The Lantern

By lightsabermaster

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and locations belong to C.S. Lewis; I'm just borrowing them for awhile.

Setting: Post TLB, slightly AU bookverse.

Summary: Narnia, from the unique viewpoint of a little-remembered character. Oneshot.

It's lonely here now, dark and silent. Not a sound penetrates the vast emptiness and utter blackness. No rustle of leaves, no breath of wind, no cheerful song of birds. Nothing. Nothing at all. Not a pinprick of light can be seen in all of the land that was once called Narnia. No stars, no campfires, not even a candle to light this awful darkness. Except for here. Here, where I stand, where I have stood since the Dawn of Time, since The Evil One planted me in her rage. Here, where I am doomed to spend eternity. Here, where I have been left behind.

When the great giant Time blew his horn, the stars in the sky were called to Aslan's side. The Talking Beasts and all the other animals and Men and birds and flowers were summoned to Him, and the dryads and the nymphs and even the dwarves as well. But, was I worthy? No. I was cursed.

When the world was but water and Time reached out and extinguished the sun's fire, I could still see by the glorious light streaming from Aslan's Country. Even then, after all others had been called to His side and I stood alone, I was trembling with hope. Hope that He would remember… hope that I would not be forgotten. But that was not to be. The great and terrible shadow of The Lion was the very last thing I saw before the High King shut the door and all was blackness and sorrow.

And so I stand here, waiting. Waiting for something, for anything, for nothing to happen. Long, sharp icicles cling to my arms as I stare at the tiny circle of weak light I am casting around myself. Beyond that, I see nothing but black air and black ice. Black, black, black, all around. It matches the color of my soul, for it seems that my soul is in the deepest darkness of despair.

And the cold. I've never been so cold, not even in the Hundred Years Of Winter before the Golden Age of the High King. I am frozen to the core, such that in some strange way I am grateful for the silence and stillness; the slightest breath of wind or rumble of sound would likely cause me to shatter. In the same thought, however, I wonder if an end to my existence would be such a disagreeable thing. Perhaps nonexistence may be preferable to life in this rejection and torment. Ah, but who is to say that my --'cessation of being'-- would not send me into the Other Place, where only the enemies of Aslan go?

Ah, Aslan. The One whom all of Narnia once beheld and loved. Throughout all my millennia of being He's been the one constant thing. He's always been here when the land needed him most, and I have loved him for all of time. I don't know what I did wrong. Did he leave me here because I blasphemed? That's not possible; I could never bring myself to even think sacrilegiously. Did I unwittingly cause some being to go astray? Or is it the fact that I am not flesh? If only I could cry, I most certainly would.

I don't know how long it's been since the Door to Aslan's Country was locked. A year? A day? A millennium? A moment? I wonder how long I can endure this eternal blackness and keep my sanity. So far I seem to be sane, but I've heard that madness comes when you least expect it. I wonder--wait! I suppose I've found my threshold now, because I see a light; a wonderfully warm, glowing light that seems to be coming toward me. Lies and trickery! I know better. There is nothing here, nothing at all. I only wish it to be so. At any moment now that warm, golden, glowing dot will disappear, and all will be blackness once more.

It's still coming. No! It merely looks like it's coming. I mustn't even dare to hope such a thing. It's getting closer now—I can see it! Oh, if only it weren't an illusion, how happy I would be! There's no mistaking it now, it is The Lion. He is approaching slowly across the black expanse of ice, but I know it isn't real because He's not making any sound. Oh, if only, if only it were Him. But it's not, I know it. He could not be here; I am mad. He would never come back here, just for me.

Would He?

He has stopped now, and I can see His eyes. They are warm, and kind, just as I remember them. If I must be lunatic, I would much rather dream up Aslan than a dragon or a wraith. At least my delusions are happy ones. He is just exactly as I remember; big, and proud, and… crying? He never did that before, not in my presence. What kind of idiot am I, to imagine such a thing? Why in all of what was once Narnia would the Great Lion be crying?

"Because I wonder why you chose to stay," a rich, golden voice says. I am startled.

"W-w-what?" I stammer. "Are You really here?"

"Yes, I am, child. You are not mad." He says.

"B-b-but, why? Why did You come back?" I say, puzzled. "You deemed me unworthy Yourself."

He shakes his head sadly. "It is not I who judged you unworthy," he says, "but you who assumed that yourself."

Quite suddenly, a new feeling dawns upon me; one of shame. A few moments pass before I speak. "You mean, You called me, but I didn't hear? Could I be so foolish?"

The Lion's steady gaze tells me the answer, more than any words could have. For a moment, I wish I could have eyes, just so that I could look away. "I'm sorry," I manage, feeling like I want to cry. Of course, I can't; I don't have a face. Perhaps it is just as well.

"You will not make the same mistake again, Son of Stones," He says. I see the graveness in His noble face as he looks at me. "I would never forget one who has served me so well for so many years."

I am surprised. "But, Sir, what did I ever do for You?" I ask. "I've been rooted in this same spot since the Dawn of Time. I haven't fought in any wars or slain any giants or conquered any lands. What could I possibly have done that was in service to You?"

The golden warmth of the Lion circles me slowly as He speaks. "You have stood watch over the Lantern Waste and warded off many evils with your light. It was you who lit the way for the four Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve when they first came into Narnia to break the Witch's spell. Through both the good times and the bad, you stood faithfully."

Quite suddenly, the memories flood back. The First Day, when Aslan himself called me up from the ground, and all the plants and animals, too. The Second Day, when Lord Digory planted the Shield Tree and the First King and First Queen were crowned. The awful day when the Shield Tree fell and the Witch Jadis locked Narnia in her icy grip. The first Daughter of Eve, meeting the Faun Tumnus under my lamp. The first Son of Adam's treachery. The warm breezes of Spring and the Golden Age of the High King. The Reign of the Telmarines, the Age of King Caspian and his son, King Rilian. The Reign of King Tirian…and The End of The World.

"Through all time, you have loved me," continues Aslan. "Even when the accursed Ape fooled the rest of Narnia into believing in his false Aslan, you were loyal only to me." He smiles sadly. "Yet still you feel yourself worthless."

"I'm sorry," I say. "I am ashamed of myself. I forgot for a time that You are the One who created me."

"And everything I created is of value." A genuine smile crosses his face as he says, "Even you."

A new hope begins to stir in my iron heart. "Then, I get to come into Your country? To live with You forever?"

This time, he laughs, and his laugh has a hint of roar to it. "Yes, my child."

My heart leaps, then just as quickly sinks again as I remember just why it is that I have stood here for all these millennia. "But…" I say, "I can't come. I don't have any feet."

"A fact that is easily remedied, my child," Aslan says as he turns to face me full on. Then, he takes a deep breath… and blows on me. A warm spring breeze can't feel any better right now. His breath surrounds me, melts the icicles from my body and thaws me to the core. Any trace of doubt I had is melting, as surely as the frost is disappearing, and an overwhelming joy has come over me.

When Aslan is finished, he stands and looks at me with warmth in his eyes. "Now, child," he says. "Come."

I look straight at him and will myself to move. And suddenly, I do! I look down at myself and see two long, iron legs, and two iron arms. I look back to Aslan with joy, and find that suddenly, I am wet. I reach up clumsily with my new arm and touch the trickling water… I have a face! And eyes, real eyes! "Oh, Aslan!" I cry. "It's true! It's true, you've done it!"

"Why, of course I have," He chuckles. "Did you expect any less?"

It is a strange thing, this movement. But I manage to take a few clumsy steps to Aslan's side. "I'm sorry," I wail, falling with a loud clang to my iron knees before Him. "I'm so sorry I ever doubted You."

"All is forgiven," He says. He waits for my tears to stop, and when they do, he starts walking toward The Door. "Now come."

He pads off with big lion strides, and I rise to follow. Now, I find it is growing easier and easier to move, and soon I am walking beside Him as we approach The Door. He roars deafeningly, and as the door flies open I can see it: Aslan's Country. The breeze is soft and warm, and scented of flowers and fruits. And as we walk in and The Door shuts behind us, I notice many things all at once. I see the colors, much brighter than Narnian colors ever were. I see mountains and streams and trees and animals and waterfalls and—

"But," I say, bewildered, "This is Narnia." And as I turn to look at the Lion in wonder, He is gone. I turn back around in amazement, and see a brightly colored young Dryad waving at me from a ways off.

"Come further in; come further up!" She calls enthusiastically. I smile. And I do.

Finis

This is my first ever Narnia fic, so please review!