Note from the authoress: This tale is based on the last few paragraphs of The Magician's Nephew.
I thought it would be fun and interesting to write a story which C. S. Lewis hinted at in the closing sentences of his sixth chronicle.
The idea popped into my head when I read the paragraph about the tree Digory planted, its history, and what it sensed concerning Narnia.
Any thoughts on this story would be welcome. To me it comes across as unusual, and yet believable within the world Lewis created.
For eternity it had stood at the center of Aslan's garden. Strong, graceful and beautiful, it was a tree which bore fruit to be plucked only at the consent or command of its creator.
For this reason, the gates enclosing its resting place were engraved with a clear warning.
Come in by the gold gates or not at all,
Take of my fruit for others or forbear,
for those who steal or those who climb my wall
Shall find their heart's desire and find despair.
Some like the false queen Jadis partook of its fruit for their own gain. And though they received what they most desired, the day inevitably came when they bitterly regretted their choice.
But now, as it watched the two mortal children escape on the first of the winged horses, the tree rejoiced in its very sap. This son of Adam had withstood the false queen's promises of unending glory, youth and power. It had cost him to resist her, forced him to make a hard choice between following the will of the creator, and taking the fruit for another's sake.
The child did not know it, but Aslan felt his anguish at being forced to choose between the need to protect a world newly born, or bring back to his own land healing for his ailing mother.
And as with all inhabitants of all worlds, Aslan had not forsaken this mortal child. The tree felt and rejoiced in the lion's presence, sensed his pleasure at the core of steely resolve this boy possessed. And so gladly it gave of its fruit, to one who had taken in the right way.
And deep within its sap rested the knowledge that Aslan had a greater, far reaching purpose for the apple it had just relinquished, one which would reach out beyond Narnia and across the ages to impact many in this child's birthplace.
What this plan was, it could not fathom, for the will of Aslan was unknowable. Yet it knew great joy and suffering lay ahead for this first lord of Narnia. And so it sought Aslan, asking that comfort might be given, that there would be as in countless other lives a reason for all it had sensed concerning this boy's destiny.
Digory could never accurately recall the return journey from the garden to Aslan, only scattered vivid impressions. Shock and fear amidst his confrontation with Jadis, triumph at finding the strength to resist her offers of immortality and health for his mother, mixed with a sense of unwelcome regret.
But stronger than all this had ran other sensations, of great joy and thankfulness. At first he had thought of Aslan. Was this the lion speaking to him from across creation, wanting him to know he had done right?
Somehow Digory didn't think that was the answer. The sensations came not from within, but all around, as if from a person walking at his side.
Automatically the boy reached into his pocket, anxious for the safety of the precious silver apple. And froze as his own and another's emotions became mingled in a great mass of silver. This was the source of this strange presence which now surrounded him with a glorious, unquenchable joy, one which gave him the strength to turn from thoughts of regret concerning his mother.
How was this possible?
But then, after everything he and Polly had seen and experienced, should he be surprised by such a small thing? Somehow this fruit like the tree had a living essence, as did all things sung into being by the great lion.
And in that moment Digory knew that his choice to follow the will of Aslan, made in a world newly born far from his own, would have a great and wondrous impact, far beyond anything he could ever imagine.
Perhaps it was his determination to keep the memory of Narnia real and living within his soul, or the changed fortunes of his family which kept him from sensing that gradual stirring of life in the garden. Since the morning when he and Polly had buried the magic rings around the newly grown apple tree, Digory had barely thought of it.
Not until his first visit to London with his parents, did he feel something which sent a thrill of joy and recognition through his body. Distant yet strong, the song of Narnia's creation surrounded him in all its glory and sweetness.
He alone could hear it, perhaps because he had been the one to set things right in Narnia to plant the tree of protection which would keep Jadis from desecrating the world Aslan had formed with such care.
He knew it possessed the power to heal in his world. His mother was living proof of that fact. And when he had buried the apple core, he would never have imagined that a tree would spring from it. Yet here it was before him, living, strong and full of the power of the lion's song.
A thousand thoughts and questions filled his mind, as he drew closer to the place where he had planted the precious apple core. It was a slender sapling, with leaves of silver like that other tree to which it belonged. As yet it bore only a few small apples, as bright as those he had seen in eternity's garden.
Cautiously he approached, awed and grateful that this small remnant of Narnia was here, tangible evidence of his extraordinary journey. His hand reached out to gently caress it, only to stop in mid gesture as the thoughts of another made themselves known.
Gratitude, mixed with curiosity and a warm and friendly nature surrounded him, momentarily rendering Digory speechless. Tentatively he responded with thoughts of welcome and friendship, skillfully forming each one with what he hoped was the correct way of addressing a Narnian creature. Laughter warm and friendly was his answer, beneath which lay a love of knowledge which more than equaled his own.
Thus began the friendship of Digory Kirke first lord of Narnia, and the spirit of a tree born from another rooted in the soil of Aslan's creation.
She had no name, so Digory searched for one which would reflect all he had sensed of the song of Narnia's creation. An inquisitive and intelligent child, he learned that Aslan was the Persian word for lion. And at last he found another name in that tongue which reflected the emotions stirred at Narnia's birth. He gave his friend the name of Farah.
She grew strong and tall in the soil of her lord's world. Eagerly she drew from the rich earth and water knowledge of its people, history and customs.
Often she would question Digory on a dozen or more topics and stories, seeking to become a part of this land where the first lord and lady of Narnia dwelled.
In return he would ask for tales of his beloved Narnia, and the friends he had known. She could tell him little; only seek to put into mortal words the distant echoes of Narnia felt through that other tree to which she was close kin. There were not many, but she gathered that Narnia prospered under the rule of her lord's friends, and that all were content.
Yet beneath his excitement at having found a Narnian friend, the wonder of his mother's miraculous recovery, and the changed fortunes of his family lay a great longing.
Polly felt it too; he saw it in her eyes, though she strove hard to conceal it. For like him, she carried within her a precious remnant of creation's music.
Her longing for Narnia was different, rooted in the need to know what was passing in their second home, the desire to once again walk the forest paths, and above all hear a lion's beloved voice.
It was in music she found comfort, in it she could give voice to the song of creation she carried in her soul.
After years of study, she became a talented singer, but it was in instrumental compositions that her potential was unlocked. For in them she found a way to give voice to her longing for her second homeland, and give to others a little of Narnia's song. Through music she received strength, reassurance and above all sought to honor the great lion who had named her daughter.
And she knew that somehow he felt the longing she and Digory possessed, perhaps even more, understood and shared in their pain, and would until they met beyond the circles of their world for eternity.
In years to come Narnia was often mentioned, and treasured memories retold in story or song. But always between them lay that unspoken longing for it, a desire they found too painful to articulate.
With Farah it was different, for he did not need to speak to be understood or heard. Perhaps it was because of his proximity to the apple of life, or his visit to eternity's garden or Aslan's grace which allowed him this comfort. Part of him wished that Polly could share in this piece of Narnia, yet he could never bring himself too speak of Farah to his oldest friend.
Perhaps because he sensed that Aslan spoke to Polly through the power of music, and though he enjoyed it, it could never be for him what it was to Polly.
He had once spoken of this concern to Farah, and never forgotten her answer.
"Aslan speaks to each member of his creation, in a way unique to them. For me, it is through the knowledge drawn from the earth and water, for you it is through deep thoughts.
Your friend hears him through music. She has been blessed with a wonderful gift. Would you take that joy from her?"
He had understood then what his friend had tried to explain. Aslan spoke through many things, so that all might be drawn to him, come to recognize and accept their need for his presence and love, and thus be named his child.
Years passed, and they still met, sharing knowledge of the two worlds to which they belonged, and taking joy in their friendship. Unspoken between them ran a deep need, to somehow find a way to be a part of Narnia, perhaps through contribution to its history, protection or lore.
Many would say of Digory Kirke that he possessed a wisdom, and depth seldom seen in one so young. They could not know that what they sensed was a maturity born of hardship, suffering, and the friendship of a woman long considered to be a creature of legends.
He was with her when the tree of protection was cut down. It had been during another of their conversations crafted of thoughts instead of words that she had suddenly stopped mid sentence.
"Farah? What is it?" he asked, concerned at the agitation he sensed through thought and the violent trembling of her leaves.
Her voice came as if from a great distance, filled with shock and pain. "The tree, it - it's being destroyed, cut down and burnt."
Horror filled Adam's son as he recalled Aslan's words to the creatures of Narnia.
"And you, Narnians, let it be your first care to guard this Tree, for it is your Shield. The Witch of whom I told you has fled far away into the North of
the world; she will live on there, growing stronger in dark Magic. But while that Tree flourishes she will never come down into Narnia. She dares not come
within a hundred miles of the Tree, for its smell, which is joy and life and health to you, is death and horror and despair to her."
"How could they?" The thought formed before he could prevent it. "Aslan warned them to guard it from all danger. What could have happened in Narnia?"
"I don't know my friend, but it is done now. Narnia will be under the unprotected from that evil queen and whatever she plans to loose upon it."
"If only there was something we could do. Polly you and I."
"If there is a way, I can't think of one," Farah's voice was filled with a mixture of frustration and sadness. "we are a world away from our true homeland. I want to help as much as you, but for now.." Her voice trailed away into silence.
Digory completed the thought. "All we can do is wait."
Farah's pensive silence confirmed his statement.
Watching her friend walk away, his steps slow and dejected, Farah reflected upon the Narnian tree's final message meant for her alone.
"As my time ends, so too will yours. For you are a part of me, a true daughter of Narnia though you have never beheld it."
This declaration had left Farah feeling a curious sense of sorrow and exaltation. It had named her a daughter of Narnia. The words filled her with joy, comfort and gratitude that Aslan had not forgotten her though she lived a world away.
Silently she asked that the first lord and lady of Narnia might be remembered and honored for their devotion to Aslan's creation.
How she had wanted to tell Digory, to prepare him for her approaching death. But she couldn't speak of it, and the knowledge of her end weighed heavily on her spirit, causing her branches to become brittle and her fruit to fall when not fully ripened.
Desperately she clung to thoughts of Aslan, trying with the strength she still possessed to trust in his sovereign will. But it was a hard dark struggle.
And Digory, oh Aslan she would miss him. Her dear friend of this world, a man of great wisdom, courage and gentleness. He had introduced her to his world, and shared in her desire to be of use to the magical land of Narnia.
And now that wish would never be fulfilled.
Despair filled the heart of a creature which bore a name of joy and grandeur. And in that moment her joy was quenched, her glory stolen, until she stood utterly dejected.
But in her sap rested a single spark of hope and determination, to hold fast to Aslan's mane, to find the words when she met the great lion to tell of her desire to aid Narnia.
The storm was talked about for days after it ended, recalled as one of the fiercest tempests to strike in the past twenty years.
Digory had been in London giving a lecture on medieval literature, when word reached him of the approaching storm. Unwilling to travel back to his country estate, he chose to spend the night at his uncle's old home instead.
He had been awakened at midnight by a great clap of thunder. Unable to sleep, he moved to the window to watch. And what he saw sent him running from the room, his cry of grief and horror lost amidst nature's fury.
Farah was about to fall.
Heedless of the danger, Digory ran across the garden, stopping just short of his friend's battered form. He could do nothing but look on, as his close friend was brought crashing to the ground.
And as she struck the earth in a tangled mess of leaves and branches, he felt as if Farah stood beside him. He saw for an instant a slender form clothed in the glory of spring just awakened, and heard her voice strong and full of an unshakable faith deep within his thoughts.
"Do not despair, my friend and first lord of Narnia. I know now Aslan be praised. You and I together will save our beloved Narnia. I will wait for you in Aslan's country. Farewell until then."
He stood by the tree long after the storm had ended, mourning the loss of his dearest friend. Silently he spoke to Narnia's sovereign, asking that Farah might be received into Aslan's country, and take her place as a true daughter of Narnia.
He thought long and hard about what to do with Farah's remains. He simply could not have her logs chopped into wood and hauled away as fuel for the fires of strangers.
But what choice did he have?
Logic, he told himself sternly. Think logically and you'll find an answer.
Once again the memory of Narnia's creation rose in his mind, and all that had come before. Meeting Polly, sharing in the secret of her pirates cave, and their discovery of The Wood Between The Worlds.
But stronger than all of those memories was the song of Narnia's creation, its music as bright and real as on the day he first heard it.
And at last he made his decision. He would commission the building of a wardrobe.
In many ways Digory considered the project a fitting memorial too Farah. He explained the fantastic carvings he had chosen to adorn the wardrobe as a tribute for a friend who had recently passed away. He spoke of her love of knowledge and literature, particularly classical legends. It was as good an explanation as any.
And as he spoke, the events of long ago passed before his eyes, moments of wonder, fear, and the splendor of watching a world formed by the power of great Aslan's word and song.
The young carpenter hired for the job had listened intently, as this learned man spoke of what he wanted; hearing beneath the recitation unfulfilled longing and stubborn determination.
And he resolved that this would be his best work.
Now an old man, Digory sat at his desk in his study, amazed and finally at peace. For now he knew that at last, Aslan's purpose had been fulfilled.
As Farah had foretold they were meant to save Narnia together, to live in this world and learn to become part of it, so that when Narnia's need was great they could provide help.
He glanced down at the page he had been studying, before the Pevensies had told him their strange and wonderful story. A verse caught and held his attention.
"For my thoughts are not your thoughts. Neither are your ways my ways, saith Jehovah.
For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher
than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts."
Awe and joy filled his soul as he reread this passage. These were true words, ancient and possessing the authority of Aslan's voice, love and comfort.
And Digory thanked the great lion that neither time, nor distance had thwarted the highest king's will. For as Aslan had intended from the dawn of Narnia, its safety would be assured by her first lord, and the spirit of a tree which had never known the soil of that distant land.
Note from the authoress: I wanted to give Digory's apple tree a name which reflected his journey to Narnia, so chose the name of Farah. I've no idea if this is an accurate translation, since I found the name and description of its meaning while searching online.
I thought I'd stick with Lewis's idea of picking a name from a different language, and since Aslan is Persian I thought I'd find a name from that tongue.
C. S. Lewis mentions at the end of the novel that Digory becomes a professor, so I thought I'd hint at that future by having Digory search for an appropriate name for his friend.
Polly's musical gifts, I got from her perceptive comment about how Aslan was creating Narnia through song.
I hope you enjoyed this story; I definitely had fun writing it.