Jabberwocky: Chapter 1

Twas Brillig in the Slithy Toves, and that meant a festival.

The sun streamed down on a small village. It was unremarkable, and rested at the edge of the Slithy Toves, but there were worse places to live than next to a swamp. Clean water passed by the village before it fed into the wetlands, feeding the people, animals, and the fields all around.

The people of the village worked the fields or scavenged the surrounding land to eke out a living. Heroes, nobles, wizard, and kings might look for more in life, but for ordinary folk this was all there was.

“Enough work, Callay!” An old man said to a young one. “Brillig is nearly upon us! The lord won’t give us much time to rest, but he’ll let us rest for Brillig!”

The young man named Callay swung his axe once more, despite his companion’s protests. The blow was filled with power and when his axe hit the tree, the tree cracked and toppled to the ground, felled in a single blow. “The lord will need wood for his fireplace,” Callay said. “And Brillig or not, somebody will have to chop it.”

“You reckon the job falls to you?” the old man asked. He let out a long sigh. This wasn’t the first time his companion had talked him into more work in the hopes of impressing the lord. “Better your back sore than mine. Still, I’ve never seen a man fell trees as fast as you.”

“All it takes is one good swing.” Callay explained. “It’s more about angle and technique. That and picking the right tree.” As he spoke, Callay looked over the twisted and gnarly mome rath trees at the edge of the Slithy Toves as he searched for the easiest ones to cut. “If you hit them just where they fork, they split with your blow instead of resisting it.”

Ross shrugged. “If you say so. All I know is I’d be swinging all afternoon if I had the axe. To think all the mornings I wasted gathering the lord’s firewood before I had you to do the chopping for me!”

“With a little work and practice you could fell trees with one swing too.” Callay offered.

Ross held up a hand. “No thanks. I need to be well rested for when all the ladies come seeking a tale from ol’ Ross.” The old man, named Ross, jerked a thumb at himself while he grinned lecherously.

Callay snorted as he swung his axe, resting only to shoot old Ross a raised brow. “Best of luck with that.”

“Bah,” Old Ross waved his hand at Callay as though brushing away his doubts. “You’re a man now, Callay. You’re supposed to spend your days chasing skirt, not chopping wood.”

Callay put down his axe for the first time in the past hour to turn to old Ross. “I don’t plan to be a field hand forever, Ross. Someday I’ll have a farm of my own, and a house to go with it. I’ll have a pig pen in one corner and another for goats. Maybe even some chickens! When I’m your age, I’ll have a beautiful wife with a dozen kids to help me tend it.”

Ross snorted, but his face turned wistful. “If I’d had your ambition when I was your age...” After a few long moments, Ross gathered himself and hacked at the downed tree with a hatchet. With two field hands hard at work, the logs were quickly chopped into firewood.

“We have the last of Lord Gyre’s firewood.” Callay announced as he pushed a wagon filled to the brim with chopped wood.

A maid from the lord’s manor greeted Callay. She had a hand on her lip and dusted flour from her skirt as she opened the manor’s rear door.

“If you hoped to speak with the lord himself, I’m afraid you’re out of luck.” The maid replied. “You’ll need more than a wagon full of firewood to impress the Lord Gyre.”

Callay shrugged. “I have a strong back. I could help him with more than chopping wood.”

“Mhm.” The maid bit her lip. “You’ve certainly shaped up into a fine young man, Callay. Strong and handsome. We had our doubts when old Ross took you under his wing, but you turned out just fine.” Then she had Callay and Ross unload the wagon into a small firewood shed by the side of the manor, though Ross grumbled the whole time.

Callay and Ross left the manor grounds with sore arms and in search of a pint of ale. The village didn’t have a tavern or anything so fine, but there was a brewer who made good ale for Lord Gyre, and what the lord and his men didn’t drink was sold to the villagers.

“Two pints, please!” Ross shouted as he slammed two copper chips on the split rough oak that had served as a bar since it tumbled in a storm a decade back.

Callay plucked one of old man Ross’s chips from the pile and pushed it back to Ross before replacing the coin with one from his own pouch. “I can pay my own way. It’s like you said, Ross. I’m a man now.”

Ross chuckled and tucked the coin back into his pocket. “You’re like the son I never had, Callay.”

“You have a son.” Callay pointed out. “I think we passed him outside. He seemed quite drunk already.”

“My son’s a deadbeat.” Ross shrugged. “You’re not. So I’d still say you’re like the son I never had.”

The brewer’s daughter came by with a pair of rough earthenware mugs. “Here’s your ale.”

“Your finest brew, I hope?” Ross said as he accepted his glass.

“Well, it isn’t our worst brew.” The brewer’s daughter smiled and laughed. Callay liked the way her grin reached the corners of her eyes, full of honest mirth.

“Good enough for an old field hand like me.” Ross said as he tilted his head back and gulped the pint of ale down in one long swing. A second later he produced the copper chip Callay had given back to him and shoved both it and the empty earthenware mug back to the brewer’s daughter. “Another, please.”

“Right away.” The brewers daughter said.

“You should try to enjoy your ale a little more.” Callay advised.

Ross snorted. “You can save your chips. I’ve lived long enough to know you could save up every chit you earn for the next thirty years and not afford a sword, or a plot of land.”

Callay knew Ross was right, but he made no comment and gazed down as his ale instead. He took a long, slow sip as the surrounding crowd sunk into the merry cheer of Brillig.

Callay laughed and drank with Ross as the pair of them discussed the things that field hands spoke of while they rested well-worn hands and set their tools aside. For Ross, that meant pretty young women and the sway of their hips as they walked. For Callay, that meant his plans for the future and how to achieve them. Eventually the two found a middle ground.

“You hear Lady Mimsy is going to be doing the pyre dance herself this year?” Ross grinned. “Too young for me, but I’m sure she gets your blood boiling.”

“Already?” Callay blinked in surprise. “It seems like she was just a little girl not long ago.”

Ross snorted. “She’s the same age as you, and you’re a man now, aren’t you?”

“And I suppose you think I’d have a chance at getting with her?” Callay rolled his eyes. “As a field hand, my chances are only slightly better than yours.”

Ross tilted his head mischievously. “I don’t know about that. You weren’t born yet, but as a young man I remember a bunch of noble ladies visiting the lord’s manor years back.” Ross lost himself in a distant memory. “I bet there are a half dozen brats of mine sitting on velvet chairs and drinking from silver-rimmed goblets. And I bet their lordly father’s never even realized their heir’s eyes don’t quite match their own.”

Callay snorted. “You and your tall tales, Ross. You’re lucky Lord Gyre is a gentle man. Lords have hung serfs for starting lesser rumors.”

Ross’s face soured. “A rumor, you say. You’re calling my life’s greatest accomplishment a rumor!”

The day of Brillig didn’t begin until midnight. Ross was six mugs deep by that point, and only Callay’s shoulder to lean on kept him sitting straight. True to Ross’s word, people gathered around to hear Ross’s stories. The old man was just sober enough to speak, though not very clearly.

“Beware the Jabberwock!” Ross shouted to the gathered crowd, young and old. “The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun the fruminous Bandersnatch!”

“What’s wrong with Jubjub birds?” A child from the crowd asked curiously. “They’re delicious!”

“Aye.” Ross agreed. “That they may be. But they’re also very deceptive.” He gestured wide with his hands, splashing ale across the face of a girl sitting in front. “They like to flee into the Slithy Toves, and all manner of creatures lie in wait there. And to a Bandersnatch or a Jabberwock, we taste delicious!”

“How would you know? Nobody’s seen a Bandersnatch in decades.” the girl sitting in the front of the crowd asked as she wiped ale from her face.

“Not so! I saw one myself not long ago. And young Callay was with me!” Ross shouted loudly so everyone in earshot could hear.

Callay glanced up in surprise. He’d certainly never seen a Bandersnatch in his life. If he had, he wouldn’t have lived to tell the tale. They were as clever as a man and twice as vicious. When they picked their prey they rarely failed to catch it.

“I have?” Callay pointed at himself.

A drunken flush filled Ross’s cheeks. “Sure. Remember lad? You’re the reason we escaped its clutches!” Ross turned to the crowd. “He felled one tree after another to block its path as it chased us, and soon we were out of the Slithy Toves and the Bandersnatch wouldn’t follow us any further, for fear of the lord and his men!”

“Callay really beat it?!” The ale-drenched girl gasped.

“So cool!” A boy said.

“Ha, if the lad looked a Bandersnatch in the eye without wetting himself, the lord had best knight him immediately.” The brewer snorted at the back of the room.

Ross quickly wove a daring tale of adventure from what had been a simple trip towards the edge of the Slithy Toves to fetch firewood. Their weekly routine quickly turned into a a quest of valor as a vicious monster tried to eat the pair of them.

In the story, they only escaped thanks to Ross’s quick thinking and Callay’s strong back. In the tale, Callay felled a mighty tree in one blow, toppling it atop the Bandersnatch, crushing its skull with the weight of the tree.

“A man who could do that could certainly be of use in my father’s guard.” A lofty female voice rang out over the crowd.

The crowd quieted as they realized they were in the presence of a lady of the manor. Lady Mimsy Borogrove.

“Now’s your chance, lad. Make the most of it.” Ross whispered.

Lady Mimsy was a stunning young woman. Callay had never felt his blood rush or his voice choke in his throat like he did at that moment. Lady Mimsy was the kind of beauty bards wrote songs about.

Flaming red hair poured down a face of porcelain skin adorned with pearls and fine silver. Despite the jewelry, she was not dressed up in finery but merely an ordinary dress sewn for comfort.

That dress alone would be enough to buy a farm.

Callay quickly steadied himself. He was young, but he was no idiot. Lady Mimsy turned a piercing gaze in Callay’s direction, and Callay returned her gaze with a deep bow and his most charming smile.

“My companion tells a lot of tall tales, especially after a night of drinking.” Callay admitted.

“But you can fell a mome rath tree in one swing?” Lady Mimsy asked.

“That he can!” Ross jumped to his feet. “If any man doubts my story, watch the lad go through mome rath trees with an axe like using a scythe through grass!”

“I think I’d like to watch that myself.” Lady Mimsy said with a hand on her hips. Her lips were plump and red, stained a deep shade of scarlet from an exotic balm a traveling merchant had brought to the manor specifically for her.

Callay felt his body moving forward, only stopped by the deadly glare of the two menacing men standing over either of Lady Mimsy’s shoulders. A noble lady like her wouldn’t wander a crowd alone. She had a pair of her father’s fiercest warriors on either side of her, and both wore glares that could bore holes through sturdy stone.

Callay answered their looks with a polite smile and a half-bow to each of them. The lord’s warriors each earned a plot of land for their retirement, and this pair stood where Callay hoped to one day stand himself, if he could catch the lord’s eye.

I don’t have the lord’s eye, but maybe his daughter’s will do.

Callay glanced quickly between Lady Mimsy and Ross, who shot his young companion a wide grin.

“Alright then. Give me an axe and I’ll show you how to chop down a tree.” Callay stood to the cheering of the crowd.

Half the village followed Callay to the edge of the Slithy Toves, trailing a polite distance behind Lady Mimsy and her guards.

Somebody passed Callay an axe which he hefted to get a feel for its weight. it was slightly heavier than the one he was accustomed to. The axe he often wielded had been worn down from a generation of sharpening and resharpening by one field hand after another.

“This tree will do.” Lady Mimsy declared as she came upon an ancient and gnarly mome rath tree at the edge of the woods.

Callay turned. The tree wasn’t the best for cutting. It was bigger than most, with branches as thick as his thigh. He shot a glance at Lady Mimsy and saw she was staring at him and his axe with a raised eyebrow. Both her guards had their arms crossed, doubt painted on their faces. They thought Callay was a braggart and a liar, despite the fact that Ross had been the one telling the tale.

Callay realized he wanted to prove them wrong. He hefted the axe and ran his fingers across the trunk of the mome rath tree.

Find the weak point. Then strike.

He took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. If he played this right, he might be able to talk Lady Mimsy into arranging a meeting between him and his father. And if he played that right, he could go from field hand to soldier in a lord’s retinue in the blink of an eye.

Callay took one last breath, then held it. With one mighty swing, he brought the axe down on the tree.

The mome rath tree stood for a moment with Callay’s axe stood embedded in its side. The wood fibers snapped one at a time as the dry dead wood in the center of the tree peeled apart. After a long moment, the tree finally crashed to the ground, severed with a single blow of Callay’s axe.

“See!” Ross shouted, jumping up and down with glee. “I told you it was true! Just one blow!” After jumping with so much ale in him, he had trouble finding his feet and soon tumbled to the ground where he kept cheering as loudly as before.

Callay bowed and grinned at the expression of surprise on Lady Mimsy’s face. Even her two guards lost their serious and deadly composure.

“Not bad, kid.” One of them said.

“I’m pretty good with an axe.” Callay said proudly. He hefted the tool in his hands, imagining what it would be like to hold a sword. “But truth be told, anyone could do what I just did. It just takes skill and strength.”

“Don’t make light of yourself, kid.” The guard said. “Just about everything with an axe takes skill and strength. The same is true for a sword.” He patted the blade on his hip.

“Most impressive.” Lady Mimsy said. She bit her lip and looked Callay up and down, as though seeing him for the first time. “You said your name was Callay? I think I’ll have to arrange a private meeting with you. You’re a field hand of my father’s, correct?”

“Yes m’lady.” Callay bowed low. “Born and raised. My parents died in the sickness that went around last year. Ross has looked after me these last few years.”

“Tonight, you can stay in the manor as a guest. I’ll see that one of the empty servants beds is set aside for you.” Lady Mimsy said.

This is it. The chance I’ve been waiting for.

Callay could scarcely believe the opportunity before his eyes. Was he really going to meet with Lord Gyre? Could his dreams really come true so quickly?

Author’s Note:

Sometimes the Spellheart series isn’t working and I need time to figure things out, and sometimes I just need to do a writing exercise to warm up before writing more of the Spellheart series. This was one of those writing exercises. Normally I keep these to myself, but I figured I'd share one with you guys. This isn't the other story I've occasionally mentioned, just something I thought might be fun to play with for a writing session. The title is a placeholder and may change if/when the story develops.

As you might have guessed by now, this is a novel based on the poem Jabberwocky. I bet Jabberwocky: A Gamelit Harem Adventure is a crossover you never expected to see! (Though I'm not sure if it will feature game elements or not)

Let me know in the comments if you’d like to see more of this story. I enjoyed writing this snippet and think it could eventually turn into a full novel, though I’d need to sit down and do some serious story craft work and note organization if I chose to take it down that route, because right now I’m mostly free handing this one for fun. I'll probably do another 3-10 chapters this way before making a firm decision. It will take a few more chapters for me to get a feel for the protagonist, but I have a rough idea of what he’s like. Let me know how he comes off to you guys over this and the next few chapters.