Disclaimer: Narnia does not belong to me, and no matter how many times I've checked, it still hasn't popped up in my wardrobe either :P
memories/thoughts
He loves Narnia in the rain.
In England, rain dampened colors, tinging everything with a dingy, dull gray. Narnia seems exempt from that aspect of rain. People in England used to mention a silver lining to gray clouds. Narnia actually has that, in the rain everything shimmers just the slightest bit.
Of course, Narnia is decidedly not exempt from other aspects of the rain and that is what Susan calls "catching a chill." If he doesn't get home before the true downpour, he knows he'll never hear the end of it. Still, he cannot help but leisurly pass through the Western Woods, the land bequethed to him by Aslan, himself. It is so alive with the sounds of the creatures turning in for the night. There's a fresh, new, clean smell to everything, and every tree's slightly tinged with the silver of the drizzling rain.
He wonders just how mad Susan will be, if he just takes the longer way back to the Cair, soaking himself a bit in the process. She'll probably fuss, but only because she loves him.
His horse guides him to a familiar clearing where he knows they'll pass the place where the fabled Stone Table lay in just a few short miles. He's never actually been to the Stone Table itself. He has Aslan to thank for that.
He wonders if there's any harm in stopping there, just for a moment. It's simply to remember the forgiveness he's been given. It's not as though he could ever forget, it's just a feeling that maybe he should stop there, to remember that he can never fall too far away.
It doesn't take long, he knows it's general location, and he stops and dismounts once he reaches it. A cracked, gray staircase leads up to a large gray slab of stone supported by four pillars.
It's broken. Right down the center.
As if pulled by an unseen force, he finds himself climbing the stairs to get a better look. It hasn't always been broken, he knows. You cannot sacrifice someone on a broken table. Those were the Witch's plans, so the Table must have broken afterwards. He's tempted to believe that Aslan broke the Table when the Witch asked for his blood.
That boy will die, on the Stone Table, as is Tradition.
But something tells him that that isn't right. Without some sort of sacrifice, Narnia would have perished, "in fire and water" if he remembers aright. There had to be blood, or Narnia was doomed.
It isn't until he's climbed to the very top and approaches the stone in question that he sees it. A bloodstain marrs the left half of the broken table, and it's much too big for a human.
In fact, there's only one being he's met who is big enough to produce a blood stain that large.
No. Oh no. Please, please no.
He already knows what happened, what transpired in this most sacred of places. But the wild frail hope that maybe, just maybe he's wrong is all that's left to sheild him from the pain of such an awful truth. He backs away from the relic as if it were a treacherous snake.
The rainstorm begins and the drops mix with his tears on the long ride home.
Hello there!
So this is my first foray into a realm of fiction I have loved since I was seven years old. Oh, the nostalgia... Anyways, I was experimenting with present tense so please tell me how I did and whether or not you liked it. This story has been bouncing around in my head for nearly a year now, so I though I'd let it see the light of day...or more accurately, the artificial white light of my laptop:P
For those who have read my Star Wars fanfiction, I have not abandoned it and I'm not really taking a break. To Save A Soul only requires one more chapter to be complete. Then I shall move onto other story ideas and a few new AUs :D
Again, I would absolutely love it if you reviewed. :) Have a lovely day!