Whew. It's been a little while (longer than I'd wanted) and I finally got this chapter finished. Hurrah! I had a really weird little block here for a while. I'd bring up the document, which I had a page of already, and just sit there and have drool drip out of my mouth or something. Weird, no? Anyway, this is shorter than I normally upload BUT it more or less sets you up for 11. Moreover, you get to read the whole poem, yay! I forgot to mention its origins earlier. It is indeed Carroll's work, and it's the intro for Through the Looking Glass. Be sure to analyze it yourself and see what the Hatter's going at with it so that you can compare to next time. :)
I own nothing of Alice in Wonderland.
The farmer's cottage had been but a brief stop and it hadn't been long until they were on that path yet again. True, Alice counted her blessings when the scenery changed, but the monotony of the journey was grating. The Hatter would, once in a great while, suggest some sort of game or topic but this soon had become strained. Thinking back, always it seemed that the Hatter was in a sense shielding her left and right, straying from situations or nasty subjects. Then there was that dreadful silence! Before her most recent return to Underland, she had never known him to stay so quiet for so incredibly long. She had seen some of what had occurred, but surely it didn't get worse…? This made her stomach uneasy.
The grain reflected the brilliance of the growing twilight, tinted with reds, purples, and blues. Alice was rather distracted at the sight, losing herself in the ethereal spectrum. The Hatter promptly stopped her in her tracks, however, a pale hand firm on her shoulder. She had to blink several times before she brought her gaze up to him.
"It's starting to get dark, Alice," he stated plainly. "We're going to have to find shelter again, you see…"
"Oh, right. Of course." She nodded in confirmation. The grain just continued to stretch on, though. She'd heard of farmers in America and how they had fields like this that seemed so endless and looked so plain. How could someone stand to spend their life among grain, she wondered? "Well, any cleverly-named creatures or places close?"
The Hatter looked at her strangely for a short moment before looking around at their surroundings. It was the same sort of contemplation he'd had when they sought shelter in the forest. She waited patiently now, though, mostly assured that he knew what he was doing. His knowledge of the land was impressive, she had to admit. All she could see was the grain and nothing more. She blamed aristocratic society for her hopelessness in survival situations.
Sure enough, the Hatter began to delve into the grain to their left. He went wordlessly, a bloodhound hot on the trail and eyes ablaze with a peculiar sort of concentration. Alice went close behind, her hand trailing across the long stalks. They seemed a bit parched, soon to wither.
Their journey was rather short and Alice found herself in an open area, free of crops. A wooden building, normal-sized for once, stood before them. It appeared a little rickety maybe but any sort of shelter would surely be better than sleeping among the wheat.
"It's a stable," the Hatter announced, startling Alice a bit. It was as if she'd forgotten he could speak at all. "There aren't any animals there. I suspect they followed the people here, wherever they went off to."
Alice nodded a bit. She wasn't particularly tired, though, and they still had some daylight to burn. Should she ask the Hatter if he wasn't well? The possibility of invoking his rage crossed her mind thereafter, making her swallow. For brief moments while they had gone about their way he'd been thoroughly jubilant, yes…
The Hatter took her pondering as hesitation. "I'll go in first and see if it's suitable."
'Safe, rather…' Alice thought to herself. She crossed her arms across her chest, feeling a faint chill in the air. Night was slowly creeping upon them.
He simply walked up to the stable, opening one of its wobbling doors wide and then stepping inside. The faint light that came from the tippy-top of the sun gave just barely enough light, saving him from wandering in murky darkness. He glanced in each stall, the charade quite uneventful. Just old hay, maybe some spider webs, the occasional field mouse. He beckoned Alice inside, searching for a lamp of some kind.
"No horses?" she asked quietly, peering into a stall.
"None." Sure enough, he found an oil lamp. He turned the little knob, producing a flame. He avoided her gaze, going to a large hay bale. After placing the lamp on an iron hook, he sat down upon the bale and rubbed his temples.
Alice chewed her lip a bit in thought. Once again, there was no way that she was going to ask him outright if he was fine, what was wrong, or any of that nonsense. There would be such a flurry of intense emotions that it would surely make her head spin. She rubbed her arms, still feeling the chill from the outside.
She then found that his gaze was upon her, causing Alice to stiffen just slightly. He frowned. "Are you feeling too cold, Alice?"
Alice let out a breath of air, relieved. At least he was not completely aloof. There had been a sort of fragile tension in the air. "Yes, a little."
"In that case, I wish to let you borrow my jacket." He carefully set it upon her small shoulders, barely touching her at all. It was if his fingers recoiled, not wishing to brush against her clothes or skin. This exchange was brief, however, and he steadily retreated to his hay bale. He didn't return his gaze to her.
The flames of the lamp flickered across his face strangely. With a light sense of caution Alice walked closer to his form. She sat silently across from him on the mostly dirt-covered ground. Small weeds poked up here and there. She toyed with them, putting them from the earth and peeling off leaves.
"Hatter, something seems wrong with you…" she said, hesitant. Alice had decided that she had better get her word in before he could. "For most of the time you've been very quiet and…unreadable. Is there something about Underland that you haven't told me, or-"
Abruptly he stood and then simply strode out of the stables and into the night. She balked, but only for a moment. Alice was soon hot on his trail, worry pouncing on her like a starved lion. She had thought he was going fast when they were in the forest, but this…this was unbelievable. Maybe the flat terrain or the intense desire to get away aided him, she wasn't sure though. Her heart beat madly in her chest. The Hatter knew the land better than she ever would. What if he took some sort cut, tricked her into going the wrong way? She swallowed heavily.
In, out. In, out. Her lungs brought in air greedily and then forced it out. She had lost sight of his bright hair but the crushed grain led her way. The stars were finally in the sky again, as bright as ever, but these things mattered little to her. Alice barely knew if she was running for mere minutes or a good hour. Just as she thought she would surely pass out and collapse in the middle of an extensive wheat field, she found herself in a familiar location. The small farmer's cottage.
It was still cold but the wind had settled, creating an eerie calm. She now remembered the garment she was wearing; the Hatter's jacket. He was here, she knew. The trail had stopped here, and no place else. She entered the little clearing with trepidation, her blue eyes wide and frightful. The whole scene was now nightmarish, shadows crawling on the ground and nipping at her shoes. No, no… It was just the lack of light playing tricks on her, she reasoned. Just a childish fear of the dark. Nothing more.
She heard quiet murmurs. They were frustrated, angry… Goodness, was she trembling? Alice ignored all of her mind and body's warnings to simply bolt back to the stables and wait for him to come back (if he did…) and began silently walking towards the voice. She felt the soft, grainy soil swish beneath her shoes. It accompanied the drum of her still-pounding heart. The words were still unintelligible, but she strained to make sense of them.
Her breathing paused. There stood the Hatter, vehemently pacing beside the well. She heard only occasional words that made sense, while the others all ran together and became something even he surely didn't understand. Well, she could either speak up or let him notice her on his own. Alice concluded that maybe the safest route was initiating conversation on her terms. She swallowed hard, then took a shaky breath. She hadn't rightfully thought of what to say, but she spoke nevertheless.
"Hatter."
He snapped his head to stare at her, eyes the size of saucers in the moonlight. Something about them frightened her.
"Recite the whole poem to me. Please."
The Hatter's mouth opened, surely about to shout something in protest. His words dried up before they hit his lips. He frowned and adverted his gaze to a spot of dirt beside him. His fists clenched, then relaxed. Clenched. His body was tense, astoundingly so. A harsh voice, but soft and muted, drifted from him.
"Child of pure unclouded brow
And dreaming eyes of wonder!
Though time be fleet, and I and thou
Are half a life asunder,
Thy loving smile will surely hail
The love-gift of fairy-tale."
Some words he fought to speak, feeling poison on his tongue. Alice held her arms close again, trying to steady her body.
"I have not seen thy sunny face,
Nor heard thy silver laughter;
No thought of me shall find a place
In thy young life's thereafter–
Enough that now thou wilt not fail
To listen to my fairy-tale.
A tale begun in other days,
When summer suns were glowing–
A simple chime, that served to time
The rhythm of our rowing–
Whose echoes live in memory yet.
Though envious years would say "forget."
Come, hearken then, ere voice of dread,
With bitter tidings laden,
Shall summon to unwelcome bed
A melancholy maiden!
We are but older children, dear.
Who fret to find out bedtime near.
Without, the frost, the blinding snow,
The storm-wind's moody madness–
Within, the firelight's ruddy glow
And childhood's nest of gladness,
The magic words shall hold thee fast:
Thou shalt not heed the raving blast.
And though the shadow of a sigh
May tremble through the story,
For "happy summer days" gone by,
And vanish'd summer glory–
It shall not touch with breath of bale,
The pleasance of our fairy-tale."
He looked again to her with widened eyes, his mouth still open. She saw now, he was the one terrified out of his wits. The words that tumbled from his dry lips latched to her mind. Alice clutched the jacket closer to her. Tea smells, leather… What…did it all mean?
"Alice…" he croaked. The narrative had drained him. "I'm afraid…that I have been not entirely truthful. If I could explain…?"