A/N: I'm sorry for taking so long to update (pretty much a year!). But I'm wondering if anyone is interested in this 'fic anymore. I do hope so, since I enjoyed writing it so much. Please review if you are still interested in the upcoming chapters! The story is actually finished, but it'd be a waste to post it without anyone being around to read it. :( But for all those still following, reading, and reviewing, thanks so very much!
Dressed in white and silver armor stood three knights that appeared to look very much like his servants, Timber, Thompson, and Canterbury.
Now that Alois was on the Fourth Square of the game, he thought that he was at the very least a knight by now instead of a pawn. Maybe he was even a bishop by now. He was still unsure and really had no one to tell him or no other way of knowing.
The three knights sat as still as wax statues, not a breath or a batting lash went through Alois's vision as he watched them closely.
They were immovable, unwavering and firm, and the longer Alois stared at them, waiting for them to fail in some way, the more he began to think that they actually did slightly resemble knights.
Being a child, Alois also tired of them quite easily, and gave up testing their immobility. He moved forward, but not before he ground out the word, "Useless," with a familiar icy tone.
Once his back was turned to them, they rose to life, each shooting an unreadable expression at the blonde boy's back. They lifted their hands to cover their lips as they always did, and then began whispering amongst themselves.
They drowned themselves entirely in a conversation that seemed to be spoken in a code of whispers and murmurs, while one knight would, every-so-often, raise a hand and point at Alois.
The knights then turned towards each other, shaking each other's hands as if they were meeting for the first time, before pointing again at Alois as if to say, 'She didn't even introduce herself to us.'
They shook their heads miserably, then scrambled over to the earl and heaved back the looming branches and leaves of a crooked tree that blocked the wood's egress.
Once the branches were moved, there was a sign that read, "Welcome to the Fourth Square".
Alois glanced at them with somewhat of a glare, but only saw them scramble away, concealing themselves behind trees and leaving Alois alone and out in the open.
He rolled his eyes, saying nothing, but walked through the now-unblocked path, only to be brought from this wood, right into another. Only this new wood had more tightly packed trees and a denser mist that darkened and obscured the area.
At this point, Alois remembered the memorandum-book under his arm, and brought it to his attention. The picture of the injured man that looked like Claude still burned a blackened haze of concern in his mind, but he pushed it aside, intent on finding some kind of instructions or a map of Wonderland on its pages.
No sooner had he opened the book did he feel something wet hit his hands, and upon looking at them, he noticed a black substance that he soon realized was ink. One of the pages must have been fairly new...
It wasn't hard to find the page, and once he did, he was plunged into one of the most confusing jumbled mass of words that he had ever read:
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.'
He stared at the page, muttering curses under his breath before he remembered that he was in a mirror-world, thus the words must have been backwards.
Conveniently, once he glanced upwards, he espied a mirror that seemed to be growing on a tree, and stalked over to it, holding the book up to read the reflection. He was sure that this would make them more understandable. But instead the book read:
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wave;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrave.'
And then went on to say:
'"Beware the Jabberwock, my son.
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
He took his Vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought–
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the Tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The Vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
"And has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O Frabjous Day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrave.'
Alois reread the poem three times before his frown had deepened quite enough. Aside from the words that made no sense to him, there were creatures ("What the devil is a Jabberwock?") that he didn't even think existed. Of course, the poem was fictional, but what was the purpose of the fake words like galumphing, brillg, and maxnome?
At last he concluded that the words must have been in a different language entirely, but his decision had been rushed, for he had heard a whistle of leaves and a low growl coming from the trees.
Glancing around, he swore that he saw a flicker from the brush, then another after he blinked to make sure that he had truly seen them.
Fear crept through his body again, and settled with a rattle on his stomach, making him feel queasy and faint. Alarm raked its long claws down his spine and choked a gasp out of his throat. His brain clicked, and he unconsciously took a step backwards as if to use distance to protect himself from whatever might lay in front of him. And just then, a stern voice penetrated the foreboding thoughts in his mind like a gong being struck.
"What are you looking for?"
The voice had come from one of the distorted trees, and when Alois glanced upwards, he saw a sapphire-eyed boy with dark hair, around his age, staring down at him. Almost like a king sitting upon a throne.