Hansel & gretel variation

Chapter 1 - Story

Sometime in the mid-thirteenth century …

The two children shivered and huddled together for warmth in the tiny bed. Their thin blankets offered no protection against biting cold of the winter night and their stomachs were empty as famine continued to ravage the land. To make matters worse, their father, a poor woodcutter, had brought home this new woman to be their step mother, although it appeared that he could not have found anybody less maternal if he tried! The girl began to cry, fat years rolling down her gaunt cheeks. Life could not get any worse.

“Don’t cry Gretel,” whispered her brother, partially out of sympathy, but mainly out of fear. “If we wake Drucilla, she will…” His words trailed off as the curtain separating their sleeping area from the rest of the house flew open.

“Drucilla will what, Hansel?” their step mother demanded, her pale face furious. “Tell me, what will I do?” Her voice was a sharp hiss cutting through the stillness of the night.

Hansel looked terrified as towered over the bed. In the candlelight, he could see her long red hair, held impeccably in place with a black head band, and despite being the middle of the night, she still wore those dark coverings on her eyes. They had never seen her without them.

“We’re sorry, we’re just so cold and hungry,” Gretel sobbed. “We didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I never sleep,” replied Drucilla proudly. “But that only gives me more time to think of your punishment.”

“But…” began Gretel, and then stammered a few meaningless syllables, afraid to speak as she felt Drucilla’s glare, even from behind the dark eye coverings.

“Spit it out, girl!” snarled Drucilla.

“Why are you punishing us for waking you, if you do not sleep?” asked Gretel quietly.

Drucilla pointed her long, thin finger a Gretel, preparing to berate the girl further, but then paused, her expression momentarily faltering as she pondered her response. Drucilla decided to ignore the question and silently walked across the room. The children did not see what she did, but suddenly a roaring fire sprang to life in the hearth, warming the whole house against the cold night.

The next morning, the children awoke to an astonishing sight: a hearty breakfast spread across the table. A bowl of creamy porridge each and a platter of sausages, bacon and toast dripping with butter to share. They had never seen such food! Their father, John, looked at the spread with wide eyes as Drucilla pushed more food towards Hansel and Gretel.

“You are not eating?” the woodcutter asked.

“The children need it more than me,” replied Drucilla with a smile that seemed forced.

“I have never seen you eat,” observed John. It was a simple statement and not intended to be confrontational, but Drucilla scowled.

“Because I am considerate!” she snapped in a tone that brooked no argument. “Do you not have work to do?”

John nodded and hastily finished his meal without another word before grabbing his axe and heading into the forest. As soon as he was gone, Drucilla turned to the children.

“And you two can get out of the house. I don’t want to see you until tonight!”

The market square bustled with activity as Hansel and Gretel navigated through the throngs of villagers. They passed by the fruit vendor's stall, the scent of ripe apples and berries wafting through the air, tempting them as they strode along the cobblestone paths. Sadly, they had no money.

They were joined Henry, son of an affluent merchant. His chest puffed out with arrogance as he ensured their paths intersected and he walked alongside them with a swaggering gait, his eyes fixated on Gretel. Hansel noticed the way Henry's gaze lingered on his sister with a possessive hunger that made his skin crawl.

"You're a lucky one, Gretel. Soon, you'll be my wife," Henry proclaimed, roughly shoving Hansel aside.

Gretel recoiled, her expression a mixture of fear and disgust.

"I'm not yours to claim, Henry," she retorted, her voice trembling slightly but defiant, yet Henry remained undeterred, taking a step closer.

"Of course, you are. You're the most beautiful girl in this village, and I'll have you one way or another," he declared, a sickening smirk playing on his lips.

Hansel's fists clenched at his sides, his blood boiling with rage. He stepped in front of Gretel protectively, shielding her from Henry's invasive presence.

"Back off, Henry. Gretel isn't anyone's property," he spat, meeting Henry's gaze with unwavering determination.

Henry's mocking laughter echoed through the square. "And what will you do about it, Hansel? You're nothing but a poor boy," he taunted, shoving Hansel again.

Gretel, sensing the tension, tried to lighten the mood.

"Look, they have new ribbons at the textile stall! Aren't they beautiful?" she exclaimed.

Henry's focus remained fixed on her. "Yes, they're alright, but not as beautiful as you," he said, his tone laced with a weird insincerity, as though the flattery was expected of him.

Gretel forced a polite smile, but Hansel noticed the discomfort flickering in her eyes.
He understood her unspoken desire to diffuse the situation, so he steered Gretel away, subtly diverting their path towards the bakery.

The inviting aroma of freshly baked bread greeted them. Hansel knew Gretel loved the sweet rolls here although they could very rarely afford such treats. He nudged her gently, signalling her to pick out her favourite treat from the window display. Gretel's face lit up as they looked through the glass and she made her selection. They laughed as they discussed which pastry they would choose and how it would taste. It was a strange game, but one that built the anticipation for the times when their father could buy such a treat, and that made the cakes so much better. They momentarily forgot Henry's presence, but he wasn't one to be ignored.

"I suppose you'll expect me to pay for that?" he jeered, jangling the coin pouch hanging from his belt with an air of superiority. Gretel flushed with embarrassment that their private game had been overheard.

"No, thank you, Henry," she replied, her voice unwavering despite the unease in her eyes.

Henry's lips curled into a smug grin.

"Suit yourself, but don't expect such luxuries once you're married to me. I don’t want a fat wife!" he quipped. “And you will be my wife! Your beauty belongs to someone of my standing," he asserted, reaching out as if to touch her.

Hansel stepped in, positioning himself protectively in front of Gretel. "Keep your hands off my sister," he demanded, his voice carrying an unmistakable warning tone. Henry just laughed derisively. Choosing to avoid further confrontation, Hansel guided Gretel away, casting a steadfast glare at Henry, silently promising to shield his younger sister from any harm and any unwelcome advances.

When the children returned home, they found another sumptuous meal laid out on the table. Roasted meat and colourful vegetables spread across the table with a lavish selection of cakes from the bakery for dessert.

“A little bird tells me that these are your favourites, Gretel,” said Drucilla with a smile.
Gretel glanced at her brother, but he merely shrugged. He had never mentioned such a thing.

John returned home a little while later and looked at the food in surprise.
.
“We cannot afford to eat like this!” he gasped. “How did you…” Drucilla silenced him with a glare.

“I manage this household,” she told her, her tone sharp. “Do I advise you on how to cut wood? No! I think not!” She sat down and motioned for the family to begin eating, but once again, John noticed that Drucilla did not take any food for herself; instead she kept pushing it towards his children.

Eventually, well fed and tired, Hansel and Gretel went to bed. Drucilla closed the curtain behind them and waited for a while before sitting with the woodcutter.

“We need to speak!” she whispered. “This cannot continue!” John turned to her in surprise. He had no idea what she was talking about.

“Those two gannets eat far too much for children! Did you see them tonight? They just kept filling their plates! I don’t know how that girl didn’t burst after stuffing herself with all of those cakes!”

“The cakes you kept encouraging her to eat!” replied John.

“Don’t divert from the topic!” snapped Drucilla. “Anyway, the point is, we cannot keep providing these meals for that pair of ingrates, so tomorrow, take them out into the forest and conveniently lose them.”

John looked like he was going to object, but he saw Drucilla’s face and thought better of it. Behind the curtain, Gretel was awake and heard every word. Her eyes filled with tears, but she fought back the urge to cry; she was too afraid to make a sound in case Drucilla realised that her plan had been overheard.

The next morning, breakfast was a modest: few rounds of toast and jam. Drucilla packed some meat and bread for the family and told the children that John needed their help with wood gathering. Gretel was unusually quiet, as she followed her father and brother into the woods. Once they were out of sight, a shadow peeled away from the wall of their cottage, and darted into the trees behind them.

John led the children deep into the forest; much further than they had ever ventured before. He found a clearing, lit a small fire and left them with the food.

“I will be just beyond these trees,” he said. “I will call you when I need you to help me carry the wood.”

As soon as he was out of sight, Gretel broke down in tears, telling Hansel what she had overheard the night before, but her brother tried to reassure her.

“Everything will be fine,” he said, unfazed by their situation. “We have food and we have a fire. Father will not leave us! You must be mistaken.” However as the day progressed and John did not return or call out, Hansel became less confident and as the sun sank low in the Western sky, he decided they needed to seek shelter.

The woods were growing darker and colder and the children were completely lost when they stumbled into a clearing with a cottage. As they drew closer, they began to think their eyes were playing tricks. It appeared to be made entirely of gingerbread. Gretel tried to break a chunk off, but as she did the door swung open. An old woman with a tight white bun stepped out and looked at them through her thick glasses.

“Are you trying to eat my house?” she asked.

“No…” Gretel lied unconvincingly.

“We are lost in the forest,” said Hansel. “My sister was just very hungry, and so am I!”

“Ooh poor children!” said the woman, her tone instantly changing. “Please come inside and let me give you some food. That way, I may still have a roof in the morning.”

The old woman led the children into her cottage and sat them at the kitchen table. Before long, there was a generous spread of pies, cakes and pastries laid out before them, and both Hansel and Gretel ate until they were content. They chatted, sharing their story with the old woman, learning her name was Sigihild. As the night continued and they grew drowsy, the old woman showed them to their rooms. Each had a soft, clean bed and they both quickly fell into a peaceful sleep as soon as their heads touched the pillow.

Gretel was jolted awake as the snug warmth of her cosy blanket was ripped from her sleeping form. Pale sunlight streamed through the window; it was clearly early morning.

“Get out of bed, you idle child!” Sigihild’s shrill voice pierced the quiet of the room. “You don’t have time to lie around!”

Gretel’s heart hammered in her chest but she did not have time to calm down before the old woman grabbed her arm and yanked her from the bed.

“Where’s Hansel?” she stammered her voice trembling with fear.

“You will see him soon enough. Now, come help me make breakfast for him!”

Without waiting for a response, Sigihild half dragged Gretel into the kitchen and set her to work on the stove, frying bacon and sausages. The sharp aroma filled the air as the old woman sliced up bread and coated it with generous lashings of butter. Before long, Gretel was led out to the stables carrying a tray laden with the food, and she was surprised to see Hansel sat in a cage.

“What’s happening?” Gretel asked.

“Well, your poor brother is all skin and bone!” said Sigihild. “We are going to have to work really hard to fatten him up.”

“Fatten him up? What do you mean? And why in a cage?”

“Because then he will not escape, obviously! And you will not leave him, so you can help me to make him nice and round. And then when he is plump enough….” Sigihild smiled at Gretel without humour, “I will roast and eat him!”

Gretel looked horrified and even more so when she saw Hansel stuffing the large breakfast into his face as quickly as he could.

“Hansel! Don’t eat it!” she cried, but her brother ignored her and continued gorging.

“You see,” said Sigihild as she dragged the Gretel back to the kitchen, “If Hansel does not eat, he knows I will break your pretty little neck! Now we need to prepare the next meal for him. I could use magic to make him gain weight, but it just doesn’t taste the same!”

So the time passed by with Gretel slaving in the kitchen while Hansel feasted like a king. Each meal was a decadent spread full of butter and sugar, and with his movement restricted, Hansel quickly began to fill out. Every few days, Sigihild made him stick his finger out of the cage so she could test how much weight he had gained, because, as she explained to Gretel, if his finger was fat, imagine how round and tasty his belly would be.

Gretel, while given nothing like the amount of food Hansel received, was constantly being made to test the cakes they were baking and was allowed to eat the extra food that she did not serve Hansel. She soon realised that her own body was also growing softer and knew that meant only one thing! Yet Gretel was not prepared to accept their fate. She knew she had to act quickly or Hansel would soon be ready for Sigihild’s feast, and so that night when the old woman was asleep, Gretel crept into the kitchen and smashed her glasses.

The next morning, Sigihild was furious. She could barely see without her glasses and while she screamed and cursed in the kitchen, Gretel crept out to the stable and passed Hansel an old chicken bone.

“When that old witch asks to feel your finger, use this!”

Sure enough, once Sigihild had calmed down, she went out to the stable and asked to feel Hansel’s finger. When she felt the chicken bone, she almost had a melt down! In a rage. she rushed back into the kitchen and swiped Gretel across the face, knocking her to the floor.

“You idle girl!” she screamed as Gretel sobbed. “We need to feed your brother more! Light the oven so we can bake a pie for him!”

Gretel crawled across the floor and tried to light the large oven, but it was very difficult. She could not get the wood to catch fire. Behind her Sigihild was getting more and more aggravated.

“You useless girl! Climb inside to light it from above! You will never reach it from underneath!”

Gretel looked confused.

“I don’t understand” she said softly, her voice shaking with fear. “How do I light it from inside?”

“Climb in!” shouted the witch in frustration.

Terror coursed through Gretel; she instantly realised what Sigihild planned.

“I don’t know how to do that,” Gretel wailed, praying that playing dumb would delay her inevitable end.

“Idiot child!” screamed Sigihild. “Must I do everything myself?” She clambered into the oven and reached her arm down to light the wood. As soon as Gretel saw the flames catch, she rushed forward, slamming into Sigihild’s scrawny buttocks with all of her might. The old woman gave a surprised gasp as she fell forward and Gretel quickly slammed the oven door behind her, locking it tightly closed. Sigihild shrieked, screamed and begged as the temperature rose, but Gretel was already outside releasing Hansel from the cage.

With the old witch trapped in her own oven, the magic holding the gingerbread cottage began to fail and it crumbled to the ground. Hansel and Gretel rushed away from the clearing straight into the arms of their father and Drucilla.

“You are naughty!” complained Drucilla although she did look strangely satisfied. “And you have clearly had a good time!” She poked Hansel’s noticeably rounder stomach.

“Now is not the time!” said their father. “Let’s just go home.”

“Not me, I am afraid,” said Drucilla. “I don’t feel part of this family. I have always been made to feel like an outsider, so I am going to leave, but I suggest you take the boy and use him as a woodman. Build up his strength and then apprentice him to a blacksmith. I think he will be good at that. Meanwhile, we need a little girl time.” She took Gretel’s arm and led her away from John and Hansel into a clearing where they sat together on an old log.

“I am going to show you something. Don’t make a fuss!” Drucilla unclipped her belt and as she removed it, her cloak became a pair of leathery wings, her head band uncurled into two black horns and her boots became cloven hooves.

“The only thing it doesn’t work on is my eyes!” She removed the dark covering and Gretel saw two orbs of pure fire staring at her. To her credit, the girl only backed away slightly and did not scream.

“I don’t really care for humans,” said Drucilla casually. “But you are somebody special. I knew that the first time I saw you. That’s why I needed you to remove the witch. I am not allowed – not that following rules is usually my style. I just need to be careful at the minute.”

“But we could have been killed!” stammered Gretel in disbelief.

“Oh, you were perfectly safe!” laughed Drucilla. “How do you think we knew where you were?” She pointed to the trees and Gretel saw movement in the shadows. A darker patch that seemed to take the shape of a man as it came into the clearing and then was gone.

“He reported to me every day. I know everything! A gingerbread cottage? What a ridiculous woman! Anyway, Gretel, now I have a gift for you.” Drucilla motioned to the trees and a large black dog with brutal yellow teeth and glowing red eyes bounded out, snarling viciously. Gretel wide eyed with terror tried to stand but Drucilla grabbed her arm.

“Give him a name,” she whispered. “What would you call your pet dog?”

Gretel thought for a while. “Ellard” she said at last.

“Ellard, this is your mistress now. Blend in!” said Drucilla, and suddenly the Hellhound was replaced with a white and tan scruffy terrier puppy which immediately jumped onto Gretel’s lap and started licking her face. The dog’s fiery eyes faded to a bright brown.

“I wish I knew how they did that! Anyway, have a good life, Gretel,” said Drucilla, and with that she spread her wings, flew into the sky and was gone.