Once and Always Champion (2/7), an Alice in Wonderland fic
The trip through the other side of the mirror was decidedly less dramatic than falling through a rabbit’s hole, Alice decided as she appeared on the opposite side of the looking glass. There was no dramatic drop, or painful crash for that matter. One second she was in her home in London, the next she wasn’t.
She stood up and looked around the room. At first, it looked identical to her father’s study. Yet, after she looked more closely, she noticed it was in fact slightly different.
Before she started her investigation, she spun around and faced the mirror. Slowly, she brought her hand up and pressed the glass.
Nothing happened.
It appeared that if she every wanted to return home, Alice would have to find another way to go back there. She only hoped it wouldn’t include slaying another Jabberwocky.
Book titles such as London Labour and the London Poor and Man’s Place in Nature had been replaced with How to Tame Talkative Shrubs and Red v. White: An Intricate Study. The large map of the world had been substituted with, what Alice assumed, was a map of Underland. The leather bound copy of her father’s trade agreements had been replaced with The Underlandian Book of Prophesy.
Curious, Alice walked over to the open book and began reading the poem on the page. “The Prophesy of the Jabberwocky.” As Alice scanned the page, she recognized the words; they were the same ones spoken to her by the Hatter when she returned to Underland.
She closed the book with a loud snap, glad that particular prophesy had already been fulfilled.
“You shouldn’t be going around slapping books like that! If you’re not careful, you’ll break their spine,” chided the desk clock on the shelf.
Intrigued, Alice made her way to it. She had seen several clocks in Underland, but none of them had spoken to her! “You can talk,” she muttered, mostly to herself.
“Of course I can talk! I’ve got a face, don’t I?” he questioned with a sneer.
Alice didn’t answer right away. Her mind was still adjusting to the backwards way of Underland. “I suppose you do,” she finally said.
“Overlanders!” he huffed. “They never have any imagination!”
Ignoring his jab, Alice said, “Perhaps you can help me. Do you know the way to the White Queen’s castle in Mamoreal?”
“Nope, can’t help you there,” the clock replied. “Since I’ve never been moved, I don’t know what’s beyond these four walls.” A few seconds ticked by. “But there are some pesky boys who are always making a racket outside. Maybe you can get them to help you find your castle.” The clock paused thoughtfully.
“Or at least get them away from my window,” he muttered.
Alice smiled.
The Tweedles were near!
“Are they outside now?”
The clock paused for a second. “I don’t hear them, but they always come around this time of day.”
She felt herself relax. They would be able to take her to Mamoreal and reunite her with the others. “Thank you,” she said sincerely.
She opened the door and was surprised that on the other side was not a hallway, as she expected, but an enormous outdoor garden. As she stepped outside, Alice was instantly overwhelmed with the colors and sights that surrounded her. She saw the many wonders of Underland surrounding her--rocking-horse and bread-and-butter flies--but didn’t see the Tweedles anywhere.
Carefully she started down the garden path, looking for the two of them. “Tweedles!” she called loudly.
“Of all the appalling manners!” one of the flowers near her foot complained.
“It’s bad enough that she has to yell and wake up the seedlings, but then she comes in our beautiful garden and wears that absolutely dreadful color,” chimed in the Marigold.
Alice looked down at her blue-grey dress as she knelt down to the flower bed. “What’s wrong with the color?” she wondered.
“It’s incredibly drab,” explained the Lily. “It’s the middle of winter, child. If you want Spring to come, you need to wear bright colors! Even the weeds know that.”
The rest of the flowers laughed.
Alice frowned. She wanted to leave them, and their rudeness, but she knew they might know where the Tweedles were. “If you help me find my friends, then I will leave your garden,” she offered.
“Hurry up and tell us who you are looking for! You’re blocking the sun!” replied the Rose.
“Two brothers,” she said, looking at the flowers. “Tweedledee and Tweedledum.”
The Rose pointed a leaf towards the front gate. “Have you tried looking Over There?”
Alice shook her head. “No, I haven’t.”
“Well, it’s the best place to look when something’s not Right Here,” laughed the Lily.
“You’d think she’d know that!” giggled the Daisy.
Eager to get away from the pretentious flowers, Alice quickly excused herself and left the garden. The path led her to the large white gate which opened to a wide road. As she walked through the entrance, she heard a marvelous thing.
The sound of bickering.
“We have to go this way.”
“No, we have to go the opposite way,” argued another, identical voice.
“If we do that then we’ll go back to where we was.”
“Better than where we haven’t been.”
Before they could continue, Alice stepped up to them with a smile on her face. “Tweedles!” she greeted, relieved to see their familiar faces.
They both opened their mouths to speak at the same time, then turned to face each other. “She was talkin’ to me.”
“No, she was speakin’ to me! She was lookin’ right at me!”
She smiled at them patiently. “I was talking to both of you,” she told them. “It’s so good to see you again.”
Their eyes narrowed simultaneously. “Who are you?” they asked in unison.
“It’s me, Alice.”
They turned to each other and shrugged. “What’s an Alice?” Tweedledum asked his brother.
“You know,” Tweedledee said, giving him a shove, “the little girl that caused all kinds of trouble a while ago.”
“But,” Tweedledum said, nodding towards her, “she ain’t a little girl.”
“So then she isn’t an Alice.”
They nodded in chorus. “That’s logic,” the brothers said together.
Alice pushed aside the desire to cross her arms in frustration. “Now isn’t the time to joke, Tweedles,” she chided gently.
“We’re not joking.”
“Contrariwise, if we were, it wouldn’t be much of a joke since no one is laughing,” added Tweedledum.
Uneasiness settled over Alice. They seemed to be quite serious.
No, she decided with a good dose of Muchness, they had to be playing some kind of trick on her. Maybe they were teasing with her because she had been away for so long. “You know me,” she insisted. “I’m the Queen’s Champion.”
They tensed. “Which queen?”
“The White Queen, of course,” answered Alice, trying not to sound offended at their question.
They both relaxed before a confused look settled on their faces. “Queen Mirana doesn’t have a Champion, does she?”
“Of course not or else we’d know about it.”
“And since we don’t, that means you ain’t a Champion,” replied Tweedledee.
“But I am!” Alice contended. “I followed the rabbit down the hole and he brought me back to Underland so I could become the Champion. Don‘t you remember?”
“Thackery found her?” asked Tweedledum, baffled.
“No,” Tweedledee said, giving his brother another shove. “He can’t find his own toes! She’s talkin’ about McTwisp.”
“Oh.”
Tweedledum turned back to face Alice. “Seein’ as he hasn’t left Underland since the tart trial…”
“You ain’t a Champion,” finished Tweedledee.
Alice wondered what was going on. She realized that their adamancy was genuine; they truly had no idea she was the Queen’s Champion. But, she knew, there was one in Underland who always recognized who she was, even when she didn’t know herself.
“Can you take me to see the Hatter?” she asked.
“You’re wantin’ a hat?”
“No,” she shook her head. “I just need to talk with him.”
They eyed her for a second. “You want to go today?”
“Yes,” she answered slowly, wondering why they were hesitating.
“No one is crazy enough to go to Witzend today,” Tweedledum said. “Not even people thinkin’ they’re the Queen’s Champion.”
“But, seein’ as she wants to go, she must be mad,” evaluated Tweedledee.
“I’m not mad,” Alice replied. She looked at them curiously. “Why wouldn’t I want to go to Witzend today?”
“It’s Horunvendush Eve. The Hightopp clan is getting ready for the Tylwyth.”
Alice’s eyes widened at their words. Suddenly, their conversation made perfect sense. Somehow, she had traveled back through time. It was no wonder why the Tweedles didn’t understand what she was talking about!
“I must see the Hatter now!” she pressed.
“But you’re not even an Outlander, are you?”
“Of course she’s not! She hasn’t spoken one word of Outlandish since she got here!”
“But Tarrant doesn’t always--”
Knowing her patience, along with her time to get to the Hatter, was short, Alice interrupted their bickering. “We need to go now. Which way is it?”
The Tweedles pointed in opposite directions.
When the Tweedles finally agreed on which direction to go--straight down the middle--Alice allowed herself some time to think about the most curious turn of events. Somehow, Time had allowed her to return to Underland before her time as Champion. Perhaps, she hoped, she could spare Underland the brutality it suffered under the Red Queen’s wicked rule.
After all, she thought, it was her role as Champion to protect the land, wasn’t it?
It took no effort for Alice to recall the horrific tale the Hatter told her about Horunvendush Day. His entire clan had been murdered. The land he considered to be his home had been destroyed. The Vorpal Sword had been taken by Stayne. The White Queen had been banished to Mamoreal.
No, she thought determinedly, that would not happen again.
She wondered briefly how, if at all, her nightmare played into this new turn of events. Was Underland trying to prepare her for another battle with the Jabberwocky? She shuddered as the images of a dying Hatter and bloodied Mirana played in her mind.
That would not happen, Alice vowed.
As they continued walking, Alice half-listened as the brothers continued on about how crazy she had to be to intrude during the Tylwyth. Nearly an hour passed before the edge of Witzend came into view.
The Tweedles stopped as the path entered into the darkened forest in front of them. The brothers turned to Alice. “You’d have to be mad to go in there,” Tweedledee said.
“Contrariwise, if you’re not mad, then you’ll be best stayin’ out here.”
“And what if I’m half-mad?” she asked, her eyes twinkling at the memory of her conversation with Tarrant from years ago.
They frowned, unable to come up with an answer. Finally, Tweedledum spoke. “Best of luck, Alice.”
“You’re not coming in?”
“We’re not mad.”
“Precisely,” agreed Tweedledee. “Fairfarren, Alice.”
“Fairfarren, Tweedles,” she said. Well, she thought as she walked from the brothers, at least they were finally able to agree on something before they separated.
Soon after she started down the windy, forested road, Alice found herself wishing for some kind of light. The large, not particularly friendly-looking, trees did their best to block the sunlight. Despite the increasing darkness, Alice pushed herself forward, knowing she needed to find Tarrant quickly.
As she continued making her way down the path, she wondered how, exactly she would break the news to Tarrant. What if he didn’t remember her? Instantly, she dismissed the idea. Tarrant would always know who she was.
Finally, she saw a dim light appearing from a clearing ahead of her. She hastened her step, eager to find the opening out of the woods and locate her friend.
When she crossed into the large clearing, Alice was flabbergasted. The fields that were scorched by the Jabberwocky’s flame were bright and vibrant. Adults and children were busy moving back and forth, preparing different festivities for the upcoming celebration. The flowers, who Alice noted were much kinder to the Outlanders, were helping guide those carrying large barrels to the enormous tent to the side of the village. The sound of singing, laughter and good-natured conversation filled the air.
Finding Tarrant was going to be difficult, Alice noted. Every person, man and woman, adult and child, had a unique top hat on their head. She looked around for Tarrant's vibrant, orange hair, but before she could find him, a voice, and a very familiar one at that, cut through the air.
“It’s ye!” the Hatter yelled from across the field, sounding annoyed.
Alice frowned. She remembered his voice being much more welcoming the first time she had returned to Underland. Perhaps he was busy with the preparations for the Tylwyth and was in a hurry, she reasoned, knowing his poor relationship with Time.
She watched as he crossed the field, mindful not to interfere with any of the activities going on, to stand in front of her, scowling. “I’d know ye anywhere,” he continued.
No, Alice corrected, there was something beyond annoyance in his features. He seemed genuinely upset.
“Hatter, it’s me Alice.”
“I ken who ye are. Ye ur th‘ little boy who interrupted ma tea party then rudely left in th’ middle o’ it,” he said distastefully, his eyes turning a slight yellow. He took a step back and considered her for a moment. “At least ye got a haircut.”
When she had been at sea, Alice had imagined her reunion with Tarrant more times than she was comfortable admitting, but never once did she consider the idea he would be openly hostile to her when she returned to Underland. His rancor towards her stung.
“Nigh, unless ye ur a Hightopp, ye need tae be g'ang back tae where ye came frae,” he said, his voice cold. Without waiting for her to say anything, he turned away from her.
No! She had to tell him what was going to happen!
Alice grabbed his arm before he could leave. “I’m not going anywhere.”
That caused him to turn around. To her surprise, there was a glimpse of a smile on his face. “Ye huvnae lost yer Muchness, Ah see.”
She relaxed slightly, releasing her hold. “Actually, you helped me find it.” At his befuddled look, she shook her head. “Never mind.” Now that the moment had come, Alice was confounded as to how, exactly, she should tell him about his Fate.
“Perhaps you can tell me why you are here,” he prompted, his lisp entering into the conversation.
She looked around at all the people walking by them. How she wished she could speak to Tarrant without so many people around!
“Is there anywhere we can talk in private?” she asked.
A strange look passed over his face. “Aye, we can speak in ma workshop.”
She followed the Hatter across the field. The gazes of most of the Hightopps followed her.
Once they got to the slightly crooked-looking building, they stepped inside. Numerous hats, bolts of fabric and every other kind of notion Alice had ever seen, and a few she hadn’t, cluttered the room. How could the Hatter work like this?
“You have something you need to tell me?” he asked.
“You and your entire clan are in danger if you stay here,” she blurted out.
As she saw his eyes turn orange, she wondered if, perhaps, there was a better way for her to have told him the news.
“An’ why would ‘at be?”
There was no other option; she had to tell him the complete truth.
“The Red Queen is planning to unleash the Jabberwocky against your village and steal the Vorpal Sword,” she explained.
He took a step towards her. “And what do you know about th’ Bluddy Behg Hid’s plans?” he demanded.
“Only what you told me!” she countered, refusing to be intimidated by his anger.
“I’ve never tauld ye anythin’ abit a Jabberwock!” he shot back.
She drew a deep breath, calming herself. “I know this will sound mad, but I’ve been to the future. It was then that you told me what happened to your village.”
Tarrant sneered. “I ken Time quite well an’ he never shows es-self before he’s ready tae b’seen,” argued the Hatter.
“Perhaps Time got confused when I stepped through the looking glass,” offered Alice helplessly. “But believe me, Hatter,” she said, boldly taking a step towards him and placing a hand on his shoulder. “You, your clan and the White Queen will be in danger if you don’t leave here.”
He studied her for a second. “An’ when did I tell ye these things?”
Alice dropped her hand, glad he was giving her a chance to explain herself. “When you were taking me to Mamoreal so I could become the Queen’s Champion.”
“The Queen’s Champion,” he repeated slowly, as if to test the validity of her words.
“Yes,” she said, nodding, “so I could defeat the Jabberwocky.” She noticed the disbelief on his face as she spoke. “Please, Tarrant, I need you to trust me.”
His gaze shifted to her sharply. “And I suppose I told ye ma name too.”
Alice shifted uncomfortably. While she had no doubt the Hatter she knew wouldn’t have minded her using his name, the truth was, he never did get around to formally introducing himself. “Well, no. I heard Chess call you that,” she admitted.
“Chess, eh?” he asked. The distain was unable to be missed.
“Yes,” she replied. “I don’t know how or why, but Time is giving me a chance to save you and your family from suffering their terrible Fate.”
He seemed to be considering her claims when finally he drew in a long breath. “Well, far be it for me to distrust a Champion of Mamoreal.” He glanced out the front door to the crowd of Hightopps out in the field. “But I’m afraid the others won’t be likely to trust you unless I talk with them first.”
Alice smiled.
He believed her!
Now everyone would be safe from the Jabberwocky and Mirana would remain queen. “Thank you, Hatter.”
He considered her for a moment, his expression oddly unreadable. “Make yourself comfortable. It may take a while.” He exited the shop and closed the door.
Before she could ask him why he had bothered to do so, Alice heard the sound of a key twisting in a lock on the other side of the door.
Alice was trapped.
“Ye dinnae look like a no-good slithy, bealin’ rath,” came a small voice from outside the small window.
Alice walked up to the little opening, which was barely big enough to admit a determined cat, and saw a young girl, probably no older than eight, with long brown hair and an intricate black top hat.
“Who called me that?” she asked despite already knowing the answer.
“Ma uncle,” the girl replied. “He says yoo’re madder than onie hatter he’s ever met an’ that’s sayin’ somethin’!”
“I’m not mad,” insisted Alice, resisting the urge to huff. “I wish he would trust me.”
The little girl crawled up on top of a large crate outside the house, bringing herself up to eye-level with Alice. She looked at her. “That’s yer problem,” she said after she considered Alice for a second. “Ye need a hat!”
“What?” asked Alice, puzzled.
The girl put a hand on her hip. “Ye can’t expect a Hightopp to trust someone without a hat, can ye?” She grinned brightly. “I’ll be right back.”
The little girl ran away before Alice could reply. She tried to keep track of where the little girl was going, but found the task impossible. The Weeping Willow just outside the hat workshop window, which had, thankfully, stopped crying, effectively blocked her from seeing anything going on.
Several long minutes passed before Alice heard the little footsteps approaching. “Here,” the little girl said, thrusting a hat through the open window. “Try it on!”
Alice studied the top hat before placing it on her head. It was a beautiful combination of blue and silver. Like the Hatter’s hat, it had a large ribbon tied around it above the brim, but, unlike Tarrant’s, her ribbon was an iridescent white. Four hat pins, each with their own charm--a diamond, a heart, a spade and a club--were nestled on one side of the hat. On the other side was a stunning silver flower that seemed to glow.
Alice slowly placed it on top of her head. “It’s beautiful.”
The little girl grinned, her eyes turning a vibrant green. “It’s a Hannahlyn Hightopp original,” she said proudly.
“You made this?” Alice asked, amazed.
Hannahlyn nodded. “Uncle Tarrant says it’s th’ best First Hat he’s ever seen, but Ah think he’s jist sayin’ ‘at.”
“I agree with him. It’s lovely,” Alice said sincerely. She studied the girl for a second. She didn’t want to involve such a little child, but she needed to do what she could to get everyone out of Witzend. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“As lang as it’s nae a riddle. Uncle Tarrant is iye askin’ those,” Hannahlyn replied, making a face.
Alice smiled as she thought about his unanswerable riddle concerning a raven and a writing desk, before she turned serious. “Do you know if the Tylwyth is still going on as planned?” she asked, not wanting to scare the child.
Hannahlyn shrugged her shoulders. “Ah don’t ken. The grown-ups ur talkin’ tae each other…probably abit ye.” She looked at Alice curiously. “Is it true yoo’re th’ queen’s champion?”
“Yes…or at least I will be when the time comes,” Alice answered.
Hannahlyn laughed. “Ma pa is iye sayin how tricky time can be. He can never b’found when ye need him an’ when ye want him tae pass, he’s iye wantin tae stay around.”
Her jovialness grieved Alice. She couldn’t--wouldn’t--let something happen to this charming girl or any of the others.
“Hannahlyn, you must talk to your uncle. Maybe you could tell him that I am not mad,” she pleaded, pushing aside the feelings of guilt produced by using the child.
Hannahlyn eyed her strangely for a moment. “He’ll ken whit Ah think abit ye soon enaw,” she said as her eyes turned blue.
A faint voice called from outside.
“Ah hae tae be gawg, Champion,” she said. She looked at the top of Alice’s head. “Don’t lose ‘at,” she instructed.
Alice reached up and touched the gift softly. “I won’t.”
“Then you’ll be jist fine,” she grinned before she hopped off the crate. She turned back to Alice. “Fairfarren, Champion.”
“Fairfarren,” she returned softly.
Then Alice was alone once more.
“We need tae warn th’ Queen, an’,” Willymson added pointedly, “cancel th’ Tylwyth.”
“I agree. Keepin’ the lass locked in th’ workshop isn’t gonnae to keep th’ Bluddy Behg Hid frae sendin’ th’ Jabberwock,” chimed in Lachlan, nodding his head.
“We shood hae known th’ Bluddy Behg Hid was up tae somethin‘. She’s been worse since she killed th’ king!” added Gilmat, slamming his fist on a table.
“I say we stay ‘ere an’ fight! No Jabberwock stands a chance against th’ Hightopps!” crowed Bonnibelle from the corner of the room.
“But, we have younglins here,” reminded Eideard “We need tae leave Witzend.”
“What if this Alice lass is lying abit th’ whole thing?” Tavia asked.
“Then Tarrant wouldn’t hae told us abit ‘er,” replied Tavish plainly. “He knew ‘er when she was a lass, ‘member?”
Tarrant listened to the debate--along with the dozen or so voices in his head--wishing that that Alice hadn’t stepped foot in Witzend. He should have known that little girl was going to be trouble when the tart trial had ended the way it had years ago.
“It’s up tae Tarrant. He’s in charge o' th’ festival,” Beathas said.
Eideard nodded. “Aye, it is,” he replied, looked at Tarrant. “What ur we gonnae dae?”
The question caused him to focus. The weight of being the Eldest Son pressed upon him.
He looked around his kinsmen, their eyes all a dangerous yellow and answered. “I’ll fin’ Queen Mirana an’ tell ‘er th’ Tylwyth has bin…postponed. Th’ rest ay ya need tae leave Witzend.”
“What abit Alice?”
“She can stay haur ‘til th’ Bluddy Behg Hid sends someone tae gie ‘er,” Tarrant replied, his eyes flashing orange.
“Aye,” came the chorus of agreements.
Quickly, Tarrant retrieved his broadsword from his home. He quickly cast a glance at his workshop, momentarily confused by his Guilt as he walked past the building. She was the enemy, his Distrust reminded him as he left the village.
He quickly made his way down the path he knew Mirana and her entourage would be traveling. His Anger and Rage were carrying on a rather lively conversation about Alice when a lazy voice suddenly interrupted them.
“I hear that the Tylwyth is canceled this year,” said Chess languidly from above Tarrant’s head. “It’s a shame, really. I was hoping to see you Futterwacken.”
He watched as the cat slowly appeared in the air next to him with an uncharacteristic frown on his face.
“There will be no Futterwacken this year,” pronounced Tarrant. “Alice has returned.”
Chess twirled around slowly. “The little girl with the terrible sense of direction?”
“Aye, but she nae a lass anymair. She’s grown up an’ workin’ wi’ th’ Bluddy Behg Hid,” answered Tarrant, scowling.
“She’s working with the Red Queen? I hardly believe that,” replied Chess.
Tarrant’s eyes flashed orange. “If ye don’t believe me, why don’t ye talk to ‘er yerself? She came tae me this morn and told me about th’ Bluddy Behg Hid’s plans.”
“And Iracebeth sent her ahead to warn you about the upcoming dangers?” Chess asked, a wide grin spreading across his face. “That’s unusually kind of her.”
Tarrant paused. That was the one point that his Skepticism had yet to explain to him. Why would th’ Bluddy Behg Hid send Alice to Witzend before the attack?
“I don’t ken, but I’m nae takin’ any chances,” replied Tarrant.
“Halt!” came a loud voice from the path ahead. “Who approaches the queen of Mamoreal?”
“It’s Tarrant Hightopp,” he answered, all traces of his Outlandish accent gone.
“You may proceed,” said the White Knight, recognizing the name and the man in front of him.
Quickly, the Hatter made his way to his queen who was seated upon her white horse. “Tarrant, what’s wrong?” Mirana asked, knowing that something Serious had to happen for him to leave his village before the Tylwyth.
“We need to talk, your Majesty.”
Part 3
She stood up and looked around the room. At first, it looked identical to her father’s study. Yet, after she looked more closely, she noticed it was in fact slightly different.
Before she started her investigation, she spun around and faced the mirror. Slowly, she brought her hand up and pressed the glass.
Nothing happened.
It appeared that if she every wanted to return home, Alice would have to find another way to go back there. She only hoped it wouldn’t include slaying another Jabberwocky.
Book titles such as London Labour and the London Poor and Man’s Place in Nature had been replaced with How to Tame Talkative Shrubs and Red v. White: An Intricate Study. The large map of the world had been substituted with, what Alice assumed, was a map of Underland. The leather bound copy of her father’s trade agreements had been replaced with The Underlandian Book of Prophesy.
Curious, Alice walked over to the open book and began reading the poem on the page. “The Prophesy of the Jabberwocky.” As Alice scanned the page, she recognized the words; they were the same ones spoken to her by the Hatter when she returned to Underland.
She closed the book with a loud snap, glad that particular prophesy had already been fulfilled.
“You shouldn’t be going around slapping books like that! If you’re not careful, you’ll break their spine,” chided the desk clock on the shelf.
Intrigued, Alice made her way to it. She had seen several clocks in Underland, but none of them had spoken to her! “You can talk,” she muttered, mostly to herself.
“Of course I can talk! I’ve got a face, don’t I?” he questioned with a sneer.
Alice didn’t answer right away. Her mind was still adjusting to the backwards way of Underland. “I suppose you do,” she finally said.
“Overlanders!” he huffed. “They never have any imagination!”
Ignoring his jab, Alice said, “Perhaps you can help me. Do you know the way to the White Queen’s castle in Mamoreal?”
“Nope, can’t help you there,” the clock replied. “Since I’ve never been moved, I don’t know what’s beyond these four walls.” A few seconds ticked by. “But there are some pesky boys who are always making a racket outside. Maybe you can get them to help you find your castle.” The clock paused thoughtfully.
“Or at least get them away from my window,” he muttered.
Alice smiled.
The Tweedles were near!
“Are they outside now?”
The clock paused for a second. “I don’t hear them, but they always come around this time of day.”
She felt herself relax. They would be able to take her to Mamoreal and reunite her with the others. “Thank you,” she said sincerely.
She opened the door and was surprised that on the other side was not a hallway, as she expected, but an enormous outdoor garden. As she stepped outside, Alice was instantly overwhelmed with the colors and sights that surrounded her. She saw the many wonders of Underland surrounding her--rocking-horse and bread-and-butter flies--but didn’t see the Tweedles anywhere.
Carefully she started down the garden path, looking for the two of them. “Tweedles!” she called loudly.
“Of all the appalling manners!” one of the flowers near her foot complained.
“It’s bad enough that she has to yell and wake up the seedlings, but then she comes in our beautiful garden and wears that absolutely dreadful color,” chimed in the Marigold.
Alice looked down at her blue-grey dress as she knelt down to the flower bed. “What’s wrong with the color?” she wondered.
“It’s incredibly drab,” explained the Lily. “It’s the middle of winter, child. If you want Spring to come, you need to wear bright colors! Even the weeds know that.”
The rest of the flowers laughed.
Alice frowned. She wanted to leave them, and their rudeness, but she knew they might know where the Tweedles were. “If you help me find my friends, then I will leave your garden,” she offered.
“Hurry up and tell us who you are looking for! You’re blocking the sun!” replied the Rose.
“Two brothers,” she said, looking at the flowers. “Tweedledee and Tweedledum.”
The Rose pointed a leaf towards the front gate. “Have you tried looking Over There?”
Alice shook her head. “No, I haven’t.”
“Well, it’s the best place to look when something’s not Right Here,” laughed the Lily.
“You’d think she’d know that!” giggled the Daisy.
Eager to get away from the pretentious flowers, Alice quickly excused herself and left the garden. The path led her to the large white gate which opened to a wide road. As she walked through the entrance, she heard a marvelous thing.
The sound of bickering.
“We have to go this way.”
“No, we have to go the opposite way,” argued another, identical voice.
“If we do that then we’ll go back to where we was.”
“Better than where we haven’t been.”
Before they could continue, Alice stepped up to them with a smile on her face. “Tweedles!” she greeted, relieved to see their familiar faces.
They both opened their mouths to speak at the same time, then turned to face each other. “She was talkin’ to me.”
“No, she was speakin’ to me! She was lookin’ right at me!”
She smiled at them patiently. “I was talking to both of you,” she told them. “It’s so good to see you again.”
Their eyes narrowed simultaneously. “Who are you?” they asked in unison.
“It’s me, Alice.”
They turned to each other and shrugged. “What’s an Alice?” Tweedledum asked his brother.
“You know,” Tweedledee said, giving him a shove, “the little girl that caused all kinds of trouble a while ago.”
“But,” Tweedledum said, nodding towards her, “she ain’t a little girl.”
“So then she isn’t an Alice.”
They nodded in chorus. “That’s logic,” the brothers said together.
Alice pushed aside the desire to cross her arms in frustration. “Now isn’t the time to joke, Tweedles,” she chided gently.
“We’re not joking.”
“Contrariwise, if we were, it wouldn’t be much of a joke since no one is laughing,” added Tweedledum.
Uneasiness settled over Alice. They seemed to be quite serious.
No, she decided with a good dose of Muchness, they had to be playing some kind of trick on her. Maybe they were teasing with her because she had been away for so long. “You know me,” she insisted. “I’m the Queen’s Champion.”
They tensed. “Which queen?”
“The White Queen, of course,” answered Alice, trying not to sound offended at their question.
They both relaxed before a confused look settled on their faces. “Queen Mirana doesn’t have a Champion, does she?”
“Of course not or else we’d know about it.”
“And since we don’t, that means you ain’t a Champion,” replied Tweedledee.
“But I am!” Alice contended. “I followed the rabbit down the hole and he brought me back to Underland so I could become the Champion. Don‘t you remember?”
“Thackery found her?” asked Tweedledum, baffled.
“No,” Tweedledee said, giving his brother another shove. “He can’t find his own toes! She’s talkin’ about McTwisp.”
“Oh.”
Tweedledum turned back to face Alice. “Seein’ as he hasn’t left Underland since the tart trial…”
“You ain’t a Champion,” finished Tweedledee.
Alice wondered what was going on. She realized that their adamancy was genuine; they truly had no idea she was the Queen’s Champion. But, she knew, there was one in Underland who always recognized who she was, even when she didn’t know herself.
“Can you take me to see the Hatter?” she asked.
“You’re wantin’ a hat?”
“No,” she shook her head. “I just need to talk with him.”
They eyed her for a second. “You want to go today?”
“Yes,” she answered slowly, wondering why they were hesitating.
“No one is crazy enough to go to Witzend today,” Tweedledum said. “Not even people thinkin’ they’re the Queen’s Champion.”
“But, seein’ as she wants to go, she must be mad,” evaluated Tweedledee.
“I’m not mad,” Alice replied. She looked at them curiously. “Why wouldn’t I want to go to Witzend today?”
“It’s Horunvendush Eve. The Hightopp clan is getting ready for the Tylwyth.”
Alice’s eyes widened at their words. Suddenly, their conversation made perfect sense. Somehow, she had traveled back through time. It was no wonder why the Tweedles didn’t understand what she was talking about!
“I must see the Hatter now!” she pressed.
“But you’re not even an Outlander, are you?”
“Of course she’s not! She hasn’t spoken one word of Outlandish since she got here!”
“But Tarrant doesn’t always--”
Knowing her patience, along with her time to get to the Hatter, was short, Alice interrupted their bickering. “We need to go now. Which way is it?”
The Tweedles pointed in opposite directions.
When the Tweedles finally agreed on which direction to go--straight down the middle--Alice allowed herself some time to think about the most curious turn of events. Somehow, Time had allowed her to return to Underland before her time as Champion. Perhaps, she hoped, she could spare Underland the brutality it suffered under the Red Queen’s wicked rule.
After all, she thought, it was her role as Champion to protect the land, wasn’t it?
It took no effort for Alice to recall the horrific tale the Hatter told her about Horunvendush Day. His entire clan had been murdered. The land he considered to be his home had been destroyed. The Vorpal Sword had been taken by Stayne. The White Queen had been banished to Mamoreal.
No, she thought determinedly, that would not happen again.
She wondered briefly how, if at all, her nightmare played into this new turn of events. Was Underland trying to prepare her for another battle with the Jabberwocky? She shuddered as the images of a dying Hatter and bloodied Mirana played in her mind.
That would not happen, Alice vowed.
As they continued walking, Alice half-listened as the brothers continued on about how crazy she had to be to intrude during the Tylwyth. Nearly an hour passed before the edge of Witzend came into view.
The Tweedles stopped as the path entered into the darkened forest in front of them. The brothers turned to Alice. “You’d have to be mad to go in there,” Tweedledee said.
“Contrariwise, if you’re not mad, then you’ll be best stayin’ out here.”
“And what if I’m half-mad?” she asked, her eyes twinkling at the memory of her conversation with Tarrant from years ago.
They frowned, unable to come up with an answer. Finally, Tweedledum spoke. “Best of luck, Alice.”
“You’re not coming in?”
“We’re not mad.”
“Precisely,” agreed Tweedledee. “Fairfarren, Alice.”
“Fairfarren, Tweedles,” she said. Well, she thought as she walked from the brothers, at least they were finally able to agree on something before they separated.
Soon after she started down the windy, forested road, Alice found herself wishing for some kind of light. The large, not particularly friendly-looking, trees did their best to block the sunlight. Despite the increasing darkness, Alice pushed herself forward, knowing she needed to find Tarrant quickly.
As she continued making her way down the path, she wondered how, exactly she would break the news to Tarrant. What if he didn’t remember her? Instantly, she dismissed the idea. Tarrant would always know who she was.
Finally, she saw a dim light appearing from a clearing ahead of her. She hastened her step, eager to find the opening out of the woods and locate her friend.
When she crossed into the large clearing, Alice was flabbergasted. The fields that were scorched by the Jabberwocky’s flame were bright and vibrant. Adults and children were busy moving back and forth, preparing different festivities for the upcoming celebration. The flowers, who Alice noted were much kinder to the Outlanders, were helping guide those carrying large barrels to the enormous tent to the side of the village. The sound of singing, laughter and good-natured conversation filled the air.
Finding Tarrant was going to be difficult, Alice noted. Every person, man and woman, adult and child, had a unique top hat on their head. She looked around for Tarrant's vibrant, orange hair, but before she could find him, a voice, and a very familiar one at that, cut through the air.
“It’s ye!” the Hatter yelled from across the field, sounding annoyed.
Alice frowned. She remembered his voice being much more welcoming the first time she had returned to Underland. Perhaps he was busy with the preparations for the Tylwyth and was in a hurry, she reasoned, knowing his poor relationship with Time.
She watched as he crossed the field, mindful not to interfere with any of the activities going on, to stand in front of her, scowling. “I’d know ye anywhere,” he continued.
No, Alice corrected, there was something beyond annoyance in his features. He seemed genuinely upset.
“Hatter, it’s me Alice.”
“I ken who ye are. Ye ur th‘ little boy who interrupted ma tea party then rudely left in th’ middle o’ it,” he said distastefully, his eyes turning a slight yellow. He took a step back and considered her for a moment. “At least ye got a haircut.”
When she had been at sea, Alice had imagined her reunion with Tarrant more times than she was comfortable admitting, but never once did she consider the idea he would be openly hostile to her when she returned to Underland. His rancor towards her stung.
“Nigh, unless ye ur a Hightopp, ye need tae be g'ang back tae where ye came frae,” he said, his voice cold. Without waiting for her to say anything, he turned away from her.
No! She had to tell him what was going to happen!
Alice grabbed his arm before he could leave. “I’m not going anywhere.”
That caused him to turn around. To her surprise, there was a glimpse of a smile on his face. “Ye huvnae lost yer Muchness, Ah see.”
She relaxed slightly, releasing her hold. “Actually, you helped me find it.” At his befuddled look, she shook her head. “Never mind.” Now that the moment had come, Alice was confounded as to how, exactly, she should tell him about his Fate.
“Perhaps you can tell me why you are here,” he prompted, his lisp entering into the conversation.
She looked around at all the people walking by them. How she wished she could speak to Tarrant without so many people around!
“Is there anywhere we can talk in private?” she asked.
A strange look passed over his face. “Aye, we can speak in ma workshop.”
She followed the Hatter across the field. The gazes of most of the Hightopps followed her.
Once they got to the slightly crooked-looking building, they stepped inside. Numerous hats, bolts of fabric and every other kind of notion Alice had ever seen, and a few she hadn’t, cluttered the room. How could the Hatter work like this?
“You have something you need to tell me?” he asked.
“You and your entire clan are in danger if you stay here,” she blurted out.
As she saw his eyes turn orange, she wondered if, perhaps, there was a better way for her to have told him the news.
“An’ why would ‘at be?”
There was no other option; she had to tell him the complete truth.
“The Red Queen is planning to unleash the Jabberwocky against your village and steal the Vorpal Sword,” she explained.
He took a step towards her. “And what do you know about th’ Bluddy Behg Hid’s plans?” he demanded.
“Only what you told me!” she countered, refusing to be intimidated by his anger.
“I’ve never tauld ye anythin’ abit a Jabberwock!” he shot back.
She drew a deep breath, calming herself. “I know this will sound mad, but I’ve been to the future. It was then that you told me what happened to your village.”
Tarrant sneered. “I ken Time quite well an’ he never shows es-self before he’s ready tae b’seen,” argued the Hatter.
“Perhaps Time got confused when I stepped through the looking glass,” offered Alice helplessly. “But believe me, Hatter,” she said, boldly taking a step towards him and placing a hand on his shoulder. “You, your clan and the White Queen will be in danger if you don’t leave here.”
He studied her for a second. “An’ when did I tell ye these things?”
Alice dropped her hand, glad he was giving her a chance to explain herself. “When you were taking me to Mamoreal so I could become the Queen’s Champion.”
“The Queen’s Champion,” he repeated slowly, as if to test the validity of her words.
“Yes,” she said, nodding, “so I could defeat the Jabberwocky.” She noticed the disbelief on his face as she spoke. “Please, Tarrant, I need you to trust me.”
His gaze shifted to her sharply. “And I suppose I told ye ma name too.”
Alice shifted uncomfortably. While she had no doubt the Hatter she knew wouldn’t have minded her using his name, the truth was, he never did get around to formally introducing himself. “Well, no. I heard Chess call you that,” she admitted.
“Chess, eh?” he asked. The distain was unable to be missed.
“Yes,” she replied. “I don’t know how or why, but Time is giving me a chance to save you and your family from suffering their terrible Fate.”
He seemed to be considering her claims when finally he drew in a long breath. “Well, far be it for me to distrust a Champion of Mamoreal.” He glanced out the front door to the crowd of Hightopps out in the field. “But I’m afraid the others won’t be likely to trust you unless I talk with them first.”
Alice smiled.
He believed her!
Now everyone would be safe from the Jabberwocky and Mirana would remain queen. “Thank you, Hatter.”
He considered her for a moment, his expression oddly unreadable. “Make yourself comfortable. It may take a while.” He exited the shop and closed the door.
Before she could ask him why he had bothered to do so, Alice heard the sound of a key twisting in a lock on the other side of the door.
Alice was trapped.
“Ye dinnae look like a no-good slithy, bealin’ rath,” came a small voice from outside the small window.
Alice walked up to the little opening, which was barely big enough to admit a determined cat, and saw a young girl, probably no older than eight, with long brown hair and an intricate black top hat.
“Who called me that?” she asked despite already knowing the answer.
“Ma uncle,” the girl replied. “He says yoo’re madder than onie hatter he’s ever met an’ that’s sayin’ somethin’!”
“I’m not mad,” insisted Alice, resisting the urge to huff. “I wish he would trust me.”
The little girl crawled up on top of a large crate outside the house, bringing herself up to eye-level with Alice. She looked at her. “That’s yer problem,” she said after she considered Alice for a second. “Ye need a hat!”
“What?” asked Alice, puzzled.
The girl put a hand on her hip. “Ye can’t expect a Hightopp to trust someone without a hat, can ye?” She grinned brightly. “I’ll be right back.”
The little girl ran away before Alice could reply. She tried to keep track of where the little girl was going, but found the task impossible. The Weeping Willow just outside the hat workshop window, which had, thankfully, stopped crying, effectively blocked her from seeing anything going on.
Several long minutes passed before Alice heard the little footsteps approaching. “Here,” the little girl said, thrusting a hat through the open window. “Try it on!”
Alice studied the top hat before placing it on her head. It was a beautiful combination of blue and silver. Like the Hatter’s hat, it had a large ribbon tied around it above the brim, but, unlike Tarrant’s, her ribbon was an iridescent white. Four hat pins, each with their own charm--a diamond, a heart, a spade and a club--were nestled on one side of the hat. On the other side was a stunning silver flower that seemed to glow.
Alice slowly placed it on top of her head. “It’s beautiful.”
The little girl grinned, her eyes turning a vibrant green. “It’s a Hannahlyn Hightopp original,” she said proudly.
“You made this?” Alice asked, amazed.
Hannahlyn nodded. “Uncle Tarrant says it’s th’ best First Hat he’s ever seen, but Ah think he’s jist sayin’ ‘at.”
“I agree with him. It’s lovely,” Alice said sincerely. She studied the girl for a second. She didn’t want to involve such a little child, but she needed to do what she could to get everyone out of Witzend. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“As lang as it’s nae a riddle. Uncle Tarrant is iye askin’ those,” Hannahlyn replied, making a face.
Alice smiled as she thought about his unanswerable riddle concerning a raven and a writing desk, before she turned serious. “Do you know if the Tylwyth is still going on as planned?” she asked, not wanting to scare the child.
Hannahlyn shrugged her shoulders. “Ah don’t ken. The grown-ups ur talkin’ tae each other…probably abit ye.” She looked at Alice curiously. “Is it true yoo’re th’ queen’s champion?”
“Yes…or at least I will be when the time comes,” Alice answered.
Hannahlyn laughed. “Ma pa is iye sayin how tricky time can be. He can never b’found when ye need him an’ when ye want him tae pass, he’s iye wantin tae stay around.”
Her jovialness grieved Alice. She couldn’t--wouldn’t--let something happen to this charming girl or any of the others.
“Hannahlyn, you must talk to your uncle. Maybe you could tell him that I am not mad,” she pleaded, pushing aside the feelings of guilt produced by using the child.
Hannahlyn eyed her strangely for a moment. “He’ll ken whit Ah think abit ye soon enaw,” she said as her eyes turned blue.
A faint voice called from outside.
“Ah hae tae be gawg, Champion,” she said. She looked at the top of Alice’s head. “Don’t lose ‘at,” she instructed.
Alice reached up and touched the gift softly. “I won’t.”
“Then you’ll be jist fine,” she grinned before she hopped off the crate. She turned back to Alice. “Fairfarren, Champion.”
“Fairfarren,” she returned softly.
Then Alice was alone once more.
“We need tae warn th’ Queen, an’,” Willymson added pointedly, “cancel th’ Tylwyth.”
“I agree. Keepin’ the lass locked in th’ workshop isn’t gonnae to keep th’ Bluddy Behg Hid frae sendin’ th’ Jabberwock,” chimed in Lachlan, nodding his head.
“We shood hae known th’ Bluddy Behg Hid was up tae somethin‘. She’s been worse since she killed th’ king!” added Gilmat, slamming his fist on a table.
“I say we stay ‘ere an’ fight! No Jabberwock stands a chance against th’ Hightopps!” crowed Bonnibelle from the corner of the room.
“But, we have younglins here,” reminded Eideard “We need tae leave Witzend.”
“What if this Alice lass is lying abit th’ whole thing?” Tavia asked.
“Then Tarrant wouldn’t hae told us abit ‘er,” replied Tavish plainly. “He knew ‘er when she was a lass, ‘member?”
Tarrant listened to the debate--along with the dozen or so voices in his head--wishing that that Alice hadn’t stepped foot in Witzend. He should have known that little girl was going to be trouble when the tart trial had ended the way it had years ago.
“It’s up tae Tarrant. He’s in charge o' th’ festival,” Beathas said.
Eideard nodded. “Aye, it is,” he replied, looked at Tarrant. “What ur we gonnae dae?”
The question caused him to focus. The weight of being the Eldest Son pressed upon him.
He looked around his kinsmen, their eyes all a dangerous yellow and answered. “I’ll fin’ Queen Mirana an’ tell ‘er th’ Tylwyth has bin…postponed. Th’ rest ay ya need tae leave Witzend.”
“What abit Alice?”
“She can stay haur ‘til th’ Bluddy Behg Hid sends someone tae gie ‘er,” Tarrant replied, his eyes flashing orange.
“Aye,” came the chorus of agreements.
Quickly, Tarrant retrieved his broadsword from his home. He quickly cast a glance at his workshop, momentarily confused by his Guilt as he walked past the building. She was the enemy, his Distrust reminded him as he left the village.
He quickly made his way down the path he knew Mirana and her entourage would be traveling. His Anger and Rage were carrying on a rather lively conversation about Alice when a lazy voice suddenly interrupted them.
“I hear that the Tylwyth is canceled this year,” said Chess languidly from above Tarrant’s head. “It’s a shame, really. I was hoping to see you Futterwacken.”
He watched as the cat slowly appeared in the air next to him with an uncharacteristic frown on his face.
“There will be no Futterwacken this year,” pronounced Tarrant. “Alice has returned.”
Chess twirled around slowly. “The little girl with the terrible sense of direction?”
“Aye, but she nae a lass anymair. She’s grown up an’ workin’ wi’ th’ Bluddy Behg Hid,” answered Tarrant, scowling.
“She’s working with the Red Queen? I hardly believe that,” replied Chess.
Tarrant’s eyes flashed orange. “If ye don’t believe me, why don’t ye talk to ‘er yerself? She came tae me this morn and told me about th’ Bluddy Behg Hid’s plans.”
“And Iracebeth sent her ahead to warn you about the upcoming dangers?” Chess asked, a wide grin spreading across his face. “That’s unusually kind of her.”
Tarrant paused. That was the one point that his Skepticism had yet to explain to him. Why would th’ Bluddy Behg Hid send Alice to Witzend before the attack?
“I don’t ken, but I’m nae takin’ any chances,” replied Tarrant.
“Halt!” came a loud voice from the path ahead. “Who approaches the queen of Mamoreal?”
“It’s Tarrant Hightopp,” he answered, all traces of his Outlandish accent gone.
“You may proceed,” said the White Knight, recognizing the name and the man in front of him.
Quickly, the Hatter made his way to his queen who was seated upon her white horse. “Tarrant, what’s wrong?” Mirana asked, knowing that something Serious had to happen for him to leave his village before the Tylwyth.
“We need to talk, your Majesty.”
Part 3