Chapter Eleven
A Nice Surprise
Once again Alice found herself outside in the cold, once again she found herself with only a bony, brooding figure for company and once again she found herself wishing that she had already found the White Rabbit’s neat little house. Pulling her coat tightly around her, Alice began following Life and Death, hoping that this time her journey was shorter than before...
It was, in little more than a few minutes, Life and Death had stopped moving, and he began pointing at the snowy ground.
Alice was confused, for the only thing she saw was snow. “What can you mean?” she asked, staring at the snow in bewilderment.
In silence, Life and Death continued to point down.
“What?”
He said nothing.
“All right,” Alice said angrily, getting onto her hands and knees, “if it makes you any happier, I will dig you a hole, to prove there’s nothing down there, only snow.” She scooped up a handful of snow and began sifting it through her gloved hands.
Taking off her gloves, Alice’s fingers dug deep into the soft snow, and she had soon excavated a considerable hole. “There,” she said with a flourish of an upturned hand, presenting the hole for his inspection, “I told you there was nothing to find.” But despite her best efforts to convince him, the silent figure continued to point into the hole.
Frustrated, Alice gritted her teeth, saying, “I will dig for one more minute, and if I have found nothing by then, you will have to stay here forever, pointing into it, for all that I care.” (Alice was quite surprised by the amount of courage she was showing, considering how much he had frightened her, earlier).
Clambering into the hole, grumbling and mumbling her annoyance with L+D, Alice continued with her digging. Almost at once one of her hands felt something hard, something concealed by the snow. “I think I’ve found something,” she whispered to the brooding figure above her. Life and Death, however, remained silent. Becoming excited, wondering what might actually be there, Alice dug feverishly into the snow, removing huge armfuls of the stuff, until she had completely uncovered the hidden object.
Wiping the sweat from her brow, she cried out in astonishment, “Why, it’s a trapdoor!” Looking up, she asked, “Do you want me to open it?” L+D said nothing, he just continued to point silently into the hole.
“Okay,” she said, “I don’t care what you think. It makes no difference to me, now I’m going to open it.” Tugging at the trapdoor, Alice discovered that saying she was going to open it and actually doing it were two entirely different things, for it was frozen solid. She tried again, pulling and tugging harder, but the trapdoor remained firmly shut. “It’s no use,” she complained, “It won’t budge an inch. I can’t open it.”
Barely audible, the brooding figure whispered, “Try again.” She did, Alice pulled ferociously at the trapdoor, which suddenly swung open, sending her falling backwards into the snow.
Getting up, brushing the white particles from her coat, and then settling her hat, Alice tried to regain her composure. Having done so, her eyes drifted curiously to the space below. “It’s so bright,” she said, shielding her eyes from the brightness within. “Shall I go down?” she asked, casting her eyes upwards, to Life and Death, but he was nowhere to be seen.
“How peculiar,” Alice whispered. “I wonder where he has gone.” Then delving a hand into her coat, to her apron pocket, she carefully withdrew the Mouse. “What do you think I should do, Mouse?” she said, rubbing its soft fur delicately with her little finger. The Mouse rolled over, mumbling a few words about some cheese. “I’m sorry, but the cheese will have to wait,” she said, returning him to the warmth of the pocket. “I do so wish the Cat was here,” she mused, “at least he listens…”
In the end, out in the middle of nowhere, with nothing else better to do, Alice decided to explore, to go underground and see what she had uncovered. After making her way down a short flight of steps she was surprised by how warm it was inside. “It’s so warm in here,” she said loosening her coat buttons. Then noticing the snow falling in through the open trapdoor, she pulled it closed, saying, “There, that’s better.”
“And I should think so!”
“Who, who said that?” Alice asked, spinning round to see who it was.
“Me,” said a little man, dressed in tartan clothes, including a fine kilt and sporran, struggling under the weight of an enormous set of bagpipes.
“I am pleased to meet you, I am sure,” said Alice, trying to stifle a laugh, but failing.
“And so was I, to meet you, until you began laughing at me,” the little man replied.
“I do beg your pardon,” Alice giggled, “but it’s really your bagpipes that I am laughing at.”
“My bagpipes?” he said, both hurt and taken aback by her rude comment.
“Yes,” she said, “they look so funny.”
“And pray tell me why that might be?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.
“It’s because they’re so big” she explained.
“Big?”
“Yes, they’re enormous!”
“These bagpipes are the very same size as every other set of bagpipes,” he said crossly, annoyed at Alice’s careless observation.
“But, but they look so big…”
“Has it not occurred, to you, how very small I happen to be?” the little man asked, tapping a finger on one of the pipes.
“Now that you mention it,” she said, realising the error of her ways, “perhaps I was rather hasty in my judgement.”
“Am I to assume that you are now about to make a scathing attack on my diminutive size, also?” the little man asked, taping a foot on the ground.
In an effort to extricate herself from the sticky situation she had landed herself in, Alice decided to start again. Walking across to the small man, she said, “My name is Alice, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance, no matter how large or small you happen to be, and that also applies to your wonderful set of bagpipes.”
“Hmm,” he replied, looking her up and down, before saying, “My name is Mortar, and I am also pleased to meet you, no matter how fat or thin you happen to be, or how hungry or full your Mouse is feeling.”
Stunned by his remark, Alice asked, “How did you know that I have a mouse?”
“I know many things,” he replied, “some good, some bad…”
“Can you tell me where I am?”
“I can.”
“You can?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“I can tell you anywhere – it doesn’t matter where I happen to be, I can still tell you.”
Her mind reeling, Alice said, “My mind is all asunder, I will have to sit down lest I fall.” In all politeness, Mortar handed her a chair. Sitting down, she said, “Thank you, I fell better already.” It was only then that Alice noticed the place she had entered, a wonderful homely place filled with fine furniture, paintings and carpets. “This is indeed as fine a place as my Travelling Palace,” she said in surprise.
“Are you a queen?” Mortar asked her, inquiringly.
“I’m afraid that I’m not,” she replied, “only a young girl, I think?” After resting enough, Alice stood up and asked, “Mortar?”
“Yes, what do you wish me to answer?”
“I was wondering…”
“Yes?”
“I was wondering how you got your name.”
“My name?”
“Yes – did your parents give it to you?”
“Parents?” he replied, walking back and forth as he listened. “No, no parents.”
“You don’t have parents?”
“No, no parents, I’m afraid,” he insisted.
“Then how did you get your name?”
“You gave it to me!” Mortar said candidly.
“Me?” Alice asked, wondering how he had come to that conclusion.
“Yes,” he said again. “You named me, when you entered this
place, a few minutes ago…”
“But how?” Alice asked, in confusion at Mortar’s, to say the least, peculiar explanation.
“In your mind,” he continued. “But you still haven’t decided…”
“I haven’t decided, on what?”
“On which meaning you want my name to track.”
Her mind was reeling again, even more than before. Trying to help her to understand, Mortar said, “Think; think of all the possible meanings for my name…”
“Well,” said Alice, following his instructions as best she could. “The first one that I can think of is quite obvious – it’s guns!”
“I thought you might say that,” he said, pushing up his bagpipes to a more comfortable position. “But it’s wrong. Try again…”
“Raising a hand, Alice said, “It can also mean plaster, you know, the stuff they put between bricks, to stick them together.”
“Good, yes, that’s true, but it’s also wrong,” the little man replied. “Can you think of another meaning?” he asked.
Although Alice thought and thought and then thought some more, she found it impossible to come up with another meaning. Finally, giving up, she said, “It’s no use, Mortar, that’s all I can think of.”
Having no intention of accepting failure, Mortar said, “You named me! You already know the meaning, come on – THINK!”
Afraid to upset him any further, Alice began thinking again. And it took her a while, but finally, after many minutes of hard, cranial activity, she thought, just
thought she might have the correct meaning for his name. “I think I have it,” she whispered uncertainly.
“You have?” Mortar asked, coming closer and cocking an ear.
“Yes,” she said, “I can remember reading about it, in class, I think it was only last week – or was it last year?”
“Yes, yes, and what is it?”
“I think it might possibly mean light.”
Mortar’s eyes beamed with excitement, now that the true meaning of his name had finally been announced. “Yes, yes,” he said running around in a circle, jumping about and clapping his hands with excitement.
“Can I ask you something?” said Alice.
“Yes, of course,” he replied cheerfully.
“Why did you need me to tell you, if you already knew it?”
The smile faded from Mortar’s face, and he said, “Purging…”
“Purging?” Alice gasped. “Why does everyone say that to me?”
“To help you to find your way?” the little man replied, and ever so quietly.
“To find my way – my way to where?” asked Alice, forgetting all about her quest to find the Rabbit and his neat little house.
With a wink and a nod, Mortar replied, “You know where!”
“To the White Rabbit and his neat little house?” Alice exclaimed, suddenly remembering.
“Yes, if that is what you truly want,” he said, “and if not, then to wherever your destiny might be waiting…”
Like a veil had been lifted, Alice immediately knew where the White Rabbit’s house was to be found. “I know where I can find it – and him!” she said, hugging both Mortar and his bagpipes, with a passion. “Thank you, thank you,
Mortar, you are such a dear.” Alice hugged him again, squeezing the little man and his bagpipes so hard they began playing (though, it has to be said, quite badly).
“I am happy to have been of some help,” he said, when Alice finally stopped hugging both him and his bagpipes.
“Sorry about the bagpipes,” she said, seeing the little man inspecting his prized possession for signs of damage.
“Oh, it’s all right,” he replied, “and to show there are no hard feelings, I will play you a little tune – any requests?”
“Hmm,” said Alice, holding a finger to her lips, wondering which of her favourite songs might sound best, played on such an unusual instrument. She thought, pondering over this quandary for several minutes, finally coming to the conclusion that it was, perhaps, best to keep her favourite tunes as far removed from bagpipes as it was possible to get. “I’m sorry,” she said diplomatically “But I can’t even think of one.”
“That’s okay,” said Mortar with another quick wink. “You know, you’re not the first one to say something along those lines, and perhaps you’re right... Instead, I will play you a genuine bagpipe tune that I composed myself, are you ready?”
“Of course,” Alice replied, though secretly wondering how the little man could have managed to read her thoughts.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said. “If you want to join in, and sing, please feel free to do so.” Mortar began blowing into one of the pipes, and the bladder grew larger and larger. Squeals (no one could dare to say they were anything akin to music) began to emerge from deep within the instrument. Despite this appalling noise, Mortar continued to blow, pumping the instrument more and more (Alice thought he resembled someone trying to kill a pig) until, finally, placing his fingers on one of the pipes, he began playing his tune.
Alice wondered if something had gone dreadfully wrong with the bagpipes, for the terrible noises coming out from them were anything but music.
“Come on,” he said, with a mischievous grin, “you can join in at any time...”
Alice, however, had no intention of even trying to accompany so awful a sound. But she didn’t want to hurt the little man’s feeling, either, so she said, “I’m afraid I don’t know that tune.”
“Nor does anyone,” said Mortar, blowing and pumping the bagpipes some more. “You can make up the words as you sing,” he said, resuming his bagpipe playing, with gusto. “They all do.”
As Mortar enthusiastically played his ‘music’, seemingly oblivious to the fact that it was so bad, Alice found herself beginning to be strangely drawn to it. She even began humming; feeling words, stringing together, entering her mind. She began singing:
“A life I have, but here for a day – that’s me,
The time I spend is soon gone away – that’s sad.
As the spirit of the night soon fades with the day,
And the shadows of old Hades flee the sun’s rays,
I am gone, left, departed until I am next called,
Resurrected, reborn, renamed again, that’s all...”
When Alice had finished singing, she was quite surprised that she had started let alone finished the entire song, for she had no idea where the words had come from or, indeed, what they actually meant. Mortar, however, had no such doubts, and he heaped praise upon Alice, cheering her over and over again, saying no one had ever accompanied his tune with as much conviction as she had.
“Thank you,” said Alice. “I don’t know what came over me, but I do have to admit that I really enjoyed singing it.” When the little man had finished his cheering, Alice said, “Mortar, can I ask you a question?”
“Of course,” he replied, “that’s why I am here.”
“I have already asked you this, though…”
“Hmm,” the little man replied, rubbing his chin, in thought. “You still want to know where you are, don’t you?”
“Oh yes,” she said, approaching closer, “more than anything else in the whole world…”
“Well, if that’s how you feel, if it’s what you really want, I suppose I should tell you.” But instead of telling her, Mortar stared deep into her intense blue eyes, and then clammed up again.
“Yes?” Alice asked, prodding him in the ribs, urging him on.
Rubbing his chin, again, Mortar said, “You are at the top of the world…”
“But I already know that!” said Alice, deeply disappointed by his reply. “I want to know where I am, right now – here!” she said, desperately hoping he would, that could be more accurate in his reply.
Scratching his head and then poking his ear, Mortar searched for the right words. Finally, he said, “You are, wherever you want to be…”
Exasperated by his continually ambi
guous answers, Alice fumed, “The only thing that I know, that I am sure of, is that am fed up of being here, listening to your confusing replies to questions that I feel are simple enough in the first place.”
“Is life simple?” Mortar asked his head crooked over to one side, his eyes staring awkwardly up at her.
“Why are you asking me this?” Alice replied, getting increasingly annoyed by the little man, who obviously had a problem with answering her original question. Lifting his hands, shrugging his shoulders – and smiling, Mortar said nothing. The effect this had on Alice was to make her even more annoyed than she already was, and she said, “Of all the people I have met, while here at the top of the world, including Life and Death himself, you are surely the most annoying.” In response to this, the little man shrugged again, hoisting his bagpipes to a more comfortable position. “And why you should want to carry such a weight,” Alice pointed at the bagpipes. They let out a little squeal, “is certainly beyond me.”
“We all carry our weights,” Mortar said slowly, quietly.
“I beg your pardon.”
“Weights, worries, fears – and confusion, we all carry them, at times. That’s why we don’t always know where we are…”
Alice looked about herself.
“You can look,” he said, “but will you see?”
Alice stared intently at Mortar, the tiny man whose words were beginning to make sense. “I know where the Rabbit’s house is located,” she said, “but in order to find it – I must know where I am, right now, is that it?”
“Yes,” he replied encouragingly, “but go on…”
“If I stop looking, I can start seeing – is that it?” Alice asked, getting excited, thinking she had finally cracked it.
“Yes, but to a point,” he replied ambiguously.
“To a point?” Alice asked, her voice trailing off, her confidence waning.
“What you have said is correct,” the tiny man explained, “but to see clearly you must know where you want to be, not just in the future but also in the here and now – and always.”
“I want to be home,” Alice proclaimed triumphantly, happily. Then she knew exactly where she was – she was with herself, at ease with the world.
Having worked it out, Alice had no further need for Mortar, and he promptly faded away, until he was needed again, by someone else, on another day. All the fine furnishings also disappeared, and Alice was left alone in that hole, wondering if they had ever been there at all.
Alice in Wonderland on Top of the World Page 11