Once upon a time or two, in a faraway kingdom, there lived an evil queen. You could tell that she was an evil queen because, at the age of thirteen, she had the words "Evil Queen" tattooed on her right arm (the one she used for flogging people). By the time she was twenty-seven and had ascended to the throne, she hadn't changed much, except for growing considerably meaner.
After an affair with a passing Casanova, the Queen became pregnant, and, at this, she grew very angry.
"Why the hell do I have to live in Fairyland?" Snatching up a priceless vase, she hurled it at her chancellor, who managed to duck just in time. Behind him, the vase shattered against a wall. "Why can't I live in a decent, real country where they have contraception, and abortion, and vicious, child-murdering bastards willing to do anything for a few pieces of gold?"
The chancellor cleared his throat. "Actually, we do have those here as well, My Queen."
"What?" The Queen whirled around. "You've invented abortion? Why didn't you say so?"
"No, My Queen. I don't know how to get you an abortion. But I do know how to get you a vicious, child-murdering bastard willing to do anything for a few pieces of gold. The castle huntsman would be just the man you are looking for."
"Really? Hm." The Queen tapped her foot thoughtfully. "It's not as good as abortion, of course. I would have to go through all that messy business of giving birth before killing the brat. Oh, well, it can't be helped, I suppose."
The chancellor cleared his throat again. "If I may be so bold as to inquire, Your Majesty...there's one point I don't quite understand. Why do you wish to kill your daughter?"
"Good God, man! Isn't it obvious? In case she turns out to be more beautiful than me, of course! We couldn't have that!"
"No, of course not, My Queen. But wouldn't it make sense to wait a few years? I mean, the child may turn out to be disgustingly ugly, and in that case—"
"Ugly? With a mother like me? Are you attempting to insult the royal bloodline, chancellor?"
"No, Your Majesty! Of course not, Your Majesty! I meant no offense, Your Majesty!"
"Good! Because otherwise, your head would end up as a spike-decoration! Now stop wasting my time and go fetch the huntsman!"
The chancellor fled the throne room. Only minutes later, he returned with one vicious, child-murdering bastard willing to do anything for a few pieces of gold in tow. The huntsman bowed in front of his Queen.
"My Queen? Who or what needs to be killed?"
The Queen much appreciated this professional attitude. She explained what the problem was and ordered the huntsman to return to her in a few months.
After nine months of yelling, complaining, and all-around torture for the palace staff, the Queen gave birth to a little girl. The chancellor dared to point out that the newborn was very ugly indeed and asked if they could not perhaps leave it alive, just in case.
"No!" The Queen snapped. "All babies are ugly in the beginning! Then they suck you dry and start to stand and next thing you know they start wearing their hair long and fluttering their eyelashes at boys. She has to die!"
"Certainly, Your Majesty."
"Call the huntsman!"
"Immediately, Your Majesty."
The huntsman was called, and the Queen threw the child at him. He caught it, effortlessly, letting it dangle by its feet over his shoulder.
"Kill it," she ordered. "Be thorough! And I want proof, do you hear? Bring me back some internal organ of hers after you've slit her open."
"As Your Majesty commands. Any preferences as regards the organ? Maybe the heart?"
"No, let it be the liver. I like roasted liver with onions."
"As you wish, My Queen."
Whistling a merry tune, with a baby princess slung over his shoulder, the huntsman marched out of the castle and into the forest, ready for a little bit of happy slaughter. However, the god of indigestion must have been with the young Princess that day, for, just as they were walking along a mountain path, the Princess crapped into her diaper, and some of the royal refuse dribbled onto the huntsman's bright red hunting coat.
"Crap!" he exclaimed in a not very metaphorical manner and dropped the Princess, who promptly rolled down the mountainside, gurgling happily. And why not? Although she wasn't quite aware of the fact, she had just shit on her would-be murderer. A feat anyone at the age of one day should be proud of.
"What the hell am I going to do now?" demanded the huntsman of the sky.
Since the sky didn't seem inclined to give an answer, and climbing down the steep mountainside after the Princess wasn't an option, the huntsman went on into the forest, killed the first wild goose he came across, and turned back towards the castle. That night, the unknowing Queen dined on goose liver with onions.
*********
Meanwhile, the Princess was still rolling happily down the mountainside. It was a very big mountain. Somewhere halfway down, she suddenly fell into a mine shaft and onto a dwarf's head.
"Ouch!" said the dwarf, who had been hacking away at a coal seam in peace and wasn't used to having children drop on his head. Boulders, yes, whole mountains even, but no children! You had to draw the line somewhere! "By my grandfather's beard! What...?"
The other six dwarves around him stopped hacking and gathered around. Mining is a pretty boring business, and you are glad for any distraction. They all watched as Dwarf Number One picked up the struggling white bundle from the ground. For a moment or two, they stared in silence. The little girl gurgled.
"What's that?" asked Dwarf One.
"Don't ask me!" said Dwarf Two. "You found it."
"It fell on my head! I'd hardly call that finding."
"It looks alive," said Dwarf Six. "Actually, it looks a little bit like a dwarf."
"What? A dwarf? Don't be ridiculous! Where is its beard? Its helmet? Its battle-axe?"
"Maybe it's some kind of tunnel rat."
"No, it has two hands and two feet!"
"But not proper dwarf's feet! They're all soft and squishy. Not stone-hard, like those of a normal person."
"Hm."
"Hm, hm."
Number Five poked the thing's side cautiously. It giggled and made a grab for his finger. Hastily, Number Five retreated.
"It's making threatening noises when you touch it!" he murmured to his brothers. "Don't touch it! Maybe it's dangerous!"
"Nonsense!" That was Number Six, who was the most level-headed of the company. (A big rock had once fallen on top of him, quite effectively leveling his head.) "It doesn't have a single weapon! And I don't think it has teeth or claws, either."
"Maybe it is just a little dwarf," Number One suggested. "Maybe he just lost his axe and helm in the tunnels somewhere."
"And his beard?"
They threw each other uneasy glances. "It could have been...you know," whispered Number Two in a hushed undertone, "shaved off."
There was a collective shudder.
"Poor little fellow," Number Three said.
"We should take him in," Number One said. "At least until his beard has grown back and he's fit to show himself in polite company again."
"But...we still don't know what he is. No beard, no helmet, no axe..." Cautiously, one of the dwarves lifted the white linen wrapped around the thing, maybe in the hope of finding a little battle ax tucked away somewhere. He discovered something quite different. "Hey! He hasn't just got no battle-axe! He's got no knob, either!"
"What?" Number Four exclaimed.
"Let me see!" Number One demanded.
After they had all assured themselves that their curious find was indeed as knobless as it was beardless, they gathered in a tight circle for an official clan meet.
"Be welcome, my brothers!" Number Four, who acted as head of the clan this month, cleared his throat. "We, the proud warriors of the Black Mountain dwarf clan, have gathered here together to discuss the grave crisis that has befallen us, namely, the appearance of a pink, gurgling creature of unknown origin in our midst. Be it friend or foe? Be it dwarf or monster? This is what we have come hither to determine. We must all remain calm, and confer in a serious and seemly manner about what is to be done."
"No knob! No freaking knob! Just a little slit and—"
"Be quiet, Burin!"
"...and not the tiniest little bit of hair! Not at all! Ye Gods! Can you imagine how draughty that must be in December? I can't even—"
"I said be quiet! We are not here to talk about winter temperatures. We are here to discuss the fate of the pink creature!"
"I say we give it an axe and a helmet and send it down the next tunnel," said Number Five. "If it's a dwarf, it'll know what to do. If it isn't, what the heck do I care?"
"We can't do that," said Number Six, and Number One nodded in support. "It's so small! It wouldn't be able to hold the axe! How is it supposed to mine coal, let alone kill wolves and fight against other clans?"
"But can we take it in?" asked Number Three. "If we don't even know what it is, and it hasn't got a...you-know-what?"
They all went over to the pink creature to check if it had grown a you-know-what by now. But there still was nothing.
"Hm. Most strange," grumbled Number Two, the oldest one of the lot. "We didn't have things like that in my day, I tell you! Everything was right where it was supposed to be when I was a youngster!"
"It can't be a dwarf," stated Number Five. "Not without a knob."
"So what is it?"
"A bear?"
"No, those have fur!"
"A frog?"
"They are green, you stupid idiot!"
"Oh."
"Hey!" Number Seven suddenly snapped his fingers. "I know what that is! I remember now! I've seen one of those things when I went to one of the bighead's towns above ground once! They call those things...whatsitsname...girls! That's right! That's a girl!"
"Gurrrll," Number Six tried out the unfamiliar word cautiously. "And are those 'gurrls' dangerous?"
"Well, they can be pretty nasty. I think sometimes they pull on people's beards."
The dwarves shuddered.
"But other than that, I think they're harmless. They don't eat people or anything like that."
"Hm."
"Hm, hm."
Brows were furrowed. Beards were stroked thoughtfully.
"What do you think, my brothers?" asked Number Four.
"I think we have to," Number Six said.
"Even if it means risking our beards being tugged," Number One confirmed.
"All right." Number Four sighed. "Let's take the gurrl and bring it back to the main cavern."
"Right away!"
"And while you're at it, wash it, all right? It smells dreadfully of crap."
*********
Thus, Snow White came to live with the seven dwarves. The very first day, after the dwarves had completed their day's work and returned home with the little gurrl, they went to work, making her a chainmail shirt, chainmail trousers, chainmail underpants, and a stout metal helmet. Soon, Snow White was the best-protected little girl in the whole of Fairyland. Number Four hammered her a stone crib with the clan insignia adorning it, and Number Seven made her little dwarves, elves, and humans out of silver and gold to play with. Soon, Snow White was giggling happily in her crib, smashing the silver elves and humans on the head with the axes of the miniature golden dwarves.
"Awww!" Number Three, Four, and Six were leaning over the edge of the crib, grinning broadly. "Will you look at that? It learns so quickly, the little one!"
"She," corrected Number Seven. "I looked it up in Gromspuckle's Runes on the Strange Beings Called Humans, and the correct word for a gurrl is 'she,' not 'it.'"
"Hm. Really? One lives and learns, as my old grandpa used to say."
Since the clan of the seven dwarves was a real, honest-to-gold, hard-working mountain dwarf clan, the dwarves didn't live in some hut chopped out of wood like some wimps do. Instead, they resided under the solid stone of their mine's roof, like all good dwarves. It was a good mine, and although they only mined coal there, not gold, they would bash in the face of anyone who dared to disagree. After two days in the coal mine, Snow White was no longer Snow White—instead, she was covered in a thick, healthy, protective coating of grime and coal dust. Thus, the dwarves named her Coal Black and welcomed her into their clan.
Little Coal Black had as happy a childhood as any child can dream of having. At the age of one, she got her first battle-axe to play with. At sixteen months, she started talking.
"Go-go..." came a gurgle from the cradle. All the clatter in the mine stopped instantly, and the dwarves rushed over to the stone cradle.
"Did you hear that?"
"She said something!"
"What did she say?"
"Shut up! Maybe then we can hear!"
"Go-go..." the little one gurgled again. "Gold! Gimme...gold!"
"Awww!"
Seven pairs of misty eyes stared at the little gurrl from behind enormously bushy beards. "Did you hear that? She said gold!"
"What a clever gurrl! She's only one, and already she knows what's most important in life!"
The blissful childhood continued. At seventeen months, she started hitting people over the head with her battle-axe, and, at eighteen months, she began to walk. For her second birthday, they got her a new beard: a particularly fierce, red one that reached all the way to the floor. Every time she tottered through the mine on her two stumpy legs, tripping over her new beard now and again, crying, "Gold! Gimme Gold! Ga-ga Axe! Axe on head! Die, elf! Die, goblin, die!" a few of the dwarves had to wipe proud tears from their eyes.
"Aww! Doesn't she look ferocious?"
"Terrifying!"
"Awe-inspiring!"
"We should make her a new chain mail shirt, too. I think her old one is getting a bit small."
"Why don't we make her plate armor instead? And a helmet with horns?"
"Quite right! Only the best for our little berserker!"
The years passed. At the age of three, Coal Black began to accompany the clan into the tunnels. Riding on the back of the smallest dwarf, she giggled and swiped her axe at passing bats. They showed her which end of a dwarven axe was for hacking at precious minerals and which end was for hacking at people who wanted to take the precious minerals away from you. A year later, she was already hacking away at the tunnel walls and bustling between the dwarves' feet, carrying little clumps of coal back and forth. Another year later, she killed her first tunnel rat, and the clan shared it for evening dessert.
"That was delicious!" Number Six threw his massive, mail-clad arm around Coal Black's little shoulders. "You got that one good and proper! Where did you hit it?"
"Right between the eyes, Uncle."
"Wonderful! That's my gurrl!"
"Will you teach me how to kill elves and goblins next, Uncle? Please?"
"Hm...I don't know...you're a bit young..."
"Oh, please, please please!" Coal Black hopped up and down, like an overexcited, black bunny rabbit. "Please! I want to learn how to slaughter elves and goblins! Please, please, please, please, pleaaaaaase?"
She gazed at him with two big, innocent, charcoal-black eyes that were all that could be seen of her face between her hair and the giant fake beard, except for a perky little nose.
"Hm..." Number Six looked at his brothers. "What do you say? Should we?"
"Five is too young to learn how to kill elves," Number Five said morosely. "She has at least to be high enough to reach to the elves' knees. How else is she going to chop their legs in half with her axe?"
The others pondered this childhood protection issue for a moment.
"Six," Number Four finally decided. "Six is the perfect age to start killing elves."
"In my day, we didn't have all this fancy childhood protection nonsense," wheezed Number Two and shook his grey-bearded head disapprovingly. "Back when I was young, we started killing elves at three years and not a day older! Oh yes, we did! Those were the days...."
More time passed. By the time she'd reached her seventh birthday, Coal Black was already the proud owner of a large collection of pointy ears. And only about half of them belonged to stray cats. When she reached her tenth birthday, the dwarves didn't know what to give her. She had already gotten a new beard last year, and her horned helmet and plate armor still fit perfectly.
"Why not ask her?" suggested Number Three.
So they went to her and asked her what she wanted for her birthday this year. She didn't even hesitate.
"A magical ring with dreadful dark powers so that I can rule the world!" she blurted out. "Oh, please, please, please...." She grabbed hold of Number Six's gauntlet, squeezing so hard the metal bent. "Can I have a magical ring with incredible dark powers so I can conquer the world, please?"
Number Six winced. "Sorry, Blacky. We don't make those anymore. We had too much trouble with the last batch. Some idiot got his hands on them and wrecked most of the world."
"I'd take better care of it, I promise! Oh, please, Uncle! Please, please, please, please?" She squeezed a little harder. The metal of the gauntlet gave a protesting screech.
"Sorry, Blacky. I can't. How about a nice, shiny new axe instead?"
Coal Black sulked for a few days. But, three days later, when she took a walk in the tunnels, she came across and beheaded her first goblin. When his head landed in front of her on the floor, a strange sparkly thing fell down from it. Picking it up, she ran back to the rest of the clan.
"Uncle?" she asked, shoving the sparkly thing under Number Six's nose. "What's this?"
"Um...that's a crown. Why?"
"I just found it, and didn't know what it was."
"Where did you find it?"
"On the head of a goblin I beheaded."
Number Six thought for a moment. "Then I think it's a fair guess that he was the King of the Goblins." He turned to the others. "Lads? I think we should arm up!"
Thus, Coal Black had caused her first interspecies war. What more could a ten-year-old want for her birthday?
The next year was a merry time for little Coal Black, filled with blood-thirsty war cries, goblin beheadings, and a lot of beer-quaffing. When the war against the goblins was finally won and Coal Black and her uncles sat in the hall of the enemy, surrounded by gold and dead goblins, and drinking out of the skulls of their enemies (or at least a few of them, there were more heads than they needed cups), Number Four asked:
"So...you're becoming quite the young lady, now, Coal Black. Have you ever thought about what you want to do when you grow up?"
Coal Black took a deep swig of beer from her skull and sloshed it around in her mouth, deeply engrossed in her thoughts.
"You could become a mining engineer, like me," suggested Number One.
"Or a prospector, like me?" said Number Seven hopefully.
"Hm..." Coal Black fiddled with the axe at her belt. Finally, she lifted the bloody skull in her hand and grinned. "I know! I'll be a warrior! The fiercest dwarf warrior ever!"
The dwarves exchanged a look—then broke into a storm of applause!
"That's my gurrl!" shouted Number Six.
Number One had tears of pride in his eyes.
*********
While little Coal Black was happily quaffing beer and killing goblins under the mountains, up above, the Evil Queen, totally unaware of her daughter's existence, was busy being evil. She executed ten thousand seven hundred seventy-three people and a cat, had another five hundred sixty-five tortured to death, and, most gruesome of all, decreed that, from now on, children would also have to attend school on weekends.
One day, she was bored of being evil and wanted to do something different for a change (without, of course, going so far as to actually do something good or nice). So she bought a magic mirror. It wasn't just an ordinary magic mirror, but one of those new, fancy models that couldn't just reflect a more beautiful image of yourself than reality could justify, but also had a nifty inbuilt soothsaying feature. So, to try it out, she demanded:
"Magic mirror in my hand, who is the fairest in the land?"
"I'm not in your hand," the mirror pointed out haughtily. "I'm a wall mirror, not a scrubby little hand mirror, and I will thank you very much not to imply anything different."
The Queen tried again, "Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?"
"Do you mean fair in the sense of that a referee is fair, or fair in the sense of beautiful? Because, if it's the first—"
The Queen grabbed the mirror and shook it. "Oh, just fucking tell me already!"
"I do not respond to expletives. My magical instruction manual states clearly that—"
The Queen raised a silver hairbrush threateningly.
"All right, all right." The mirror sighed. "As to the first sense of the word...My Queen, you are the fairest here so true. But the chief referee of the Royal Soccer League down on the field at the finals is fairer still than you."
"And in the second sense of the word?" The silver hairbrush rose a little higher.
"Well, in that case...My Queen, you are the fairest here so true. But Coal Black, who used to be Snow White before starting to live in a coal mine, is fairer still than yo—"
The mirror was interrupted by a rapidly moving hairbrush. Glass splintered.
"Call the huntsman!" the Queen bellowed. "Now! And get me the Royal Torturer!"
Shortly later, the huntsman appeared. "You've sent for me, My Queen?"
"Ah, yes, my dear huntsman. It's nothing much. Just a minor matter. You remember that pesky little girl I sent you off to slaughter a few years ago?"
"Your daughter, Your Majesty?"
"Yes, that one." The Queen fixed him with her Evil Queen gaze. "You did kill her, didn't you?"
"I did indeed, Your Majesty."
"Fascinating. How fascinating. Huntsman?"
"Yes, My Queen?"
"I wonder whether you have met Mordred, my Royal Torturer? He has a couple of questions to ask you."
A few painful but very informative days later, the number of people tortured to death went up to five hundred sixty-six.
"He deceived me! He dared to deceive me! Me!"
Crash!
"Oh...that black-hearted villain! He couldn't be just an ordinary murderer, no! He had to be a traitor, too! Well, I showed him!"
Another vase went flying.
Crash!
Leaning on her throne, the Queen took a deep breath and tried to calm down.
"Well...at least now I know where the brat is hiding. I'll go and finish her off. It shouldn't be too difficult. I'll disguise myself as a harmless old woman and won't have any trouble getting close enough to poison her. She's only a naïve little girl, after all." Straightening to her full height, she marched out of the throne room and into the castle courtyard. "Guards? Saddle my horse!"
*********
A few hours later, Coal Black was just busy carving an axe pommel out of a goblin's chin bone when she heard a knock on the steel trap door that covered the entrance to the mine. Marching over, she slid aside the metal plate that covered the little spy hole and peered out.
"Yes?"
"Good morning, my dear."
"Depends. What do you want, you ugly old bat?"
"I'm selling—"
The voice was abruptly cut off as Coal Black slammed the hole shut and turned away. "Damn salesmen!" she muttered. "They never get tired of trying." She sat down and resumed her work.
A moment later, there was another knock on the trap door. Sighing, Coal Black put the goblin's jaw aside once more and returned to the door, ripping open the little hole. "We don't want any insurance! Go away! The mine already is insured against water, fire, goblin wars, and dragon attacks!"
"I'm not selling insurance, my dear."
"Well, what are you selling, then?"
"Let me in and we can—"
"Tell me what you're selling or piss off!"
"Um...all right, dear. I have lace, and pretty dresses and—"
Coal Black slammed the spy hole shut again. "Try the three little piggies at the bottom of the mountain," she yelled. "They like weird stuff like that!"
Then she went to the larder and cut herself a slice of ham from what had, until recently, been the fourth little piggy. Arguing with salesmen always made her hungry.
She was just starting on the second slice of ham and had filled her plate with roast beef, roast chicken, a couple of steaks, half a rat on toast, and lots of other things a growing young dwarf needed to become strong and healthy when, once more, she heard a knock on the trap door. Gritting her teeth, she turned and marched towards the exit.
"What now?"
"I sell other things too, my dear girl. I have sweets, and apples fresh from the—"
Without waiting for her to finish, Coal Black marched to the hidden opening in the stone wall beside the trap door, threw it open, and hurled a throwing axe into the fresh morning air. From outside, there came a startled yelp.
"Piss off!" she shouted and slammed the hidden door shut again.
The Evil Queen ran half a mile before she came to a stop, behind a number of very large and sufficiently safe boulders. Cursing and panting, she threw a venomous glance at the throwing-axe buried deep in a tree-trunk next to the mine's entrance, just where she had been standing.
"All right," she mumbled. "Maybe I need to adopt a new strategy."
*********
Fortunately, evil queens don't need to rely on poisoned apples alone. Since they are at the head of an absolutist monarchy, which is essentially the same as a dictatorship, except you get a pretty crown to wear, they can do pretty much anything they want. Thus, the Evil Queen seized control of the media and started to spread anti-dwarf propaganda. Over night, posters depicting sinister, bearded, hook-nosed dwarves with the caption 'The Eternal Dwarf—Beware!' appeared on every wall. The kingdom's bards and troubadours, who had, up until then, mostly featured giants, witches, school teachers, and lawyers as villains in their ballads, suddenly invented the figure of the villainous dwarf. No giant was stronger than the wicked dwarf. No Casanova was more skilled at seducing innocent virgins than the wicked dwarf (which was amazing, considering his enormous nose and beard). No wicked witch killed and ate more children than the wicked dwarf.
Soon, the Evil Queen had the whole country convinced that dwarves were short, ugly, and greedy bastards who deserved to be wiped from the face of the earth. Of course, people had already known that dwarves were short, ugly, and greedy bastards. But they had never thought that they deserved to be wiped from the face of the earth for this, because most other people, while not being as short, were just as greedy and ugly. But now they knew the truth! Death to the dwarves!
The dwarves first began to notice this change when Number Six went to town to sell coal, and someone threw a rock at his head.
"Someone threw a rock at my head," he informed the others upon his return.
"Really?" asked Number Seven, interested. "Were there any interesting ores in it?"
"No. It was a just a plain old rock."
"Strange."
"And what's more, they wouldn't buy our coal, either."
"What?"
"And they spat at me and called me 'garden gnome.'"
"What? What did you do?"
"I hacked a few heads off, of course. Strangely, they seemed to take offence at that."
The other dwarves frowned. "Strange indeed."
"I think we'll have to look for somewhere else to sell our coal."
But the reception the dwarves received in other towns was no less hostile. They were just about to go out once more and try at another village when Number One, peering through the spy hole, said, "I don't think we'll have to go all the way to the village to sell our coal."
"Why not?"
"Because there's a bunch of humans right outside."
"Let me see." Shouldering Number Five aside, Number Four peered out of the mine. After a few moments, he grimaced. "I don't think they're here to buy our coal."
"Why?"
"Well, the way they are waving pitchforks and signs that say 'Death to the garden gnomes' is a pretty big hint."
"Oh."
"This," Number Four anounced gravely, "is a serious problem. I think that if we go out there, we will either have to kill all the humans, or get killed ourselves. And if we kill all of them, there will be nobody left to sell our coal to. We must have a Clan Meet!"
All the brothers and Coal Black gathered around in a tight circle. Beards bristled all around.
"Why do the humans suddenly hate us?" Number One asked.
"They've always hated us," Number Two pointed out.
"True."
"The question is, why are they acting upon it now?"
"And why didn't they stop when we chopped off a few heads?"
"We must do something!"
"Chop off a few more heads?"
"That won't be enough."
"A few arms? Legs?"
"No! We must get to the heart of the problem!"
"You can't chop off a heart! You could run a spear through it, though. If we—"
"I was speaking metaphorically, you idiot!"
"Oh."
Someone cleared their throat. All eyes turned to Coal Black. She was eleven now, more than old enough to participate in the meet as a full clan member.
"There's more to this than meets the eye," she said.
"We should start gouging out eyes?"
"Be quiet!"
"I mean," Coal Black said, her look silencing the brothers, "that someone or something is behind all this. Someone is planning to destroy us—and we must find out who."
"So we can hack their head off!"
"Exactly."
"So how do we find out?"
Coal Black thought for a moment. Then her face, or what little of it was visible behind the enormous fake beard, suddenly brightened. "I've got it!"
Two days later, the postman arrived. He had a little trouble getting through the mob at the door, but, finally, after running a few people over with his bicycle, he reached the entrance to the mine and knocked. A hatch in the trap door opened, and a face, hidden almost entirely by a wild, red beard, appeared.
"Yes?"
"Did someone order a magic mirror from Tinkerbell & Sons, Magical Equipment?"
"That was me."
"Well, then sign here please."
"Of course."
"Thank you. Have a nice day, Miss...Coal Black?"
"Yes. You too."
Only minutes later, inside the mine, the dwarves gathered around the magic mirror. Coal Black had hung it on the straightest wall in the entire mine and now stepped forward and cleared her throat.
"Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, what the fuck is going on?"
"Hm...good question," mused the mirror. "Do you mean that in a broadly philosophical or more immediate sense?"
"Why is there a mob outside the mine?"
"Because your mother, the Queen, sent them."
The dwarves threw each other confused glances. "The Queen is your mother?" Number Six demanded.
Coal Black waved the question away. "Don't interrupt with unimportant details, Uncle." She turned to the mirror again. "What does the Queen have against us?"
"She's jealous because, supposedly, you're more beautiful than her. I must admit, I'm a bit doubtful about that, considering the enormous bush on your face, but—"
"Don't you dare say anything about my beard! It's the best beard in all dwarf kingdoms!"
"Of course, of course! Please, lower the axe! I don't like sharp or pointy metal objects."
"Will you keep your mouth shut about my beard?"
"I promise, I promise."
"All right. So the Queen is jealous?"
"Yes."
"What does she want from us?"
"To capture you and kill you, preferably slowly and painfully."
"Anything else?"
"Not that I'm aware of."
"Does she want our gold?"
"No."
"Our jewels? Pearls? Silver?"
"I don't think so."
"Thank you."
Taking a deep breath, Coal Black turned towards the others. "You all heard. She only wants to kill us. She's not after our treasure. The situation is not quite as grim as we had imagined."
The dwarves nodded. "Still, something will have to be done," Number Five pointed out.
"Oh yes." From behind her beard, Coal Black grinned a fierce dwarf grin. "And I know just what to do. Sound the great gongs."
"You want us to call a Great Clan Meet? Call all the clans together?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Just wait and see."
*********
A few days later, up in the royal palace, the Evil Queen looked up at the chandeliers. The crystals were slowly swaying back and forth.
"Chancellor?"
"Yes, My Queen?"
"Why is the palace shaking?"
"Um...a minor earthquake, My Queen?"
"An earthquake doesn't shake things rhythmically! It's almost like...marching feet?"
"I'm sure it's nothing, My Queen."
"Hm. You're probably right. Bring me the latest ugly dwarf posters, will you?"
*********
The armies of the dwarf clans began arriving three days later. Thousands upon thousands of short, stocky warriors, armed with sharp axes and rock-hard beards, poured out of the tunnels and filled the great cavern of the Clan of the Seven dwarves.
"Dwarves! Sons of the stone! Harken unto me!"
The armies turned to where a podium had been erected at one end of the cavern. A rather slim, coal-black dwarf with an enormous red beard had appeared there.
"Harken?" whispered one of the new arrivals. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"He wants you to listen! Shut your trap!"
"Harken unto me, my brothers! The Evil Queen of the surfacers has stirred up hatred against the mighty dwarven nation amongst the people of the world. Because of her evil machinations—"
"Machinations? What are machinations?"
"Plans, you idiot! Shut up!"
"—we cannot sell our wares, cannot earn our honest living! This is not to be borne! We are a free people! The mightiest warriors under the surface of the entire earth! We will not let ourselves be treated like common dirt! We will fight until we are treated like the rocks we are!"
A cheer went up from the crowd. A nice war was always something to be happy about.
"Follow me," Coal Black yelled, "and I will lead you to victory against the Evil Queen of the surfacers!"
"And what's in it for us?" yelled the chief of a distant clan. "We don't all live under this puny little kingdom, you know. My clan sells its jewels just fine! What's in it for us, if we follow you?"
Coal Black smiled. "I'm the daughter of the Evil Queen. If you follow me and help me win the throne, I will grant all dwarves tax-free mining rights underneath this entire kingdom, and free ale at all inns in all the provinces."
This time, the cheer was nearly deafening.
"To war! To war, for freedom, gold, and free beer!"
Coal Black sprang off the platform, and, at the head of a cheering army, surrounded by her clan, she marched out of the mine and up onto the surface. The mob outside quickly decided that this wasn't a good time to be sporting "Death to all dwarves" signs and disappeared. The army marched on, decapitating anything that stood in their way, or even close to their way. By the time they reached the capital, Coal Black had a nice, new collection of drinking cups.
Finally, they stood before the gates of the city. Accompanied just by a few select warriors, Coal Black marched up to the great doors of the city and pounded on the wood with her massive war-hammer.
"Hey, Mom! I'm home!"
*********
The Evil Queen, who was busy admiring her beautiful face in the mirror, was quite surprised to learn that there was an army of ten thousand dwarves outside her gates.
"Kill them," she snapped at her chancellor.
"Um...there are quite a lot of them, Your Majesty."
"Then take your time. I don't mind if it takes all day, as long as the road is clear in time for me to go out riding tomorrow."
"I'm afraid we won't be able to—"
Nobody will ever know how the chancellor would have finished that sentence. He was interrupted by ten thousand savage war cries from outside the wall and the sound of a charging army.
The City Guard wasn't particularly difficult to overcome. They were mostly used to thugs trying to stab them in the back, not steel-clad little buggers trying to chop their knees off. It was quite a novel experience. And a short-lived one.
With a roar that shook the walls, the dwarf army stormed the palace, hacking everything in their path to bits: furniture, soldiers, servants, walls, and one unfortunate pet weasel. Soon, the entire building was in the firm hands of the dwarf clans, and Coal Black was sitting on her ancestral throne, stroking her red beard.
The Evil Queen was brought in, wearing custom-made dwarfish chains (guaranteed unbreakable, with three hundred years warranty or your money back).
"So," mused Coal Black. "You're my mother, are you?"
The Queen's eyes bugged. "You? You are supposed to be more beautiful than me?"
"I wonder, do human mothers usually try to kill their children?"
"You have a beard! You have a fucking beard!"
Coal Black sighed. "Never mind. Take her away."
One of the dwarf guards bowed respectfully. "What shall we do with her, Your Majesty?"
"Oh, I think forced labor in the mines would be the right thing for her. I know a coal mine around here which will be a few workers short in the future."
"As you wish, Your Majesty!"
They began to drag the Evil Ex-Queen away.
"You can't do this, you rats! You vermin! I'm the Queen! I'm the fairest in all the land! I'm..."
Some intelligent dwarf whacked her over the head with the butt of his axe.
Coal Black turned to the chancellor, who was kneeling beside the throne, an axe at his neck and a dwarf at the other end of the axe.
"Your chances of remaining in royal service depend very much on your answer to my next question. So, listen carefully, my man, all right?"
"Y-yes."
"Where is the beer in this place?"
"Inthecellarthreedoorstotheleftdownthestairsanddownthecorridortotheright! There'sasmuchalethereasyoucouldwant! Enoughforanarmy!"
"Funny you should say that." Grinning, Coal Black nodded to her army, or at least to the part of it that fit into the throne room. "You heard the man, boys—let's have fun!"
And, for the next three days, Coal Black lived very, very happily. The day after that, she lived not quite so happily because of her gigantic hangover. But, when that was gone, she lived very happily again, and, if she didn't die, she is still killing goblins and quaffing beer.
And the moral of the story is: if you want to be the most beautiful girl in the world, wear a huge, fake beard, preferably red.
Or, another moral is: always eat meat, not apples.
Or, yet another alternative moral: magic mirrors and many more magnificent magic items are available at Tinkerbell & Sons, 23 Fantasia Street, Fairyland. Tinkerbell™ – Magic Your Life Magnificent!
The last one actually wasn't a moral but an advertisement, in case you didn't notice.
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My dear Lords, Ladies & Dwarve-Warriors,
Well, how did you like my personal version of Snow White? ;) My thanks to all writers of epic fantasy, whose work somewhat influenced the image of the dwarves in this little story.
And in the next tale I shall be writing about...the GIRL ON FIRE!
And no, it has nothing whatsoever to do with The Hunger Games ;) Can you guess yet what Fairy Tale I'm talking about?
In case you'd like to know the answer to that question right away, you can do so by purchasing the ebook edition of "WARNING! Fairy Tales" either via one of the big ebook shops such as the Amazon Kindle store, or in paperback form, which is available to purchase via Amazon as well as via the traditional book trade (including your local bookstore). By now, I have published three separate volumes of fairy tales, each with THREE EXTRA STORIES that you won't find on Wattpad. They all can be purchased from this moment onward!
You can read the Amazon edition of the ebook either with the Amazon Kindle or with pretty much any other kind of mobile device (including cellphones or ipads) as long as you have the right app. The Kindle App is available to download from Amazon.com as well as from the Apple App store and Google Play. And if you'd prefer ebooks in some other format than the Amazon mobi format, that's also perfectly possible. You'll just have to download some another free app, either from Kobo or from Barnes & Noble, or buy the ebook directly from iBooks in case you happen to be an apple user. Last but definitely not least, in case you'd like to get the printed version of "WARNING! Fairy Tales" instead of an ebook, you can get the paperback of this fairy tale anthology (which also has all three extra stories) from your favorite online book store or order it via the general book trade from your local book store. Just tell them the book's title & ISBN (international Standard Book Number: 9783000547119), and they'll be able to order it for you! :-)
Yours Truly
Sir Rob (Chieftain of the Rabid Writers Dwarve Clan)