Hilda - The Challenge

driving me crazy. So I want you to adopt it." She held out the wand to William, who automatically accepted it, foggy-headed as he still was.

  "Uhm, adopt it? It is a piece of wood, how can I adopt it?"

  Hilda walked up to William and with one finger (and a bit of magic) she pushed him on the bed. She sat down on him, her legs on each side of his chest, and looked in his eyes. "This, my good man, is not 'a piece of wood'. It was, once. It now is a wand. It has magic. Okay? And I will help you in adopting it, but you will have to want it. So tell me, because I am getting very edgy about this and you do not want to have me around when I'm edgy. So say the word."

  It was clear that she was in a PMS mood.

  "Yes. I'd like to adopt it."

  "Do you want this wand?"

  "Yes. I want the wand."

  "You'll have to keep it with you for the rest of your life. Protect it, so it will protect you." Hilda looked very serious now, there was not an inch of her that was relaxed, William sensed. This was, as one might call it, serious shit.

  "I will do that. I'll protect it. With my life. As I would do for you."

  "Hold up your hands..." Hilda's voice, so strong and direct before, was now a whisper. As William held up his hands, she slowly put the wand in his right hand, closed it around the red stick and folded his left hand around that. She then held both his hands in hers again as she slowly murmured things in a language that William had never heard. It sounded gently, dreamy, enticing and pleading at the same time.

  The wand began to tremble. William knew that it was the wand itself, as he could not move his hands, Hilda's magic held them together, unmoving. A warmth spread through his palms, and Hilda knew it. This was a good sign, she knew, but she could not speak. It would break Williams attention, his concentration, and that was crucial at this point. The screaming of the wand faded from her awareness. A wand did not scream with sound for the ears. It would scream directly to the centre of being, from where magic came.

  She relaxed a little, releasing the pressure on Williams ribs also. He would not notice, as his face, his entire Self was taken over by the power of the red wand with its white spiraling lines. It was merging with him, she knew. Everyone had a magical centre, and the wand was now engraving its signature into William's. She just had to hold him, guide him and the wand to merge, to be forged together.

  The process was slow, but that was good, Hilda thought. The longer it took, the deeper the integration would be. Her magic would allow her to hold William like this for hours without becoming tired or cramped.

  Time passed, and finally Hilda sensed that the more and more subduing sounds from the wand were fading, leaving nothing in her mind except herself, and the light sensation of William's presence. She would be tied to William in this way forever also, since she was the catalyst for the merging. She was irrevocably intertwined, and it felt good.

  William would feel awful the rest of the day. She recalled her own merging with the wand she had, and how bad it had been at first, being introduced to that new and at first so strange power. And perhaps it would be even worse for him, a thought flashed through her mind, as he was not a magical person. Hilda had heard of ordinaries being bound to a wand before, and she had never heard of problems. It would be a waste of the power of the wand, but at least the local witches would have peace. A forging like this was only done if there was no other way to silence the wand than to destroy it, and that was the worst thing a witch could do. But that too had happened.

  William was finished and empty in a way he had never been. He was barely noticing Hilda sitting on him, holding his hands. His mind was a whirlpool of stars, flashing lights, a strange power and vast expanses of nothingness.

  Hilda felt him go limp, as his hands started to sag down on his chest, the wand still in them. Gently as she could, she lay his hands down. She wiped the cold sweat from his brow and sat down next to him. She pulled the cover over the man she loved, making sure his hands clutching the wand were free.

  "Sleep, sweet man," she whispered as she kissed his forehead. "You've worked hard, even if you don't know it." Slowly she got off the bed, her eyes not leaving him. The wicked witch closed her eyes and located the feeling that was William and his wand. It was there, faint but available. She smiled. She'd know when he would wake up. On an impulse she took off her lemon-yellow nightgown with the golden stars, folded it up and put it under William's head. It might do nothing, but it made her feel good to know that something of her was close to him while she was taking care of business.

  The witch returned from her round over the area. On purpose she had not done a shortcut, she also had not left out something. Things were well with William. She knew. It was a new experience for her, she had never been in a binding herself, only witnessed several. Often she had wondered what it would be like, what it would feel like, and now she had first-hand experience.

  As she came in, she frowned as there was no new mail for her. But that also meant no oppressive notes from Lamador. Labrador, she grinned, recalling how William had called the man at first.

  Her broom took its position by itself, and Hilda walked up the stairs. She knew William was well and asleep, but she just had to see him with her own eyes.

  William still lay in bed peacefully. He had been moving a bit, her nightgown had shifted.

  "Tsk tsk, sweet man, lie still," she grinned as she gently put her gown back where it belonged for now.

  He stirred. And opened his eyes, slowly, as if there were dolmen on his eyelids. "Hey... pretty witch..."

  "Shush, you. You must sleep," Hilda whispered, sitting down next to him and putting a hand on his hair. "You worked so hard, William..."

  He groaned. "Where's the bloody truck..."

  "What truck?", the witch wondered. She was glad that she knew what a truck was, having seen the scrapheap that William had arrived in.

  "The one that ran me over..." William had never felt so shattered as he did at that moment. Even the trip through the mountain that had brought him here had been a joyride compared to this.

  "I think, sweet William, that a truck running you over would not make you feel this bad. I'm sorry that you feel so bad, but by the evening it will be a lot better."

  "Is it evening yet?"

  "No. Try to sleep some more. I will bring you some soup later on." She sat down with him, put her hand over his hands that still were folded around the wand, and kissed his cheek. "I promise you will feel better soon. The wand will help you." At least, she hoped. She had no experience with ordinaries and wands, she just knew that it worked that way with wands and witches.

  "Wand. Yes. Wand." He drifted away.

  Hilda smiled, kissed him again and then went downstairs again, after changing into more homely clothes.

  The witch was looking through William's book when there was a slight tugging in her feeling. William was waking up! She jumped to her feet, quickly went to the kitchen to get his soup and made her way to the bedroom again, where the former book salesman was surfacing from his trip down Sleepy Lane again.

  The witch, feeling nothing like wicked at the moment, helped him sit up and made him eat all the soup that was in the bowl. It was a large bowl. "You have to eat it, William, it will help you get better too." She smiled as she noticed that he did not let go of the wand. He kept it in his hand, probably without even noticing it. That was good. It would help the forging and make the connection strong as possible.

  "How are you feeling now?", Hilda asked her lover. He looked less shaken up already.

  "Not sure if 'better' is the proper word, but less bad for certain. I didn't know you had it in you to be such a good nurse." He smiled.

  "I don't. I just have to take care of you, after what happened. It is very exhausting."

  "You know about it?"

  Hilda told him what had happened, to what he had committed himself as he had agreed to adopt the wand.

  "Holy Bejeebus."

  This time she let him get away
with it.

  "That's, uhm, quite something." He lifted the wand and looked at it. And smiled at it. "So we're together from now on. Amazing." Very carefully he put the wand down next to him on the bed.

  "It is best to hold it as long as you can, William," Hilda said, trying to put his hand back on the wand.

  "I know, but I do have to get up now."

  "No, stay in bed. Please."

  "Sweet little witch," he said, his smile showing how tired he was, "there are certain things you should not do in a bed. And what I need to do is one of them."

  "Oh. Right." Hilda blushed. "I'll help you to the door then."

  As he was trying to get up, William found out that definitely needed to accept her offer. He would never have made it on his own: his legs felt like jelly. The fresh wand-owner was relieved to fall into bed again after the trip also.

  "You' re doing really well, William," Hilda said, sitting cross-legged on the bed, facing him. It made her smile as she saw that he reached for the wand as soon as he was comfortable again. "I'll stay with you until you fall asleep again."

  "Thank you. I'm still not sure how I feel," he admitted, "it's all... weird."

  "Of course. You are playing with some magic now." She explained about the things she had heard of ordinaries being bound to wands. "So it is not the strangest thing in the world," she concluded. "You'll get used to having it with you. And it is nice for me to know how you