AN:
Oh my gosh, I finally did it!
Sorry for another delay - I promise it will be last, because here comes the last instalment for this story!
One quick note: Towards the end some words and some dialogues are taken directly from the book, but it's not much, I promise ;)
I'd like to thank everyone who has read this, and especially those amazing ppl who followed, favourited and reviewed!
And now with no further ado, I give you: THE WAY TOO LONG EPILOGUE :P
Happy reading!
xoxo MLE
Epilogue
"And you truly believe that this was what actually happened to Saint Aelphaba?"
Glinda, allowing her usual facade of hauteur and confidence to slide momentarily, shifted uncomfortably in her seat while watching her strange guest with anxious anticipation. For reasons not quite tangible to her, the allegedly true tale of that women, who had lived so very long ago, had touched her deeper than she could ever have foreseen. Was it all mere soppy sentimentalism, because her nostalgic feelings for Elphaba, her Elphie, made her draw far too many parallels between the past and the present? Even if it was, she couldn't shake these strange feelings of sympathy, and even personal loss, no matter how unwarranted they seemed.
The ancient crone she had met at the orphanage was sitting in the opposite armchair, stroking the old, beaten copy of Lives of the Saints with her thin, talon-like fingers.
"Oh, old Yackle does not believe, silly girl. I know, for I was there."
About to reach for the cup of tea sitting on the end table beside her, the blonde retracted her right hand mid air, enclosing it with her left to suppress the slight tremble that had gripped it. She really couldn't tell what had come over her. The woman's revelation made this already difficult to stomach story sound even more absurd – no matter how weathered and wrinkly she may have appeared, there was simply no feasible way that she was that old. This was common sense, Galynda's head told her. Yet strangely, her heart was still inclined to believe her.
Giving up on her tea, she folded her hands in her lap to prevent them from fidgeting around.
"And the other young woman," she began hesitantly in an attempt to prove that there was still at least an ounce of shrewdness left in her muddled mind, "was her name truly…"
At first it seemed as though the ancient woman had not heard her. Absentmindedly and stock-still, she stared into the pompous nothingness of Glinda's hotel suite. Then, with a small start, her body sprang back to life.
"Well, it very well might have been," Yackle admitted without batting an eyelash. Her lips twitched into a crooked grin, baring her even more crooked teeth. "I mean, I am fairly old after all and my memory does not serve me as well as it used to. Besides, remembering names has never been my strong suit."
Glinda nodded mutely. There was a long pause, during which the old crone contently continued fingering the brittle pages of the book in her lap, while Glinda just watched her, unsure what to say.
"Why did you come here?" the young Lady Chuffrey finally heard herself ask.
Raising her eyebrows, the older woman cocked her head.
"This, I told you the moment I stepped into this room." She lifted the book and offered it to Glinda. "The children at the orphanage wanted you to have this. It was all they can do to show their gratitude."
Glinda reached out to take the book from Yackle, but found that the crone still held it tightly in her hands. Then she remembered something.
"This book is very dear to the child who owns it. She would never give it up so easily."
With one swift motion, Yackle removed her hands from the volume to clasp the younger woman's. Digging her grubby claws into the silky-smooth flesh, she drew herself closer.
"Fine, you're a little blonde, so I will spell it out to you: I came to give fate a little nudge. You, poppet, were meant to change your friend's future."
The breath hitched in her throat, and Glinda swallowed hard to find her voice.
"I… what?"
"Yes, yes. I can feel it." Wrinkly hands loosened their grip slightly and began to stoke in a slow, steady rhythm. Although no longer physically locked in place, Glinda couldn't move. "So many, many lost opportunities already. It didn't have to come to this. Pity. Pity. Time is running out, you know, poppet?"
The blonde shook her head frantically.
"I-I don't understand."
"Oh but you do. Only you don't see it yet."
And with that, Yackle released the blonde's hands and leaned back in her armchair, reaching for the satchel leaning against its side.
"Well, it's time I take my leave. Much to do still and the day is growing short. These nasty, snotty brats won't feed themselves."
As the ancient crone heavily heaved herself out of the soft chair, Glinda jumped to her feet as well.
"Please, you need to tell me more. I still do not know what you want me to do!"
"Be the ripple that steers her away from the dreadful end she's headed towards, that's all," the woman replied lackadaisically, as if it were quite simple. She was already slowly shuffling towards the door, and sudden panic grabbed Glinda by the throat.
"Wait!" she yelped in a terribly high-pitched voice.
"I shan't tell you how, and I most certainly do not know what will await you or her once your mission is fulfilled. But you know all you need. No point for me wasting more time."
"The book! I cannot keep it!"
The blonde's eyes found the volume lying opened on the floor. She didn't recall setting it down, or even dropping it. The page that was showing was the beginning of the chapter on Saint Aelphaba. Almost shocked, she stared at it for a moment too long, and soon heard the click of the door. Tearing her eyes away from the book, she whirled around to rush to the door. When she opened it, there was no sign of the odd woman.
Bewildered, Glinda closed the door after staring into the empty hallway for no less than ten minutes. She crossed the room, her thoughts reeling. Hoping to calm her frayed nerves, she took a sip of her tea before stooping down to pick up the fragile book.
What could that old crone possibly know about her? And how did she know about her ties with Elphaba? Did she even know about Elphaba, or was it just her jumping to conclusions, manipulated by that outlandish hag? She read Aelphaba's name and bit her lip. No. This couldn't even be pushed aside as a lucky guess. That Yackle must be onto something.
It was still early, but Glinda decided that it was high time she settled down for the night. Perhaps, a decent period of rest would help her to make sense of the odd events that had transpired this evening. She carefully stowed away the book in the bottom drawer of the quoxwood bureau by the window, and disappeared into the bathroom for her evening routine.
When Chuffrey returned in the middle of the night, his wife was still awake. All attempts at falling asleep had been unsuccessful, and even her favourite hypnospell had failed her. But she didn't want her husband to know that she had heard him coming in, or that she could smell the familiar odour of long business nights, this unappealing blend of sweat, alcohol and expensive cigars. So she squeezed her eyes shut and willed her breathing to even out. And at least that much was no problem for her. Unsuspecting, the baronet climbed into bed next to her, and pulled the blanket up to his nose. Within clock ticks, his soft snoring confirmed that he was fast asleep, while for Glinda the night dragged on for several more hours.
The following morning, she was blessed with a late awakening. When she lazily turned in her bed, she discovered that Chuffrey was already gone. Instead of him, she found a note he had left behind on his pillow. He was meeting a potential new business partner for lunch, it said. She sighed. She understood that her husband was very ambitious, and in general she thought that his idea to diversify his economic base in Munchkinland and to start investing in pork futures was next to brilliant; but quite frankly, she'd had enough of this boring place and from being cut off so entirely from the hustle and bustle of the capital.
But before she could waste too much time on sulking, it occurred to her that Chuffrey's absence was actually rather convenient. With fresh enthusiasm, she slipped out of bed and rang the bell to call her maid for assistance with her morning toilette. After a quick look into her wardrobe, she decided on a fantasy in a lovely salmon-pink – this was her first time wearing this outfit, so she was a little worried. Yet once she had inspected herself in the mirror, she decided that it suited her like a dream.
Unfortunately, Chuffrey was using their private carriage, so Glinda had no choice but to ask the receptionist to organise a cab for her. A little impatient, a tightly wrapped package containing the orphan girl's book in hand, she sat on the couch in the foyer, waiting for the bellboy to call her name. The cab didn't take as long as she had feared, and soon she was on her way back to the orphanage.
Disembarking the carriage, she quickly pressed a handkerchief against her mouth and nose. How could she have forgotten the terrible stench after less than three days? Steeling herself, she put it away again before knocking on the weather-beaten door.
To her surprise, the door was opened by an entirely unknown woman. Instead of the ugly, old crone, a much younger, yet even uglier female stood before her. For a second, she stared at the stranger blankly, but once she regained her footing, she offered her a bright smile.
"Good day, miss. I am Lady Chuffrey. I visited this establishment just a couple of days ago to make a donation."
The woman curtly nodded her understanding. She made no move to invite Glinda inside, or to at least ask how she could help.
"I am looking for an elderly woman, named Yackle as far as I know."
"That old bat hasn't shown up the past two days," came the gruff reply. Must have died in what ever hole she lives. Ghastly old thing looked like she was long overdue."
The blonde was left nonplussed, not only by Yackle's disappearance, but also by the other woman's indifference and uncouthness.
"I see," she finally said, averting her gaze for a moment to collect her thoughts. There was not much more left for her to say, so she simply pressed the package into the rude woman's hands and took a step back, signalling her cabbie to ready himself. "This belongs to one of the girls. Please see to it that it is returned to her."
With that, she turned around, hurrying back to her carriage. The driver helped her up the steps and inside the vehicle. Then, he swiftly swung himself back into his seat and clicked the reins.
On her way back to the hotel, Glinda pondered what she should do. She had hoped to ask Yackle a few more questions – partially, because she almost believed that at least half of this odd conversation the prior afternoon had only occurred in her confused head.
Yet with the ancient crone's disappearance, any chances of receiving further information had evaporated. With no other clues to go by, she thought back to everything Yackle had said. Most of all, she remembered how Yackle had stressed that she would not tell her how to help Elphaba. Time was running out she had said instead, for too many opportunities had already been lost.
Opportunities. What opportunities? Opportunities to do what? To prevent what? Glinda knew barely anything about Elphaba's current life, or even her whereabouts. The only thing she'd heard of her in years, was Yackle's insinuation that something bad might happen to her sooner or later.
Leaning back in her seat, she exhaled deeply. She watched the grey scenery of Center Munch pass by, as she burrowed herself deeper and deeper in her most remote memories.
Lost opportunities.
Well, for one, she hadn't been able to prevent Elphaba from running away and traveling to the Emerald City - if that was the sort of thing the ancient crone had meant to hint at. That trip had been a pretty terrible idea on Elphaba's part, and Glinda had failed to hold her back. But she had gone with her at least, so no one could fault her for not trying.
Thoughts of their journey to the capital came rushing through her head, making her face flush bright red. No one else but the two of them knew what exactly had transpired on this trip. Especially at night, in those cold, tiny rooms in those dilapidated inns they were forced to stay at. As more and more details of those nights enfolded, she couldn't put in words how glad she was to be the only passenger of this carriage.
However, the hot blush disappeared immediately, when more recollections of her failures hit her like a train. With a painful sting in her heart, she remembered the night that she had first cried out Elphaba's name in ecstasy. In hindsight, she was ashamed to say that she had simply been too proud to admit to her emerald roommate and travel companion how much she really needed her. And then there was that last time – not in a cheap room above the kitchen of some pub, but in a big, comfy bed at an almost fancy Emerald City hotel in the buzzing city centre. Despite how amazing it had been, and how free she had felt, she had not been brave enough to admit how very much she loved her Elphie.
She sniffled and hurriedly rifled through her clutch to find the handkerchief from earlier to dap her eyes with it. She must have lost it, for it was nowhere to be found. Begrudgingly, she used the tip of her scarf, which was no longer wearable once the runny mascara had stained it. Then, she thought of that final time that she had failed, and another set of tears she was unable to choke back rolled down her pale cheeks. She remembered the last time that she had seen Elphaba like it had been yesterday. And she remembered how she had remained sitting idly in that Oz-damn coach, too impotent to stop Elphaba when she was quickly slipping away, disappearing in the faceless crowd.
The cap came to a halt in front of the hotel she and Chuffrey were staying at. Taking a deep breath and dapping her eyes one more time, Glinda waited for the driver to open the door. She tipped the man generously, and walked up the steps to the large entrance with the green glass doors and the golden handles. The porter bowed as he opened the door for her.
Traversing through the huge lobby with quick steps, barely measured enough to be considered appropriate for a lady of her age and standing, she almost ran into her husband. She managed to come to a halt just a few inches before him, while he reached out with his arms, resting his hands gently on her upper arms as though to ensure, as discreetly as possible, that she wouldn't step on his feet, or even bump into him.
"My darling," he said, placing a brief kiss on her right cheek, "I just sent the maid to call for you, but as I can see that is no longer necessary."
When she met his pale grey eyes, she could read the questions in them, and began to refine her story in her head. She was about to open her mouth, when Chuffrey turned to his right to point out his company – four diminutive Munchkins whom she had previously completely overlooked.
"Glinda dear, may I introduce Master Feldensteen and his family: wife Friina with daughters Keekii and Flaanda."
Glinda covered her surprise with a sweet smile and nodded politely.
"Glinda Chuffrey, formerly Galinda Arduenna of the Uplands," she said, shaking the couple's hands and stooping down to kiss the children's foreheads.
"I hope you are in the right mood for some entertainment this afternoon, dearest. I just invited Master Feldensteen to join us on a little trip to the Mossmere game-park. They are from the opposite end of Munchkinland, and can you imagine this; the girls have never seen dragons, or Pfenixes before!"
"Oh, what a splendid idea," Glinda agreed. After all that dismal talk and the dreadful remorse, she needed some distraction. If she really had to devise a plan to safe her Elphie from whatever uncertain fate that was awaiting her, she had to do so on a refreshed mind. The park promised to be a lark. She, too, had never seen a dragon before. Or a Pfenix for that matter. Neither had her husband; she was quite certain, that he only meant to seem more well-versed than he truly was. She cast another quick look at Chuffrey's business partner and his wife. Even for Munchkin standards, their attire was little impressive. However, if her husband was trying this hard to impress them, they surely must be valuable allies.
Apart form the almost two-hour coach ride to the shores of Mossmere, the excursion was great fun. The girls displayed just as much excitement as Glinda carefully concealed. At one point, Lady Chuffrey became a little melancholic, for the first time in what seemed forever, quietly lamenting the absence of offspring of her own. But these thoughts were just as quickly put aside as they had appeared. Linking her arm with her husbands, she managed to return a radiant smile when the tiny Munchkins offered her freshly plucked bunches of flowers.
The monstrous, terrifying dragons were the highlight of the day, of course, closely followed by the elegant Pfenix that was on display in the Golden Forest section of the park. But even the smaller attractions – all the manifold animals and Animals – were no less than fascinating. It seemed like the entire day would be just perfect, but later in the afternoon, a brisk wind got up and soon gathered a thick layer of dark clouds above their heads. Only a couple of minutes later, the gust had intensified. Women were hard pressed to decide whether they should rather hold onto to their billowing skirts, or preserve their meticulously coiffed hair. Glinda produced her tear and make-up stained scarf from her purse, and used it (the less smutted side out) to protect her golden curls, which left her hands free to manage her dress. Chuffrey smiled. He expected no less of his not only charming, but also shrewd wife. Park personnel soon made the rounds, collecting visitors from the most affected areas of the premises. They were guided to a small café, and treated to a cup of tea and a slice of fresh cherry tart.
It was one hour later, when the storm suddenly died down. Eager to continue their explorations, the Munchkin girls were already on their way to the door, and the adults of the group sorting out their belongings, when a young man with a grin, wider than his face, entered the shop.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, I regret to inform you that we will have to close all the areas of the park in proximity to any Animal enclosures. Some of our assets are on the loose, and we are concerned for our visitors' safety."
One man sitting near them, a traveller from the Glikkus she guessed, harrumphed something about wanting a refund. The grinning Munchkin seemed to have heard his complaint.
"My apologies Sir, but we are not obliged to compensate you, as this clearly was an act of nature, outside of our control. Yet we will be happy to supply you a raincheck voucher," he added with a wink. "After all, today should be a day of celebration for all free citizens of Munchkinland."
"And why is that?" Master Feldensteen piped up, since he, as a Munchkin, naturally was keen to learn what was so noteworthy about this day.
"The Witch is dead!" the park employee announced to the entire room, clapping his small, short-fingered hands.
Those who were also of Munchkin birth rose to their feet and likewise began applauding and cheering, while most of the other guests exchanged puzzled looks. Glinda couldn't shake the terrible feeling that this incidence concerned her as well. When most of the other patrons filed out of the café to either continue their tour thorugh the park, or make their way home to celebrate, she puffed up her hair, re-adjusted the skirt of her dress, and approached the Munchkin.
"Excuse me, good Sir, could you please be so kind as to elucidate the circumstances of the Witch's death? And if I may ask such a silly question: who even is the Witch?"
The park employee studied her, clearly not making the slightest attempt at concealing his disdain. Glinda wasn't offended. She already knew that many of the smaller folk begrudged the other Ozians' surplus of inches when it came to stature. What did bother her, was that the Munchkin didn't seem inclined to answer any of her questions.
"He's speaking of the Wicked Witch of the East," Master Feldensteen clarified, suddenly appearing like out of thin air beside her. "It's somewhat unclear whether she chose the name, or whether someone else invented it for her, or whether she truly had any powers to speak of – other than those of governance, which she tended to abuse regularly-"
"You are speaking of the Eminent Thropp," Glinda realised. The short man nodded briefly, and she felt a heavy weight drop in her stomach. "I see," she pressed out, her mouth no more than a thin line.
"The storm brought a house down on her in the middle of Centre Munch," the park employee finally supplied, addressing his compatriot rather than the Gillikinese. The blonde clasped her hand over her mouth to stifle a small outcry.
She returned to their table and whispered something in Chuffrey's ear, before returning to the two Munchkins who were now engaged in an animated discussion.
"My apologies for interrupting, gentlemen."
They turned towards her. The park employee's attitude towards her seemed to have changed somewhat, and she inwardly thanked her newfound friend for easing the tensions between them.
"As it happens, my husband and I have certain ties with the government in the Emerald City, as well as Munchkinland. I believe my presence at the scene of the disaster could be helpful."
"Disaster?" The park employee barked out a big laugh. "You misunderstand Madame, there is nothing disastrous about loosing such a cruel dictator."
"Of course." Despite how she felt inside, Glinda's smile stayed firmly in place. As much affection and empathy she'd had for poor Nessarose, she could not hold it against the Munchkin that he despised the late governor so much. "However, I am not talking about Miss Thropp. My concern is solely for the people who were affected by the severe weather. A storm so violent that it brought down a house on the governor must have left great destruction across the town, and when the terrible wind we experienced here is anything to go by-"
"Fine, fine!" The park employee snorted grumpily and rolled his eyes. "What do you want?"
"A ride. One that is quicker than our old carriage – as I understand it, in such emergencies, time is of the essence."
The short man eyed her suspiciously.
"And what exactly do you have in mind?"
About thirty-five minutes later, she dismounted the borrowed Pfenix, casting a quick spell to send him back home. She found the centre of Centre Munch in a dreadful state, yet hopefully, it seemed like the storm had not claimed too many casualties. Nessarose remained the only fatality, and the other victims were already on their way to various hospitals, or were being treated by voluntary paramedics. Instead of crisis management, she had to deal with a homely, little girl, who allegedly had been inside the house at the time of the accident. To cap it all, she claimed to come from Kansas, a place Glinda had never even heard of. When asked about a way back, there not much she could do but to refer the unwitting child to the Wizard. So she sent her in the direction of the Emerald City, giving her Nessa's shoes to take with her as protection. Secretly, she hoped that the child would give up halfway along the way.
When this tricky matter was finally taken care off, she turned towards the spot where the governor's red and white striped legs - the feet now shoeless – still stuck out from under the building.
"Oh Nessa," she sighed quietly, so that no one could hear her, and blinked away a tear.
It was difficult to find volunteers to recover the body from under the house. Most of the bystanders thought that it would be more befitting to let the Witch rot right where the house hat hit her. Only when Glinda pointed out what a terrible stench this would cause, a few young men agreed to help out.
The funeral was set to take place almost two weeks later. It had taken her that long to make the arrangements. Thankfully, Nessa still had a handful of faithful followers, and once she had been able to locate them, they had taken on many of the more tedious tasks.
The day prior, Glinda woke from a restless sleep. A telegram had been delivered late last night, informing her that the other Thropp sister had arrived at Colwen Grounds. She had experienced an odd kind of almost juvenile excitement bubbling up within her. She was a little ashamed of her joy, due to the dreadful circumstances, but she couldn't help herself. How many years had it been since she last saw Elphaba, her Elphie? And if the prospect of meeting her old school friend again wasn't enough, she also realised that this might be the best, and perhaps last opportunity to safe her - whatever that would entail.
In the way of getting dressed, she chose a huge dress with all the bells and whistles. She knew it was a little too much, but at least it would get the conversation going. Elphie would make the one or the other snide remark, she would counter, and in the end, both would laugh about the familiarity of their banter. The idea made her expression melt into a wistful smile.
Though when she finally arrived at the mansion of Colwen Grounds, the thrill of the anticipation had turned into a feeling of dread. What if Elphaba didn't want to see her? Or what if – Lurline forbid – Elphaba didn't even recognise her! But her worst fears were those of failure. What if she once again would not be able to steer her friend's life into the right direction? What would become of her Elphie then? Would she ever know? Would she ever forgive herself?
Approaching the veranda of the grand house across the lawn, the blonde could recognise the outline of two people. Only a couple of paces further, she could clearly see that one of them was distinctively green. Her heart leapt into her throat. Her delicate shoes turning to iron clogs, it took hear much willpower to proceed. The green woman had noticed her as well, it seemed, and was now headed towards her. The imminent meeting scared Glinda so much that she slowed down her pace even more.
"Miss Glinda of the Arduennas," Elphaba greeted her and stopped midstride.
Upon hearing the familiar voice of her friend, so dearly missed for over a decade, the Gillikinese's mouth formed a wide grin, despite her reservations.
"Oh, you came, I knew you would!" she exclaimed, almost too delighted. "Miss Elphaba, the last true Eminent Thropp, no matter what they say!"
Seeing Elphaba's face up close immediately took her back to her time at Shiz.
"You haven't changed a whit," she said, and she meant it. Almost envyingly, she noted that maturity became Elphaba much better than her. It must be all the make-up she always put on, she sighed inwardly, but then relented. The poor woman's verdigris complexion must be good for something.
The two friends walked side by side back to the veranda.
"Is this your father?" she asked. Elphaba nodded, but shushed her, as the old man had nodded off.
The green witch, taking Glinda's arm, guided them towards the gardens. The tingly feeling in her stomach nearly paralysed the blonde, and she didn't speak for a while, unable to form any clear thoughts, until one of Elphaba's brazen remarks snapped her out of it.
"Glinda, you look hideous in that getup. I thought you'd have developed some sense by now."
"When in the provinces," Glinda replied, "you have to show them a little style. I don't think it's so bad. Or are the satin bells at the shoulder a bit too too?"
"Excessive," agreed the witch. "Someone get the scissors; this is a disaster."
They laughed. It was just as Glinda had imagined. Until they began fighting over that silly girl, Dorothy, and Nessarose's shoes Glinda had given her. Elphaba's anger came as a complete surprise to her. She would never have guessed that she would put so much value on those stupid, worn shoes. She said as much, but that did little to appease the witch. The blonde felt unjustifiably blamed. She'd had her reasons, too! After all, the shoes couldn't have stayed in Munchkinland. Those provincial simpletons had put way too much significance into that pair of slippers, whose only powers were to keep a crippled girl on her feet. But Elphaba didn't listen. To make matters worse, she accused her of collaboration with the Wizard, working towards the annexation of Munchkinland.
Glinda's tried to see thorugh her friend's blind rage. She reached out to touch her elbow.
"They won't make your father love you any better," she said quietly, unsure whether she should meet the witch's eyes. She did, and Elphaba pulled aback.
They stood for a good while, glaring at each other, neither budging. It was ridiculous, really, after all they had done and shared, that something so mundane as a pair of shoes could still drive such a wedge between them. But Glinda couldn't give in, and neither did Elphaba.
"I want those shoes," she insisted one last time and whirled around in a fury, stomping back towards the house.
Glinda cried silently as her carriage brought her back to Centre Munch. When they passed through the main gate, she hurriedly produced a handkerchief from her purse to dry her face. Then a fresh layer of powder was applied to her cheeks to conceal the tracks and the swelling the tears had left behind. By the time she arrived back at her suite, no sign betrayed her emotional turmoil.
"Did you meet your friend?" Chuffrey asked, barely looking up from the paperwork he was doing.
Ridding herself of her travel cape and bonnet, his wife sighed.
"That I did."
"You don't seem happy," he remarked distractedly.
"Well… It has been a long time. We both have changed a lot."
It was a blatant lie, but Chuffrey wouldn't know any better. Of course they both had lived a lot of life in the mean time, but underneath all these superficial changes, they were still Glinda and Elphaba. At its most elementary level, their relationship was unchangeable, almost as though they were meant for each other. Only that destiny seemed to enjoy poking fun at them, keeping them apart ever since that brief time they had been so close Glinda could have sworn their souls had touched one another (no matter how relentlessly Elphie insisted she did not possess one of those).
Sitting by the window, lost in thoughts, the blonde did not notice when her husband put his pen aside and opened a drawer to conjure a package, wrapped in plain, brown paper and tied with parcel twine.
"Here," he said, and held the object out towards her.
She turned around, sniffling slightly, staring at the package – obviously a book – with big eyes.
"What is this?" she inquired as she began unwrapping. A small gasp escaped her lips when the tile came in sight.
"You were looking for this, right?"
She nodded mutely, and pressed Lives of the Saints against her chest. He was confused, as she didn't appear as delighted as he had hoped.
"Are you sure everything is all right?"
Nodding once more, she stood, the book still cradled close to her heart. She offered him a slight smile, kissed his stubbly cheek, and disappeared into the bedroom.
The memorial service was the following day. She and Chuffrey perched in the balcony reserved for dignitaries and ambassadors. Glinda knew that Elphaba sat just below them, together with her father. But infuriatingly, at no point, made the witch eye contact with her. She and her father left before the end, and so another chance for Glinda to reconcile with her friend slipped thorugh her fingers.
Another four days later, Glinda had given up. She and Chuffrey would leave Munchkinland the next morning. Still, she travelled one last time to Colwen Grounds. To properly express her condolences to Elphaba and Nessa's father, she told her husband, and herself. She wasn't sure whether Elphaba was still there, or had already left. She pretended that she preferred the latter, but her heart was not so easily fooled.
As she disembarked her carriage, her heart almost stopped, for across the forecourt, Elphaba was striding right towards her. Both women averted their eyes as they met halfway, and hurried their feet along their opposing ways. She could feel the wind when Elphaba moved passed, could detect her unique scent. Her heart was as heavy as a boulder. She was scared, almost too scared to turn around. Yet she did. She wheeled about and called out to the witch.
"Oh, Elphie!"
The witch did not turn, but was it Glinda's rampant imagination, or did she slow down just a notch?"
"Elphie, please! Don't you remember our little adventure, our trip to the Emerald City?"
Elphaba stopped for a split-second, but then pigheadedly trotted onwards.
"Well, I do!" the blonde shouted louder than she usually did. Whether it was her words, or the outrageous volume; the green woman stopped dead in her tracks.
Hesitantly, and her stomach churning, Glinda caught up with her, until she stood only two paces away from her. She wouldn't shout the words she was about to say next, but she still meant for her Elphie to hear them.
"You know, I loved you."
She swallowed hard.
"And I love you still."
It was then, that the witch chose to turn around.
AN:
Ok, so that's it... Well, almost... If you have any questions, or are simply curious, check out the next page, where I put together a short appendix ;)