Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland (7 page)

“It's a ‘who,' Majesty!” cried the White Rabbit, popping out of the bushes behind Alice. “This is . . . um . . .”

“Um?” echoed the Red Queen.

“From Umbradge,” Alice added hastily.

The Queen looked skeptical. “What happened to your clothes?”

“I outgrew them,” said Alice, quite honestly. Sensing this would not be enough of an answer, she began to improvise. “I've been growing an awful lot lately. I tower over everyone in Umbradge. . . . They laugh at me. So I've come to you, hoping you might understand what it's like.”

There was a long, tense pause as the Red Queen studied her with narrowed eyes. At last she said, “My dear girl. Anyone with a head that large is welcome in my court.”

“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!” chorused the courtiers, doubling over with peals of exaggerated laughter.

“SOMEONE FIND HER SOME CLOTHES!” bellowed the queen. “USE THE CURTAINS IF YOU MUST, BUT CLOTHE THIS ENORMOUS GIRL!” A flurry of activity ensued as pages and servants went dashing off in all directions. The Queen gave Alice a conspiratorial look. “You'll be my new favorite.”

The courtiers weren't laughing anymore. They huffed jealously and glared at Alice in a threatening, competitive way. Lady Long Ears looked especially displeased.

But Alice didn't have even a moment to think about that, as she was whirled off to the castle and draped with enough fabric to cover Buckingham Palace. Long red velvet curtains tied with a gold-colored rope restored her decency, but the whole ensemble looked rather strange. She tugged a loose edge over her shoulder as she hurried down a long hall after the Red Queen.

All around her, animals were hard at work doing things they were never intended to do. She could see that hedgehogs and flamingos were not the only ones suffering in the Red Queen's court. Overhead, exhausted birds flapped their wings painfully, trying to stay aloft to hold up the Queen's lamps in their beaks. At the edges of the hall, the tables and chairs had no legs; instead, they were held up by monkeys, their furry arms trembling with exertion. The footfrogs that stood at attention as the Queen swept past all looked petrified.

They reached the Queen's elaborate throne room, which was furnished in much the same way. An ornate throne stood at the far end on legs made of terrified spider monkeys. Without so much as a glance at the monkeys, the Queen plopped down on the throne, and they all strained under her weight. The Red Queen kicked off her shoes and waved one small hand in the air.

“I need a pig here!” she called.

Immediately, a small pig hurried over from an alcove and lay down belly-up in front of her. The Queen put her bare feet on its belly and sighed contentedly.

“I love a warm pig belly for my aching feet,” she said. She turned her attention to Alice. “Would you like one, Um?”

“No, thank you,” Alice replied.

“Sit! Sit!” the Red Queen told Alice.

Alice gingerly sat on the largest chair she could find, doing her best to keep her newly enormous weight off the poor monkeys underneath her. She could see their long drooping tails spiraling out on either side of the chair.

The Red Queen flapped her hands at the three courtiers. “Go away,” she ordered. They left, casting dark jealous looks at Alice. “Where are my Fatboys?” the queen went on. “You must meet them! Fatboys!”

To Alice's horror, the pair that were dragged into the room were Tweedledum and Tweedledee. Their cheerful round faces were glum now, and garishly painted. White powder had been heavily applied and red hearts had been painted on their cheeks. Red-heart lips added to the monstrous look, and a long gold belt bound them together around their waists. Their eyes were lowered to the marble floor, their whole posture downtrodden and hopeless.

“There they are!” squealed the Red Queen, clapping her hands. “Aren't they adorable? And they have the oddest way of speaking. Speak, boys! Amuse us! Speak!”

Tweedledee lifted his eyes and saw Alice for the first time. He nudged his brother with his elbow. “Is that being . . . ?” he started.

Alice lifted one finger to her lips and shook her head slightly.

“No, it isn't,” said Tweedledum, a spark of hope flaring in his eyes. “Not a bit. No.”

Tweedledee blinked, puzzled. He had missed Alice's gesture. “Contrariwise, I believe it is so—”

“No!” Tweedledun cut him off. “It ain't so. No-how!” He stomped on his brother's foot to silence him. Disgruntled, Tweedledee pinched him, and Tweedledum pinched back.

The Queen laughed raucously. “I love my Fat-boys. Now, get out.”

Casting last, pleading glances at Alice, the Tweedles rolled out of the room. As they exited, they passed Stayne, the Knave of Hearts, coming in. The Red Queen clasped her hands and fluttered her eyelashes at him seductively. Stayne repressed a shudder, but when the Queen extended her hand to him, he kissed it.

A pair of Red Knights left the room. Stayne noticed Alice and his eyebrows went up. “And who is this lovely creature?” He took Alice's hand, looking at her intensely. Alice tried to look blandly polite and uninteresting, as her mother had often tried to teach her for meeting crowds of people at horrible garden parties. But her heart beat a little faster with fear at being so close to the man who'd been hunting her. She did not like the way he studied her.

“Um, my new favorite,” said the Queen, answering Stayne's question.

“Does she have a name?” asked the Knave.

“Um,” said the Queen.

The Knave of Hearts turned to Alice with an oily smile. “I believe your name has slipped the Queen's mind.”

The Red Queen leaned forward and smacked him hard. “Her name is
Um
. Idiot.

“Any luck with the prisoner?” the Queen asked.

Alice's ears perked up. Prisoner?

“He's stubborn,” grumbled the Knave. His birthmark flared brightly across his face.

“You're too soft,” snapped the Queen. “Bring him!”

He did not talk back to the Queen, but Alice could see a dangerous anger smoldering in his eyes.

A clatter at the door announced the arrival of the guards with their prisoner. Alice had to stifle a gasp as they dragged the Hatter into the room, chained by his hands and feet. Bruises covered his face and blood soaked through his clothes. He'd clearly been roughed up. His eyes had an empty, faraway stare. The Queen seized a hunk of his hair and lifted his head to meet her eyes, but he barely seemed to see her.

“We know Alice has returned to Underland,” snarled the Queen. “Do you know where she is?”

The Hatter didn't respond. Scowling, the Queen clapped her hands in front of his face, and he jerked back to the moment. His eyes cleared and focused a bit, but he still didn't see Alice.

“I've been considering things that begin with the letter
M
: moron, mutiny, murder, malice . . .” he said.

“We're looking for an
A
word now,” the Queen responded. “Where is Alice?”

The Hatter furrowed his brow as if he were thinking hard. After a moment, a look of inspiration crossed his face, then paused and retreated. He considered again for a long while and finally shrugged.

“Who? That wee little boy? I wouldn't know.”

The Red Queen scowled even more. “What if I take off your head, will you know then?”

The Hatter snickered.

“Stop that!” the Queen snapped.

Suddenly the Hatter's gaze found Alice. Surprised at her new size, he gave her a wry smile, then turned back to the Queen, smarmy and unctuous.

“What a regrettably large head you have,” he said smoothly. “I should very much like to hat it.”

“Hat it?” echoed the Queen.

“Yes. I used to hat the White Queen, you know,” he said. “But there wasn't very much for me to work with, poor dear. Her head is so small.”

“It's tiny! A pimple of a head!” The Red Queen snorted.

“But this!” the Hatter went on, acting rapturous. “What I could do with this monument . . . this orb. Nay, this magnificently heroic globe!”

“What could you do?” asked the Queen, intrigued despite herself.

The Hatter lifted his bound hands in a helpless gesture.

“Untie him, Stayne!” the Queen ordered. “How can he work if his hands are bound?”

The Knave rolled his eyes, but he unbound the Hatter's hands without arguing. The Hatter began to circle the Queen, his hands outlining elegant images in the air.

“Well, then, shall it be a bonnet or a boater,” he mused, “or something for the boudoir?” His voice rose in pitch, becoming more manic as he went on. “Cloche, dunce hat, death cap, coif, snood, barboosh, pugree, yarmulke, cockle-hat, porkpie, tam-o'-shanter, billycock, bicorn, tricorn, bandeau, bongrace, fan-tail, nightcap, garibaldi, fez . . .”

Alice could see he would lose the Queen if he wasn't pulled back from the edge of madness again.

She pretended to sneeze into her hand so she could let out a muffled: “HATTER!”

He jerked back, present again. “Fez . . . Fez.”

The Red Queen looked down her nose at Alice and Stayne. “Leave us.”

Alice was only too glad to get up and leave that room, although she worried about leaving the Hatter alone with the Queen. On the other hand, at least it took the Knave away from him; he was obviously more suspicious of the Hatter than the Red Queen was.

Across the desert and hills, far on the other side of Underland, Bayard the bloodhound galloped across the bluffs toward the White Queen's castle.

In her courtyard, Mirana, the White Queen, was speaking with a Loyalist.

“The trees seem sad. Have you been speaking with them?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the loyalist answered.

“Perhaps a bit more kindly. Would you all excuse me for a moment? Thank you.”

Bayard staggered into the Queen's courtyard and she crouched beside him, stroking his long brown ears and holding out a dish of water for him as he panted.

“What news, Bayard?” she asked in her soft, kind voice.

“Alice has returned to Underland.” He gasped.

A smile lit up the Queen's lovely face. “Where is she now?”

“In Salazen Grum,” he admitted, flinching with guilt. “Forgive me, I allowed her to divert from her destined path.”

The Queen shook her head, her smile widening. “No, no, no, no. That is exactly where she will find the Vorpal Sword,” she explained. “We have our champion! Rest now. You've done well.”

Exhausted, the bloodhound collapsed to the ground.

In the garden of the Red Queen's castle, Alice searched through the bushes. She passed the hedgehog, curled under a wide leaf and cleaning the caked dirt off his fur.

“Have you seen a hat around here?” she asked him.

The hedgehog pointed and watched as Alice spotted the Hatter's hat, made a delighted noise, and picked it up. With loving care, she wiped off the mud and straightened it out. Whatever it took to save the Hatter, she'd have his hat waiting for him at the end.

Evening had fallen, and inside the Red Queen's bedchamber, the Queen stood at the window with her Knave behind her.

“You must find Alice, Stayne,” said the Queen, her nails digging into the wood of the window frame. “Without the Jabberwocky, my sister's followers will surely rise against me.” A note of bitterness crept into her voice. “Ugly little sister . . . why do they adore her and not me?”

“I cannot fathom it,” answered the Knave of Hearts, careful not to touch her. “You are far superior in all ways.”

“I know,” said the Queen without a hint of sarcasm. “But Mirana can make anyone fall in love with her: men, women, even the furniture.” She glanced dismissively at the captive animals that held up tables and chairs and lamps around the room. She didn't even see them as animals anymore; to her they were simply furniture, and to discover they had any feelings might astonish or amuse her.

“Even the King,” said the Knave of Hearts quietly.

The Red Queen turned her dark gaze to the window again, letting it travel slowly down to the grim moat of bobbing heads below. “I had to do it. He would have left me.”

“Majesty,” the Knave said, “isn't it better to be feared than loved?”

“Not certain anymore,” she answered. Some internal struggle seemed to take place, and finally she burst out: “Oh, let her have the rabble! I don't need them. I have you.” She leaned her enormous head back, looking at him with big, dewy eyes. “I do have you, don't I, Stayne?”

He managed a smile, which, fortunately for him, seemed to be enough of a reply for the Queen.

Alice ducked as she entered the Queen's dressing room. Strange stars twinkled outside the window in a velvety night sky. The room had only one occupant: the Hatter, surrounded by ribbons, bows, veils, and feathers. He hummed happily as he worked. Already several huge, colorful hats were perched on dummies and scattered across the floor.

“They're wonderful!” Alice cried with sincere awe. “You must let me try one on.”

Instantly the Hatter swept a splendid hat off a shelf and perched it on her head. Tall blue feathers bobbed down in her face and tiny diamonds sparkled around the wide rim. Fake little bluebirds nested among the feathers and an enormous silver veil cascaded down her back. Alice giggled as she whirled around. If only the hats her mother attempted to make her wear were this much fun!

She struck a “grand lady” pose, imagining Lady Ascot. Then she grabbed another hat and perched it on the Hatter's head. He immediately struck the same pose, and they both laughed.

“It's good to be working at my trade again,” said the Hatter, removing his hat and stroking it lovingly.

Alice took off her hat as well. She gently placed it back on the shelf. “It's just a pity you had to make them for
her
.”

The Hatter looked around the room as if he'd just realized what he'd done. His face filled with remorse and self-recrimination, and he slumped mournfully.

“What is the hatter with me? Hatter . . . Mmmmm, ma.” he asked.

Suddenly, fury seized him. He swiped his hand across the table, sending all the tools of his trade flying.

Alice jumped in front of him, knocked the scissors away, and took his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. “Hatter!”

He froze, and she could see the fear in his eyes. “Have you any idea why a raven is like a writing desk? I don't like it here, it's terribly crowded. Have I gone mad?” he whispered.

She felt his forehead with her hand as her father had done to her so many years ago. “I'm afraid so,” she said. “You're entirely bonkers. But I'll tell you a secret . . . all the best people are.”

The Hatter straightened his shoulders with pride. Even his clothes seemed to puff up.

Alice reached behind a box and produced the Hatter's own bedraggled top hat. His eyes filled with emotion as Alice put it on his head and tapped the rim proudly. “That's better,” she said. “You look yourself again.”

The Hatter was too overwhelmed to speak. He took off the hat and pressed it to his heart with an expression full of gratitude.

They were suddenly interrupted by the piercing sound of the Red Queen's voice. “Hat man!” she shrieked from the next room. “Where are my hats? I am not a patient monarch!”

The Hatter seemed to come to. He seized Alice's hand intensely, keeping his voice low. “I'm told she keeps the Vorpal Sword hidden in the castle. Find it, Alice. Take it to the White Queen.

Alice glanced down at the long, thick chain binding his ankle to the wall. She still wasn't sure about slaying any Jabberwocky, but she
could
think of something else she'd like to do with that sword.

“We'll go to the White Queen together,” she said, taking his other hand. They looked into each other's eyes for a long moment, and Alice found herself wishing she weren't quite so absurdly huge.

The Hatter grinned ruefully, evidently having the same thought. “Why is it you're always too small or too tall?” he asked.

Alice slipped away to find her courtroom while the Red Queen was busy trying on hats. The Tweedles were stationed outside the door, one on each side.

“Tweedles!” Alice said happily when she spotted them. Considering how silly and maddening they could be, she was surprised at how delighted she was to see them. She only wished it were in better, less
prisoneresque
circumstances.

They each took one of her hands and shook them vigorously. “Alice!” they cried in unison.

“Howdoyedo again,” said Tweedledum.

“Where's the Rabbit—” Alice started, but Tweedledee interrupted.

“How is it you're being so great big?” he asked.

“She ain't great big,” said his brother. “This is how she normal is.”

“I'm certain she is smaller when we met,” insisted Tweedledee.

“She had drank the
pishsalver
, to get through the door. Recall it?” said Tweedledum.

“Where's the Rabbit?” Alice asked again.

“Over theres!” they chorused together, but each pointed in the opposite direction. Alice sighed.

These two weren't exactly the most reliable guides, but when they set off, she had little choice but to follow them.

Much to her surprise, after some walking and climbing stairs and roundabout wandering, they actually came to the White Rabbit. He was whispering with a chambermaid, but as they got closer, Alice realized the maid was actually the Dormouse in disguise.

“What are you doing here?” the Dormouse asked.

“I'm rescuing the Hatter,” Alice replied
.

“
I'm
rescuing the Hatter,” the Dormouse corrected her.

“He told me that the Vorpal Sword is hidden in the castle. Help me find it,” Alice said.

The Tweedles immediately hurried off, but the Dormouse and White Rabbit remained. “I don't take orders from big, clumsy, galumphing—” The Dormouse stood her ground.

Alice loomed over her and pointed imperiously. “Shoo!”

With a humiliated squeak, the Dormouse stalked off. Alice turned and saw that the White Rabbit was still there.

“What is it, McTwisp?” she asked.

He paused, then looked up at her with serious eyes.

“I know where the sword is.”