-Legacy: Our Brave Hero-
DREAM OF DANDELIONS
AN: This is a new Alternative Universe (called Legacy) focuses on older versions of the characters, long after the events of Voyage of the Dawn Treader, with the alternative ending being that Reepicheep makes the return trip.
Major Players
(ages are in human years; additions will be made as story continues)
Reepicheep: 63
Trufflehunter "Mathias": 76
Caspian: 53
It has been a while since I have written anything, so if you must review, please be constructive and detailed on how to improve.
All chapters will be short.
Best,
KR
-Prologue-
We've put more effort into helping folks reach old age than into helping them enjoy it.
-Frank A. Clark
Ever since the middle of the year, I have been watching over my friend and after monitoring his condition for months, I am coming to a disturbing and rather disheartening conclusion.
Reepicheep looked up from his writing, the soft glow of a candle burned at his small desk as a light snow began to fall outside. The Mouse sighed, his chest heaving as he reached for a small cane.
The house was still glorious; The Mouse was certainly keeping the place up. The floors were spotless, the windows were clean, there was not a speck of dust living there. As he walked to the fireplace, Reepicheep held a gentle smile as a drawn portrait of him and his dear friend sat on his mantle. The smile faded, his eyes grew misty and worrisome as he collapsed into a chair and cried.
"Why must the sick be so close to my heart? Why must this disease of age be so damning so quickly?"
Looking to the fire that was dying out, Reepicheep wiped the salted beads of water that rolled down his furred face. There was no solution. There was no answer to the problem. All the Mouse could do at the moment was stare at the fire or stare at his dirty, muddy feet, which were scarred and calloused from excessive walking.
Closing his eyes, Reepicheep exhaled, letting his weary heart collect itself as his lungs caught up. His body relaxed, his grayed ears drooped as he fell asleep and dreamed of dandelions.
Cascading over fields towards a destination - that's what we were doing last he was well. We walked slow, but with purpose. Our lives were grand, we had lived, and we wished our last years to be the most meaningful. The words he said the morning before:
'I do not wish to die in a year, but perhaps in ten, I wish to reach an age where I can say that my elder years were full of life just as my prime was.'
'Yes,' said I, 'but as for me, I wish to go in peace. I wish to die looking Easterly and dreaming of it first and last and endlessly.'
'Dear friend,' he spoke, his voice raspy, a sign of his age and decay. 'You have always been a dreamer for that, but I tell you that dreaming of such a death, beautiful as it is, must be secondary to the desire that you most certainly have.'
We spoke of death, we spoke of life, we spoke of all things as we walked. The Badger had a staff, I a cane, and together there was peace in the world that we were in. The war was long dead, The Resting has solace, the living now old and remembering. Such is the way of age. Such how life should be.
Life is not a mysterious game where we go through meandering. Life has a purpose. It has a meaning. It is the purpose of loving each other and the meaning of reaching the Everlasting.
Such business was talked and such business was ended. All in a field of lavender, daises, and dandelions.
Then…
Opening his eyes, Reepicheep peered his eyes up to his portrait on the mantle, a sigh escaped his lips.
"Dear Friend… your death may just be my fault…"