“A Boggan and Her Frying Pan ”
by Margaret Lion
Story takes place after Aziraphale and Eleanor's wedding; before the passing of Gawayn and Petros; some time early June 2006.

* * *

Matilda was lovingly wiping down her favorite old iron frying pan she used in Eleanor's kitchen. After all, when properly seasoned and handled, an iron frying pan acted like Teflon and provided a great deal more flavor. Plus cleaning it was comforting, like having tea with an old friend. Eleanor, Jain, and Petra all loved Matilda's iron skillet fried anything and Thraxx was a good eater who appreciated her meals with gallantry. Even he seemed to like the fried food.

Thinking about him made her eye the wok evilly. Teriyaki chicken, indeed. Who did he think he was, forcing Matilda to use a wok instead of her good old frying pan? Well alright, he hadn't said anything about what to use to cook it, but teriyaki chicken had to be cooked in a wok. Eleanor had been so happy when she discovered Aziraphale's favorite food. “Who cares!?!?” Matilda had wanted to scream at her, “just look at yourself!?!? You're all goo-goo eyed!!!”

Matilda sighed and then suppressed a laugh. She had never seen the Baroness nervous before, but on her wedding day, Eleanor had panicked. No, PANICKED. Since Matilda owned the best and most sought after catering firm in the county, she saw a lot of bridal panic.

It had been two weeks since the wedding and Eleanor was still in love with him . Or at least still made puppy dog eyes at him . What was her problem? He was considerate and polite to her but, but, why him ?! Maybe if he fell to the floor and let Eleanor walk all over him while thanking her Matilda might like him . “No one's good enough for your Eleanor.” Walt had said, kissing her forehead. ‘No,' Matilda thought, ‘no one is.'

She'd had no problem marrying off her daughters. They married sensible men who worshipped them and the ground they walked upon. Proper husbands. Had any of those men acted like him , Matilda would have poisoned the groom-to-be's dinner. Oh no, Eleanor was not like her sensible, good daughters. Eleanor had to marry her Waterloo .

Waterloo .

There was a scream.

Matilda froze.

She heard another ear-piercing scream. It came from the work-out room. Eleanor was in danger.

That was it. That was IT! He was hurting her! Matilda slammed down her cleaning cloth and wielding her frying pan like an ancient weapon of doom tore down the hallway, skirts and apron flying behind her.

So, Waterloo was finally showing his true colors and was going to kill Matilda's beloved Eleanor and take Highground for him self. ‘Oh-no- he -is-not-if- he -thinks-we-will-go-without-a-fight-I-will-take- him -down-I-don't-care-how-mighty- he -is-nobody-messes-with-a-boggan-and- her -frying-pan!-One-blow-of-this-and-even-Samuel-won't-be-able-to-heal-you-and-I-wouldn't-let-him-Waterloo,-because-you-can't-be-trusted-because-I-KNOW-you-enchanted-my-lady-and-if-you-even-think-about-harming-my-lady's-children-you-will-deal-with- ME .'

Matilda burst into the room; frying pan raised above her head and saw this:

Eleanor curled on the floor in one of her belly dance practice outfits. Aziraphale also on the floor leaning over her, his hands on her bare ribs. He had been tickling her. Eleanor had been giggling.

Matilda followed Aziraphale's eyes to the frying pan and said “Lunch?”

“Oh well,” Eleanor was catching her breath as she sat up, “that sounds nice. Aziraphale are you hungry?”

“It's 10:30 am.” the sidhe said, carefully watching Matilda.

“Well, yes,” Matilda said, patting the frying pan in her other hand “but goodness I do have to cook and since you are here I might as well make something you like.” She tried to hide the disgust in her voice. “Perhaps you would like some teriyaki chicken?”

There was a moment of silence.

“No. I will let you decide. You are an excellent cook. Make what you feel would be best. Do you have a favorite dish?”

“Strawberry pie.” Matilda mumbled.

“That sounds excellent.” Aziraphale replied.

“It is. It's fabulous.” Eleanor concurred.

“With a walnut and feta salad, balsamic vinaigrette.” Matilda sighed.

“I look forward to it.” Aziraphale said.

Matilda nodded. “Thank you. I'll start making the pie right away.” She turned and walked out of the room, her dreams of beating Aziraphale on the head destroyed. “Enjoy the rest of your morning.”

As Matilda walked down the hallway, the shrieking giggle started again. She could hear Aziraphale's voice over Eleanor's teary laughter. “Lady you have no skill at in hand-to-hand combat. Were I an assassin, you would be dead. What would you do-“

“That's why I have guns-“

“And if disarmed-“

“I'll die laughing.”

The shrieking escalated.

Matilda glowered as she began her slow, angry walk back to the kitchen. “Waterloo.” She mumbled. “That man is her Waterloo .”

Her joy in making strawberry pie filled her mind. The smell, the redness, the sweet surprise of texture and flavor that was her specialty alone and caused people to weep on her doorstep for more.

Damn the lord! How dare he make nice with her?!

Matilda grumbled all the way to the stove.