Lancre Liaison
A wholly non-canon, also Discworld non-Agatean-Barking-Dog tale fragment.
Discworld, Nanny Ogg, (C) of course the late and great Terry Pratchett. I met him once, Glasgow Worldcon 1995 - he wanted to sell me a hat. I should have bought it.
Sophie Rawlinson, Mrs Smith-Rhodes-Stibbons (C) "A.E. Pessimal". Character and story actually used with permission. Golly.
Nanny Ogg, despite her many, many years on the Disc, had never been one to claim she had 'seen it all now.' She recalled far too many people saying that (a few witches amongst them) who had soon discovered the world had saved up a surprising amount of brand new 'all' waiting to jump out at them.
Nor was she fanatical about tradition. True, it had very rarely been seen (and never in public) for an older witch to serve a younger one tea - indeed, that was what younger witches were For. But today was proving an exceptional day, and exceptional measures were called for.
"You'd best get that inside you," she said kindly, passing Sophie Rawlinson a mug of witch standard tea (strong, three sugars) and adding a tot of scumble to her own. It was not a cold enough day here in Lancre to really call for it, but around the Hub there were acres and acres of ice and local witches out in it somewhere, so Solidarity with them would be a good thing. "And then I s'pose we might have a very interestin' little chat, just you and me." She gave a fruity chuckle. "'Cos it's only a chat if it goes both ways, and it'll be next Spring afore we hear from the third of us here. Though I shouldn't wonder if he's listenin' right now." Her eyes dropped to glance knowingly at Sophie's midriff.
"You know?" Sophie checked herself, and took a deep breath. "Silly question. If there's anyone on the Disc who'd know, it's you."
Nanny Ogg nodded reflectively, slipping an extra tot of scumble into her tea . "Bein' a midwife don't start with 'come quick the baby's a-comin.' As you knows. And I've seen That Look on that many girls since afore your grandmother was born. I have to say - I've never in years sen it on a witch."
"You've a big family yourself," Sophie protested. "Some witches do. Look at Queen Magrat!"
"Ar." Nanny Ogg nodded. "But it's not the 'blushing bride knows it's time to decorate the nursery and start knitting.' look. More like the 'How on the Disc could this happen - to Me?' And that, me gal, is a thing I very rarely sees on a witch." She sat back, and loaded her pipe with evil-smelling tobacco (at least, Mostly tobacco), and waited patiently.
Had Lancre reached the cultural stage of advertising posters, Sophie would have been an excellent poster-child illustrating the terms 'sensible' and 'practical.' 'Flighty' and 'careless' were definitely not in the mix. If she was ever expected to be married it was to her work, by all accounts - no mere man was ever likely to compete with her Horse Witch vocation.
She sat up straight, and looked the senior witch in the eyes. "I know it's rare for us to have a Surprise like this. Not just because of all the herb-lore we know, either. What a Witch doesn't want to happen - plain doesn't."
"Me thoughts exactly. Some of 'em." Nanny Ogg nodded encouragingly. "So, are you planning to marry your young gentleman?"
Sophie smiled, blushing - and she was far from the easy-blushing type. "I think I might have problems if I wanted to find a priest. A regular wedding ceremony would be - difficult."
"Witches don't stand much on ceremony, if it don't suit," Nanny Ogg pointed out, gesturing with her pipe stem. "True enough, last two weddings o' mine I invited the local priest of Io - but only as a courtesy, mind. An eyebrow rose. "Have I met this young gent yet?"
"Oh yes. Many times." Sophie said eagerly. "You were most impressed." She faltered. "I want to get married. For the sake of our... um, child. Though if he takes after his father at all, it's going to be jolly obvious. Might as well have the wedding out in public."
Although advanced 'book-larnin' let alone book-keeping had never been high on Nanny Ogg's extensive list of talents, she could add two and two together perfectly well. Multiplication was a natural gift of hers, for that matter. She nodded, grinning. "I think I know the very impressive gentleman you means." She paused. "These things do happen in Lancre, if not so much as folk in Ank-Morpork thinks. And when a witch deep down really wants somethin' to happen, it generally does. 'Specially if there's magic on both sides of the family." She pulled at her pipe ruminatively. "And next to how the first of your young gent's kin came to be, made from the spilled blood of a medusa, this is... everyday stuff."
"I didn't think I could," Sophie said, relief in her voice. "But I.. wished."
"Ah." Nanny Ogg looked Sophie up and down appraisingly. A very solid gel, muscular, wide hips - she'd need all that - but even so, there were limits. Her inner midwife fought back a shudder at some of the less happy possibilities there. "What I'm curious about is - how?"
Sophie blushed for about the second time that year. "You know Mrs Smith-Rhodes-Stibbons' collecting device? And how we use it to - try and spread out the Pegasus stock over a lot more mares than we could without it? Sometimes I've got flighty, nervous young mares. I don't want them to panic, thinking I'm going to hurt them. It didn't seem right, when I look into their eyes, unless..."
"I gets the picture." Nanny Ogg relaxed, grinning, thankfull she had decided to stay around these extra years. There was much still to see on the old Disc yet. Sophie was a good girl, she decided. After all, nothing could calm a worried mare down better than a feminine Horse Whisper of 'This won't hurt a bit. Believe me. I KNOW."
End