The Week of Ill Repute by Chudley Cannon
Disclaimer: "Wicked" is owned by Gregory Maguire, who I think disclaims ownership of such well-known characters as the Wicked Witch of the West and Glinda the Good, and as do I. L. Frank Baum owns them. Do I wish I owned Maguire's Glinda? Indeed. I wish I were married to her, in fact.
Author's notes: Bookverse. Certain personality features may be borrowed from the musical, but it is strictly bookverse. Takes place during Chapter 8 of Part II, when Glinda and Elphaba make the journey from Shiz to the Emerald City, which took more than a week's time. This is what happened during.
Chapter 1: The Roads Meet On The Rain Cloud
It was much to the obvious chagrin of Glinda that they, she and Elphaba, should be treated as third-class citizens and travel as such, but the honest facts were that they were indeed third-class citizens – a person such as Glinda or Galinda of the Arduennas of the Uplands was merely no one when they had not a cent to show for it, as she did not. This only serves to explain that if Glinda was not already exceedingly annoyed with Elphaba for pulling her away from the fun of the previous night (as the Philosophy Club no doubt was), she now possessed an irrational annoyance with her green friend for the trip to the Emerald City, by carriage, which they were told would take a bit longer than a week.
On that first day, they did not speak, in fact Glinda glared out the carriage window for hours at a time, which suited Elphaba just fine. She had more than a few books to read and that was what she did. And the carriage was silent because the other travelers were weary and silent as well.
It was when they arrived at their first pit stop and Elphaba had closed her book and gathered up her lone parcel containing the desired extra traveling cloak and such, that Glinda realized she would have to break her vow of silence owing to 1) the silent treatment had almost no effect on the psyche of Elphaba; conversely, she seemed to rather enjoy it and 2) she had brought a few more traveling things than Elphaba had and currently needed some help in carrying them off the carriage.
Squawking, "Elphaba!" desperately, she thrust out a bag for Elphaba to hold, muttering "Thank you," to her in the most important tone she could muster when Elphaba took the bag. But from there on they silently agreed (or, rather, Glinda in her head agreed) that the fight was over and it was all right to speak.
Their first rest was an inn, the Clatter and Clank, where they ate fine enough on cheap enough. As night fell, the creaky walls of the inn became tired and unwilling to block out the cold, doing nothing to stop it from seeping in and chilling Glinda to her bones.
"I should be happy to have a place to sleep at this point, I think," remarked Glinda and Elphaba agreed, although they could only afford one room on their budget. Glinda carried the worn key (as Elphaba was saddled with all the traveling parcels at the moment), brass and hanging from a wood carving of a bird whose chest proudly proclaimed "8," up two flights of stairs above the kitchens.
It was seedy, to say the least, the corridors painted white and stained with brown, the odd thump of sex and aggression sifting through the thin, exhausted doors. An odor permeated throughout that made Glinda wrinkle her nose in distaste and Elphaba comment that if she were to pinpoint how exactly she thought it smelled in Briscoe Hall, she need only turn to the current waft.
The room itself was cold and cramped. Glinda decided it would be more than fair to call this room half the size of their room back in Shiz – as it was, it only possessed half the beds. One. Small and lumpy and not adequately clean looking, there was a single pillow and a surprisingly cheery yellow blanket. It was atop this that Elphaba set their packages, and then collapsed into the small wooden chair stationed adjacent. That was it for the furniture. A window was above the bed and an anonymous portrait hung carelessly on the wall by the door, almost as an afterthought.
Glinda sat on the bed gingerly, looking over the blanket with distaste. It didn't seem outwardly soiled, but it didn't shout of cleanness, either. She poked it. "Elphie, do you wonder—"
"No," said Elphaba. Now it was her turn to glare out a window, into the black. "It isn't anything I would wonder about."
"Well, I find it charming," said Glinda resolutely, determined to not complain, "and I'm certainly looking forward to sleeping underneath it tonight, if only to—"
"Glinda," Elphaba said in a foreign way. She was still Galinda in her mind, beautiful and vain Galinda who thought only when it suited her. "There are certain wretched experiences that can shape a person, but I don't believe this to be one of them."
"That's disgruntlement talking," she replied decisively. "You'll have the floor, then, if you're to insult my bed."
Despite herself, Elphaba found amusement creeping in, although she hid it beneath the shadow of her hood. "That's very third-class of you to not offer your guest the bed," she remarked. "Although, you've been decidedly third-class all day and it seems only fitting that you should remain so."
"You mean girl," huffed Glinda, standing up from the bed and stripping out of her gown. "It is just like you to remind me of the very thing I was angry at you for." She sat primly on the bed, clad in only her under things, as she searched through her several bundles for the desired nightgown. "No, no, no, the blue, the blue..." she muttered, propelling Elphaba to cock an eyebrow.
"Am I to discern from what I've overheard that you packed more than one nightgown?"
Glinda sniffed defensively, pulling the neatly folded nightgown of powder blue out and unfolding it. "Only three, as that's the length of time I thought our travel would take. As it was, I didn't mind having to re-wear them on the journey back, but had I known it would take more than a week..." She sighed, slipping the nightgown on over her head. The white frills at the neckline were more than a little ridiculous, she knew, but they would surely keep her neck warm.
Elphaba looked at her and said, "You resemble a head bobbing up and down in the froth of the ocean." She imagined. She herself would not go near it.
"And you resemble a wicked, stealthy character," replied Glinda, referring to Elphaba's dark hooded cloak.
"Ah, perhaps I am."
Having cleared the bed of their possessions, Glinda hesitantly lifted the cover of sunshine and slipped under it, distaste marring her delicate features as she scooted toward the wall and placed her head delicately on top of the pillow. "Is there no fire in here? Come, I'll let you share my bed," she teased. "It's the least I can do."
"You rest," said Elphaba, curling up in the chair. "I'll do fine here."
Glinda did her finest imitation of a scowl. "Mustn't have you staring at me the entire night – no, it's no good."
Elphaba chuckled. "My resemblance to a wicked, stealthy character is frightening you, I see. No, I had not planned on staring at you the entire night; I had planned on reading—"
Glinda cut her off. "You'd have to read without candlelight for I'm asking you to put it out. Your eyes will become strained and you'll never read again."
"I'll risk it," replied Elphaba with more than a small amount of amusement in her tone.
"I'm cold."
"Oh, fine, you bothersome..." She trailed off, standing from her chair and putting out the light. In the dark, she undressed and redressed in what seemed like hours to a shivering Glinda, who found that the blanket was too short and made her feet jut out the other end. Finally, the bed creaked and Elphaba slid in a bit, and stayed so close to the end of the bed that Glinda feared she might topple over it in her sleep so she said pitifully, "Still cold!" and Elphaba crept closer to her, and they met in the middle of the bed and a bit of her lovely, peculiar hair found its way into Glinda's mouth.
"Good-night, Elphie," said Glinda to Elphaba's back, pulling the hair out of her mouth and snuggling against the long, bony body next to her. It smelled good, of nothing sweet or flowery, but good all the same.
"Good-night, Glinda," replied Elphaba to the dark, but she did not sleep. She lay awake and protected Glinda. She listened to the beds creak in surrounding rooms and listened to the wind whistle and could not discern exactly what she felt she was protecting Glinda from, but only knew that she was.
It seemed hours later, then, when Glinda had kicked her enough times to make Elphaba want to remove herself from the bed, or better, kick her back, when Glinda awoke. Elphaba, who was facing the middle of the bed now, watching her tumultuous roommate kick around, watched her head suddenly raise, mussed blonde ringlets flailing about her head, a rosy flush capturing her cheeks. She breathed heavily.
"Where!" cried Glinda.
"Here," said Elphaba soothingly. "Back to sleep with you." She stroked Glinda's hair as Glinda wrapped her arms about Elphaba's bony frame and nestled her head against the scratchy material of her nightgown-clad arm.
"Cold," mumbled Glinda against the arm and Elphaba replied that shh, it was rather cold and to go to sleep. The Gillikin girl drifted off to sleep and the wind shook the walls.
On the second day, Glinda secured a seat that faced forward in the carriage and even let Elphaba have the window seat this time, although she pretended that she had been dealt an unlucky hand of cards and was discontent in her misfortunes. The wind was horrid that day and whistled songs that Glinda could not decipher.
"I wonder about them," she said very suddenly, turning to Elphaba. "And how they made off at the Philosophy Club that night." She was eager for conversation, as the previous day had been so devoid of it.
But Elphaba had drifted off to sleep, Elphaba her protector and Glinda tried her best to do the same and reciprocate the protection. The dark head tilted toward her and rested on her shoulder and Glinda smelled the hair, which still smelled very good.
One of their carriage companions looked vaguely familiar as though he might have been from Frottica or the like, as he was most assuredly a Gillikin. Although he did not seem to recognize her in the least, he studied her intensely and handsome though he was, he was not so handsome that Glinda would allow his eyes to devour her so. She was ready to say something when she realized that it was not she whom he was staring at, but Elphaba and his eyes roved her skin as narrow slits, his lip curling in distaste.
"Sir," said Glinda evenly as possible. "You are staring, and it is impossibly rude."
The man scowled and glared, but did stop staring. And there, Glinda felt she'd done her best job at protecting.
Elphaba awoke around mid-afternoon and yawned and was grouchy with sleep for the first few moments of conversation before she became talkative and charming (in her own way) again. That night was a new inn (The Easy Burrow) in a new room that was very similar to the last room.
On the third day, it rained, beginning in the afternoon as a light sprinkle that Glinda watched over the top of Elphaba's sleeping head out the window of the carriage as the lush landscape passed by leisurely. Elphaba, who had fallen asleep against Glinda's shoulder but had later moved to being curled up against the window, awoke with a jump at being face-to-face with a rather steady (at this point) stream of rain, and it took her moments to realize that the rain was indeed outside.
"You frightened bird," said Glinda affectionately. "We should arrive in an hour's time."
"It will let up by then, I think," said Elphaba, but she was wrong and the rain only came down harder as the day progressed, nearly physically thumbing its nose at Elphaba who stared out the window in what Glinda could almost swear to be a pout. Today's inn had the very funny misfortune of being called The Rain Cloud to which Glinda remarked "Dreary!" as she helped swaddle Elphaba up in her cloak and then added her own coat for good measure. She ran into the inn, coatless and carrying all their belongings. Commiserating over the loss of her lovely blonde curls as the rain hit them, she watched Elphaba bound as quickly as she could toward the inn, avoiding puddles. Inside, she helped the Munchkinlander remove her things and took them, making sure to not let the wet materials touch her.
"It is rather fitting that I should start to share your disdain for water," said Glinda as they ate, "for, look what it has done to my hair."
Elphaba, bless her, was in a rare mood that allowed for her to not mock or tease, but to instead silently and sympathetically nod in agreement. They ate their meals and were full and Glinda even tried to cajole her friend into having some of her share, as Elphaba was looking even narrower than usual. Elphaba declined, though, and could not apparently go an entire day without a mocking remark because she said, "If you can magick up another sandwich, I'll eat it, but I daresay they might throw us out if they see you exploding their food."
Glinda grumbled and looked offended, but had the presence of mind to not mention that she could only levitate sandwiches on very, very good days and that conjuring was far beyond her.
The trek up to their room had Elphaba into another of her ranting moods. "It becomes clearer and clearer that we are getting closer to the Emerald City."
"Does it?" asked Glinda, wondering if perhaps the air became greener the closer you got to it.
"There are less Animals at every stop, do you notice?"
Glinda, who had not noticed, nodded and tsked that it was a shame.
"I've counted only one here, that Tsebra huddled in the back, frightened of anyone even seeing him, much less sharing a meal with him. And what room will he get? There are worse ones than this one, I'm sure," she gestured to the tiny room she had just unlocked, as they walked in, "and he'll be the one to get it."
"You talk much, Elphie," said Glinda tiredly as she collapsed on the bed. "But I don't think I'd see you giving up this room, horrid as it is, if that Tsebra were to ask for it."
"I don't envy his position and I would not trade positions with him. I shouldn't have to. He should be offered the same things as anyone."
"Well—" And here Glinda shrieked as the window above the bed burst open with the force of wind and she was sprayed with rain. Elphaba jumped backward, moving herself to the far corner of the room as Glinda jumped onto the bed and closed the window. "It's all right," she said. "I've locked it now." Climbing off the bed, she shook her head. "The pillow and sheets are all wet, though."
"They can join our things," said Elphaba, pointing to where they'd strung a line from the door to the window and hung their wet clothing on. "If you don't mind sleeping without a pillowcase or sheets."
"I do mind, thank you," said Glinda. "We'll simply ask for another room, as it is not our fault that they do not think to lock their windows."
But the inn would not provide another room and so Glinda hung up the wet bed clothing and changed into her nightgown, sitting up on the stripped bed. She folded her knees up to her chest and rested her chin upon them, vowing not to sleep until their sheets were dry. "We'll both sleep in the carriage tomorrow."
"The mattress is probably, truth be told, a lot cleaner than those sheets anyway," said Elphaba, who would not stray near the window for fear that it might burst open again.
"I'll not sleep on this scratchy mattress," Glinda said resolutely and that was that. "Oh, you silly thing, come over here. I've locked the window and it won't open again."
"You only say that because it hasn't proven otherwise," said Elphaba idly, lingering near the door. "Once it does open and we're splattered with rain, you won't be so quick to say so." She did not say this fearfully, although Glinda knew that fear was most likely the ruling emotion. Seeing Elphaba show a weakness was one of those rare fascinating sights that she found odd with their intensity. Singularly strange, even, to want to protect and comfort someone who was so invariably frustrating. There were times, though, when Elphaba seemed vulnerable and weak and she was beautiful.
"Er..." said Glinda, feeling very inarticulate suddenly. She looked around the room, the barren walls. The Rain Cloud didn't bother with the formalities of putting up a cheery portrait. The still silence in the room was loud, but louder were the grunts and moans in the surrounding rooms, the beds creaking, the walls thumping. Glinda blushed and try as she might to avoid Elphaba's gaze, she did notice that the green girl was blushing as well, her cheeks dissolving into a darker shade of green.
"I think I'll change," said Elphaba awkwardly and did so, changing into her drab nightgown. Glinda averted her eyes in courtesy. After a few moments, she stood, moving toward the line. The groans next door were louder and louder.
"The sheets are only a bit damp now," she said, "and the pillowcase is dry."
Elphaba nodded.
Glinda paced back toward the bed. "If we were at Shiz right now, we'd be sleeping."
"Certainly not. We'd be studying."
"You'd be studying. I'd be—"
"Exploding sandwiches?"
"Meditating," she huffed. "Oh! It's irritating!" she cried, referring to the sounds coming from next door.
"Do you suppose they'd respond to some loud knocking and a very friendly plea to keep it down?" wondered Elphaba.
"I don't care to find out," said Glinda. "Come sit with me."
This time Elphaba agreed and the two of them sat on the mattress together. Glinda's nightgown tonight was of a light sea foam color, made of floaty almost translucent material that was solid enough to cover things, but see-through enough to have Elphaba catch herself studying her friend's legs. It was not that she had not seen them before; certainly, she had, but they had never been quite so close.
"What shall we do to pass the time?" asked Glinda suddenly, startling Elphaba out of thoughts that she didn't particularly want to be having in the first place. "I only wish I had thought to bring curlers, but not having known that the rain should choose to be so detestable, I didn't think to."
"You exhibit limited amounts of foresight," said Elphaba gravely.
"I'm not sure what you mean by that. You can watch me comb my hair, I suppose, or – in fact, we can share secrets."
"We could," she replied, "but wouldn't it be just as easy not to?"
"Oh, don't be silly!" Glinda folded her legs underneath herself and bounced a bit on the bed. "Just tell me one of your favorite secrets and I promise, valiantly, to never reveal it to anyone for as long as I remain alive."
"I have no secrets."
"Nonsense. Fine, I'll go first. I was summarily besotted with Tibbett for a short while. Now, you."
"Tibbett?"
"For a short, forgettable fortnight. I forgot that he isn't the least bit charming. It's your turn."
"Glinda," said an impatient Elphaba. "I haven't any secrets."
"Of course you do. You can confess your long time infatuation with Boq or –"
"What?"
"I'd rather you didn't confess that one, you know, as I already know it."
Elphaba clucked her tongue and stood from the bed, stalking toward a dingy armchair on the other side of the room and flopping down into it. "I assure you, I do not nor have I ever harbored any infatuation with Boq, really, of all people."
"Elphie!" cried Glinda, flitting across the room to perch on the arm of the chair. "It's all right—"
"Whatever would give you this ridiculous idea?"
"Oh, I don't know, it just seemed rather obvious with the way you mother him and all..." Glinda crossed her legs primly, looking down at Elphaba from where she sat in the armchair. "He's really not all so bad, you know, and he doesn't seem to want me anymore. I'd say he's a fine kisser, as well, you know."
If Elphaba were prone to horrified shock, her facial expression may have reflected that, but as it was her eyebrows did shoot up in mild surprise. "You've kissed him?"
"Yes, once – or rather, he kissed me." Noticing Elphaba's frown, Glinda smiled. "You do like him, for where else would this jealous scowl finds its source? There's no need, of course, it was that one summer that you came uninvited to Pfannee's, and it didn't mean a thing."
Elphaba swallowed. Why was she jealous? She certainly had no feelings for Boq, of that she was sure, but there was this tight, coiled sensation in the pit of her belly that made her skin burn and that she could only label jealousy. Perhaps it was just the idea of it, of two people that she did hold a very strong affection for sharing something and not telling her about it. For, if she were to think very hard on it, Glinda and Boq were easily her closest friends and the ones she told most things to, if she had anything worth telling. She supposed it was just the idea that she hadn't known. That must have been it.
Clearing her head of thoughts, she said, "I was invited," quickly and then dissolved into silence.
"Let us not quibble upon minutiae at the present," said Glinda dramatically. Oh, sure, she adored Glinda. She loved her, in fact, and had told this to Boq, and there was a part of her that wanted nothing but to protect Glinda and care for Glinda and watch Glinda grow and change and think. She was not, though, in love with Glinda and she knew this for certain.
So, if her mind could kindly stop talking all over itself on the subject, it would be nice.
Elphaba put a finger to her temple and sighed. "I don't like Boq. Not in anyway more than a good friend."
Glinda shrugged, her formerly-carefully-curled-but-now-only-falling-in-waves hair bouncing at the shoulders. "Have it your way," she said, doing a top-notch imitation of a girl who didn't care much and was only looking for gossip, masking the unfailing relief she found at Elphaba's insistence. "Then you've still got to tell me something."
"Oh, fine," huffed Elphaba. "I... I was interested in going to the Philosophy Club that night."
"So was I," said Glinda, "but that was merely the champagne. I'm not interested in what goes on there, all the..." She blushed suddenly. "Well, you know."
"Sex."
"I wasn't going to say it," mumbled Glinda.
"Precisely why I did. You can't say that you've never..." And she suddenly appeared to blush. "Or, perhaps, it's none of my business."
Glinda flushed so ridiculously that she clashed with her nightgown, which only made Elphaba feel worse. The green girl cleared her throat. "Sorry."
"I've never," said Glinda honestly.
"Oh!" Elphaba felt light-headed. "The sheets look dry."
Glinda bounded off the bed, relief in her step. She grabbed ahold of the hanging sheets and nodded. "Yes, they are. Help me put them on."
Inexplicably speechless, Elphaba nodded mutely and stood. They re-dressed the bed and put out the lights and they were silent, but the inn was still filled with sex and the situation was all the more uncomfortable and Glinda slid into the bed and Elphaba slid in next to her and Glinda said, "Good-night," and the woman next door seemed to finish, rather loudly, that is.
"Good-night," said Elphaba hoarsely. She moved her arm around Glinda's shoulders and Glinda snuggled in against her body, as this had become their normal sleeping position what with the smallness of the bed and the general cold weather. The storm crashed loudly, drowning out the sounds of the inn, and Glinda jumped a little and snuggled in closer.
"That wretched storm," she mumbled.
"It's all right," murmured Elphaba, trying to shove down her own mind-numbing fear of the storm. "I'm right here."
"Yes, you are," said Glinda slowly. She yawned and then peered up at her roomie with bleary eyes. "Good-night, you lovely creature." She yawned again and drifted off to sleep and Elphaba felt her heart or whatever it was that beat in her chest so maddeningly loud sort of melt and settle into her stomach, which clenched as it turned over and over.
She swallowed hard.
It was no good, really. It was no good to be in love with one's best friend.