AN:

Wow, looks like splitting the chapter was a wise decision after all... Man, I should totally stop guessing, estimating, or predicting the length of my chapters, let alone the length of my stories. I totally suck at it xD

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Guest: Thanks so much for reading and reviewing again! I

Well, some explanations are included in this chapter, and I hope they are good enough for you - and everyone else for that matter.

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Aaaaanyway... So here is the least instalment of the "legend" part of the story. There's still the epilogue, which I'll write as soon as I finished my upcoming assignments, and that's it then. So yeah, here you go!

Happy reading!

xxx MLE :3

Crossroads

She rode hard for about half a day, until she found herself struggling to remain in the saddle. The events of the past forty-eight hours were finally catching up with her, and drained of all physical and mental strength, she had no choice but to seek a resting place for the night. The next town was just far enough away from her father's castle to provoke the hope that no one would recognise her there. At the gate, the warden grouchily demanded ten guilders from her, but when she gave him twelve, and enquired about directions to the best accommodations in town, his face brightened, and his deformed mouth twisted into something that almost resembled a smile. He advised against staying at the Sleepy Shrew, although it was the closest inn, and Galynda clearly was in dire need of a bed. Instead, he told her that the Brittle Barn – despite its name - was a real insider tip, and the stomping ground of any local who knew good food and wine. She didn't care much about the food, or the wine at that point, but since the place also appeared to be safer, she decided that is was worth the effort of finding her way through the more hidden streets and alleyways.

Once she had dismounted, the stable hand asked for her horse's reins. She hesitated for a moment, unsure where he would take the stallion, but also unwilling to part from the only friend that was left to her in this unfriendly world. Mauve briefly sniffed her bag, seemingly looking for treats, and when he couldn't find any, he tucked on the lead, stretching his elegant, long neck to see if the young man with the pitchfork might have anything for him. Galynda chuckled a little. Her worries slightly alleviated, she handed over the reins, and quickly scratched her horse's withers before turning towards the door.

After she had entered, the man at the counter continued to watch the entrance expectantly, as though he was assuming that someone else would follow her inside. The petite woman cleared her voice, and noisily dumped her bag onto the wooden tabletop.

"I'm looking for a room for tonight. Nothing too fancy, if you please. I still have a long way to go, and so does my money."

"Oh… yes, of course," the man muttered, and offered her a nonplussed sort of smile. Frowning, he leaved through his books. "I'm afraid, we're almost fully booked, my lady. If you wish to stay the night, you may choose between the barn and the Lakeview Suite.

Galynda scowled a little at being addressed as something she no longer was, but let the matter slide. The limited choice of accommodation was actually of much greater concern. She really didn't mind the idea of sleeping on a bed of hey. If she was honest, she might even have preferred the odd familiarity and the proximity to Mauve. On the other hand, she was quite certain that this option was merely meant as a jest, and that the innkeep did not truly intend to allow a young lady (without the company of a chaperon at that) to rest with the horses and rats. She sighed quietly, and nodded.

"Well, I'm tired, and as I won't have enough time to spare and enjoy the wonderful view, I very much hope that at least the bed will be worth its coin."

The man's tortured expression widened into a big grin.

"I guarantee you; you will never have slept better in your entire life. Our beds are well made, and our pillows and duvets are the softest, plushest in all of Gillikin.

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, and mastering a fleeting smile instead, she fished for her wallet. Once she had paid, the innkeep stepped out from behind his counter, and led her upstairs. She didn't bother undressing, or even washing her face. Closing the shutters was all she could manage before falling into the generously sized bed.

Waking up what felt like days later, she experienced a sense of disorientation for a moment. Her tired mind had neglected recording many details of the previous night, and so it took her a little while to piece together the events that had brought her to this place, and into this cosy bed.

"Good morning," she yawned, rubbing the slight bump of her abdomen gently. Then, she dragged herself out of the bed, clumsily stumbling to the next window. With the shutters closed, she wasn't able to tell whether it was night, or day, but as soon as she threw them open, bright light flooded the room, blinding her in the process. She blinked at the glaring sunlight reflecting off the lake, lying peacefully just a few yards away from the town wall. Turning around to preserve her eyesight, she gasped at the sheer size of the room she was currently occupying. It took up at least half of the entire east wing's first floor. Such exorbitance! Being reminded this rudely of the ridiculous amount of money she had had to fork out for this suite, Galynda almost felt dizzy. Her hands flying up to massage her temples, she exhaled noisily, and sat down on the nearby settee.

After a quick clean-up and a very necessary change of clothes, she made her way down to the tavern. Up until later in the afternoon, the area was reserved for guests staying at the inn, yet as the house was full, the dining hall was equally busy. For a moment, the young woman stood in the door, watching the other guests. In vain, she tried to search for an empty table. There were plenty of vacant chairs, of course, but she simply didn't wish to be forced into any conversations with whatever strangers she happened to share table and bread with. She was already about to turn around and forget about breakfast, when she spotted six surprisingly familiar faces.

Her eyes narrowed, and her hands clenched into fists. She could have fled then, but that idea didn't even cross her mind. Her plan was quite the opposite, in fact; with a determined nod to herself, she strode across the hall, until she stood right in front of the men's table.

"Good morning, gentlemen," she greeted them politely, yet with an undertone they were sure not to miss.

One looked up to her, and did a double take. When his comrades picked up on his somewhat stuttered reply, they also craned their heads to look at her, each more perplexed then the other.

"Would you mind offering a lady a seat?"

They exchanged looks, and a man with a grey beard, who looked to be the oldest among them, motioned for one of his fellows to move his knapsack so that Galynda could sit down.

"I apologise for our manners, my lady. I suppose, you caught us on the wrong foot there. May I ask what brings you here -" he cocked his head to see behind her, scratching his head when he confirmed the absence of a travel companion "- all by yourself?"

"I was told that you are in possession of something very dear to me." The men furrowed their brows, and Galynda went on to explain. "My father had no right to give you that book."

"You came all the way to retrieve it? How did you even find us?"

The blonde's lips twitched into a smirk.

"The book. It reached out for me, and I merely had to follow its call."

She could have sworn that at least one of the, oh so brave, men shuddered at that, and the young lad next to her shuffled a couple of inches away from her, causing her to laugh heartily, if only on the inside.

The older man cleared his voice.

"Be that as it may, we received the book as a part of our payment, and we are not going to give it up so easily."

"You are planning to sell it, no? Mhm… how amateurish of you, trying to trade something you know nothing about. How will you even set a price?"

"And you know so much more about this demonic thing?" a chap sitting in the opposite corner piped up.

"I know that as the former owner's widow of sorts, such an heirloom should rightly be passed down to me. Yet I already see, there is no reasoning with unsympathetic souls, such as yourselves. But I will make you an offer: I reimburse you for your loss. Let's say, four hundred guilders?"

Most of the men exchanged unsure looks, but the grey beard only laughed.

"Nice try. But perhaps you're right. If you're willing to part with two hundred guilders more, we're in business."

"Four hundred and fifty, and you are rid of me. Otherwise, I might have to follow you around for as long as the book remains in your hands."

"And why in Oz, would we mind?"

She casually tossed a blonde curl over her shoulder, and fixed the man with an inauspicious glare.

"Because I will make sure that you will never find a buyer for it."

Shaking his head, the old man stroked his chin.

"Five hundred and fifty. That's my last offer."

Galynda released a frustrated huff, mentally counting the money left in her purse. Five hundred and fifty guilders for the Grimmerie would leave her with no more than thirty guilders to live off for however long it would take until she could find a way to earn more. The man was driving a damn hard bargain, but the book was invaluable to her.

"Deal," she finally announced, adopting an air of false confidence. "I take it the book is in your room?"

"No, it's right here." The young man next to her patted the bag on his lap.

She cursed her sluggish brain for not thinking of this earlier. If she had simply approached them quietly, snatched the bag, and run away, there might have been a good chance that they would never have caught her.

"But we won't conclude such a deal in public, of course," the older one of the men interrupted her wild thoughts. Let us share the meal, and then I will show you upstairs to our humble accommodation."

She nodded slowly, warily.

"Naturally, breakfast's on us," the man in the corner snickered, and winked at her.

The exchange of money and book went without a hitch, and with the Grimmerie in her bag, Galynda left the small town, her only goal to get as far away from her former home as possible.

She didn't get too far, however, as after only a mile, or two, the sky suddenly decided to pour all the water in Oz on her. Frustrated, she turned her horse around, and rode back. The warden at the gate almost demanded another ten guilders off her, but then recognised her face, and remembering her generosity the day before, he opened the battered oaken door for the drenched young woman. Finding refuge under the protruding roof of a tiny chapel, she rubbed her cold arms for some minimal comfort. Being back in the town was all well and good, but where was she going to stay now? Her funds had melted like snow in spring, and another night at an inn was no longer within her meagre budget.

Studying the mossy walls of the chapel, she wondered whether there was a convent nearby that offered a cot and a bowl of gruel to those in need. Indeed, she found such a building, though she wouldn't have recognised it as such if it hadn't been for a group of maunts filing out of the backdoor of the chapel, and hurrying inside the austere, one-story brick building right next to it. Hopeful, she, too, scampered through the rain, and caught the last maunt, just before she could close the door on her. She briefly described her situation, but the elderly woman, scrutinising her critically the entire time she spoke, had no sympathy for her.

"We reserve our hospitality for those in dire need. Seeing the cloth you wear and the horse you ride, you clearly do not qualify," she spat. "Be ashamed for yourself, asking for things you could easily afford yourself. Every meal you scavenge from fleeceable folks is a meal that might cost a truly poor man's life. Have a good day."

Just like this, the door was slammed shut. Galynda remained standing in the pouring rain, staring at it. The maunt's words had struck a chord within her, and she suddenly felt guilty. At the same time, she knew that she wasn't pretending. She actually did need help, even if she didn't look it.

She jumped, when a warm hand touched her wet, cold arm.

"Poor thing," a stout brunette cooed several times, moving up and down her arm, until she finally contented herself with patting her hand.

Galynda watched her with raised eyebrows, trying to think of one good reason why she shouldn't pull her hand away.

"Excuse me," she said tentatively, and the woman removed one of her hands to push her spectacles up her nose.

"You poor thing," she repeated one last time, her expression not only compassionate, but almost heartbroken. "Heartless old hag that one. Or maybe only blind." Her eyes fell onto Galynda's abdomen. "Come, dearie, my house is just around the corner."

She wrapped her arms around the younger woman's shoulders, and gently, yet firmly guided her across the street. During their short walk she began to talk almost incessantly. All Galynda could remember afterwards, was that her name was Ralda. Mauve followed them, shaking off the water every few steps. When they arrived at the narrow brick house, two shaggy ponies greeted them with noisy whinnies. Simply tied to a sturdy fence, they, too, were dripping with rainwater, but hardly seemed to care.

"I hope these aren't mares," Galynda said, worriedly turning around to her stallion. The spoiled steed looked hesitant, apparently not approving of the accommodation awaiting him.

"No need to worry. The fat white one is Yolly, and the tiny roan is Rolly. They are our two Munchkin geldings. We also have bigger horses. My husband's brother is a breeder, you know? But they are all grazing out of town, of course. We just like to keep the little ones close. They are so handy, and barely take up any space. And when I go out to sell my products, I let them do all the carrying and pulling."

"So you're a merchant?" Galynda asked, and the woman laughed.

"Not exactly. I'd call myself an opportunist."

The blonde tilted her head.

"I see. Well, thank you for offering your hospitality. But if I may be so bold, I would like to ask for just one last favour."

"Sure, what is it, darling?"

"You don't happen to have a thick blanket for my horse? He isn't used to such adverse conditions."

"No, I can see that," Ralda commented amused, watching the large, grey horse shiver. "What a big namby-pamby palfrey! Well, we have just the right place for him. Come along, at the back of the house there's a nice, dry stall."

Galynda and Mauve were led to a wooden shed. There were two stalls, and one was already occupied by another horse – one that immediately caught the younger woman's eye.

"I know this horse!" she exclaimed without thinking, staring open-mouthed at the heavy piebald Glikkun Dray."

"You do?" The woman blinked surprised.

"Yes. Yes, I do. I-I met this witch in Munchkinland. She gave me a ride with her caravan. This is her horse, I'm sure."

Comprehension dawned on her host, and she merrily clapped her hands.

"Oh! So you met ol' mother Hex! Yes, that's what we call her here. A most peculiar character, she is, but she leaves us alone, so we leave her alone."

"So she lives here?"

Galynda remembered the day the two of them had parted ways as thought it had been yesterday. The ancient crone had mentioned something about living nearby, and thinking back now, the blonde could not fathom, why she had never considered looking for her. She didn't know how much help the old woman would be, as events had already taken such an unfortunate turn. But surely she would be able to provide her with some answers. Now that she had realised the possibility, Galynda was dying to learn more about what had happened to her, and maybe even Aelphaba.

"Oh please, tell me where I can find the witch," she begged, enthusiastically grabbing the other woman's hands. "I need to see her immediately. I have urgent matters to discuss with her."

"I'm sorry, cupcake, but I'm afraid she is away again, plying her trade up and down the country. She does have a small shop here, but she only tends to it when she feels like it."

Her budding hope shattered all too quickly, Galynda let her shoulders slump.

"How is she going anywhere without her horse," she mumbled, carelessly waving her hand at the black and white horse in the stall.

"Well, if you'd just look a little closer, you will see that this horse is a female, and in foal. This is why we keep her close to home."

"Oh." Galynda blushed at her foolishness.

"The witch's horse is a gelding as you might have noticed," Ralda grinned. "But I wouldn't fault you. In fact, she is his sister, and judging by their looks they even could be twins. Only she was born two years after him. We own the dam, and my husband's brother bred the sire."

The blonde only nodded mutely. If she was honest, she didn't quite care about the horse's pedigree. Once the excitement over almost finding the witch had faded, the cold had returned, and she began to tremble like a leaf. She needn't say anything, as her host noticed soon enough, and apologised for getting carried away. They prepared the second stall for Mauve, adding some fresh straw to the old bedding, and placing some hay into the manger.

Finally inside, Galynda met the woman's husband and their domestic aid Caya, an elderly Horse. Galynda found it strange at first that the couple kept horses, as well as a Horse, but at the same time, she supposed that it was also oddly fitting. She herself had never dealt much with Animals, and quietly wondered whether Caya could talk to the ponies and the piebald mare and maybe Mauve as well. She never asked though, too scared to come across as stupid, or even offensive.

After one night, Troomph, the husband, wanted her gone. It wasn't anything personal, he explained to her, but with winter approaching fast, he had to start planning on how to feed his own during the cold and fruitless season. Not in the least ready to be once again on her own, Galynda offered to trade her few belongings for a prolonged stay. Although rather grudgingly, he accepted the more luxurious of her dresses as payment for another two months.

After this period had also passed, her situation had hardly improved. She had tried so very hard to find work in town to support herself, but no one wanted to employ a stranger – and a pregnant one at that. Resigned, she began to prepare her bag for another lonely trip on her search for a new place to stay.

As it happened, Troomph's brother came over for dinner that night. She had met him a couple of times before. First, when the Glikkun Draft foal was born, and then again when he came around to shoe the ponies' hooves. This time, the reason for his visit was less apparent, until he made Galynda a difficult offer.

"I own a modest dwelling in town," he explained as he helped himself to a generous helping of Sunday roast. "It used to be my father's shop, but it could just as well be used for residential purposes."

Although Galynda was unsure why the man eyed her so intently while talking about his property, an uncomfortable feeling began to upset her still empty stomach.

"I've heard that you need a place to stay," she said, finally coming to the meat of the matter. "I've also heard that you don't have any money, but quite frankly, you're sitting on a real asset without even making good use of it."

The young woman paused, placing the spoon of food back onto the plate. Her face tilted down, and chewing her lip, she wearily watched him through her thin fringe.

"What exactly are you talking about?"

"I've seen your stallion. He's quite a sight for sore eyes. If you'd sell him, you'd have enough money for your own place, and for the winter."

"No," Galynda replied flatly. Clearly, this was not an option - or at least she wished it didn't have to be. However, after a lengthy discussion that lasted until late in the night, the deal was struck. Many a tear was spilled in the dark once she had reached the safety of her tiny room. The next morning, she rushed down the stairs, and to Mauve's stall. She hugged him, and kissed his soft nose, her cheeks still glistening from the salty tracks that were evidence of her terrible night.

"I'm so sorry, so, so sorry," she whispered over and over again, bestowing the stallion with more kisses and little touches.

Troomph's brother came to pick him up around noon, bringing with him the key to her now home. As she watched him mount the horse that was no longer hers, a few more tears rolled over her red face. Trying to swallow them, she patted her round belly. She had done the right thing. Not so much for herself, but for her child.

Ralda insisted on helping her with the move – which really wasn't too big a task, considering her meagre pile of possessions – and more importantly, with making the small house liveable. Entrusted with some of Galynda's money, the older woman procured a few essentials, such as new linen and a set of pots. Many other items were already included in the bargain, but needed a good cleaning after slumbering under a thick layer of dust for several long years. Before she bid her goodbye in the evening, Ralda surprised Galynda with a bassinet one of the neighbours had donated. All in all, things went quite well, and if the sale of her beloved horse wouldn't have been nagging her conscience so constantly, she surely would have been at least somewhat cheerful.

Her mood did improve, however, when one morning, urgent rapping on her window ripped her from her dreams.

"She's here, she's back!" Ralda exclaimed, when the young woman, still rubbing her eyes, opened the door.

"She? Who?"

But Ralda didn't get a chance to clarify, since Galynda's mind quickly put one and one together: it was the witch; the witch had finally returned. She thanked her friend for the news, and quickly scurried to her bedroom to pull on her day dress. Of course, she already long knew where the witch's business was located, and she even knew the fastest route. Despite her anything but efficient waddling gate and her terribly aching back, it took her less than ten minutes to arrive at the bizarre chemist-fortune telling-magic shop. She ripped open the door with all her might, and the delightful ring of a silver bell that was attached to it announced her visit.

Initially, the witch didn't bother to look up, or even greet her potential customer. Jotting down some notes on yellowed sheets of paper, she acted as though she were too busy to give anyone the time of day. Galynda waited impatiently a few feet away, struggling to feign a calm exterior. On their trip from Munchkinland to Gillikin, she had spent enough time with the eccentric, old woman to know that the witch's time was hers alone to command. Any form of pestering, no matter how subtle, would ultimately only prolong her waiting. It almost seemed like a test of character, or perhaps, a demonstration of dominance. Only when the witch deemed her opposite worthy, she slowly put down her quill, and lifted her chin, squinting to recognise the figure in the distance.

Understanding the gesture as her cue to approach, Galynda tentatively stepped closer, until the crone's sparse eyebrows rose high on her forehead.

"What a surprise to see you here, poppet," she greeted the younger woman in her usual creaky voice. She almost seemed delighted, until her eyes fell on Galynda's abdomen. "I don't deal with these sort of potions," she said gruffly, turning her back.

"That's not why I'm here," the blonde immediately declared, taking a passionate step forward.

The witch craned her head, tilting it in an impossible angle.

"Speak then, what do you want from me."

"Answers. Although I don't know if you have any," the blonde added with subdued confidence.

Taking her sweet time to respond, the old witch watched her for a while, her eyes darting about at an unsettling speed. Once she seemingly had made up her mind, she bobbed her head left and right, humming to herself.

"Do me a favour poppet, yes?"

Galynda nodded eagerly, although the witch had already begun to shuffle in the opposite direction, headed for a doorway, concealed by a heavy curtain.

"Turn the sign so it reads 'closed.' And Take the large bottle of red fluid out of the window, to let the illiterate folks know as well."

The younger woman quickly did as she was told, and followed the witch as soon as possible into the adjoining room. There, a cosy fire was crackling in the fireplace, and the old crone was just about to pour some tea.

"Oh poppet," she sighed, shaking her head as she sat down, "to be honest, knowing which potion you chose, I'm surprised to find you in such a delicate condition. I do hope this little mishap was not the doing of some overly obtrusive young lad who didn't take no for an answer?"

"Not at all," Galynda replied, hiding her blush by taking a big gulp of her tea.

The witch grunted.

"Well, I do not care then. Now out with it, why do you seek me?"

"This is about the child," Galynda confessed, and the ancient woman made a noncommittal sound. "Oh, I'm quite sure your disinterest will dissipate in a clock-tick," the blonde promised. "The child is Aelphaba's. I'm certain of it, for I never lay with any man."

Suppressing a cough after she almost choked on her drink, the witch eyed her curiously. Galynda had been right. The old eyes were keener now, almost glowing from excitement, and the tips of her gnarly fingers were restlessly tapping against each other.

"How peculiar. I only wonder why you are here then, and not on your way to Munchkinland. By the looks of it, you must have had some time to make the necessary arrangements."

Galynda's face paled at that.

"Yes, well… I'm afraid I have not much left to go back for," she murmured, her voice becoming more choked towards the end of her sentence.

She waited for the witch to nod in comprehension, or something, but annoyingly the old had didn't move a muscle, expectantly waiting for an explanation instead. The blonde groaned inwardly, but did her best not to affront her.

"My father sent out men to find Aelphaba. Upon their return, they delivered the Grimmerie, and reported that all they found in the cave were bare bones."

"Where is the book now?"

Galynda shouldn't have been surprised at the witch's keen interest in the magic book, yet she was still rather taken aback by her blatant ignorance of tact. She bit back the hurt. After all, she still wanted her help.

"I… It's at my home, well hidden – not that anyone knows about it. It was through the book that I learned about Aelphaba's death. I don't' know what happened, but sadly, I'm very sure that it is true."

"Nothing but a pile of bones left, ey?" the witch asked thoughtfully. "Well, that makes sense."

Galynda's head snapped up.

"How so?"

"Whatever spell bound her to the waterfall and preserved her youth for so long must have obstructed the flow of time. Once the spell was broken, nature had quite some catching up to do."

The blonde almost dropped her mug. Hands shaking, she hurriedly placed it on the table, spilling some of the hot liquid.

"You… you think she found a way to break free from the spell and died because of it?" she breathed, her heart leaping into her throat.

"Not impossible. However, I believe it almost more likely she died and the spell released the dead body."

No longer able to hold back her tears, Galynda closed her eyes, covering her mouth with her hands. Her head slowly sank to the table, and her shoulders racked with violent sobs. She hadn't cried much after that one time, for it seemed like no amount of tears would ever be enough to express her grief. She had tried to ignore the pain as best she could, and to be strong for her child. But there was only so much a mourning lover could bear.

"H-how could she just die?" she hiccupped later, the witch still sitting opposite her, dispassionately witnessing the scene before her, and waiting for the younger woman to calm down on her own.

"I don't want to make wild guesses. Might have been desperation, might have been a broken heart. The result is the same, so what difference does it make?"

It did make a difference to Galynda, but she knew better than to voice her opinion.

"So you came to ask me about how that child of yours came about," the witch stated, at last returning to the beginning of their conversation. Galynda only sniffled in reply, yet this answer was already more than sufficient.

"I'm not aware of any recorded side effects quite like this, but the magic in the potion I gave you is very strong. There might have been similar cases in the past, but you see, they could easily have been overlooked. I assume that most lovers cured this way were pining after someone of the opposite sex. In that case, it would seem farfetched to suspect any unnatural causes. Perhaps, the quantity of her essence was simply substantial enough, and located in the right place for this unusual gravidity to occur."

Hours later, back in her own bed, Galynda couldn't find any sleep. Questions she had sought answers for had been answered, yet the anticipated satisfaction never came. Feeling incredibly lonely and hopeless, she began to sing – first to herself, then to her unborn child. The little creature inside her womb seemed to like the gentle melody, and began to poke her with its tiny hands and feet. A watery smile graced her lips then, and she continued to sing, wishing Aelphaba could witness this tiny miracle. Only when the first pink of morning began to tinge the dark horizon, and the first few birds joined in in her song, she gradually found herself drifting off.

She was woken by a sensation that was far less pleasant than the tiny baby kicks. Her entire abdomen was as hard as a rock, and her breaths came in laboured gasps, as a hitherto unknown pain ripped her body. Already the small effort of pushing herself in an upright position made beads of sweat appear on her brow. She needed help – that much was obvious – only, she couldn't decide where to drag her aching body with the little strength she had to spare. Her choice was between her friend Ralda and the witch; who would be best equipped to help her in this unforeseen situation?

Her mind not yet made up, she had barely managed to shuffle to the front door, when her legs gave in beneath her, causing her to fall to the hard, stone tiled floor. She tried to use a chair to pull herself up again, but the attempt remained fruitless. Cursing, she slammed a fist against the indifferent wood. Tears sprang to her eyes in face of her helplessness – as if she hadn't cried enough already the night before.

She sat like this all morning and until the early afternoon, until rescue came in form of Ralda's Horse maid, who had been sent to deliver a pie. Not receiving an answer after knocking several times, the Mare entered the house, intent on placing the food on the kitchen table, and leave again. To her great shock, she found Galynda, lying on the floor, and shivering.

Galynda took barely any notice of all this. The next thing she knew, was that she was back in her bed when she opened her eyes, the wrinkly, old face of the witch hovering above her.

"Oh, good that you're with us again," her creaky voice filtered through to the blonde's ear, although it seemed somewhat muffled. "I was almost worried that the concoction I mixed you was too strong."

"What's wrong?" Galynda asked, unable to produce more than a soft whisper.

"Your child is in distress. If we don't act quick, she will die."

Despite the pain and exhaustion, Galynda's eyes grew wide.

"She?"

But the witch ignored her. She placed her knobby, mottled hands on her tight abdomen, and stroked it carefully, murmuring indistinctively to herself. At first Galynda strained to keep her head up, so she could see what was happening, but the exertion soon proved too much. Her head nestled in the sweat drenched, yet still fluffy pillow, she once again felt her conscience slipping away. Her eyes fluttered closed.

Slap.

A rather ungentle wakeup call immediately brought her back to the light, and the pain, which only seemed to have intensified.

"Mustn't fall asleep now," the witch scolded her harshly. Then, her eyes softened somewhat. "I spoke to the child, and I know what she needs."

Galynda could feel her heart making a little jump in her chest.

"What? What do we do?"

"You were too greedy. It would seem the wee thing needs more of her other than you were willing to give," the witch explained not very helpfully.

The blonde cried out at another jolt of pain.

"What… What are you saying?" she gasped. "Do I have to die for her to live? Is that it?" Shaking her head, she closed her eyes again. 'Well, if taking my wretched life will safe her, I'm glad to give it to her."

"Silly girl," the old crone grunted. "I'm not speaking of you. It's her other mother's life force she needs. You're holding on to it too desperately."

Galynda's eyes snapped open.

"Aelphaba's? But how?"

"Luckily, this one is easy. The solution is very simple, really."

She turned her back to rummage through a large satchel leaning against the wall. When she finally found what she had been searching, she pressed a small, yet heavy vial into the pale, weak hand.

"I trust you know what this is."

Galynda's hand closed around the delicate vessel, and she nodded, her head dizzy.

"Than go ahead and drink."

The plan seemed so simple: all she had to do was drink the potion, so that Aelphaba's presence which was still residing within her would be free to transfer to her child. She would forget all about her lover, but their child would live. Yes, it was that easy.

Turning her head away from the potion and in the direction of the window, Galynda swallowed hard. Never before had something so simple been this difficult.

The witch's patience was running out. She plucked the vial from the blonde's hand, and uncorked it.

"Perhaps I was wrong," she admitted. "Perhaps, she has never been yours to keep. What if this happened on purpose? What if this is her way to break free from her ensnared existence? Now hurry and take this potion, or it might be too late."

Under pain and great difficulty, Galynda drew herself up in the bed. Resting one hand on her abdomen, she reached out with the other. The little vial suddenly appeared even heavier before, and the witch had to assist her in lifting it to her chapped lips.

"To my love," she breathed, and zestfully threw her head backwards to ensure that all of the liquid found its way down her throat. The taste of the potion was more pleasant than she had expected. In fact, it was much less offensive than the bitterness and foul taste of the other elixir she had taken all those months ago.

Tired, she sunk back into her pillow. This time, the ancient crone did not admonish her when she drifted off to a tearful sleep.

The day Galynda chose to wake up was marked by terrible storms and heavy rainfall. It was in the glaring light of a stroke of lighting, that she first beheld the face of the small girl lying next to her. Once she had made eye contact, the infant squeaked happily, reaching for her nose. She was a lovely sight, and Galynda immediately fell in love with those unusual pastel green eyes, wondering, how the child had acquired such a rare trait.

Alerted by the child's sounds, the witch soon shuffled through the door, carrying a bowl of porridge.

"How long have I been out?" the younger woman asked, confused, trying to establish how old the babe next to her might be.

"Seven days," came the answer, and Galynda was puzzled. "The little one is a real survivor," the old crone said snickering. Didn't even need my help to find the breast once I paid her on your chest."

Galynda's face turned deep read, but of course, she was grateful for the witch's help, and for the fact that her daughter was strong and healthy.

"Should give her a name. Methinks, after coming this far, she deserves one."

Studying the girl intently, Galynda tried her best to come up with a suitable name, but none came to mind.

"How do you like Aelphaba?" the witch asked, her face taking on an almost mischievous quality.

The blonde stiffened. The name triggered something deep within her, something like a faded memory, buried beneath time. Shrugging to herself, she pushed the odd feeling aside to consider the witch's suggestion. The name was pretty, but too exotic for this rural town, she decided.

"Maybe something more humble. I'll think of something, but for now, I'm sure she can hold out just another day, or two."

Apparently satisfied with this answer, the witch nodded. She packed her satchel, and declared that is was time for her to tend to her own business for a short while, before returning around suppertime to see if everything was in order and everyone was well. The door fell shut moments later, and Galynda was for the first time alone with the newborn, lovingly cradling the little girl in her arms, and kissing her forehead.

All but forgotten, the Grimmerie remained in its hiding place for many, many years. Upon Galynda's death, the witch returned to the house to retrieve it. And with that, her purpose had been fulfilled. She opened the book, and disappeared in it.