This is my first attempt at writing Narnian fanfic, although I've been reading and dreaming them for some time now. The credit for the initial idea that sparked off this story goes to GoldenAshes and Crimson White's stories. Disclaimer and all other notes follow at the end of this chapter.
A Song of Pride
"Oh, that was good," said Lucy, finally tearing her eyes away away from the stage she had been focussing on for the last two hours. "It was funny and sweet in all the right places, and oh, so scary near the end, but it ended beautifully, don't you think?"
"The duel was the best part," said Edmund, turning to his brother. "I'm going to try some of those moves on you at our next practice with swords, Peter. Bet you I'd wi--Ow!"
"Duels are stupid," retorted Susan scornfully, rolling her eyes at her scuffling brothers. "But the play was lovely -- the actors, the dialogue, and the sets -- how did they create the effect of a moonlit pool, Sire?" she turned towards Lune, eager for explanation. But the older man was on his feet, and suddenly she realised that the entire audience was standing.
Her bewildered siblings also looked around, puzzled. But even as Peter started asking what was going on, he received a sharp poke from a little finger and a little voice whispered fiercely, "Ssshh! Don't talk...and STAND UP!" Lucy almost giggled at Corin's impressive scowl, but she hurriedly scrambled up with the rest of her siblings, as the orchestra began to play. A few seconds later, the entire audience was singing.
Amar shonar Archena
Ami tomae bhalobashi...
The liquid syllables wove into a lilting melody -- breezy and joyful, wistful and haunting all at the same time.
Chirodin tomar akash,
Tomar batash,
Amar prane bajae bãshi...
Only a few odd syllables stood out with any meaning to Edmund, but it didn't seem entirely foreign either. Instead, it was almost as though the meaning lurked just out of reach. Something about Archenland, and a darling and...the sky, maybe? Was it some sort of strange Archenland tradition to spoil a smashing play with a soppy love song in a strange language at the end? He looked over at Peter, who shrugged slightly even while listening intently to the song. There certainly was a rather passionate look on the faces of the King's court all around them. But now, the singers seemed to be addressing their mothers -- surely this was no love song?!
O ma,
Phagune tor amer bone
Ghrane pagol kôre,
Mori hae, hae re,
O ma,
Ôghrane tor bhôra khete
Ami ki dekhechhi modhur hashi...
Susan gave up on the puzzle and immersed herself in the sheer joy of the music as the notes and lyrics looped back on themselves, repeating, enticing...
Ki shobha, ki chhaea go,
Ki sneho, ki maea go,
Ki ãchol bichhaeechho
Bôţer mule,
Nodir kule kule!
By the time the last stanza came round, Lucy had managed to capture some of the rather irregular melody in her head and was humming along.
Ma, tor mukher bani
Amar kane lage,
Shudhar môto,
Mori hae, hae re,
Ma, tor bôdonkhani molin hole,
Ami nôeon jôle bhashi
It finally ended as it had started, with the almost yearning lines:
Amar shonar Archena
Ami tomae bhalobashi.
Finally, after an almost reverent moment of silence, the atmosphere lightened again as the Royal Court of Archenland began critiquing the play. The Kings and Queens of Narnia, however, had almost forgotten the play in their curiosity over this song in a strange language.
"What is it?" asked Lucy, never one to stand on ceremony.
"What is what?" replied a confused King Lune, even as his son turned back to Peter and unwittingly answered the Queen's query: "Why weren't you standing up during the national anthem? Don't you know its rude? And un-un-, well, un-pa-ti-ot-ic too?"
King Lune smiled as he corrected Corin's attempts at articulating the big word. "It's 'unpatriotic', son."
And then turning to the Narnian monarchs, the elder ones of whom were starting to show signs of understanding, he added, "Of course, you aren't from Archenland, so it wouldn't really be unpatriotic for you. It is considered polite to stand, though. Wasn't that your custom in Spare Oom?"
"A national an-an-them?" Lucy stumbled over the unfamiliar word as well. "Did we even have something like that in Spare Oom? In England?" she asked, looking sceptically at her siblings.
"Of course we did, Lu. Don't you remember? They'd sing it after plays there too," said Peter.
"Or after a film at the cinema," said Edmund, remembering.
Corin butted in again, "What's a film?"
Both the Narnian Kings seemed flummoxxed by the question, but they had gotten used to describing Spare Oom to friends and subjects who had little grasp of the basic concepts of what they were talking about. They tried to explain the concept of a cinema to Corin, even as the royal group started moving back toward the palace. A special dinner was to be served in the courtyard for the members of the Archen court, the visiting Narnians and the actors.
"Well, it's a sort of moving photograph..." said Edmund.
"...that tells a story -- just like the play," finished Peter.
Corin, though, was incorrigible.
"What's a foto-graf?" he asked again.
"Well, it's a sort of painting..." said Peter.
"...that's absolutely perfect," finished Edmund.
The six-year old still looked unbelieving.
"How can a painting be perfect? And how can a picture move?" he asked accusingly.
"Well, they can," said Edmund stoutly.
"I don't believe it. I-I-I'll knock you down if you say that again," said Corin, putting up his fists, much to Edmund's amusement, until Lune hushed his son.
Meanwhile, Lucy looked as unconvinced as Corin until Susan intervened.
"Oh you boys, she's never been for a film or play of course. She was too young back there."
And then turning back to Lucy: "But you remember on the radio, right? When they would play it after the war news, or when the King made a speech?"
"Yes, and whenever they ran up the flag after a victory," remembered Lucy.
"And when the soldiers left," said Peter.
"When Father left," added a subdued Edmund.
"Yes, we sing it at those times as well," nodded Lune. "So what was your national anthem then?"
"God save the King," said Peter and Edmund, speaking together.
And Lucy sang the short lines in her sweet young voice:
"God save our gracious King, Long live our noble King, God save the King: Send him victorious, Happy and glorious, Long to reign over us: God save the King."
Susan thought it almost incongrous as Lucy's innocent voice recrafted the tune in the starry, sweet-smelling meadow-turned-outdoor theatre; a far cry from the last time she heard it in a gray bomb shelter, huddling below blackout curtains and worrying about Father.
"Very nice," approved Lune as Lucy finished. "But I wonder what you could sing here?"
"God save our Kings and Queens, Long live our noble Kings and Queens," deadpanned Edmund, singing in double time
The group burst into laughter at Edmund's clowning, until a little voice piped up, "But what is God?"
There were four seperate gasps as the Narnians realised that God was as unknown a concept in this world as films or photographs. How to explain this?
"Well, God is– He's– well, people believe in him. Back in Spare Oom, I mean," Peter made the first attempt at an explanation.
"So He's a person? Why wouldn't someone believe him, then?" asked Lune.
"No, I mean that they-- well, people worship him," amended Susan.
"Where does he live?" asked Corin, aside to Edmund. "In church, I guess," replied Edmund, slightly doubtfully. "Where's that?" asked the persistent Corin, but Lucy had already overheard and intervened. "No, silly, He lives in heaven," she corrected Edmund. "Where's that?" Corin asked again. Lucy and Edmund looked at each other. "Far away," they said in unison.
Meanwhile, King Lune was as curious as Corin. "What do you mean by worship?" he asked. "Well, I guess, they-- they-- bow before Him," said Peter.
"Why, is he a king? Why do you ask him to bless your king then?"
"No-o-o, He's much greater than any king," said Susan.
Lucy switched conversations again, drawing both Edmund and Corin with her. "He's good and powerful and made everything and He rules over all kings," she said.
"And people pray to Him," said Peter.
"Especially now there's a war at home," added Edmund.
"You mean, He's like Aslan?" asked Lune. Again, there were four gasps. None of them had even thought of such a comparison before.
"We-ell, I suppose you could say so," said Peter doubtfully. He had never quite thought of God in such a way before. Susan wasn't quite sure it wasn't slightly blasphemous to speak of God that way.
"No," said Corin. "Your God must be like the Emp-Emp-Emp-er-or-over-the-Sea," he said, proud for having mastered that difficult word. "He lives far away too."
All Four wondered if he hadn't hit on something important, but Corin had already lost interest before they could pursue it much further. He returned doggedly to the original point. "So aren't you going to get a national anthem here too? Like the one you had in Spare Oom and the one we have in Archenland."
"Oh yes, do let's," said Lucy enthusiastically, as they entered the courtyard where preparations for dinner were recieving their final touches. The court milled around the low tables that had been set up, waiting for the actors to change out of their costumes and arrive.
"But maybe they had an anthem already in Narnia. In the old days before the Witch, I mean," said a thoughtful Susan as they took their seats at the high table.
"D'you remember reading about any, Ed?" asked Peter. Edmund had been reading through all he could find of Narnia's history before the Great Winter, rooting through old texts in the library at Cair Paravel.
But now, even as Edmund shook his head, Lune also dismissed that possibility. "I don't think so. Partly because we don't have any record of a Narnian national anthem in our archives at Anvard either, but also because we didn't have an anthem – and we followed Narnia's example rather faithfully in the old days. And also because, maybe, there wasn't any real need for one."
"So when did you get your anthem?" asked Edmund, curious at this example of Archenland taking the lead. King Lune was right; according to every historical account of the two countries that he had been able to get his hands on, it had been Narnia which showed the way and Archenland which followed.
"It was during the Dark Days when we stood alone without Narnia safely at our back," said Lune. "You must understand how difficult that was for us. We did not suffer as Narnia did, of course. The Witch and her Winter stayed within Narnian borders. But those borders were also shut off to us and we were left alone with only the desert between us and Calormen's rapacious eye."
He smiled down at his son, who was trying to puzzle out this new word, and went on with the history lesson as the servants began serving the wine and the orchestra started a soft tune.
"For a hundred years, there was no strong ally to count on in case of attack. No dependable army of Giants and humans, Great Cats and Gryphons, Beasts large and small to take on any enemy. But perhaps as important, there was no trotting across the Pass to share in coronations and christenings, harvest festivals and hunts and snow dances. There was no looking to Narnia for the newest dwarfish techniques in armour-making, or the latest herbal remedies concocted by the dryads. No centaurs to watch the stars, no gardening moles to provide the best advice on seed-sowing and crop-tending. We tended to follow Narnian styles in music and dance, poetry and drama, even fashion! None of that anymore. And worst of all, for a hundred long years, there was no Aslan." He paused for a minute, shaken, as were his listeners, by the desolation of the Dark Days.
Then, just as the orchestra's music moved from a minor to major key – the actors were finally arriving – Lune continued his tale on a brighter note. "And so we built up traditions of our own, even as we vowed to keep up the old traditions. Especially, we vowed to keep alive the memory of Aslan and the prophecies about him and the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve – that's why the library at Anvard was started. But overall, Archenland forged for herself a new identity in the Dark Days. And now, here come the actors and the Master of the Feast, so we must continue our story after a while." He stood as he spoke, stretching out his hands to greet the Master. Almost immediately though, Lune spotted a shorter, leaner man just behind the hearty figure of the Master and beckoned him to a seat at the end of the high table.
Ten minutes later, the welcomes and toasts completed and the meal well under way, Lune introduced the slender man to the Narnian monarchs. "This is our Bard Lirin, our chief minstrel at the palace. He's the right person to finish the story. Lirin, I was telling the Kings and Queens of the origins of 'Amar Shonar Archena' during the Dark Days."
The mention of the strange title of the song reminded Edmund of his earlier puzzlement. "And what language is it written in?" he asked. "It's in the Old Tongue, of course," Corin replied before the Bard could open his mouth. The boy looked rather scornful that the Narnians would not know something so elementary.
Bard Lirin, however, was willing to explain. "The Old Tongue is the language spoken in all these parts in the first days at the Dawn of Time, when Aslan created the world and gave the gift of speech. Very little of it remains today, your Majesty, since Men and Beasts created new languages over the centuries since. But all tongues borrow something from the Old Tongue, and in a modified form, it is still the language of classical literature, of the courts of justice, and of formal oaths and prayers to Aslan. Here at Anvard, we still have a school which tutors our young administrators and poets – both -- in the intricacies of the Old Tongue."
Edmund nodded. He remembered now, some of the oldest texts at Cair Paravel were in a script he could not understand. He made a mental note to bring them to Anvard next time.
"But what does it mean, your anthem?" asked Lucy. "And why did you select it?" added Susan.
"Well, I assume His Majesty has told you all about the Dark Days when we were cut off from Narnia?" Lune nodded. "During that time, many traditions – ceremonies, dances, songs – were developed to rally our people together. We explored the traditions of other nations, other than Narnia, and found much that was good. The idea of an anthem to unite our people and spark patriotism and loyalty was one that we decided to adopt. When we selected an anthem of our own, we talked about whether we wanted a martial song, as in Galma, or one in praise of the crown, as in Calormen."
"His great-granfather was our Chief Minstrel then, so he headed the search for an anthem," said Lune, smiling at Lirin.
The Bard bowed his head slightly and continued. "We also considered if we wanted a song of endurance, that would represent Archenland's struggle to survive the Dark Days. But in the end, we decided we just wanted a song of sheer joy and beauty and pride in our homeland. Somehow, it was as though we could just use true Beauty to fight the Ugliness across the border – or as if we were a pocket of Warmth that the Ice could never overcome."
"The Light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it," murmured Susan. "Exactly," said the Bard, continuing with his tale. "Where's that from?" Peter whispered to Susan under cover of Lirin's musical voice. "I don't know, something I heard last Christmas, I think. In Spare Oom, I mean," she whispered back. "Shhh," said Lucy and Corin together, both equally fierce. Edmund rolled his eyes.
Lirin was concluding. "So in the end, we chose Amar Shonar Archena, which simply means "Our Golden Archenland". It tells of the deep love we have for our beautiful motherland."
"Will you tell us what all the stanzas mean?" Susan asked, slightly shy. "They sounded so beautiful when the court was singing it earlier, and I would like to understand it all.
"Well, we can do better than just a spoken translation," said the Bard. Lune was already calling the head of the orchestra to the table. "We will ask the singers to sing the anthem for you in today's language, so that you may understand.
And this is the song that they song, repeating the haunting melody once again. Lucy hummed along, more confidently this time.
My Archenland of Gold,
I love you.
Forever your skies,
Your air set my heart in tune
As if it were a flute.
In spring, O mother mine,
The fragrance from your mango groves
Makes me wild with joy,
Ah, what a thrill!
In autumn, O mother mine,
In the full blossomed paddy fields
I have seen spread all over sweet smiles.
Ah, what a beauty, what shades,
What an affection, and what a tenderness!
What a quilt have you spread
At the feet of banyan trees
And along the banks of rivers!
O mother mine, words from your lips
Are like nectar to my ears.
Ah, what a thrill!
If sadness, O mother mine,
Casts a gloom on your face,
My eyes are filled with tears!
My Archenland of Gold,
I love you.
Susan sighed in contentment as the song came to an end. All over the hall, men and women who had come to their feet in respect of even the translated version of their anthem gave a slight bow in the direction of the high table and the Archen banner above it and sat down to return to their meal.
Edmund had been thinking and now he had another question for the Bard. "So if it was written in the Old Tongue, was it written in the Old Days by one of the Old Poets?"
"No, actually, it was written during the Dark Days itself and--"
Lune, his eyes twinkling, finished the sentence. "--and actually it was written by a Narnian poet," he said.
"A Narnian!" the exclamation came in several voices, including that of Corin, who didn't know this part of the story.
"Well, he was born a Narnian," amended Lune. "And he died a Narnian too, I guess," he added more hesitantly, with a flash of doubt and sudden grief in his eyes.
Peter caught both the doubt and the grief, and wondered about the hesitation, but he only asked, "And in between birth and death?"
"Oh, he was an Archenlander, an adopted Archenlander," said the Bard. "His name was Rabin."
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or places, but I do have the permission of the author himself to play in his sandbox and fill in the gaps with my own tales. Thank you, Mr. Lewis!
I don't own any of the songs either (and there will be a lot of them in this fic!), but I will list credits for that in a later chapter. It was GoldenAshes who first started a Narnia fic series inspired by the Star Spangled Banner, while CrimsonWhite has written a lovely piece based on the Australian national anthem which was what first sparked off this idea in my head, so much thanks to both of them.
Note on Anvard's library: One of my favourite fic authors, Lirenel, has a collection of her stories on a site titled The Library of Anvard, and in her very well-written fic Petros Basileus, she puts forward the idea that Archenland's library became an archive for Narnian collections during Telmarine rule. I'm extending that idea to speculate that the library actually started this role during the Dark Days of Jadis in the first place.
Note on the Old Tongue: Yes, I know, that Lewis' cultural portrayal of Narnia seems to be rather that of medieval England or Europe at least. Which is why most fic authors speculating on a classical language for Narnia have adopted some form of Latin. However, for the purposes of my story, Narnia's Old Tongue has very different origins (I won't say more for now, although botany should be a giveaway, if not the linguistics!). And I figure that since, unlike Tolkien, Lewis did not go so far as to create an entire language especially for his world, I am free to imagine it any way I like. Do let me know what you think, though!
Random (or not so Random) Note: This fic was originally supposed to be posted on May 7, but events in Real Life postponed that. (Yes, this is relevent to the story.) Props to the first person who figures out the significance of that date.
I've been reading (and re-reading) the Chronicles for more than two decades, and I've been enjoying the wonderful world of Narnian fanfic for over a year now. But this is my first attempt at writing fanfic, and I'd appreciate all the feedback I can get!