Well, actually I don't have time at all, as I'm currently busy hatting (Yes, really! *lol*), but when I went to find some pink satin for a scarf, I couldn't but think about where Tarrant might have the scarf from that he wears as a hatband. And then this story popped up in my head. My puter says it has exactly 1,000 words, the site here tells me it's more, which I think is very weird but it doesn't matter anyway. The day has been very weird in general, full of hats and Hatters - hehe, I almost got the giggles when I found myself in a shop that sold Hatter t-shirts and I was standing there with an armful of bags with my shopping, one of them being from a hat shop, what a coincidence, and then my phone started ringing, means that it plays the tune from one of the movie teasers! *lol* Excellent! Uh, no, better 'magnificent', to use a word that begins with the letter M! :D
btw, the story is set somewhere between Horunvendush Day and Alice's return.
Never To Forget
He had never before seen as lovely a girl as Lillias of the Lighthurst clan. She had come to live with the Hightopp clan not long ago, when her widowed mother married again in spring and followed Dugald Hightopp, one of Tarrant's second cousins, home as his wife. The Lighthursts had for decades been occupied with gardening and the growing of the most beautiful flowers – chatty ones as well as mute ones – that were highly valued not only by the queen, but also by many Underlandian residents up and down the country, all very fond of adding bright, colourful patches to their gardens. Yet Lillias quickly came to appreciate the hatting tradition of her new clan – and Tarrant equally quickly came to appreciate the flowers that Lillias liked to surround herself with. The first hat he gave her was beset with dozens and dozens of little roses and clear beads as dewdrops. When he saw her wear it for the first time, she looked even lovelier than ever before. It was the first time in his life that Tarrant found no words to express the delight which made his mind stand on its head with excitement. Lillias spoke not more than he, instead she blushed a little every time their eyes met, and when at last he asked her out for a walk, her cheeks were almost the colour of those pink roses.
Time went by while their fondness grew, and they came to be more at ease in their laughter and joking and endearments. Often did they vanish into the woods and meadows of the surrounding countryside, arm in arm, to spend the day in unworried twosomeness while spring changed into summer. The joyful Horunvendush Day drew near, when the White Queen and all her court would appear and honour this place by their presence, and all was being prepared for the celebrating – the village square decorated with fresh flowers and colourful garlands, the houses with pennants, and all the Hightopps with new tophats.
Lillias smiled a teasing smile when Tarrant came to pick her up that afternoon, wearing his new tophat and beaming with proudness.
"Did you choose the green colour because of me and my flowers?" she bantered, and snatched the hat off Tarrant's head, whirling round and keeping it out of reach when he joined in her play and halfheartedly tried to get it back.
"Nay, my lily of the valley, for then it would have to be as rosy as your fair cheeks," he laughed. She answered his laugh and returned his hat to him, and an instant later he had produced another hat from inside it, much smaller, fit for a maiden's head, and of exactly the same pink as Lillias' dress. "But I hope that this little gift will appeal to you." He could tell by her expression that she was delighted. "If you allow..." Gently Tarrant placed the little tophat on her head.
They passed the afternoon together, lazing in the meadow, counting the fleecy clouds that looked like little sheep and were merrily playing tag, and listened to the melodies of the bees.
"Did you hear that one? It sounded almost like 'Merrily Round the Rosebush'!"
"Really?" Tarrant frowned, but a frown naturally could not last long when one's head was lying in the lap of a beautiful lass. "I'd have sworn it was 'Bells and Beavers'... What is it?" Lillias was mustering him with a thoughtful gaze. "It's just an assumption..."
She shook her head, setting her curly tresses in motion.
"I was just pondering –" she cocked her head a bit, giving her tophat a hard time clinging to her hair, "there's still something missing on your hat. It's not complete yet..."
"Not complete?" Tarrant sat up. "What do you mean by 'not complete'?"
She thought for a moment, then, in a start of fancy, took off the silken scarf she was wearing, snatched one of Tarrant's scissors and cut a small piece off the fabric.
"This," she said and tucked it under her bodice, close to her heart, "I will keep and always carry with me. And this part is for you." She took the scarf and experimentally wrapped it around Tarrant's hat. "It would look just perfect!"
Absentmindedly Tarrant's fingers caressed the rose-coloured satin scarf around his hat that he had carefully placed on his lap, felt the embroidered marguerites. Her favourite flowers. A tear clung to the rim of his lashes for an instant before it fell down and left a wet spot on the silk, a little darker in colour than the rest of the raspberry-tinted fabric. Another spot appeared close to it. And another one. It had been a long time since then. And still this moment was not forgotten, and never would be.
He looked around, his gaze hazy. He seldom came here. It was hard to bear the atmosphere of this place. But sometimes, when memories rose and he failed to suppress them, when they filled his mind, almost making him feel as if he would burst with sorrow and anger, he could not but return. Hours he would then spend almost motionless, perched on a blackened stone or on a charred piece of wood, staring ahead full of melancholy and living through the happy days of his past again. As well as through the most unhappy one. And when at last he had lived through all the woe again, he would silently bid farewell to each and every of his friends and relatives. His lips voicelessly formed their names, his mind cried them out, but this was not the place for noise. And also now did he bid them all a silent farewell, repeated their names, their faces appearing in his mind and vanishing again. "Lillias," he ended at last in a whisper before he arose, gently stroked over the silken cloth and put his hat on again, then cast a last glance over the remnants of his onetime home. "Fairfarren."