“It won’t be pleasant and it won’t be quick,” the old lady brayed, cackling just for effect. It was expected of them, after all, “So I’d be eating my veggies if I were you, and don’t drink too much wine. Oh, and drink more water.”
The man before the three of them nodded, a dark look on his face. At the wave of the young woman’s hand, he turned and scurried out. There was a queue behind him stretching off into the late afternoon. A long queue after a long day.
While the Fates were powerful and all, the Minor Fates touched people’s lives more often. Maybe, if you were a hero or a king or something grand, the Fates–the Maiden, the Mother and the Hag–would be what you consulted regularly before starting a war or setting out to slay a dragon. But most people are not heroes or kings. Most people just want to know how to get rid of gout, have a good bowel movement or perform better in bed. Will it rain early or late this planting season? How will the harvest look? Should I visit my rich cousin in another city or remain here to look after my ageing parents?
Most people consult the Minor Fates: the Girl, the Cook and the Mother-in-Law.
And so, the Minor Fates were always busier than the Fates. The queue stretched out from their house and down the road as far as any of them could see.
The Cook sighed and stood up, “Right, ladies, I think that’s it for me. I’ll open up a bottle for us and get something going in the kitchen. Right, away with you all. Away!” She waved a hand dismissively and shooed the crowd of peasants out of their house before smiling warmly and closing the door.
The Girl yawned and stretched like a cat in her seat while the Mother-in-Law clicked her tongue and shook her head. She always knew better.
The Cook shuffled off to the kitchen, and soon a pot was boiling with various nice-smelling aromas rising from it. Each of them now sipped a delicious Chardonnay–their volumes of business ensured that they could afford the good stuff–and they were shifting into evening mode.
Bang-bang-bang!
A sudden, loud three taps came from their door. The Mother-in-Law clicked her tongue and snorted before pushing herself up and hobbling over to the door. She was readying herself for a good scolding, but, when she opened it, she froze.
Dramatically–and this was particularly dramatic, as the early evening sky outside was cloudless and calm–a bolt of lightning flared outside and was followed by a boom of thunder. The lightning illuminated the horrific three that stood on their doorstep; the wizened, sightless Hag with a single tooth in her mouth, hanging on the arm of the Mother who currently had the working eye, while the Maiden hung a little back and was kicking her feet somewhat nervously.
“Did you make that lightning bolt shoot down, hmmm?” the Mother-in-Law croaked, scolding the Maiden and Mother in equal measures. The Mother-in-Law was always congenial to the Hag in person, though she would say the meanest things behind her back.
“Ah, yes,” the Maiden said sheepishly, kicking the dirt outside, “Yes, I, uhm, perhaps over did it a bit.”
“You think, huh!” the Mother-in-Law said, holding her well-crafted scold in place, and then there was an awkward pause.
“Sisters, don’t stand out there. Come in, come in,” the Girl spoke out quickly, breaking the awkwardness and the Mother-in-Law hobbled a bit to the side to open the doorway for the three Fates, “The Cook’s got a pot on the boil and we’ve a bottle open. Come join us, sisters.”
The three Fates shuffled inside, the Hag leaning on the Mother while the Maiden dragged her feet obstinately, but soon everyone was seated with a glass of chardonnay and an incoming bowl of stew (one at a time for the Fates, as they had to share a tooth).
“Now,” the Cook started, “To what fair reason do we owe the pleasure of our great sisters coming all the way down from their lofty mountaintop to visit us little fates?”
The Mother–using the single working eye amongst the three of them–looked at her sisters a bit sheepishly. She opened her mouth to speak and then closed it.
“Ah, please, Sister, you best explain,” the Mother said, and handed the Hag the eye, which the Hag promptly popped in, blinked a bit, looked around and then focused on her lesser sisters before them.
“Well, yes, uhm,” the Hag started, “As you well know our lofty mountaintop is quite far from peasant fields and markets and all. Things don’t grow too good up there either. And, you know, we sisters have to eat too, so, well, we tend to boil up the birds that we catch up there and, uhm, well, we are struggling a bit with the diet…”
The Hag ended lamely, looking suddenly down at the floor with a slight redness entering her face. The Mother was furiously contemplating the far wall while the Maiden fidgeted in her seat.
The Mother-in-Law smiled, nodding knowingly, and leaned forward to pat her greater sister’s bony leg.
“You need more fibre in your diet, dear sisters. Potatoes, corn and wheat keep quite well for quite a long time. Some teas also keep well, hmm? Also, don’t drink too much wine. Oh, and drink more water. Water is very good for you…”