Fan Fiction ❯ Black Orchid ❯ Mad as a March Hare, or Madder ( Chapter 11 )

Ahhh: the next chapter…finally…sorry for the delay, but I spent 2 days using all my free time to read someone's 39 chapter KH fanfic. Yeah…Now's the Hatter's turn. I think the next chapter should be able to cover the rest of wonderland…or not. Probably 2 chapters. Hanh…I could tell you about my plans for Arc and his sidestory, but you'll find that out soon enough in *counts in head, "um, average 3-4 chaps per world, plus 'tweeners" and on fingers* 21 chaps? Um…READ AND REVIEW!!! BOTH OR NEITHER!!! ACKNOWLEDGE MY EXISTANCE!!!

PS: Think it's long? Well, it'll be like the game. I spent 70 hours playing that…so you get to spend 70 hours reading my whole story when it's done!

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"Well played!" came the voice as they stood on the wall. "I see you found the beach in the middle of the wall."

Arc's right hand clenched, and there was the sound of grinding stone as the Cheshire Cat appeared before them. He was sitting on a nearby shelf, which rendered him sideways to them, yet in correct orientation to the floor. They walked over to him.

"What do you want?" said Arc, glaring frostily.

"Oh, that's cold!" laughed the Cat. "But I did promise you something if you found it. Here," he said, holding out his paw, "one frosty gift deserves another,"

An orb of glowing light blue appeared. Orchid walked up and held out her hand, and the ball rolled sideways off the Cat's paw to fall down onto her hand.

"Cold," she said. Then she instinctively pressed the orb of energy to her chest and it was absorbed in. She shivered as her body went cold, but then it passed.

"The magic Blizzard, kupo?" piped up Montblanc. Then to Orchid, "Wasn't it easier this time?"

Orchid nodded. Then she aimed her hand, palm outwards, at an oversized book on the shelf, behind the Cheshire Cat. She imagined cold, biting wind and frost, and felt her hand cool sharply. Then she released it. "Blizzard!"

A spray of ice crystals and frost shot out in a spreading cloud that dissipated a few yards away from her. The Cheshire slinked easily from the shelf to the wall, making the transfer of gravity deceptively effortless as he righted himself in Arc, Montblanc, and Orchid's view.

"As you can see, kupo," said Montblanc. "It has a shorter range, but covers a wider area."

"Right," said Orchid, already mentally working out what situations to use Fire and Blizzard in. Then she turned back to the Cat, who was cleaning his purple and pink fur with his tongue. "Do you know where to find some tea?"

"In the Tea Garden, of course," answered the Cat smartly, pausing in his bath. "The door's over there."

He pointed one pudgy paw at a little door on a wall near the ceiling, sideways to them, right side up to the ceiling though. Arc ran across the giant wall to the corner and looked up at it. There was no way to get to it. He walked back, asking the cat, "How are we supposed to get up there?"

"Walk of course," smiled the Cheshire Cat, his body gone. "But then, it will be quite an interesting walk."

And then he was gone.

"Now what?" asked Orchid, racking her brain for ways to reach the door.

"I hate that cat!" growled Arc in frustrations, slamming his stone fist into the shelf. It shook under the impact. Then fell over, or down if you oriented with the room's floor. The books that had been resting on it fell towards the floor to land in disarray, revealing what had been behind them.

"A hole!" said Orchid pointing. Sure enough, there was a hole in the wall that had been covered by the books. The trio walked over and peered inside.

"It's pitch black, kupo," observed Montblanc.

"Do we go in?" asked Orchid, looking up to Arc.

"Nothing for it," he said, walking in. The other two exchanged glances, then followed.

They came out, and found themselves back in the Bizarre Room. But now they were on the ceiling. They were only mystified for a few seconds, then shrugged it off. Some things, you just shouldn't try to think about.

"So where's that door?" asked Arc, scratching his head with his left hand. Orchid decided that he was definitely southpaw in everything but fighting.

"Over there, kupo," replied Montblanc, pointing his rod at the wall opposite of them. They ran across, avoiding the lamps that were hanging up to the floor. They reached the door, relieved that no Heartless had appeared. Then they opened the door, and stepped through.

There was a table set out under a tree in front of the house, and the March Hare and the Hatter were having tea at it: a Dormouse was sitting between them, fast asleep, and the other two were using it as a cushion, resting their elbows on it, and talking over its head.

"That looks…" started Arc.

"Uncomfortable, kupo," finished Montblanc.

"But it's asleep," said Orchid, "so I guess it doesn't mind."

The table was fairly large, but the three that were sitting were all crowded together at one corner of it.

"No room! No room!" they cried out when they saw the other three coming.

"There's lots of room!" said Orchid indignantly, and she sat down in a large armchair at one end of the table. Arc sat next to her, and Montblanc next to him.

"Have some wine," the March Hare said in an encouraging tone.

They looked all round the table, Arc more eagerly than the other two, but there was nothing on it but tea.

"I don't see any wine," he remarked.

"There isn't any," said the March Hare.

"Then it wasn't very civil of you to offer it, kupo," said Montblanc.

"It wasn't very civil of you to sit down without being invited," said the March Hare.

"I didn't know it was your table," said Orchid, "I mean, it's laid for many more than three."

"Your hair wants cutting," said the Hatter. He had been looking at Orchid for some time with great curiosity, and this was his first speech.

"That's not really any of your business," snapped Orchid, reflexively running her hand through her hair.

The Hatter opened his eyes very wide when he heard this, but all he said was, "Why is a raven like a writing-desk?"

"Oh, I like riddles, kupo. I believe I can guess that," Montblanc squeaked.

"Do you mean that you think you can find out the answer to it?" said the March Hare.

"Exactly so, kupo" said Montblanc.

"Then you should say what you mean," the March Hare went on.

"He does," Orchid interjected, "at least--at least he means what he says--that's the same thing, right?"

"Not the same thing a bit!" said the Hatter. "You might just as well say that 'I see what I eat' is the same thing as 'I eat what I see'!"

"You might just as well say," added the March Hare, "that 'I like what I get' is the same thing as 'I get what I like'!"

"You might just as well say," added the Dormouse, who seemed to be talking in his sleep, "that 'I breathe when I sleep' is the same thing as 'I sleep when I breathe'!"

"It is the same thing with you," said the Hatter, and there the conversation stopped, and the party sat silent for a minute, while the trio thought over all they could remember about ravens and writing desks, which wasn't much.

"What day of the month is it?" asked the Hatter suddenly. He had taken his watch out of his pocket, and was looking at it uneasily, shaking it every now and then, and holding it to his ear.

"The fourth," replied Orchid after a little consideration.

"Two days wrong!" sighed the Hatter. "I told you butter wouldn't suit the works!" he added, looking angrily at the March Hare.

"It was the best butter," the March Hare meekly replied.

"Yes, but some crumbs must have got in as well," the Hatter grumbled. "You shouldn't have put it in with the bread-knife."

The March Hare took the watch and looked at it gloomily: then he dipped it into his cup of tea, and looked at it again, but he couldn't think of anything better to say than his first remark, "It was the best butter, you know."

Orchid had been looking over his shoulder with some curiosity. "What a weird watch!" she remarked. "It tells the day of the month, and doesn't tell the time."

"Why should it?" muttered the Hatter. "Does your watch tell you what year it is?"

"Of course not, kupo" Montblanc replied very readily, "but that's because it stays the same year for such a long time."

"Which is just the case with mine," said the Hatter.

The trio felt extremely puzzled. The Hatter's remark seemed to have no sort of meaning in it, even though it was certainly English. "You don't make any sense at all," they said bluntly.

"The Dormouse is asleep again," said the Hatter, and he poured a little hot tea on its nose.

The Dormouse shook its head impatiently, and said, without opening its eyes, "Of course, of course; just what I was going to remark myself."

"Have you guessed the riddle yet?" the Hatter said, turning to Montblanc again.

"No, I give up," Montblanc replied. "What's the answer?"

"I haven't the slightest idea," said the Hatter.

"Nor I," said the March Hare.

Arc sighed wearily. "You'd think you might do something better with the time," he said, "than waste it in asking riddles with no answers."

"Oh, but you didn't see our concert last month," said the Hatter. He leaned over to Orchid and pointed his thumb back at the March Hare. "Just before he went mad," he added, then resumed his seat. "Now that was a waste of time."

"Would you like to hear?" asked the March Hare. Before the trio could say "no", the March Hare and the Hatter jumped onto the table, linked elbows and began dancing madly about, kicking outrageously and sending tea sets flying while singing uproariously:

"Twinkle, twinkle, little bat,

How I wonder what you're at.

Up above the world you fly,

Like a tea tray in the sky.

Twinkle, twinkle, little bat,

How I wonder what you're at."

They both jumped and landed kneeling, their arms thrown wide dramatically.

"TWI-I-INKLE LI-I-ITTLE BA-A-A-A-AT!"

The pair walked off the table and to their seats, taking turns bowing and applauding to each other in the stunned silence, the only other sound being the dormouse's snoring.

"Look at this mess!" said Orchid, staring at the spilled tea and strewn cups.

"Time to move!" declared the Hatter. He moved on as he spoke, and the Dormouse followed him: the March Hare moved into the Dormouse's place, and Orchid rather unwillingly took the place of the March Hare while Arc and Montblanc scooted over. The Hatter was the only one who got any advantage from the change, and Orchid was a good deal worse off than before, as the March Hare had just upset the milk-jug into his plate.

"Have a tea kettle," whispered Arc to Orchid, handing her one.

"Why are you giving it to me?" she asked, while Montblanc and the Hatter bandied words.

"'Cause I'm stuck carrying the oysters," he reminded her, jostling his trench-coat-turned-bag, causing a few muffled shouts to come out of it.

"Fine," she said, taking it. Then, to the March Hare, "I'm afraid we must be going…"

"Why so soon?" asked the March Hare.

"It looks like it's going to rain…" mumbled Arc, looking up at the gray sky.

"Oh no, it never rains here…" said the Hatter, as water started to patter down. The three were walking quickly towards the gate when they heard him finish behind them.

"It pours."

They ran out the gate and into the Lotus Forest, as a torrential storm broke loose. It was as if a whole sea was draining out of the sky, and soon they were up to their waists in water, or in Montblanc's case, floating around in it.

"What's with this water?" shouted Orchid above the rain. It was now up to her chest. She tried to grab Montblanc, but it was in vain.

"Just hold on!" shouted back Arc, holding out his hand. But she couldn't reach it. Soon, the water was above their heads, and they were swept away with the deluge.