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karrenia_runeTitle: Sympathetic Magic
Fandoms: Alice in Wonderland, Through the Looking Glass
w/How the Grinch Stole Christmas-Dr. Seusss crossover.
Author: karrenia
Rating: PG, but probably no higher than that, bu it's a little bit darker in tone than the
source canon.
Word: 2,515
Summary: The Mad Hatter finds himself unexpectedly in another world where he gets to play the hero, with the help of an intelligent dog, and he finds, that it is a very good thing.
Note: I just came off from reading stories for the 2011 Rare Fandom Yuletide Exchange and this idea stuck in my head and would not go away.
Prompt#09 tears
35/100
Link to the prompt table on LJ can be found <"here">
Disclaimer: The Alice universe does not belong to me, and the same goes for the Suess works; they are both the creations of their original authors and I am only 'borrowing' them for the purposes of the story.
"Sympathetic Magic" by karrenia
How he got here is not nearly as important as what he should be doing about it. When he had crossed the edge of the burly wood near twilight of the previous day he had felt a distinct blurring of the hard edges but had passed it the play of light on the trees, or a trick of the eye.
The small, wiry, and clearly undernourished dog that had emerged from an unseen crevice in the mountain path had come up to him with intent and pleading look in its soft brown eyes.
The Mad Hatter had rarely seen a dog of any kind or temperate in his own world. And in the back of his mind he realized that somehow whatever had occurred had it made it possible for him to emerge into an entirely different Other-place.
He looked at the distance he had still to cover to reach the summit and then pivoted at a one-hundred and eighty degree angle to appraise the distance down and heaved a sigh. He realized that he had a decision to make, to go up, or to go down.
At that precise moment, when he felt he was teetering on that knife edge of making a decision, suddenly a furious howling set up that so startled him that Mad Hatter covered his ears with his hands.
The howling triggered a reaction from the dog who had seemingly befriended him, for it began to yip and yap in a counterpoint to the howling. It soon left off, however, and grabbed onto the cuff of his trousers with its teeth and began to tug him upwards. The howling soon began to subside and heaved a sigh of profound relief.
“I’m sorry, good fellow,” he said to the dog and its intent and intelligent brown eyes, “I really can’t see what good I’ll do you here.”
The dog, not in the least deterred, continued to look upon him as a friendly and welcome presence. Again, never having had much experience with animals, barring his usual socialization with the March Hare, and the ever mercurial and unpredictable Cheshire Cat; for his part he was a bit of a loss as to how best to communicate with it.
As far as the dog was concerned, it was indeed much more intelligent than anyone, including its master realized. Although it could not speak in words as humans did, it knew a thing or two about how the world spun and why.
This hatted stranger in his fancy, and bit funny-smelling old-fashioned clothes had never come from Whoville; the stranger was clearly from another place and. More importantly his presence meant that if he only could be made aware of his master, the Grinch’s plan to ruin Christmas for the kindly and unsuspecting people of Whoville. Then maybe the stranger could go back down and warn them.
It was only then as they the Mad Hatter accompanied by the seemingly wise dog had ascended several more feet that he realized that not only had the noise abated by the quality of the light had changed. The dog let loose of its hold and darted into a hollowed out cave entrance that appeared to have made into a kind of dwelling place. It was clearly the dog’s home. The Hatter adjusted the jaunty tilt of his hat and the fall of his sleeves and went inside.
Upon entering, and waiting for his eyes to adjust to the change in the light, he saw a giant sleigh heaped with sacks upon sacks and a green-furred creature preoccupied with expounding upon its plans to ruin Christmas for the inhabitants of a town apparently called Whoville.
The Hatter reached down to pet the soft fur of the wise but clearly poorly treated dog with its intelligent eyes peering at him with longing and another emption that at that moment he was at a bit of a loss to interpret, but it there was definitely something before behind ‘that’ look.
The Grinch looked towards the entrance to his cave home, realizing that while he had been expounding upon his plan and how this time, this last time, it was the perfect plan, he realized that he would require one last key element, his Dog, Max to pull the sleigh down the mountainside.
He rubbed his green-furred paws together and then did a bit of a double-take when he realized that Max was not alone. He had found a friend. “You! What do you think you are doing in here?”
The Mad Hatter, with a sniff honestly felt that he had spoken more congenial company in his day, and even some less so, but it was the creature’s home so he really could not blame for his hostile tone and demeanor.
“Honestly, good fellow, I only followed the path and it was your dog here that led me to your, humble abode,” the Hatter said quietly, wondering at the same time what the giant sleigh was doing set in so prominent a place inside the cave’s spacious interior. He could only speculate that it was meant to gather supplies.
“Max! I can scarcely believe it! That scrawny, dimwitted, disobedient mutt led you here.” The Grinch exclaimed uncurling from the near-crouch he had been in whilst calculating the amount of sacks that would be required to haul all of the loot, trees, ornaments, presents, etc. that he would snatch, all in one night. Once the plan had begun to percolate in his brain, and it had begun to take on a life of its own, never for one moment, not even on iota, had a moment of doubt entered into the equation?
Max, meanwhile, while the Grinch and the hatted stranger regarded one another dubiously, spent the time darting back and forth between where they stood, several times nearly toppling them over and loudly barking.
“A spy! That’s what you are! Did the Mayor send you?" If so, I must say that you have more nerve and sheer gumption than any of those namby-pamby dimwits down in Whoville,” The Grinch stated as he began to shuffle his feet on the stone floor of the cave. With that said he grabbed Max by the ruff of the neck, who yelped at the rough treatment.
“I do not know much about dogs, but I don’t think he likes that.”
“So, what do you care?” The Grinch grabbed a length of rope and tied one end around Max’s neck and the other around the front of the sled and then hopped up to the driver’s seat.
“Whoever or whatever you are, get out of my way. It’s almost time for the Plan to go into action.”
“What grand plan would that be?”
“Why to utterly ruin Christmas for Whoville, each man, woman, boy and girl.”
“My word!” exclaimed the Mad Hatter. “Are you utterly daft! Have you gone all cracked? Wait, wait, don’t answer that. “I can see plain as the nose on my face that you are well and truly cracked, Sir.”
“So, what are you going to do about!” The Grich demanded.
“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do about it,” The Hatter replied as he squared his shoulders and rolled up the sleeves of his jacket. Somehow, all this talk of ruining the joy of complete strangers just for the sake of said ruining had struck a chord somewhere inside of himself, and it began to hum and vibrate, growing gradually steadier and louder with each passing second. At last, it had become so loud and so steady that he could deny it what it was he felt: a desire to help out where he could.
So, before he could think better of it, or even convince himself of the merits of his own action, the Mad Hatter jumped onto the back of the wagon and hung on as tight as he could, as the sled was pulled out onto the mountainside and down, down, at nerve-racking speed.
His heart went thump-thump, but still he hung on.
For his part the Grinch whooped and whipped poor Max to greater and greater speed. The Hatter hung on and shouted. “Stop this confounded contraption!
“I cannot, I will not, I shall not!” cried the Grinch.
Muttering mostly to himself but also to poor Max, the Hatter said: “Judging by the racket he’s making you’d think they would hear all the way at the foot of this mountain.”
Max whiffled and snorted and growled, but yoked as he was to the lead line could do nothing more than offer his mute agreement.
The descent continued for an interminable length of time before with a thump and a thud the sled came to a halt at the foot of the mountain, just on the outskirts of the small village.
The Mad Hatter finally allowed himself to release his white-knuckled grip on one of the sacks and got off.
“I will say again, you are utterly daft, Sir. And I shall go now to warn the villagers.” So saying he trotted off towards the sleepy, brightly lit with red, green and white lights village.
The Grinch got off and bending down on one knee stared Max in the eye. “This is your entire fault, bringing in a wild card like this hatted fellow.”
Max snuffled and regarded with his intelligent brown eyes, exhausted but hopeful.
The Grinch stood upright once more and shrugged. “No matter. Now to execute Step Two of the plan, to creep, crawl, sneak and sidle and to take away all their baubles, and they wake it will be as if Christmas had never come, and it never will.”
So he stepped silently away, an empty sack slung over one shoulder and he entered into the sleepy and unsuspecting village.
The Hatter knocked on a door after door but could not find anyone awake, or anyone who would reply to his hails, at a certain point his earlier feeling of confidence and concern for his fellow being, he felt was waning just a bit. No matter, anything worth doing was worth doing as well as one possibly can.
He had come to a small house with a tiny wreath in the lead-paned window and a candle burning in a ceramic dish. It was a small house, neat with a row of rose-bushes planted all around.
He rang the doorbell and primed himself to deliver the warning that had developed as he walked through town.
Much to his surprise a girl, aged no more than say six or seven old; for him to determine a child’s age was a difficult thing for to do since the only exposure he had ever had with female children of any age was the odd little duck, Alice.
The little girl’s name was Mary Lou and she had been up and out of her bed for quite some time full of eager anticipation for Santa Claus. She padded over to the door quiet as you please; her doll tucked under her arm and answered the door.
“I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” she whispered.
“A wise precaution, “replied the Hatter. “Are your parents around? I must speak with them.”
“No, they are asleep.”
“I do not know if you will understand this or not,” the Mad Hatter said, as he let himself in, “but, my name is well, Hatter, and I came with a warning, which, I must say, I have not had much luck in delivering to anyone else in this town. This might be my last chance.”
“A warning?” Mary Lou exclaimed softly, her eyes going all round like the saucer of a tea-cup. The reminder of this small reminder of home and his perpetual tea party emphasized his duty. He had set himself this task and by golly he would accomplish it. He let himself in, past the threshold and looked around.
A sudden crashing and thumping was heard from the living room and with Mary Lou following close at his heels he darted from the foyer and into the adjoining room.
“Santa!” Mary Lou cried. “That is Santa, is it not? I never heard tell that Santa was green.”
“As far as I know, he can be any color of his choice, but that is definitely not him.”
“How do you know?” Mary Lou asked.
“You see, my dear,” the Hatter gently replied. “While I have never met this Santa Claus in person, I have it on good authority that he is supposed to bring joy and comfort to those he visits. This fellow. Intends nothing but ruination, and he must be stopped.”
“That’s horrible!” Mary Lou cried and then handed her doll to the hatted stranger and advanced on the Grinch who had managed to untangle himself from the yard and yards of tinsel and holly and had at last begun to stuff presents into his sack.
“Do stop, Sir. We don’t have much, but this time of year but it should about sharing and giving,
The Grinch looked up into these big blue eyes, so round and earnest and innocent. And at that precise moment a strange and wonderful thing happened on that night. So strange and magical thing. His heart, normally akin to a stony rock, suddenly felt lighter and lighter and suspicious moisture appeared in his eyes.
He glanced around at the room, taken aback a bit at the presence of the hatted stranger, and while he normally would have spent a good moment out of his looting to spout vituperation at this meddling stranger, found his tongue tied.
He turned back to face the little girl, in her best Whoville dress, her earnest blue gaze, and a determined yet gentle determination in the lines of her face and the set of her mouth.
The Grinch felt his heart skipped a beat, and then it skipped another and another; an even with every will in the world he could not, would not, and should not go through with his plan to ruin everything that meant Christmas to the Whos.
He actually began to cry, but unlike any other time in his life that he could recall, these were tears of happiness and joy and he patted young Mary Lou on the head. “My dear, my dear, you are absolutely and undeniably correct. I can honestly say that I am a better Grinch, tonight, thanks to you.”
And the empty place where his heart should have been filled up and he bent down to hug the little girl, whio returned the embrace and then walked over to the Mad Hatter. “Thank you, for the warning and for being there when you were needed.
“I have seen it with my own eyes, heard it with my own ears,” The Mad Hatter remarked in a quiet voice, as if a louder tone would break the spell… Then replied, “You are entirely welcome, my dear. But I honestly do not believe that I had much to do with this, uh, uh, transformation.”
Mary Lou smiled at them both and then said. “It’s a Christmas miracle.”
Fandoms: Alice in Wonderland, Through the Looking Glass
w/How the Grinch Stole Christmas-Dr. Seusss crossover.
Author: karrenia
Rating: PG, but probably no higher than that, bu it's a little bit darker in tone than the
source canon.
Word: 2,515
Summary: The Mad Hatter finds himself unexpectedly in another world where he gets to play the hero, with the help of an intelligent dog, and he finds, that it is a very good thing.
Note: I just came off from reading stories for the 2011 Rare Fandom Yuletide Exchange and this idea stuck in my head and would not go away.
Prompt#09 tears
35/100
Link to the prompt table on LJ can be found <"here">
Disclaimer: The Alice universe does not belong to me, and the same goes for the Suess works; they are both the creations of their original authors and I am only 'borrowing' them for the purposes of the story.
"Sympathetic Magic" by karrenia
How he got here is not nearly as important as what he should be doing about it. When he had crossed the edge of the burly wood near twilight of the previous day he had felt a distinct blurring of the hard edges but had passed it the play of light on the trees, or a trick of the eye.
The small, wiry, and clearly undernourished dog that had emerged from an unseen crevice in the mountain path had come up to him with intent and pleading look in its soft brown eyes.
The Mad Hatter had rarely seen a dog of any kind or temperate in his own world. And in the back of his mind he realized that somehow whatever had occurred had it made it possible for him to emerge into an entirely different Other-place.
He looked at the distance he had still to cover to reach the summit and then pivoted at a one-hundred and eighty degree angle to appraise the distance down and heaved a sigh. He realized that he had a decision to make, to go up, or to go down.
At that precise moment, when he felt he was teetering on that knife edge of making a decision, suddenly a furious howling set up that so startled him that Mad Hatter covered his ears with his hands.
The howling triggered a reaction from the dog who had seemingly befriended him, for it began to yip and yap in a counterpoint to the howling. It soon left off, however, and grabbed onto the cuff of his trousers with its teeth and began to tug him upwards. The howling soon began to subside and heaved a sigh of profound relief.
“I’m sorry, good fellow,” he said to the dog and its intent and intelligent brown eyes, “I really can’t see what good I’ll do you here.”
The dog, not in the least deterred, continued to look upon him as a friendly and welcome presence. Again, never having had much experience with animals, barring his usual socialization with the March Hare, and the ever mercurial and unpredictable Cheshire Cat; for his part he was a bit of a loss as to how best to communicate with it.
As far as the dog was concerned, it was indeed much more intelligent than anyone, including its master realized. Although it could not speak in words as humans did, it knew a thing or two about how the world spun and why.
This hatted stranger in his fancy, and bit funny-smelling old-fashioned clothes had never come from Whoville; the stranger was clearly from another place and. More importantly his presence meant that if he only could be made aware of his master, the Grinch’s plan to ruin Christmas for the kindly and unsuspecting people of Whoville. Then maybe the stranger could go back down and warn them.
It was only then as they the Mad Hatter accompanied by the seemingly wise dog had ascended several more feet that he realized that not only had the noise abated by the quality of the light had changed. The dog let loose of its hold and darted into a hollowed out cave entrance that appeared to have made into a kind of dwelling place. It was clearly the dog’s home. The Hatter adjusted the jaunty tilt of his hat and the fall of his sleeves and went inside.
Upon entering, and waiting for his eyes to adjust to the change in the light, he saw a giant sleigh heaped with sacks upon sacks and a green-furred creature preoccupied with expounding upon its plans to ruin Christmas for the inhabitants of a town apparently called Whoville.
The Hatter reached down to pet the soft fur of the wise but clearly poorly treated dog with its intelligent eyes peering at him with longing and another emption that at that moment he was at a bit of a loss to interpret, but it there was definitely something before behind ‘that’ look.
The Grinch looked towards the entrance to his cave home, realizing that while he had been expounding upon his plan and how this time, this last time, it was the perfect plan, he realized that he would require one last key element, his Dog, Max to pull the sleigh down the mountainside.
He rubbed his green-furred paws together and then did a bit of a double-take when he realized that Max was not alone. He had found a friend. “You! What do you think you are doing in here?”
The Mad Hatter, with a sniff honestly felt that he had spoken more congenial company in his day, and even some less so, but it was the creature’s home so he really could not blame for his hostile tone and demeanor.
“Honestly, good fellow, I only followed the path and it was your dog here that led me to your, humble abode,” the Hatter said quietly, wondering at the same time what the giant sleigh was doing set in so prominent a place inside the cave’s spacious interior. He could only speculate that it was meant to gather supplies.
“Max! I can scarcely believe it! That scrawny, dimwitted, disobedient mutt led you here.” The Grinch exclaimed uncurling from the near-crouch he had been in whilst calculating the amount of sacks that would be required to haul all of the loot, trees, ornaments, presents, etc. that he would snatch, all in one night. Once the plan had begun to percolate in his brain, and it had begun to take on a life of its own, never for one moment, not even on iota, had a moment of doubt entered into the equation?
Max, meanwhile, while the Grinch and the hatted stranger regarded one another dubiously, spent the time darting back and forth between where they stood, several times nearly toppling them over and loudly barking.
“A spy! That’s what you are! Did the Mayor send you?" If so, I must say that you have more nerve and sheer gumption than any of those namby-pamby dimwits down in Whoville,” The Grinch stated as he began to shuffle his feet on the stone floor of the cave. With that said he grabbed Max by the ruff of the neck, who yelped at the rough treatment.
“I do not know much about dogs, but I don’t think he likes that.”
“So, what do you care?” The Grinch grabbed a length of rope and tied one end around Max’s neck and the other around the front of the sled and then hopped up to the driver’s seat.
“Whoever or whatever you are, get out of my way. It’s almost time for the Plan to go into action.”
“What grand plan would that be?”
“Why to utterly ruin Christmas for Whoville, each man, woman, boy and girl.”
“My word!” exclaimed the Mad Hatter. “Are you utterly daft! Have you gone all cracked? Wait, wait, don’t answer that. “I can see plain as the nose on my face that you are well and truly cracked, Sir.”
“So, what are you going to do about!” The Grich demanded.
“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do about it,” The Hatter replied as he squared his shoulders and rolled up the sleeves of his jacket. Somehow, all this talk of ruining the joy of complete strangers just for the sake of said ruining had struck a chord somewhere inside of himself, and it began to hum and vibrate, growing gradually steadier and louder with each passing second. At last, it had become so loud and so steady that he could deny it what it was he felt: a desire to help out where he could.
So, before he could think better of it, or even convince himself of the merits of his own action, the Mad Hatter jumped onto the back of the wagon and hung on as tight as he could, as the sled was pulled out onto the mountainside and down, down, at nerve-racking speed.
His heart went thump-thump, but still he hung on.
For his part the Grinch whooped and whipped poor Max to greater and greater speed. The Hatter hung on and shouted. “Stop this confounded contraption!
“I cannot, I will not, I shall not!” cried the Grinch.
Muttering mostly to himself but also to poor Max, the Hatter said: “Judging by the racket he’s making you’d think they would hear all the way at the foot of this mountain.”
Max whiffled and snorted and growled, but yoked as he was to the lead line could do nothing more than offer his mute agreement.
The descent continued for an interminable length of time before with a thump and a thud the sled came to a halt at the foot of the mountain, just on the outskirts of the small village.
The Mad Hatter finally allowed himself to release his white-knuckled grip on one of the sacks and got off.
“I will say again, you are utterly daft, Sir. And I shall go now to warn the villagers.” So saying he trotted off towards the sleepy, brightly lit with red, green and white lights village.
The Grinch got off and bending down on one knee stared Max in the eye. “This is your entire fault, bringing in a wild card like this hatted fellow.”
Max snuffled and regarded with his intelligent brown eyes, exhausted but hopeful.
The Grinch stood upright once more and shrugged. “No matter. Now to execute Step Two of the plan, to creep, crawl, sneak and sidle and to take away all their baubles, and they wake it will be as if Christmas had never come, and it never will.”
So he stepped silently away, an empty sack slung over one shoulder and he entered into the sleepy and unsuspecting village.
The Hatter knocked on a door after door but could not find anyone awake, or anyone who would reply to his hails, at a certain point his earlier feeling of confidence and concern for his fellow being, he felt was waning just a bit. No matter, anything worth doing was worth doing as well as one possibly can.
He had come to a small house with a tiny wreath in the lead-paned window and a candle burning in a ceramic dish. It was a small house, neat with a row of rose-bushes planted all around.
He rang the doorbell and primed himself to deliver the warning that had developed as he walked through town.
Much to his surprise a girl, aged no more than say six or seven old; for him to determine a child’s age was a difficult thing for to do since the only exposure he had ever had with female children of any age was the odd little duck, Alice.
The little girl’s name was Mary Lou and she had been up and out of her bed for quite some time full of eager anticipation for Santa Claus. She padded over to the door quiet as you please; her doll tucked under her arm and answered the door.
“I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” she whispered.
“A wise precaution, “replied the Hatter. “Are your parents around? I must speak with them.”
“No, they are asleep.”
“I do not know if you will understand this or not,” the Mad Hatter said, as he let himself in, “but, my name is well, Hatter, and I came with a warning, which, I must say, I have not had much luck in delivering to anyone else in this town. This might be my last chance.”
“A warning?” Mary Lou exclaimed softly, her eyes going all round like the saucer of a tea-cup. The reminder of this small reminder of home and his perpetual tea party emphasized his duty. He had set himself this task and by golly he would accomplish it. He let himself in, past the threshold and looked around.
A sudden crashing and thumping was heard from the living room and with Mary Lou following close at his heels he darted from the foyer and into the adjoining room.
“Santa!” Mary Lou cried. “That is Santa, is it not? I never heard tell that Santa was green.”
“As far as I know, he can be any color of his choice, but that is definitely not him.”
“How do you know?” Mary Lou asked.
“You see, my dear,” the Hatter gently replied. “While I have never met this Santa Claus in person, I have it on good authority that he is supposed to bring joy and comfort to those he visits. This fellow. Intends nothing but ruination, and he must be stopped.”
“That’s horrible!” Mary Lou cried and then handed her doll to the hatted stranger and advanced on the Grinch who had managed to untangle himself from the yard and yards of tinsel and holly and had at last begun to stuff presents into his sack.
“Do stop, Sir. We don’t have much, but this time of year but it should about sharing and giving,
The Grinch looked up into these big blue eyes, so round and earnest and innocent. And at that precise moment a strange and wonderful thing happened on that night. So strange and magical thing. His heart, normally akin to a stony rock, suddenly felt lighter and lighter and suspicious moisture appeared in his eyes.
He glanced around at the room, taken aback a bit at the presence of the hatted stranger, and while he normally would have spent a good moment out of his looting to spout vituperation at this meddling stranger, found his tongue tied.
He turned back to face the little girl, in her best Whoville dress, her earnest blue gaze, and a determined yet gentle determination in the lines of her face and the set of her mouth.
The Grinch felt his heart skipped a beat, and then it skipped another and another; an even with every will in the world he could not, would not, and should not go through with his plan to ruin everything that meant Christmas to the Whos.
He actually began to cry, but unlike any other time in his life that he could recall, these were tears of happiness and joy and he patted young Mary Lou on the head. “My dear, my dear, you are absolutely and undeniably correct. I can honestly say that I am a better Grinch, tonight, thanks to you.”
And the empty place where his heart should have been filled up and he bent down to hug the little girl, whio returned the embrace and then walked over to the Mad Hatter. “Thank you, for the warning and for being there when you were needed.
“I have seen it with my own eyes, heard it with my own ears,” The Mad Hatter remarked in a quiet voice, as if a louder tone would break the spell… Then replied, “You are entirely welcome, my dear. But I honestly do not believe that I had much to do with this, uh, uh, transformation.”
Mary Lou smiled at them both and then said. “It’s a Christmas miracle.”
