Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't...
Summary: "Sometimes it is grief shared that will bind you close to one you thought a stranger."
A/N: This story was requested by WillowDryad as part of the five story challenge she issued to me and is part of my A Light in the Darkness universe. This story is based on challenge ii - Dwarf, Aravis, Grief. Enjoy!
Grief Shared
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The attack was sudden and most unexpected. A troop of Fell Beasts had climbed over the mountains and ambushed the party traveling between Anvard and Cair Paravel. Clutching her brother's scimitar, Aravis wished she had not allowed Shasta to persuade her that she didn't need to wear armor on this trip. She had believed the tales of the northern demons were as false as the great Tisroc (may he and his ancestors wither in dishonor). How wrong she had been.
"Aravis! Behind you!"
Shasta's warning made her spin around, scimitar flashing. A demon combining man and wolf leapt toward her, yellow eyes filled with wickedness, crooked fangs dripping with strings of saliva, and curved claws that would have pleased Tash Himself. She cried out, but not in fear, never would she show such creatures fear. She cried out as loudly as she could then dodged beneath the demon, slicing through the matted brown fur covering his belly. The demon yelped then gibbered with an insanity that knew only anger and hunger as he rolled on the ground, smearing the trampled grass with his blood.
Mighty Lion, Thou hast saved the poorest of Thy servants in days past. I pray Thy mercy covereth the poorest of Thy servants now. Aravis lunged forward, but her slippered foot lost purchase on the torn and bloodied ground. Her brother's scimitar pierced the foul demon's chest but it was too high, missing the heart and lungs, and dug into the meat of his shoulder. The demon howled and swatted her to the ground. Her faithless hands lost hold of the scimitar. Somewhere over the sound of battle and cries of the wounded, she heard Shasta call out her name, "Aaaaaravissss!"
Fire licked down her arm. Almost as painful as when the Mightiest of Lions had marked her back. The demon gibbered. "Bloood. Manflesh, sweet, blood. Eat you. Eat you."
Her brother's scimitar was but an arm's length away. She reached a bloodied hand out, scrabbling against the ground with her fingernails. She just felt the cool metal of the hilt beneath her fingertips when the demon grabbed her foot and pulled her toward him. Mighty Lion. The demon gibbered, yellow eyes burning into her. A gruff voice shouted, "For Aslan!" Then a short but sturdy body barreled into the demon. An axe flashed silver. The demon yelped and something hit Aravis in the head. It all went dark.
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All was dark but it was comfortable. It was warm but that too was comfortable. Something cold tore through the warm dark blanket she had cocooned herself in. Aravis raised a hand to ward it off and hot pain lanced through her arm, tossing her into consciousness as surely as the half-broken stallion had tossed Shasta after his brother dared him to ride the creature. A disapproving chitter filled the air. "Now, your highness has disturbed the dear child's rest. Poor little joey." A hand…no, it was a paw to be sure rested on her shoulder just above where the pain resonated like a row of flickering candles, urging her to relax once more against the pillows. The Kangaroo who had raised quite a fuss over the Just King and the Valiant Queen when they had both fallen victim to one of Prince Corin's pranks. "Rest now, rest and have no fear. The Fell have been slain or driven off. There is naught for you to fear this day, brave little joey."
The Kangaroo fussed over her a bit more and then he pulled back the privacy curtain and hopped out. Mindful of her injured arm and sore head, Aravis sat up slowly then eased her legs over the side of the cot. Once the dark red curtain no longer dipped and swayed as though borne upon the waves or perhaps the buffeting mountain winds, she carefully stood. The tent was not empty as she had expected when she peered past the curtain. Queen Lucy was kneeling next to a cot whereupon a Faun lay, applying bandages to one of his legs. The Kangaroo was tending to the Just King whose pale brow was bloodied and whose dark hair was matted just above his left ear. And on the cot nearest to where she now stood was a Dwarf with black wiry hair and beard, but though the sheet was folded back from his face, it did not rise and fall with breath.
Another Dwarf stood next to the cot, so alike in countenance to his fallen comrade that one would know at a glance they were relations, his face naturally given to scowling now lined with a deeper grief. Aravis bowed her head as she recognized the Dwarfs, brothers who had been a part of the guard assigned when the King and Queen chose to return to Narnia in the company of King Lune and his party instead of with the army. Berk and Gethin were the names, but they were so alike that she could not discern which brother had fallen and which one now grieved.
"Berk?"
"Gethin, girl. That be Berk and he be dead now." The Dwarf eyed her then nodded. "But, he be glad his rescue did not send you to the Lion as well."
Once, in her earliest memories, she had fallen into a deep lake on her father's estate. Her brother had saved her but still Aravis could recall the feeling of coldness that leeched all life and warmth from her limbs. She felt it once more as she realized gruff Berk had sacrificed himself for her, the Calormene girl as he and his brother called her (even when the other guards warned them to be polite). "It is said-" She cut herself off before she could quote the meaningless platitudes of the poets who praised death in battle. For those words had done naught to ease the ache in her heart when her beloved brother had fallen. "I have lost a brother. I grieve with you, Gethin of the Silverlent clan of the Black Dwarfs of Narnia, as one knows the grief of a brother whose life was cut short in battle, I, Aravis once of Calormen now of no land nor house, grieve with you."
Gethin's beady black eyes bore into her and then the Dwarf jerked a curt bow. "Grief knows those who remain. Those we return to the earth's embrace know no grief for they sit in Aslan's Country and mine the finest gems and metals as can be found without wearying or draining the lode. But grief knows us and we know her black mantle. The Silverlent clan grieves with you, Aravis, as you grieve with Silverlent."
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Edmund watched the young Tarkheena then whispered to his sister, "The Black Dwarfs will never forget this."
Queen Lucy merely smiled as she handed him some tea that was no doubt medicated and meant to make him sleep. "I told you she will be all right in Archenland and here in Narnia."
He looked again at the slender, dark-eyed and –haired girl who had thrown herself so fiercely into battle with a Werewolf. "Sometimes it is grief shared that will bind you close to one you thought a stranger. And our Kat shall be most interested in the girl."
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A/N: Please Read and Review!
A/N2: Here's your challenge, all my lovely readers: Send me your suggestions and requests for one-shots and short stories to help me make 200 stories by Veterans' Day. :D