Hippopotamuses Don't Wear Hats
(written for Crystal, who loves fairy tales <3) But, you know, anyone can read it. :)
Once upon a time, there was a young girl with straight, dark blonde hair and a fondness for mud puddles. Her name was Amy, and she lived with her uncle in a cottage next to a little wood. The nearest village was called Open Gate, and to get there Amy had to cross a rickety, hanging bridge over a wide river filled with pairs of otters and dragons and mer-bunnies. Even when Amy stopped to give advice to the river creatures, it was less than an hour's walk on her short legs. The village and the river and the cottage (and Amy and her uncle) were part of a smallish, unremarkable kingdom named Erstwhile.
When the weather was nice, Amy spent most of her time in the wood gathering wild herbs, which her uncle used to heal the residents of Open Gate from the usual sicknesses, like forgetfulness, jealousy, and rudeness. Occasionally there was a broken bone or a broken promise. Thanks to her uncle's poultices, potions, and plasters no one in the village had died of unnatural causes in many years. Other villages in the kingdom would sometimes ask Amy's uncle to teach them, but they never had enough patience to learn, so their villages were still overrun with thoughtlessness, hate, and crime. Their people still died from broken hearts and duels. The king's only son was rumored to have run away to avoid an arranged marriage.
Over several years Amy grew a little taller and the bridge grew a little ricketier, but for the most part things didn't change. Her uncle continued to heal the villagers, the mer-bunnies continued to seek her counsel, and the rest of the kingdom still didn't take the time to treat their problems.
When Amy was twelve, the king made a proclamation, proclaiming that anyone who could contain the crime in his land would one day take his place, and rule the kingdom.
Amy listened to the knight read the whole thing, then ran straight home from the village, across the old bridge, through the wood, and to her uncle's front door with a piece of parchment, on which was written a copy of the proclamation.
"Uncle Paul!" she called out. She called his name again, but if he were anywhere in the tiny cottage, he would have heard her. She finally found him puttering in the garden at the back of the house, reciting to himself the kinds of mosses he needed. When she called his name a third time, he looked up.
"Amy, what's got after you?"
Uncle Paul stood up slowly, concern etched into his weathered face, until he saw her bright eyes and grin.
"The king is looking for someone to save the kingdom, and he will make that person king or queen when he is gone. You can be king, Uncle Paul! You can save everyone and then rest on a throne and eat rich foods and be taken care of!" Amy said, not taking a breath before getting it all out.
But Uncle Paul thought he knew a little more about what it entailed to run a kingdom than Amy did.
"Being a king," he began, as he led her to the back door of their house, "takes a lot more than that. A king needs to take care of his people. A king must worry and make difficult decisions and be able to lead the people in bad times and good times."
"You can do all of those things, uncle," Amy said, still sure this would solve all their problems.
"I'm nearly as old as the king, and my place is here with you."
Amy was disappointed, but she knew he was right. No one could take care of Uncle Paul better than she could, anyway.
Soon, people began presenting their ideas to the king, and many people came from outside the kingdom as well. Some arrived dusty from long travel, and some arrived in shiny carriages. But all were eventually disappointed when they couldn't solve the kingdom's problems.
***
Day after day, more and more people stopped in Open Gate to ask why that village, of all places, didn't have disease or crime. They even crossed the bridge to the little wood and ate some of Amy's best root stew while they applied to her uncle for apprenticeships. But still no one had the patience to learn Uncle Paul's ways of healing. No one wanted to memorize herbs and potions and how to set bones.
Many months after the proclamation, strange events began to occur across the kingdom. Thieves were tied up with strands of moss, with scribbled notes pinned to their tunics explaining their crimes. Estranged couples found each other again, each holding scribbled notes begging for forgiveness. Dragons took to the skies again with healed wings.
Each person or animal touched by these events had the same tale: there was a boy in a hat who rode a creature no one had ever seen before and had a bird for a sidekick.
The king demanded the boy be brought to him, so he could honor the boy and train him to be king, but the hero remained elusive. No one could capture him or dared move close to the large creature traveling with him.
One day, Amy was skipping back across the bridge after delivering a basket of potions for the apothecary, when a voice called out to her from a few feet below. But it was not the squeak of the mer-bunnies or the giggle of the otters.
There was a boy in the river. A small bird was perched on his skinny shoulder, and he was riding a fat, rubbery kind of horse, which was swimming through the water at a leisurely pace.
"Miss!" he called again.
She stared at him for another moment before answering. "Yes?"
"Is this the way to the cottage of the old wizard who heals the people of this village?"
"You're almost there!" She called down to him. "I will meet you at the foot of the bridge and lead you to our house."
When Amy reached the bridge, she could see the boy was wearing a black top hat, and that the bird was yellow and gray.
"You live with the wizard?" the boy asked.
"He isn't a wizard. Or at least I don't think so. He is my uncle, and my name is Amy," she replied.
"Amy! What a beautiful name," the boy said. "My name is Hatman."
"That's not a name!"
"It's a very good name," Hatman said, a little crossly. "My first assistant gave it to me."
"Is this your assistant?" Amy asked, pointing to the bird.
Hatman started to answer, but the bird spoke faster.
"I am his assistant, Miss, but it was a previous assistant who gave the boy his name."
"Oh! Please, call me Amy," she exclaimed, completely charmed by the little bird.
"Miss Amy," nodded the bird, "You may call me Atticus."
Atticus was a finch who loved to read, but very often lost at card games.
Hatman's first assistant had been a robin named Williams. He was quite good at telling jokes and doing impressions, but wasn't good enough at penmanship or fighting crime.
"Atticus, Hatman. My uncle and I live just through these trees. Can your horse walk, or does it only swim?" she enquired.
Hatman laughed, but Atticus shushed him.
"It's not a horse, Miss Amy. This is a hippopotamus," the finch answered.
Hatman slid down off the hippopotamus and seemed to be encouraging it to climb up onto the bank of the river.
As the heavy creature lumbered onto dry land, Atticus flew over to perch on Amy's finger and said, "It will soon be dark. May we stay for the night? We are all used to sleeping outside, if there is a covered area for shelter and if we may have something to eat?"
"Of course you may!" said Amy. "What do hippopotamuses eat, though?" she thought to ask.
Hatman had removed his hat, and was now leading the animal into the wood after them.
"She will be happy to eat berries or moss," Hatman answered. "She rarely eats girls with blonde braids."
Amy could tell Hartman was making an effort to be pleasant, and she laughed along with Atticus at the joke.
After introductions had been made to Uncle Paul, and everyone had several helpings of stew (except the hippopotamus, which had stayed outside with a bucket of berries), Amy led them to a tree in the back garden. There she helped spread a blanket on the ground for Hatman, while he and Atticus told her about their adventures.
"So you're the ones everyone's been talking about! You have been tying up bad guys and reuniting old lovers, and you healed the dragons!"
Hatman looked uncomfortable with the praise, but Atticus ruffled his feathers importantly. "It was I who left the notes, Miss Amy!" he explained. "Did the king get the notes?"
Amy nodded. She was delighted, because the notes were her favorite part.
Hatman came from a large village in another kingdom. His parents had been soldiers for the king and had died in battle. Hatman's mother had woven a magical material into a blanket for him when he was very small. After their deaths, Hatman made the blanket into hats and set out into the world to right wrongs.
When Hatman heard about the kingdom whose ruler was getting old and the wizard who could heal people but wasn't welcome at court, he knew he must see if he could help them.
Over the next few days, Amy learned all about their crime fighting and the magical hats that the boy wore. Each one did something different. Amy's favorite was a wide sombrero that looked large enough for the hippo to wear.
"Hippopotamuses don't wear hats!" Hatman said, and he laughed a rare laugh as he set a ruffled bonnet down over Amy's head.
In turn, Amy taught Hatman about herbs and healing. He sat with great patience at the table as she explained each potion ingredient carefully and which direction to stir.
He told her that his favorite was the one to cure loneliness.
***
One day, Hatman told Amy there was only one mystery he'd never been able to solve.
She sat that night out by the tree as he told her the story. Interrupted only twice by the bird, he told her how the king's son had not run away due to an impending marriage, that he had already been married. The prince’s young wife, who was the king’s knight, had died giving birth to a daughter. "The prince died soon after of a broken heart, because the queen's brother couldn't get to the castle in time to heal him."
"That is a very sad story," Amy said when he was finished. She wiped a tear from her face with his handkerchief. "What happened to the queen?"
"She left the kingdom and hasn't been heard from since." Hatman replied.
"How terrible! And what about the king's granddaughter? Did she die, too?"
Hatman suddenly stood to tuck the wrapped turban he'd been wearing into a bag built on the side of the hippopotamus' saddle and exchanged it for a knitted cap to sleep in.
"No," Atticus answered for him, studying Amy carefully, but she only seemed curious about another little girl with no parents. "The story goes that the king couldn't bear to look at her gold colored hair that was so much like her father's, so he banished the princess to live in the forest with her uncle."
Hatman turned to look at Amy, who now wouldn't meet his eye. Then, after a moment, she asked in a very small voice, "What was her name?"
Uncle Paul stepped out of the back door and answered. "Her name was Amethyst."
***
Hatman had learned all he could learn from Amy and Paul about healing, and so he went alone to the castle. Well, alone as one can get when riding a hippopotamus.
The king was eager to meet with the person who was responsible for all of the good deeds, and he quickly arranged for an audience.
The announcer cleared his throat and picked up his bugle.
"King Anthony, I present to you… Hatman."
"Hatman?" asked the king.
"Yes. I am Hatman."
"What is your story, young man?"
But instead of recounting his own adventures, Hatman pleaded the case for Paul and Amy.
He explained how the king's brother-in-law had built a bridge and reinforced it with magic so that no one else would ever have to die without his help again, that Amy's uncle had cried when he'd told them how he'd failed to save his nephew. Hatman told the king how Amy had grown into a kind young lady with a laugh that could warm a person from the inside out just by hearing it. He said that Paul tried for years to teach people how to make potions, to heal wounds, to cure the common sicknesses, so that the kingdom wouldn't have to suffer anymore, but no one wanted to learn and he could hardly travel over the entire kingdom with a little girl to raise.
The king sat quietly until Hatman had finished.
"Tell me your real name." The king said from high upon his gilded throne.
"Bruce," Hatman said. "Bruce of Gothampton."
The king was a proud man, but his biggest regret was sending away his family for good.
"Where is your traveling companion, Bruce of Gothampton?" The king asked.
Hatman became angry. The king doesn't care about Amy! Or about Paul. He must be such a hard, bitter man.
"You can plainly see my bird is right here," Hatman said through clenched teeth.
"No," the king said gently. "I mean, your other traveling companion." He stood and walked over to the great double doors at the end of the room. Hatman followed the king down the wide front stairs to the entrance hall.
When the gates were open, Hatman could see a woman standing where his hippopotamus had been.
"Eleanor." The king reached for the woman's hands and explained to Hatman that his wife could change form, but it was more difficult to change back when she was sad or angry.
“You see, Hatman, this was why I kept trying to track you down, you and your hippopotamus. I believed the queen was trapped in her animal form.”
The queen held onto the king, as if never wanted to let go again. She continued the story, "I fled Erstwhile after my brother and granddaughter were banished, and I could only return to my true form when I saw the king coming out to greet me."
Hatman was scandalized that he had put a saddle on the queen and taken her across three kingdoms and floated her across the river, but Queen Eleanor put his worries to rest.
"You brought me to Paul and Amy, and I could never thank you enough."
***
Monroe closes the book cover, keeping his place with a paw.
Crystal sticks her tongue out. "Mer-bunnies?" she asks, with a raised eyebrow.
"What?" he asks, furry face all innocence. "They exist."
"Uh huh. Okay, what happens next, because that is NOT the end."
He begins to read again. "Amy, or Princess Amethyst, as she is now known, lives at the castle with her grandparents, her uncle Sir Paul, and her best friends Atticus and Hatman, who is still known as Hatman--"
"Surely it's Sir Hatman?" Crystal interrupts.
"With Hatman," he continues without acknowledgment. "There are no longer any of the old diseases in the kingdom. Sir Hatman--"
"I knew it!"
"Sir Hatman spends his days training a dragon to wear a saddle, and Princess Amethyst is making him a new hat for a wedding gift."
"Because they're getting married?" Crystal asks.
"Because they're getting married," Monroe continues, with a nose twitch. "And they all lived happily ever after."
"That's not it!"
"What do you mean?" Monroe sits back on his long legs and smooths his ears out behind him.
"Jules would never write me a story without any kissing at least," Crystal says adamantly, trying to reach for the book.
"She can't be trusted," Monroe retorts. "She bastardized the name of Gotham City."
"Gimme!" Crystal cries, and Monroe lets go of the book, causing Crystal to tumble off the bed, but she doesn't mind, because now she can finish the story.
***
Hatman has been living at the castle training dragons for five years now, and he still can't get used to being addressed as Sir. He isn't technically a knight, but before the king’s death, in thanks for the restoration of his family, he’d decided to begin giving the honorary award to those who serve the kingdom well. Hatman is stronger now, taller. But he never felt like he was anything special, even when he was fighting crime with Williams or Atticus, because all he was really trying to do was right a wrong that could never truly be righted.
No matter how how many bad guys he puts in a dungeon or love matches he makes or broken wings he heals, he'll never bring back his parents.
The only place he's ever felt normal since he left Gothampton is under a tree with Amy. He doesn't care if she's making a daisy chain, or if she's telling him a story, or if she's lying down with her head in his lap while he runs his fingers through her hair, humming as he plays the mandolin.
All he cares about is being near her, because when she's around, his whole body feels lighter, and his heart is more whole than it's ever been in his life.
When her grandfather died, she wept against Hatman's chest. He'd held her and stroked her hair, and wished so hard he could fix her pain like a dragon’s wing.
And that he could hold her forever.
She is of a marriageable age now, and royal nitwits the world over will soon be throwing themselves at the plain village girl who stole Hatman's heart years ago. He saw beauty in the way she mixes ingredients to make a stew or a poultice. He can't look away when she's telling a story or having a town hall meeting with the river bunnies.
He dreads the day she will accept a proposal from some handsome boy scout type of prince and never get to spend time under trees with him again.
He looks up from the hole he is mending in his favorite hat, and there she is.
Princess Amy (he can never bring himself to call her Amethyst) is running down the hill toward him with her hair flying out behind her.
"Guess what!" She demands with a grin when she reaches him and swings him around with her momentum.
He can't help but smile back, he never could. "What's that, Your Highness?"
"Oh, stop it, Hatty. I'm too excited for formalities, and I could never be formal with you anyway. Guess!"
He loves it when she calls him Hatty. She always understood perfectly why he didn't want to be called Bruce.
"You… discovered a cure for boredom."
"That's old news! No, guess again!" She is beaming brighter than the sun, and he could do this all day, to keep that smile on her face.
"You've… perfected your carrot stew?"
"Hatman! Get serious! My carrot stew has been perfect for eons! Oh, I'll just tell you! I've spoken with Grandmother, and she's agreed that it's time I marry," she says, all in a rush, and she clasps her hands together in front of her, still beaming.
"Oh." It's all he can say. He wants to reach out and take her hands, to hold her close, but he can't. He tries to keep smiling, but he's afraid his heart will break right here in the open and it will happen so fast nothing could save him.
***
Amy kisses the queen on the cheek and jumps up. She has to see Hatty now.
She runs out of the room, down the marble halls, and out the front entrance. The sun is beating down on her back, but it only seems to help her run faster.
When she sees his auburn head bent down over one of his ridiculous hats, she stops to catch her breath at the top of the hill.
He's sitting on one of the dragon saddles, leaning forward from the side of the hangar. She's loved this boy nearly as long as she's known him, since he was just a skinny, quiet boy in outlandish hats, yet sometimes the strength of her love still surprises her.
She can't wait any longer and takes off running again, straight to him. When he sees her, he stands up to meet her, and she almost runs right past him, grabbing hold of his strong shoulders to stop herself. She's laughing, giddy.
She teases him with guessing games, until she is bursting with the news.
"I've spoken with Grandmother, and she's agreed it's time I marry!"
Hatty doesn't move, he just stands there and says, "Oh."
That's it? Maybe I should have asked someone for him, first. Atticus, or even Uncle Paul.
"It doesn't have to change things, remember? We've talked about this, Hatty." She'd thought he would be just as thrilled. They can finally make things official. She looks at his lips, at the sad fall of them. She wishes she'd known his parents. That she could ask their blessing.
"Hatty? Should I talk to Atticus first?"
"No, I'm glad you told me first. I'm happy for you, Ames. You know I am. But you know it will change things if you're married. When you have a husband. And I don't know if I can--"
"Oh, for hippopotamus' sake!" He can't be serious. "You don't know it's YOU, Hatty?"
"What?" He feels struck dumb. He can't think, he can't hear over the roar in his ears.
"Hatman. You dear, dear, hatted man. I'm so in love with you I can't see straight. Will you please do me the honor of becoming my prince?"
"You want… me?" That shy, tentative smile is just starting to break out, to curve across his lips. The smile almost no one else gets to see. The smile that she craved when she first got to know him, that she learned to coax from him with a silly story or a gentle elbow to his belly.
The smile that makes her reach for him now. She puts her hands on his neck to pull his face down to hers.
His breath is warm against her skin. She looks down as he drops the hat he was still holding, moves both hands to her hips, around her ribcage to her back, pulls her closer. When she looks back into his eyes, she adjusts, refocuses, reminds herself to breathe.
He says "Yes," against her cheek.
She whispers "I love you," just before their lips finally touch.
***
And they all lived happily ever after.
Love,
Jules (who made Bruce Wayne a ginger.)