I do not own Syfy's Alice.
I do not own Hatter. Shame.
Tales of the White Knight
Chapter 4: The Peacefulness of the Glade
'Twas well into nightfall. The woods were fully dark and peaceful with the quiet sounds of night creatures. The sky overhead held no sorrow, no mourning, only a multitude of bright, sparkling pinpoints of light. My lumbering wooden contraption, sloshing water at the wheel, moved rhythmically to fuel our flickering campfire. Its squeaky creaking proved somewhat soothing to mine ears.
Of course, it might also have been the comforting presence of Just Alice and her Vassal abiding with me on this fine eve. Living people I could hold conversations with and that could, in turn, speak back aloud. How utterly delightful! Although for a while, there had been less of the conversations and more of the chewing sounds.
Tonight's meal had proven to be especially delicious if I do say so myself. Perhaps it was the slow roasting of the borogove meat. Or the tranquil companionship of our little troop. Whatever the reason, my temperament felt lighter than I could remember in quite some time. I managed to refrain from breaking out into song. 'Twas more of a quiet joy, really.
The warming flames popped and crackled softly in tune with the music of the night. On the other side of the fire, Just Alice sat on a log, gnawing on a large rib bone and her Vassal sat on the ground facing her, his plate between his feet. He had not eaten quite so voraciously as she, but despite her diminutive size, Just Alice did appear to be the more formidable of the two. So I wasn't surprised.
During the succulent meal, the Vassal had quite civilly requested that I call him 'Hatter' in lieu of 'Vassal'. Ever the accommodating host, I acquiesced graciously. They were, after all, my guests and he had endeavored to conduct himself quite cordially whilst in the Kingdom of the Knights. It made a certain amount of sense, I suppose. He did, indeed, wear a hat.
I now stood comfortably in my worn, stained undergarments, having removed my bulky, uncomfortable . . .
Yet dignified, of course, always dignified . . .
. . . armor some time before. Casually prodding at the fire with a long bough, I felt peacefully content.
After cleaning what appeared to be every scrap of meat off the rib bone, Just Alice made the contented sound in her throat that every cook so hopes to hear and spake thusly unto me.
"That was good, Charlie."
I'm not sure why, but it seemed only natural for her to refer to me as 'Charlie'. As though we were acquaintances, comrades, nay even, friends. 'Twas a warm and welcoming sentiment to my lonely knight's heart.
She seemed only slightly hesitant in asking, "What was it?"
Brave, Just Alice was. Eat first and inquire later.
An admirable quality.
Unless, of course, she was completely mad.
"Barbequed borogove," I responded with modest pride.
A chef, of course, is always glad to hear when his food is appreciated.
"They're the devil to catch, but well worth the trouble. Don't you think?" I concluded, grinning happily at her.
Ah, how nice to converse with people again! The squirrels hardly ever answered anymore. Too busy conniving against me, I suppose.
Just Alice seemed to consider this as she contemplated the remnants of the borogove rib.
Then with a hint of a smile, she said casually, "When in Rome," and discarded it.
Hmm, where is this Rome? What did they do there? How very endearingly odd you are, my Just Alice.
Suddenly, I felt a familiar heaviness in my lower regions. Discarding the burnt stick, I rubbed my hands together briskly and contently patted my belly.
"Shan't be long," I reassured, gesturing and turning away.
Heading off, I moved with purpose and confidence through the dark. Blame advancing age and the wealth of the aforementioned borogove meal - 'twas time to clear my bowels.
I only hope those blasted squirrels hadn't made off with my stash of leaves again.
When I returned from my lavatory sojourn (yes, it had been a while - wretched squirrels), the clearing was strangely quiet. Casting my sharp-eyed gaze around, I beheld Just Alice sitting alone by the fire. Her Vassal, um, Hatter, was nowhere to be seen.
Upon inquiring of his whereabouts, she muttered something quite unintelligible that ended with something akin to 'eat his hat for all I care'. Apparently, Just Alice was not one to suffer fools and the Vassal Hatter must have acted or spoken in a manner most foolish indeed for her to have become so completely irate with him.
Poor lad. Nothing quite so dreadful as to have a woman perturbed at you. Especially one of Just Alice's fire and demeanor. I wondered if she had swung anything at his head.
Best not to ask.
We sat awhile in the quietness. She alone with her thoughts and the Red King remaining blessedly out of mine. I was curious as to what had transpired between my fellow adventurers. Just Alice was not very forthcoming however and so I left her to it. After extinguishing the campfire, I offered her the bed 'neath the tree and subsequently adjourned to my comfy hammock.
As I was falling asleep, I noticed the Vassal Hatter had returned unnoticed by Just Alice. He had propped himself up against the wooden railings within eye line of her, as though he was keeping watch over her even in his sleep. Woven hat perched on his right knee, left arm propped on a low wooden pole, he looked uncomfortable.
Perhaps, I should have strung up an extra hammock for him as well. Well, tomorrow then, if they stayed.
Laying my dear teddy upon my chest and resting my hands comfortably upon it, I soon drifted into a deep slumber and commenced to dream. In my adventurous imaginings, Just Alice of Legend vanquished the Queen of Hearts and returned peace to the whole realm. After her victory, she departed through the Looking Glass and sometime later, a man followed after her. His distinct features escaped me, but he may have been wearing a hat.
Distant singing wafted through the dream haze.
"Hey nonny, nonny . . ."
Zephyrs of yearning that the gallant knights had returned once more to Wonderland drifted through my hopeful spirit.
Okay, the squirrel thing is becoming a running gag. But, come on. Have you seen their beady little eyes? They're up to something. I just know it. ;)