? Her anxiety about a future of what-may was punctured by the present of what-was: her bladder bursting.
"Ah!" she gasped. Elphaba's eyes snapped open. She jerked upright, wiping the corner of her mouth, searching the room until her eyes fell on Glinda. Another shot of pain. Glinda squeezed her eyes tight.
"What's wrong with you?" Elphaba asked.
"A chamber pot," Glinda uttered, opening her eyes. "Hurry!"
The green woman got up from the bed, slipped on her boots and walked over and grabbed her by the arm.
"We haven't one. You'll have to go outside," she said and lifted Glinda to her feet. Glinda shrieked biting her lip, trying to bear the pain in her foot and shoulder. Elphaba pulled her barefoot, hopping out of the room, but the pain was excruciating. Glinda's legs gave out in the hallway.
"Get up," Elphaba said, holding onto her arm as Glinda slumped on the floor.
"I can't," Glinda said, half crying.
Elphaba pulled. It was only a firm tug, but the long hours of hanging in the barn had damaged Glinda's shoulders. She yelped. It felt as if Elphaba had twisted her arm from its socket.
"Please, I can't, I can't," she said in a panicked whisper.
In a swoop, Glinda was off her feet, in Elphaba's arms, moving down the stairs. What strength! Elphaba didn't seem strained. Her expression was determined. And this. What was this? Elphaba's scent. It was as if Glinda had smelt it before. That feeling of a memory made her eager for more. She inhaled again, trying to hold on to it, seeking its source. Another whiff, and another. This thick, lavish scent made her belly twirl. It was a scent you could twine a scarf with. Out of the cabin, Glinda shivered. Her dress was thin and the chill cut to her marrow. Elphaba put her down on a frosty grass clearing several feet from the cabin. Glinda hunched to take weight off her wounded foot.
"Well?" the Munchkinlander asked.
"Excuse me?" Glinda asked, hands tied behind her back, legs bound.
"Didn't you ask to relieve yourself?"
"I did."
"Go then!"
"But my legs, how am I—"
"Squat, you idiot!" Elphaba said.
"But I'm tied; I won't even been able to pull up my dress or hold myself. Please, you must—"
"I mustn't do anything for you!"
"Don't humiliate me! Not like this," she pleaded.
"Humiliate you?! You have no idea how I could humiliate you!" Elphaba shouted and Glinda flinched. "Piss, you little wretch, before I make you wait until after supper!"
After supper?! Glinda's face fell. She would wet herself by then. She squatted, wobbling, her bottom protruding, the winter wind blowing her skirt. Despite the chill, her cheeks were blazing with shame. How she must look! Slouched over. Her backside flapping in the air. She staggered. Swayed. Toppled. The side of her face hitting cold snow and hard earth. She yelped, rolling over to her side. Elphaba burst into a cackle. Glinda rolled onto her knees, a spurt leaking from her. As Glinda swayed, pushing with her toes toward a stance, Elphaba's laughter roared. The ground was too icy. Glinda slipped. Hit her face again. Mostly her cheek. And the side of her nose.
Is this what Elphaba wanted? To see her fall? Squirm in the dirt like an animal? Pee and soil herself? Glinda slowly rolled over and the laughter stopped. A trickle fell from Glinda's nose and then from her eyes. She thought Elphaba was different. Not vicious like her sister. Yet now it seemed they merely had contrasting tastes in cruelty—one in blood and one in shame.
Something tugged her feet. Glinda raised her head. Elphaba had squatted down and was undoing her bindings. Glinda's ankles were bloodied and bruised from the coarse rope. Elphaba pulled her legs apart, before laying them down and looking up, as she said,
"If I untie your hands, you must obey me. Or I shall let Nessa hang you in the barn. Do you understand me, Glinda?"
Glinda's head bobbed up and down. Elphaba lifted her onto her feet and removed the rope from her hands. At bursting point, she pulled up her dress and squatted with her back to the Munchkinlander. But, before starting, she had the common sense to ask,
"Can I go now, my lady?"
"What?"
"Can I relieve myself now, my lady?"
Silence.
Had Elphaba heard her? Should she ask again?
"Get on with it!" Elphaba hissed in a whisper.
When Glinda finished, she fixed her dress and turned around. Elphaba's was staring at her. Had the green woman been gazing at her naked backside? The thought of Elphaba viewing something so private, made Glinda warm uncomfortably. Elphaba turned toward the cabin, seemingly embarrassed herself.
"Come. Get inside," she said and walked toward the cabin. Glinda hobbled behind her captor, but with no crutch or shoes, her feet were numbingly frosty, and her left foot was no use at all. She fell to her knees and watched Elphaba speed ahead. She had to keep up. She couldn't let Elphaba think her disobedient. She crawled, clawing at ice, pulling herself over clumps of earth.
Elphaba glanced behind. Not seeing Glinda at the proper height, she turned in alarm, until she spotted her on the ground.
"What are you doing?" Elphaba asked.
"Following you," Glinda said meekly.
"On your knees?"
"My foot," Glinda said. "I can't keep your pace."
Elphaba sighed, before she trudged toward her. The cabin door opened to reveal Nessarose. In the light of morning, Glinda was a bit awed by Nessa's freakish beauty. Wasp-hipped, she was dressed in an extravagant black dress that revealed her slender shoulders. Her eyes were round and soft like a doe's, outlined by thick trails of black eyelashes. Her skin was fair and without mark. Her black hair was swept up in an elegant bun behind her. Her mouth was small and feminine, her lips a deep crimson red. Seeing Glinda on the ground, Nessa smirked.
"That position suits our Little Whore of Gillikin, doesn't it. Let her crawl in our presence."
Is that what she looked like, a harlot?
"Nessa, go inside. You'll catch a chill out here," Elphaba said, ignoring her sister's comment. She crouched beside Glinda and said, "Hold my neck."
Glinda hesitated, only to receive a stern look. She immediately, yet cautiously, looped her hands around Elphaba's neck, her forearms resting on Elphaba's shoulders, her face uncomfortably close to her captor's. Her gaze fell to soft dark green lips that were almost brushing hers. The Munchkinlander caught Glinda's eyes. For a second, Glinda thought Elphaba looked nervous, before her expression tightened with revulsion as she said,
"I will not warn you again. Whether it be my skin or my cheeks, stop staring! Or risk a stiff poke in the eyes!"
Glinda shut her eyes and Elphaba hoisted her up, walking her inside. That smell again. Elphaba's scent. What did it remind her of? Had one of her company smelt like this? Did her home smell like this? Why did it feel so comforting? So pleasantly overwhelming? Glinda shivered.
When Elphaba put her down, Glinda was in a kitchen. It was stark. A lit fireplace sat to her right, with its stone box of pokers and shovel beside it. A large wooden table lay in front of her with six chairs. A staircase and mostly empty shelves to her left, and a deep stone sink lay behind her next to the front door. The butcher sat at the table by the fireplace, but her posture looked out of place, as if her body was ill-accustomed to its position.
"You can prepare our meal," Nessa instructed, pointing to a sack of potatoes on the table and the blunt rusted knife beside it. Glinda would have hobbled over and did it just that, but how did one peel a potato? She couldn't remember having ever fixed a meal. Certainly she must have. She tried to remember, but nothing came. Nothing but that foul unrelenting whiteness.
"Might my lady remind me how?" Glinda ventured.
Nessa stood, squeezing a potato in one hand and clasping the knife in the other. Her lips puckering, as she inched forward in stilted totters. With each step, Glinda felt herself shrink. Nessa stopped a breath from her. Raising the knife, she scraped the metal instrument over the skin, raking it up. Then she pointed the knife at Glinda's chest, resting the tip on the button above her bosom. Glinda jumped.
"Peel and chop them. If you can't do that, then perhaps," Nessa said, slicing her top button loose, exposing the swell of her breasts, "we'll just have to eat you instead."
The blunt knife curved down her breasts. Glinda shuddered, her stomach twisting at the dangerous movement.
"Nessa!" Elphaba said.
The butcher laughed and said,
"What, Elphaba? Don't care to play with your food?"
Nessa's knife swerved between Glinda's breasts, sliding downward, under her pendulous flesh, pushing her dress open, her nipple hardening in the open air. Would the butcher really taste her? Glinda trembled, more afraid of Nessa now than she was of her in the barn.
Her heart beat furiously while her mind filled with retorts: Only animals should be eaten and clearly the most beastly one is you. So, is it cannibalism that's responsible for Munchkinland's general deformity? She bit her lip to keep the words from flying out of her mouth. The constraint feeling utterly unnatural.
"Nessarose! Leave her."
Nessa continued to diddle with her bared bosom.
"I said leave her be!" Elphaba shouted.
The butcher withdrew her knife and set it on the table, asking if Glinda required any further explanation. Glinda pulled her dress back over breast and said through a grimace, "No, thank you, my lady."
The blade was so dull, at first Glinda could only peel her own skin. Several times she bore down and the knife jumped and snagged her finger. Yelping, she would bring the cut to her mouth, sucking it, until Nessa would glower at her.
After a while, Glinda fell into a groove, peeling and chopping one potato after another and placing them into the pot. Nessa watched her, and Elphaba stared out the kitchen window. It looked as if the elder sister was waiting for someone. Was this place a prison for her too? The green woman was a mystery to her. She was cold and aloof, and yet her coldness was nothing like Nessarose's barbarity.
Glinda ladled the boiled potatoes onto a metal serving plate, placing them on the table. Elphaba went to the cabinets by the staircase and took out a pouch of salt. Nessarose grabbed the plates. Glinda's stomach rumbled. When had she eaten last? What did she even like to eat? Certainly not these bland horrid things. The potatoes sat there yellow and waxy. Yet her mouth salivated. Perhaps with the salt, she could swallow them down. Nessarose handed her a plate.
"I will have three," she said.
Glinda placed the potatoes on the dish. Then Elphaba gave her her plate and Glinda dressed it. As the two women took their seats, she looked up expecting to see another plate, but there was none. Elphaba who sat opposite of her seemed to be noticing the same thing.
"Where shall I sit, my lady?" Glinda asked Nessa.
The butcher seated at the head of the table, finished a bite of potato and asked,
"Sit?"
Elphaba slicing a potato on her own plate looked over at her sister.
"Yes, my lady," Glinda said.
"Does a cur sit at the master's table?" Nessa asked.
Elphaba dropped her fork. Glinda's eyebrows shot up, her lip curling. First a whore, now an animal?
"Well?" Nessarose prodded.
"No!" Glinda said.
"Where do dogs sit?" Nessa asked.
Glinda's pride kept her silent. Nessa, gripping her knife, rose from the table.
"Where, I asked you, do they sit?" she repeated, pointing the knife at her.
Trembling with both fear and anger, Glinda said,
"On the floor."
"Correct. Now, take your seat," Nessa said, waiting.
"I'm hungry," Glinda said.
How those potatoes sparkled. Those little yellow treasures.
"Your mistress is not without mercy," Nessa said.
Glinda smiled with relief. Until Nessa gestured downward.
"You may eat the peels."
She gazed at the potato carvings cluttered like muddy leaves on the wooden floorboards.
"What do you say?"
"What?" Glinda breathed, close to tears.
"How do you respond to your mistress' kindness?" Nessa asked.
Glinda looked up. Elphaba's eyes were fixed on her plate, the muscles in her neck tense. Glinda turned to Nessa. The toad! How she gloated. Glinda wanted to throw the whole platter of potatoes at her, but in her state all she could do was mumble,
"Thank you, my lady."
Falling to her knees, she gazed at the sisters' dress-covered legs, trying to meditate her hunger away, and recall a memory of who she was. But, a thick whiteness, a cataracts of the soul, kept her mind shrouded.
After they finished, Nessa instructed Glinda to clean the kitchen. Wipe the windows. Stack the wood. Dust the kitchen. Mop the floorboards. Glinda worked tirelessly, hopping and limping to and fro, her shoulders and back aching as the sun set. Not one morsel of food passed her lips. The plate of left-over potatoes sat there, teasing her, mocking her, beckoning her. When Nessa and Elphaba came down for supper, Glinda served them again. They sat, salting and swallowing, until only one more potato was left.
The sisters retired to their rooms upstairs, leaving Glinda to clean the sink, by the light of the oil lantern. Finishing she turned to grab the lantern which rested on the kitchen table. She inched forward. It was the lamp she meant to grab. The lamp. But, instead a cold soft lump was wedged between her palms.
"Eat it at your peril," the butcher said behind her, coming down the stairs. "Or don't you believe I'll punish you again?"
Saliva pooled in Glinda's mouth as she clutched the morsel to her breast.
"Did you hear me?" Nessa screeched.
Glinda turned, her heart jip-japping, her stomach sore.
"No one wanted it," she said.
"Then throw it out the window," Nessarose said, coming face to face with her.
Waste it? Glinda couldn't. She just couldn't.
She braced herself for Nessa to yell at her but she smirked. Glinda's blood iced. She had smiled like that, just like that, before she— Glinda howled! Nessa had heaved the chair atop Glinda's wounded foot.
Glinda reached for the chair, potato flying, as she tried to lift it. But Nessa sat down. Glinda screamed. Elphaba rushed down the stairs.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"The thief tried to steal—again," Nessa said.
"Steal?" Elphaba asked, looking around the kitchen.
Glinda shook her head, the excruciating pain stitching her mouth shut.
"That potato over there—the slut almost ate it," Nessa said pointing toward the potato covered in wood splinters by the fireplace.
"And?" Elphaba asked, still perplexed by Glinda's tormented expression.
"I punished her of course," Nessa said.
Glinda groaned, biting her lip.
Elphaba looked down.
"Nessarose!" she hissed.
"What?" the butcher asked nonchalantly.
"Get up! You'll break her foot!" Elphaba said.
"I haven't the strength to break it. Although, I can't speak for the chair," Nessa said with a smirk, crossing her legs.
Elphaba rushed, pulled Nessa up, and tossed the chair aside. Glinda sank to the ground. Blood seeped through her bandages.
"What's come over you?" Elphaba asked.
"Me, sister? What's come over you? Are you worried about our Gillikinese thief?"
"It's you I'm worried about."
"Well, you don't have to worry about me, not anymore. I can take care of myself," Nessa said.
"That's not what I mean. This isn't you. Something's happened to you!"
"Nothing's happened to me! In fact, from now on, I will happen to others."
"And, who might I ask will be responsible for carrying a lame Glinda after you happen to her?"
"Didn't she show us she's capable of crawling?" Nessa asked.
Elphaba snorted, shaking her head.
On the floor, Glinda tried to wiggle her toes, but she couldn't push past the pain. Had the butcher broken her foot? What if she would never walk again? Right before she went into full panic, she was lifted off the floor. Elphaba's strong arms. Glinda gave into them. She tucked her face into Elphaba's neck, grateful for the semblance of care. She let herself be soothed by Elphaba's fragrance as she was carried upstairs and into Elphaba's room. Elphaba kneeled, setting her down on the floor. Grabbing a small blue wooden box on the window sill by the bed, Elphaba pulled out fresh cloth and a bottle of oil and went and kneeled back beside her. She took Glinda's bloodied foot in her hands. Glinda yelped. Elphaba's eyebrows shot up.
"Can you move it?" she asked.
Glinda tried again to wiggle her toes. Inhaling through her teeth, she shook her head. Elphaba gently unwrapped the bandages and treated the injury with her oils. Glinda brought her fingernails up to her mouth, looking away at the pile of blood.
"Try again," Elphaba said.
Glinda dithered. Biting her nails, her gaze flickered between Elphaba's serious eyes and her wounded foot. The Munchkinlander reached toward her face. Glinda flinched. Not another slap, please not another slap. Elphaba stopped, retracting her hand.
"I wasn't going to—I won't hit you, Glinda. I promise. Now, try again for me."
Glinda focused on Elphaba's worried eyes. Their sudden softness let her catch her breath. Just a wiggle. That's all Elphaba wanted. Just one more try. Hands by her side, she pushed, biting her lip at the pain, until slowly all her toes curved.
"Well done, Glinda!" Elphaba said and Glinda gave a shy smile, elated her foot worked and pleased at the sound of pride in Elphaba's voice. It was the first kind word she heard as Glinda. But, at her smile, Elphaba's face lost its mirth. Glinda's heart sank.
The Munchkinlander finished the bandages in silence. Glinda thanked her, but Elphaba said nothing as she got into bed. Glinda curled on her side, putting her hands under her head. Closing her eyes, she thought of the spot of tenderness that passed between them. Underneath Elphaba's callous exterior was a decency that Glinda, despite not remembering a soul, not even her own, knew to be very rare.
The next couple of days fell into each other. Glinda's activities varied little. She would peel potatoes, dress the sisters' plates, then clean. Clean the plates, the floor, the walls, the windows. While Nessa hurled insults at her and refused to let her eat even the greenest of potatoes, telling her there were still plenty of peels, which Glinda, utterly ravenous, still managed to refuse. In between Glinda's more arduous work, Nessa assigned her menial tasks: combing Nessa's hair, massaging her back, filing her toenails. The butcher didn't hesitate to let Glinda know when she thought her careless. She might kick Glinda in the jaw. Or pull her hair, warning her to be careful if she wanted to keep her curls. But Nessa never abused her like she had the first two days. Elphaba wouldn't let her. Whenever Nessa's beatings exceeded a crisp slap or swift kick, Elphaba would call Nessarose's name in a tone that brooked no refusal. Nessa responded with shrugs and eye rolls, yet always relented.
Beyond these instances, Elphaba barely acknowledged Glinda. Their interactions consisted of Elphaba wordlessly escorting her in and out of the cabin, Glinda dressing her plate, and Elphaba sleeping with her back to her. Mostly, Elphaba would stand by the kitchen window, keeping watch. Waiting for a what or whom that never came.
In the rare instances, Glinda felt Elphaba's gaze, she would look up to see Elphaba's eyes always landing somewhere else. Oh, how she wished Elphaba didn't hate her. Then she might have someone to talk to. Presently, her conversations were limited to, "Yes, my lady." "It's finished, my lady." "May I go outside my lady?" How long could she live like this? Her company had still not come for her. Would they ever? Didn't anyone want her? Didn't anyone miss her? Was she loved by no one? If they didn't come back with those jewels, Glinda would have to escape. She couldn't stay in this cabin forever. But, she also couldn't run away like this, with no memory of herself, no knowledge of the outside world, injured, without an ozent to her name, in the dead of winter. Until either friend or self returned, she would have to manage here, at the very least until it grew warm again. If she didn't waste away from hunger before then.
Leaning on the broom stick, she caught her breath and swiped curls out of her eyes. Elphaba stood rigid, in her spot by the window, her teeth grinding, her hands clutching her skirt. Glinda remembered Elphaba's words. You took everything from this family—everything! What exactly were those jewels? Dowries for the sisters? With Nessa's disposition and Elphaba's discoloration what a steep sum it must have been. Exhaling, Glinda bowed her head and returned to sweeping.
In the afternoon, Elphaba took Glinda to the barn to clean, while she led the goats out to graze.
Elphaba's scent lingered. Some of the woman's oils must have gotten onto her dress. Glinda inhaled, trying to suck up as much as she could. Remember. Remember. Where had she smelt this before? This intoxicating sharp scent. Intoxicating? Was that what Elphaba was? Strange, aloof, biting, and—intoxicating? Glinda's mind listed its proof. The gentleness of her green fingers. The guarded softness of her eyes. The protective strength of her arms. The hint of a memory in her scent. The forminable beauty of her features. The disarming sound of her voice. The hidden kindness behind her expressions. The door opened. Elphaba must have forgotten something. Glinda turned. The butcher stood there instead. Glinda's eyes fell, pulling her stomach with them.
"A smile? Was that meant for my sister?" Nessa asked. "Does she please you?"
Had she been smiling?
Nessa careened to the far wall. Heading for the sheers. Glinda's stomach turned. Elphaba wasn't here. She was alone in the barn. And Nessa was grabbing a sharp instrument. Nessarose headed toward her at a bludgeoning speed. Here it was. Her end. Cut into little pieces by the psychotic butcher of Munchkinland. Glinda cowered, shutting her eyes, bracing for impact, inhaling a prayer.
Until she heard a cackle. The butcher had come to a halt, a few inches from her, a hand on her belly, convulsing with laughter.
"What about my sister courts your interest?" Nessa said, straightening, tapping the sheers in her palm.
Glinda bit her lip. There were many things about Elphaba that solicited Glinda's attention, But what made Glinda smile must be...Elphaba's...out-of-place...
"If you don't answer me, I'll make that smile of yours permanent," Nessa said, raising her sheers.
"Her goodness!" Glinda said, the tips of her fingers tingling.
"Her goodness?" Nessa asked.
Repeated, it sounded foolish. Why had she said it? And, said it to Nessarose, a creature devoid of any goodness. Elphaba—come back. Come back to me. Glinda silently prayed. But something else came instead. Or rather slid. Slid from between her thighs as she pressed them forcefully together.
"My lady," Glinda said, her chin trembling.
Nessa glared, still not over her first surprise.
Of all people to ask.
"Might I have a bit of cloth?"
"Cloth?"
Glinda nodded.
"What need have you for cloth?" Nessa asked.
"My—my course has started, my lady," Glinda stuttered, a tingling filling her cheeks.
Nessa's rosewood lips sneered.
"Your course? How unfortunate. Because you will not be taking one more thing from this family!"
"A scrap. Surely you can spare a scrap."
"If it's only a scrap, surely you can spare one," Nessa said.
Glinda didn't have anything except the clothes on her back. No, she couldn't mean—
The butcher seized the front of her dress.
"No, my lady, don't!"
But Nessa cut into it, chopping haphazardly, tearing down the front of it, revealing most of Glinda's breasts. Pushing Glinda back, Nessa held up the chunk of cloth. Glinda's hand flew to her chest, a burning blush rising up her neck as the broom bounced against the wooden floor.
"Here's your scrap. You can have it after you finish cleaning."
"But I can't wait until then, I'll have bl—" Glinda stopped, her voice cracking.
"You'll have what?"
It pained her to say it, to bow herself and beg this Munchkinlander, but the alternative was even more unbearable. "Please," Glinda said, feeling altogether out of character, "I pray you let me fix myself. I shall clean the barn until morning if you just allow me to clean myself."
"You either scrub this barn now or you can stuff yourself with straw," Nessa said and walked to the edge of the wall, waving the piece of her dress as she went.
Glinda felt it again. Sliding. Down her leg. There was nothing she could do, nothing but submit to this indignity. So she swept, forbidding tears to fall, willing herself not to heave as her dress checkered red and beige. It felt like a season had passed in that barn, being watched by Nessarose as her body tarnished herself. When she heard Elphaba's voice with two others, she was on her knees, scrubbing the floors, her dress wide open, stained completely, smelling abominably. She shook her head. She couldn't be seen like this. Not by Elphaba.
"You seemed to have missed a spot. Several actually," Nessa said pointing to her splotched dress.
Elphaba's voice was coming closer. Glinda started to tremble. She couldn't get away. Couldn't get away.
The door opened.
"We have some guests—" Elphaba announced to her sister, but stopped mid-sentence and shut the door behind her and yelled. "Boq, Pfannee! Please wait there."
Glinda was too ashamed to look up. Too ashamed to be caught like this.
"Is everything all right?" a man's voice asked outside the barn.
"Just fine," Elphaba shouted through the door, before she hissed to Nessa, "What have you done to her now?"
"The Fair Glinda to be saved again by her gallant protector," Nessa said.
"What did you say?" Elphaba growled.
"That's what you are, aren't you my dear sister? The charming protector of our Gillikinese whore?"
Glinda glanced up to catch Elphaba's anguished expression.
"Is that what this about? By not torturing her, I've betrayed Munchkinland?"
"Haven't you? You don't even care what's she's done to us!"
"No one knows better than I what she's done!" Elphaba shouted and Nessa winced. "Don't think it out of betrayal or even sympathy for her that I don't beat her to death myself," Elphaba said, "It's because I feel farther away from Munchkinland, farther away from Father, farther away from myself in such moments. The Gillikinese have taken our homes, our lives, our—our bodies. They've tried to destroy us, and if you go down this path, you will give them what little pieces of us are left."
"But, that's just it. I'm no longer in pieces; I've been made whole. A whole self, full of the virtues that our Father taught us — justice, righteousness, and judgment. Don't you see? The Unnamed God has given us this miracle to make things right. To institute a radical equality. The Gillikinese took from us, and now we shall take from them!"
"How are we to become equal? How can you raise them to our suffering without lowering us to their depravity?" Elphaba asked.
"Elphaba, I'm speaking of justice not a seesaw," Nessa said.
"Are you two coming out anytime soon?" a female's voice yelled through the door.
"We will continue this after Boq and Pfannee leave," Elphaba said to Nessa. "Now, distract them with your miracle while I see to Glinda and think of some way to explain this."
"Very well. Try not to defile yourself with that mess," Nessa said, taking Glinda's scrap with her outside.
"By the Unnamed God! You're walking Nessarose! Walking!" a man said.
"Lurline's tits, the tadpole limps before us a frog!" a woman exclaimed.
Elphaba shut the door.
The Gillikinese have taken our homes, our lives...our bodies. They've tried to destroy us. A war. It was coming back to Glinda. Gillikin had conquered Munchkinland. A victory. Yet, to hear Elphaba and Nessa speak of it, it felt less a victory than an incrimination. Nessa's fury while ever heinous, lost its capriciousness. So it wasn't just the jewels. It was what Glinda's theft represented. A looting. A destruction. A Gillikinese entitlement. Was the war what brought the two sisters here, to a bleak cabin, to a life of boiled potatoes? Just whose lives, whose bodies were lost to Elphaba?
Elphaba turned to her. As their eyes met, Glinda's chest burned. She kept silent, still on all fours, brush in hand. Perhaps Elphaba would leave her be, leave her to clean her dress in private. Turn away. Look away. Don't come near.
But, Elphaba came near anyway, kneeling beside her.
"Where has she cut you?" she asked just above a whisper.
"She hasn't."
"Your dress is torn. You're bleeding. She must have—" Elphaba inhaled sharply and Glinda blushed even harder.
"Just a bit of cloth. That's all I need. I'll wash my dress, my lady," Glinda said.
"Stay here," Elphaba said, rising.
As if Glinda was planning on hobbling somewhere like this. Elphaba left and Glinda waited. For several short minutes. Then several very long minutes. Had Elphaba forgotten her? Perhaps she would only come once her guests departed? But finally, the door opened and Elphaba had a white dress over her arm and carried a bucket with some cloth, oil and a feminine belt.
"Take off your dress. You can wear this one instead. I've brought oils for you to wash with and trimmed the bottom of the dress for some extra cloth."
Glinda nodded and stood up.
Elphaba's gaze traveled over her body. Glinda covered her breasts, with her arms, turning to her side.
"Turn away," Glinda said.
Elphaba was caught up somewhere else.
"Turn away while I wash myself, my lady" Glinda repeated.
"Show me how you bathe yourself," Elphaba said, in a strange faraway voice.
Elphaba wanted to watch her? Glinda felt dizzy, a cold sweat on neck. Embarrassed, Glinda shook her head.
"Take off your dress," Elphaba said with glassy eyes.
"My lady," Glinda whispered.
Their eyes met.
"Please," Glinda breathed, hoping for tender Elphaba, noble Elphaba, kind Elphaba to return.
As if awaking from a dream, Elphaba dropped the bucket, flung the dress in it, and turned around.
Glinda tore off her dress, her arm sticking twice as she tried to wrench free of it. The tattered cloth fell to the floor and she cleaned. Wiped her thighs. Between her legs. Adjusted the cloth belt. And pulled out the dress. It was clean, except for a single mud streak on the side. The bust area would be snug, but she could leave the top buttons undone. The neck of the dress was long enough that it would hide most of her collar. Cleaned and dressed, Glinda breathed deeply, her muscles thawing, her shoulders loosening.
"Are you decent?" Elphaba asked.
"Yes, my lady," Glinda said and followed behind Elphaba as they moved into the cabin. Nessa was standing by the fireplace and two guests sat at the table, a new basket on it, along with a bottle of mead.
"Oh, isn't Nessa's miracle grand, Elphaba!" a very short man, with liverish hair declared. His face was soft, boyishly so, yet the stubble on his chin and the soft lines by his eyes told Glinda he was likely in his early twenties. He paused as his eyes landed on her. His gaze raking her from head to toe, oscillating between her finer features. His mouth parted. Desire. Glinda knew that look. She was sure she had seen it on others before. A short blonde woman rose from her seat beside him. Munchkins, both of them. They came close, peering at her. Glinda held back a flinch, as the blonde woman felt her dress. Glinda had been living with Munchkinlanders, but these were Munchkins. Dwarfish commoners with poor postures and muddied clothes, and without any sort of sophistication or restraint.
"I've never seen a living Gillikinese this close. She does look a good deal different than I imagined. Are all Gillikinese women this top heavy?"
Glinda blushed at the open discussion of her bosom.
"Pfannee!" Boq squealed, elbowing the woman in the ribs, "We're very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Glinda." He extended his hand.
Glinda hesitated. She was pleased someone smiled at her, even this deformed Munchkin, but taking his hand in her ungloved one seemed indecorous.
"Miss Glinda?" Nessa chirped, "Such formalities are unnecessary for a Gillikinese!"
Boq colored with embarrassment; Glinda took his hand before he could retract it. She couldn't afford to waste kindness here. Glove or no glove. He smiled shyly, his stubby fingers giving her hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it.
"You might wash your hands," Nessa said. "She's a thief."
"But, Miss Glinda is working to make amends, aren't you?" Boq said.
Glinda was about to nod. Until Elphaba spoke.
"There's no amending what she's done."
Elphaba's words cut. The four were momentarily silent while the the tall woman retreated to her kitchen window. The conversation picked up again, but Glinda couldn't hear them, her eyes were on Elphaba. Was there nothing to diminish Elphaba's contempt of her?
"Oh, please say you'll come Miss Glinda!" Boq said.
"Pardon?" Glinda said, looking back at the three.
"He wants you to come to our dance," Pfannee said.
Glinda looked to Nessa who threw her a murderous glare.
"The Weavers wouldn't actually welcome a Gillikinese thief, would they?" Nessa asked.
"If we can learn to live by the side of our old masters, I'm sure we can make room for another thief, Gillikinese and all. The boys will definitely appreciate her," Pfannee said, admiring her chest again.
"Pfannee!" Boq squealed, before taking a breath and turning to Glinda, "Say you'll come with us?"
A dance? Could she dance? Would she even be able to with her foot? She might try a step. Just the thought of being out of this cabin gave her a thrill.
"I—"
"Can't," Nessa said.
"Can't?" Boq asked.
"She's having her course," Nessa announced.
Glinda felt an icy-hot blush fill her.
"Course?" Boq asked.
"She's on the moss," Pfannee translated.
Boq reddened. Glinda's breath left her. To be humiliated like this in front of a man, in front of Elphaba. Boq tucked his chin down and crossed his hands behind his back.
"Perhaps next time, Miss Glinda," Boq said.
"If you run out of blood moss, come see us. We've plenty," Pfannee said with a proud smile.
Glinda was too overwhelmed with embarrassment and now disgust to respond.
"And, she hasn't finished her chores," Nessa said, getting up, "But, I would be pleased to join you both."
"Splendid, Nessa! Elphaba, will you be joining us?" Boq asked.
The tall Munchkinlander remained silent.
"Oy, canker-blossom! Will we have the burden of your presence toni—" Pfannee called.
"No," Elphaba said without turning around.
"My sister's never much cared for dances," Nessa said.
With that, the three Munchkinlanders left. Nessa held onto Boq's arm as they strolled out the door. Boq looked over his shoulder, smiling at Glinda, eyes twinkling, as she looked at them longingly from the doorway. Closing the door, Glinda turned and saw Elphaba walking up the stairs. Glinda sighed. Another silent night.
She finished sweeping the kitchen, took the lamp, and limped upstairs. She opened Elphaba's door and found the woman curled on the bed, a few boiled potatoes in a towel on her lap. Her attention consumed by the book in her hands. A book. Glinda's eyes grew. Elphaba looked up, and the questions burst from Glinda's lips before she could stop herself.
