Chapter Title: Summer Dawns
Author: Sam
Story: A Narnian Prophecy: 01 of ?
Characters: Peter, Lucy, Edmund, Susan, Mr. Tumnus, Oreius, Mr. & Mrs. Beaver, King Lune, Prince Corin, and OC's
Rating: T: Some violence
Summary: To save Narnia, Peter would do much; to save Edmund, he would do anything.
Spoiler: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (mainly) with shadows of The Silver Chair and The Horse and His Boy.
Category: Fantasy, Drama, Angst
Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia, and all seven of the titles therein, are were written by C.S. Lewis. The movie (The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe) was produced by Walt Disney Pictures and Walden Media. I am in no way connected with these people, and I do not claim ownership to these characters, lands, or names. The passages which are underlined were written by C.S. Lewis; again I do not claim them. I have borrowed them to share a story . . . and most likely not a story C.S. Lewis would have written, had he had the time or no. I am making no money from this, and it is just for my entertainment and that of free entertainment to a select group. Thank you.
Distribution: Please ask first?
Setting: Movie-verse: Mainly Cair Paravel, but will wander abroad at times
Note: The Ruined City in The Silver Chair is unnamed and centuries old. Its only identifier is that it is within view of Harfang.
Feedback: Please? I love comments.
xxx
As King Peter awoke, nothing about the sunny summer morning forewarned him of the coming events. Only a year had passed since his coronation as High King of Narnia, but some days he longed for the freedom of childhood he'd chosen to leave behind. The bright, warm morning felt like just such a time.
With a luxurious stretch, Peter finally rolled out of bed and let his bare feet sink into the plush dark blue carpeting, a hallmark of his suite at Cair Paravel. Almost as if on cue, his bed chamber door opened to admit the Narnians who'd volunteered to serve as his valets. He hadn't wanted any, but they'd been so insistent the high King had finally relented, as had his siblings and fellow rulers of Narnia.
Peter felt privately glad it hadn't been two of the furred or feathered denizens of Narnia that had volunteered to serve as valets; that would have been too awkward for him to get used to: it had been hard enough allowing someone else tend to his personal needs, let alone having a Badger or Beaver or Rabbit pressing his underclothes or dressing him. It took some time just to get used to the talking Beasts that inhabited the beautiful country of Narnia; at times Peter still did a double-take when addressed by them.
The pair began the morning ritual of preparing their King for the day to come. After what seemed forever to the restless sixteen-year-old, the Faun and Dwarf stepped back.
Smiling his gratitude to the two loyal retainers, Peter moved towards his window, intent on enjoying at least a few moments of the glorious summer morning before going about his royal duties. Before him lay a breath-taking view of Narnia to the north: rolling hills and noble forests, roaring rivers and thundering waterfalls… Narnia had quickly wormed its way into his innermost heart
An unexpected chill sent a shiver down his back, and Peter wondered why he felt forboding. Frowning, troubled, the blond-haired youth left his chamber, quickly heading down the marbled stairs to a series of sunny withdrawing rooms. Unable to puzzle out his discomfort, Peter started glancing into each room he passed, looking for one of his siblings… any sibling would do; he wanted the company of a long-familiar friend.
"Oh, Peter, look what Mr. Tumnus leant me."
Walking into the beautiful sitting room, decorated in shades of rose and soft yellow, Peter smiled at his youngest sister. Tall, clear windows with long seats in them lined two of the walls, while the other two sported tapestries denoting gay garden and summer scenes. One large tapestry depicted a bonfire with fauns and satyrs dancing about, sparks shooting up from the orange, red, and yellow depths. It was a sunny, happy room, and by far a favorite of the four Pevensie siblings.
"What is it, Lucy?" He noticed that she held a worn leather-bound volume embossed with faded gold lettering; the book appeared to be old with torn pages and water damage. As she enthusiastically jumped up from the window seat in which she'd been apparently reading, Lucy's movements made identifying the book's title impossible. With a smile, the sixteen-year-old gently pulled his nine-year-old sister into an affectionate hug.
She had grown several inches in the last year but still had to tilt her head to look up at him, her auburn hair rippling over her back, very much longer than it had been when they'd had their coronation. With a laugh, practically dancing in her delight, Lucy pulled back from Peter's embrace and caught hold of his hand, tugging him to the window seat. The pair sank down onto the comfortable cushions.
"It's a book on Narnian legends, Peter, see?" She eagerly, though carefully, flipped through the pages until she got to a specific entry. In a clear voice, she read the familiar rhyme aloud:
"Wrong will come aright
When Aslan comes in sight.
At the sound of his roar
Sorrows will be no more.
When he bares his teeth
Winter meets its death.
And when he shakes his mane
We shall have spring again."
Her finger fairly flew over the passage. The familiar words brought back that night they'd heard the name of Aslan for the first time; once more a glorious, wild joy rippled through the young man. Lucy smiled briefly up at Peter then moved her fingers to caress the facing page, and he let the sensation go. His sister's voice trembled with excitement. "This one's about us, and there's even more to it than Mr. Beaver said."
Nodding, Peter eased the book from her excitedly fluttering hands. Sometimes his little sister reminded him of a bird just waiting to burst forth with the first song of springtime. Out loud he read:
"A daughter travels from a foreign land
Against the evil to make a stand
Narnia's fate lies in her hand
And though a faun does traitor start
Friendship's plea shall warm his heart
From stone, returns to play his part
How bitter treacherous lies do taste
A future king betrays his race
Then, learning well, resumes his place
Thus Beasts of Narnia in winter's thrall
Rise for freedom, the queen to fall
A fair-haired youth shall lead them all
Join voice of reason, gentle, wise
Swift and true her arrow flies
As springtime blossoms, winter dies
When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone
Sits at Cair Paravel, enthroned
The evil time will be over and done"
His smile widened as he reached the end. "So, we are indeed legends," the blond teased. "I don't know, Lu; I still feel human. When do I get to walk among the stars?"
"Walk among the stars?" Sounding confused, Lucy took the book back and perused the page once more, frowning. "Where does it say that?"
Peter laughed and tugged a lock of her pretty hair. "It doesn't. I was referring to the legend of Hercules." At her continued frown, he merely shook his head and said, "Never mind. Any other interesting legends?"
Lucy nodded enthusiastically, her sunny smile once more blossoming, turning what could be a merely nice face into one of prettiness; Peter felt sure she'd be a raving beauty when she grew up. He bent closer as Lucy flipped carefully through the book to find another verse that interested her, ending on a page which had been mostly destroyed, only a few lines legible:
"As the smallest flower on the vine appears,
A queen of Narnia will dry her tears.
When Narnia heals the one unseen,
She will ally with Narnia's king.
A song to conquer Narnia's foe
And from the ash a rose will grow."
The young girl looked up at her brother and sighed. "Isn't it pretty in a sad sort of way? A king and queen of Narnia had a fight, but when it turned spring, they made up so they could defeat their enemy. And after all that, they rebuilt." She caressed the gold etchings on the page, silently rereading the brief passage visible through the damage.
Thoughtfully, Peter reread the lines as well. "Did you ask Tumnus when this happened… is it merely a legend?" At Lucy's head shake, he went on. "What I mean, Lucy, is that it almost sounds, well… generic. It could be about any of the Narnian royalty, can't it?" He traced the lettering carefully. "See here? This 'queen of Narnia' could easily be you or Susan after a fight with me or Edmund."
His sister nodded at his words but suddenly shook her head. "No, I'm not so sure, Peter. I mean, if it were about us, wouldn't it be more about Edmund since he was the one who… well… betrayed," the word seemed forced, and Lucy rushed on to cover her discomfort with the entire memory of Edmund's betrayal a year before, "us? It would say 'a king of Narnia will dry his tears'. Then later on right here it would say 'He will ally with Narnia's king'." She turned earnest blue eyes up to Peter. "Wouldn't it?"
He had to admit that her version made much more sense when compared to their own situation, but the poem could be translated as a prophecy about a future fight between one of the sisters and one of the brothers. Of course, it most likely didn't refer to them at all. Peter voiced his suggestion out loud, "Well, it mayn't be about us then, Lucy. It may have happened a long time ago."
"Or maybe," Lucy suddenly brightened, "it's another prophecy and it hasn't happened yet. It might happen hundreds or thousands of years from now. There may be a time Narnia is in terrific peril and fire or war destroys the forest or Cair Paravel or…"
Peter's laugh cut her off, but she didn't seem to mind. "I can think of one person who might know." The older boy paused, his look encouraging her to solve his little riddle.
She didn't disappoint, guessing immediately what he hinted at: "Oreius! Centaurs know all about prophecies and wars and things of that sort." The girl whirled quickly, closing the book as she reached trustingly for Peter's hand, allowing him to help her up from the seat, not letting go afterwards.
Together, the pair headed downstairs towards the practice yard, certain they would find the centaur in his habitual role of trainer to the Narnian volunteer fighters.
xxx
Continued in Chapter Two: Prophecies and Pilgrims