Chapter Three: Duties of the Champion [Scene 1 of 5]
"Ah, so the Champion has returned..."
Alice startles at the cultured drawl. "Chessur?" she asks, turning in a circle, searching for a glimpse of him. She gasps when she completes the turn to see a pair of vibrant green eyes and an up-ended grin just inches in front of her nose.
"Still jumpy," he muses on a purr before swimming over to ogle the Hatter's top hat. "And hello again, sweet hat. Has your current master been treating you well?"
The Hatter sweeps his hat from his head before the Cheshire Cat can paw it. Alice bites a smile at the suspicious gleam in the Hatter's eyes.
"And how are you, Tarrant? Any luck with...?"
Alice's attention is redirected from the sound of hearing someone other than the queen say the Hatter's given name – he's always been "Hatter" to Alice! Despite the rare occasion of hearing his given name spoken aloud, Alice stares at Chessur's knowing grin and the slight flush to the Hatter's cheeks. Alice hadn't known the man could blush.
The Hatter clears his throat. "I've lost my head, of course. You can hardly expect less than that."
"That's true, if he'd lost his head, he would be less, wouldn't he?"
"Contrariwise, if he'd lost it and then some, then you'd expect him to've lost a bit more, wouldn't you?"
Alice smiles. "Hello, Tweedles."
"Is that Alice?"
"Well, if it weren't Alice, it couldn't be Alice could it?"
"But it is Alice, so it must be."
Alice nods as they waddle further into the queen's office. She notices their gazes flickering occasionally toward the Hatter who seems to be having a rather animated discussion with Chessur without the aid of his voice or hands. Teeth gleam, eyes glare, and brows wiggle in a way that must be meaningful... at least to the two of them.
Alice hides another grin.
While the Tweedles argue over which chairs to sit in – "Well, if it were taken, it would be, but since it isn't, it ain't!" "Contrariwaise, if it weren't taken, we'd take it, and then it would be!" – Alice indulges in a Hatter-esque pastime: she daydreams. She recalls the past day-and-a-bit that she had spent keeping the Hatter company. The stroll preceding dinner through the misplaced battlements had lead them to the orchard, which had been lovely and quite interesting – "Honestly, Alice, the trees are in bloom! You can't very well expect them to come up with fruit as well when they're busy enough making flowers!" – and it had been fun to watch him work in his workshop on Sunday. She'd even learned a bit about the political relations between the queen's domain in Underland and the other territories, jointly called the Outlands.
"That's where my clan hailed from," the Hatter had commented. "We're a wandering people. Craftsmen, mostly. Travel where our skills take us." He'd added after snipping a thread and pinning a ribbon, "I'm called an Outlander here."
"And that's the language you speak sometimes? Outlandish?" she'd ventured.
"Aye, 'tis." With a smile, the Hatter's brogue had thickened to the consistency of a very hearty pea soup. "'F 'twere naught teh be kennin' aught i'twoul'nae be gratlin', nauw!"
Alice still isn't sure if she should be more disturbed by not being able to understand more than two words of it or discovering that she'd liked the sound of it as much as she had.
"Ahoy, Alice!"
The greeting is punctuated by a stab to her ankle. "Ouch! Mally! What was that for?"
The dormouse glares. "What d'you think, you lump? Keepin' us waitin' for so long being the least of it!"
Alice follows Mally's guilty glance and finds the Hatter at the end of it, staring at the dormouse with a very intimidating scowl.
"Yes, I did do that," Alice replies, turning away from those unsettling eyes. "I'll do my best to be more careful with my promises in the future."
"Sounds a bit wishy-washy to me!"
"Mally! Leav'be!" Alice shivers at the Hatter's guttural Outland brogue.
"Good morning, everyone!"
At the queen's entrance, the Hatter slides into the chair next to Alice's and Mally scrambles up to stand over Chessur who has reclined himself in the chair on the far side of the Tweedles. Alice briefly wonders why they're avoiding each other before turning her attention to the queen.
"Thank you all so much for coming today," the White Queen begins. "I've an appointment with Fenruffle shortly so I hope this won't take long." She takes a determined breath. "Now, as you've all noticed, Alice has returned."
"Finally," Mally sniffs.
The Hatter flashes yet another glare in her direction.
"Yes, at long last," Mirana agrees pleasantly. "Now that my Champion is in residence, there are certain expectations of the public that must be addressed."
Turning to Alice, the queen continues, "Do not think for a moment that you will have to accept these responsibilities, Alice. They're quite antiquated as the last Queen's Champion lived and died... well, let's just say it's been quite a while since there's been a Queen's Champion, shall we?"
Alice nods. She notices that, in the chair beside hers, the Hatter's hand is rather forcibly gripping his armrest. "I understand. I think," Alice replies.
"Excellent! Now, to the heart of the matter: As I've yet to be married and I have a Champion now to defend my, er, honor, it'll be expected that any male of established lineage or reputation will be welcome to participate in the Wooing Rites to petition my hand in marriage."
Alice closes her eyes briefly and tries to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach. "The Wooing Rites?" she asks, trying to hide her deep, deep reluctance for learning something she's relatively sure she doesn't want to know.
"Ah, yes. Perhaps this is another thing Upland does not share with Underland. Well, as it so happens, a queen of marriageable age is quite eligible to receive suitors. Of course, she does not have to accept any of them."
"Unless they happen to kill the Queen's Champion, of course," Chessur drawls and consequently receives a burning yellow stare from the Hatter.
"Excuse me?" Alice manages, keeping an eye on the byplay.
"Don't worry, Alice," the queen assures her. "It's very, very poor form to kill the Queen's Champion. And, with the current political climate it won't be an issue. To put it bluntly, my role in the Wooing Rites is to smile and placate my suitors until – or if – I choose one of them. My Champion's role will be to interview them and determine their suitability and sincerity."
"Interview?" Alice confirms. That doesn't sound so bad, but, next to her, the Hatter has still not relaxed one whit.
Mally snorts.
The queen clears her throat delicately. "Ah, yes, that's part of it. After the interview, you'll be required to duel the candidate."
"Duel? As in hand-to-hand combat?"
"More like sword-to-sword combat," Tweedledee explains.
"Unless the fellow's a mind to be a bit more practical with his demonstration, then it'd be an anything-you-can-throw-stab-poke-or-choke against an, er, well..." Tweedledum subsides under another furious glare from the Hatter.
Alice takes a deep breath. "All right, let me see if I'm understanding this correctly: I'll interview and fight – with real weapons! – against your suitors, who shouldn't try to kill me because it's bad manners?"
"More or less," Chessur replies with a grin.
Alice ignores the Hatter's reaction this time and directs her gaze to the queen. "Is it more or less, Your Majesty?"
Mirana nods, acknowledging her concerns. "You will do your best to determine the suitor's intentions toward me through interviews. You'll then provide him with the means to demonstrate his skills in dueling. After all, my vows do not permit me to harm any living creature so I am not able to defend myself. The future king will have that responsibility. The suitors will be eager to show their skills in combat to impress both my court and myself."
"And they're not going to toss me down and run me through because...?"
The queen winces at the imagery. Beside her, Alice thinks she sees the Hatter's face twitch into a brief but furious grimace.
"It's true, if a suitor defeated you, I would be forced to marry him. However, as I said, there's no reason for him to kill you as his primary goal will be to make a good impression upon me and killing or severely injuring my Champion would not further that goal. So he'll show off a bit and then, graciously, let you finish it."
"I see..." Alice muses. Glancing around at the assembled creatures and people, she asks, "If it's my decision to accept this responsibility or not, then why are so many attending our meeting?"
"If you decide to do it, then you'll need some training, won't you?" Tweedledee says.
"Contrariwise, if you don't, then you won't but we'll've gotten a rather nice tea out of it," Tweedledum replies.
Alice stares at the assembled Underlandians: Mallymkun, Chessur, the Tweedles, the Hatter... "All of you would be teaching me how to fight?"
"You've got it now," Chessur announces. "So what do you say?"
Alice can see how eager and interested everyone is in her response. Well, everyone except the Hatter who is glaring furiously at the floor. He might be mad, but Alice agrees with Mirana about him: the Hatter does see things much more clearly than most. If he has found a reason to be anxious, Alice ought to be very, very careful.
"Your Majesty, why can't I use the Vorpal Sword? Absolum told me it knows what it wants. Surely...?"
"I'm afraid that won't be possible, Alice. The sword only responds to the Jabberwocky. If it's put to any other use, it will shatter."
"Oh. A bit tetchy, isn't it?" Alice mutters.
Mally giggles madly. Chessur grins. The Tweedles elbow each other. The Hatter does nothing.
Alice hesitates. "If I have to make a decision right now..."
"You don't," the queen assures her, no doubt sensing Alice's refusal. "If you'd like a few days to consider it..."
"Actually, I'll need a few days, and a lot of help, to even see if I have any talent at all with the sword."
"And knife and garrote and staff and spear and..." Mally's list dies incomplete when the Hatter growls at her.
"Ah, right," Alice says, fisting her hand to keep from reaching out to touch the Hatter's arm. That sort of public display would not be appropriate in this venue. Especially if the Hatter is to become one of her instructors.
Addressing the queen, Alice replies, "If Mally, Chessur, the Tweedles, and the Hatter have time this week to tutor me in... trouncing someone, then I'll have a better idea of what I'm capable. By next week, I should have an answer for you, Your Majesty."
Mirana smiles brilliantly. "Fantastic! By Monday, then? I look forward to your reports, everyone, and Alice, I shall look forward to your answer. Now," the queen says with a worried glance at the clock, "I'm afraid I have a meeting with Fenruffle. If you'll excuse me..."
As the group files out of the Royal Office and a very grumpy-looking gryphon stomps in, Mally gives Alice another poke in the ankle with her hatpin sword. "So, when are we getting started?"
Alice glances at the Hatter – the tense, silent, fist-curling, glare-hurling Hatter – and says, "After lunch let's meet in the courtyard. Chessur, could you find a location that will allow for ease of movement and doesn't present too many breakables?"
"My pleasure." The cat disappears on his quest.
"Mally, Tweedles, why don't you go ahead and start lunch? I... that is, I'd like to have a word with Hatter. In private."
"Sure." / "Of course." The Tweedles shrug and head for the brunch room.
Mally giggles and follows them, lunging and jabbing at shadows with enthusiasm.
"Alice?"
She turns and takes in the tumultuous swirl of colors in the Hatter's eyes: fierce yellow and pale, pale green and even a hint of burning orange. Alice takes his arm and steers him toward the nearest available room.
"It looks as though you're of as many minds about this as I am," she observes wryly, closing the door behind them.
The Hatter ignores the sofa and chairs in the very lovely parlor and beseeches, "Don't agree to this."
"If I don't what will happen to the queen, to Underland?"
He hesitates, his eyes turning a lovely shade of deep green. He shakes his head and that washed-out olive reemerges. "No, please, Alice. Don't do this."
"I haven't agreed," she reminds him softly.
"Don't!" he nearly shouts, stepping in front of her, placing his work-roughened hands on her arms. "Don't..."
"Hatter," she says, reaching up to grasp his elbows. "In my world, I was a business woman. And I was horrid at it. At least in the practical aspects. In Underland, what will I do with my life? Who will I be?"
The Hatter smiles. "You'll be Alice, of course."
"As natural as that sounds, being Alice is not a career."
He stares at her, his eyes so pale they're almost white.
"I need to find out if I can do this. And I need your help. Please."
He shakes his head. "Nae, nae..."
"Hatter!" Alice places a hand on his cheek again, drawing him out of his churning emotions and the siren call of madness. "I need you to be rational right now."
He nods and takes a deep breath. "Yes, yes. Rational. Regrettably rational."
Alice appreciates the attempt at humor, no matter how truthful the comment had been. His hands drop from her arms.
"I took up the Vorpal Sword," she tells him. "Isn't that another kind of promise?"
"The queen will release you if you ask her."
Alice hesitates. "I'm not sure I want to do that. I'm not sure what I want." She closes her eyes and sighs, trying to organize her thoughts. "I want to try this, though. If only to eliminate it from my future career choices."
When she opens her eyes, the Hatter's green eyes are studying her very closely. "Don't consider it, Alice. Ask to be released. There's time for..."
"I want to do this," she interrupts, surprised at the intensity of her desire. "I'm going to do it. Try, at least." She gives him a long, level look. "Will you help me?"
Tarrant's expression tightens with unhappiness. A moment later, he nods with visible reluctance.
Alice addresses that resistance directly: "If you help me do this, you cannot be gentle with me. I need to know exactly what I'll be facing. I'm pretty sure Mally won't hold back, but I think you'll agree that she and I are not very evenly matched. The Tweedles seem... a bit easy to fool," she admits tactfully. "And Chessur is not a typical opponent. I'll need you to test me. You're a man and I'll be fighting men. You know how to fight – I saw you during the battle. I need to know what you know."
His hands return to her arms and hold on tightly. Above her, the Hatter's eyes fluctuate between a rich blue-green to fearsome yellow and back again with an occasional glimpse of that sickly paleness. "You don't know what you're asking..."
"I know I don't," Alice agrees, wondering why this is so hard for him. "But I'm asking you to push me as hard as you can this week so that, at the end of it, if I survive..." She adds that last bit in a droll tone. "... I can give the queen my answer. Whatever it is."
Alice feels a chill unfurl through her as something... calculating flashes in his eyes. "Push you hard?" he repeats in a considering tone, his brogue softening and darkening the words. "Aye, that I'll do, Alice. That I'll do."
[End of Chapter 3: Scene 1]
