Loosely inspired by The Little Drummer Boy.
Most of the Narnians had yet to realize that the mice had transformed into Talking Mice by Aslan's grace. But the Mice were content with their lot, knowing that they had hardly been worthy to be chosen to be Talking Mice. They may not perform grand deeds for the great High King and his mighty consorts, but they were content in being subject of Narnia and doing their best to honor Aslan in their daily lives.
Amongst the Talking Mice was one little Mouse, Amarecheep. He never talked much, but he loved to play on the tiny little drum some friendly Dwarves had fashioned for him. Pa rum pum pum pum. Rum pum pum pum pum pum. He would have played on his drum all day long if he had been allowed. While he might not know any tunes, he imagined that he was playing for the Queens and Kings at Cair Paravel. How amazing would that be! But he was merely a small Mouse, hardly worthy of such an honor.
One day, Amarecheep was drumming in a small patch of clovers when three mighty Centaurs walked by proudly.
"My, what lovely drumming," one of them, Cressida, said.
"What is your name, little Mouse?" another named Stormhead said.
"I – I am – I – my name?" was all that Amarecheep managed to say.
"Yes, dear little Mouse," the third, Filius, said.
"A-amarecheep," he squeaked.
"Amarecheep, would you like to come with us?" Cressida offered.
"I – where?" he asked in a small voice.
"To Cair Paravel," Stormhead said, pride coming through in his voice. "For the Christmas feast. We come bringing gifts for the Kings and Queens."
"I – I can go?" Amarecheep said in shock. "But I…I have no gift to bring."
The wise Centaurs smiled as though they knew better. "Come with us," Filius said. "I'm sure you will find a gift along the way."
"Nothing worth of them," the Mouse said sadly.
"Come, dear Mouse," Stormhead said. "At the very least, you will see the famed castle for yourself."
"That…That would be amazing!" he squeaked.
And so they traveled to Cair Paravel, the poor little Mouse growing more terrified by the moment.
"What gifts are you bringing?" he asked curiously one night.
"I bring gold, won in battle against the Giants up north," Stormhead said, holding a coin out for Amarecheep to look over.
"Frankincense, to be used in worship to Aslan, the Lord and True King of Narnia," said Cressida.
"And I, myrrh. In case any of them should fall in a campaign," Filius said solemnly.
"That's rather morbid!" Amarecheep said before thinking.
Stormhead snorted as Filius frowned at that comment, looking down at the silver container that held the myrrh. "Is it not appropriate for Christmas?"
"It's more appropriate than the nothing that I have to offer," Amarecheep said sadly.
"How about you practice your drumming, dear friend?" Cressida nudged.
"What good will that do? I'm just a sad, little drumming Mouse," he said.
When they arrived at Cair Paravel, they soon heard the sad news. Christmas would hardly be festive this year, with the High King bedridden from a mysterious illness, so mysterious that somehow even Lucy's cordial had only merely healed the physical wounds. It was as though his mind was trapped in another world, but he would respond to nothing. With their brother quite possibly on his death bed, the three other tetrarchs minimized the Christmas festivities. And they themselves would attend only as much as their duties required them to, preferring to spend every moment they could with their brother, hoping that somehow hearing their voices he would wake.
"Well, Filius, your gift may be the most appropriate after all," Cressida said emotionlessly.
"The stars warned me that myrrh may be needed," Filius answered morosely.
"Aslan preserve the High King," Cressida said fervently.
"He – He'd be alright, won't he?" Amarecheep said anxiously. "Since Aslan looks over him especially?"
"My dear Mouse, Aslan does not prevent every death. All things have their time. We can only hope and pray that this is not the time for our High King to leave us for Aslan's land," Stormhead explained.
Later that evening, Amarecheep drumming listlessly on his tiny drum. Pa rum pum pum pum. Rum pum pum pum. Rum pum pum pum. The steady beat of it gave him comfort.
Soon, some guards came over. "Mouse! That is the window to the High King's chambers you are playing under. He must not be disturbed by you!"
"I'm sorry!" Amarecheep squeaked nervously. "I didn't know! I swear I didn't!"
"Enough!" a strong voice called. Amarecheep peeked to see who the voice was and was surprised to see a human, followed quickly by a faun with a red scarf. Then the guards all bowed and Amarecheep quickly realized she must be one of the Queens and bowed as well. "Are you the drummer who was just playing, cousin Mouse?"
"I…I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to disturb anyone!" he said, terrified.
"But you didn't! I mean, you did! In a good way! Peter stirred! It's the first sign of life in him we've seen in…in…since he fell sick," she said breathlessly. "You simply must come play for him! Will you, please?"
"Would I?" Amarecheep said, dazed. It was his dream to play for the Kings and Queens. She didn't really think he would ever turn down such an honor, did she? "I…I…"
"Please?" she pleaded. "We need your help."
"I would love to!" he blurted out.
"Then come with us," the faun said, offering his hand to the little Mouse so he could carry him and be at the High King's bedside all the faster.
"Lucy?" another female human said the moment that they arrived at the door. "Did you find the drummer?"
"Indeed," Lucy grinned. The other human, who Amarecheep correctly guessed must be Queen Susan, looked about for a drummer in confusion until her eyes fell upon him. He instantly felt so small again. She must have anticipated someone mighty, someone who might look as though they had the power to heal her brother. After all, if all of the High King's wise Centaurs and caring Fauns could not heal him, what chance did a Mouse have?
"Well, do come in, Sir Mouse," Susan said sweetly. "Perhaps your drum can work some magic for our brother."
"Oh it's just a normal drum," Amarecheep said shyly.
"Just try. Please," a strangled voice said from beside a bed. Amarecheep looked and saw a boy clasping hands with another human laid in bed.
"I – I will, your Majesties," Amarecheep said, wide-eyed. His tiny paws were shaking as he picked up the sticks.
"Go on," Lucy said encouragingly. Amarecheep hesitantly beat his drum once.
"He – He stirred!" Edmund said, elated by this small progress. Susan and Lucy both rushed to their brother's side, Susan stroking his hair and Lucy taking his one free hand and pressing it to her cheek.
Bolstered by this success, Amarecheep began drumming softly. Pa rum pum pum pum. Rum pum pum pum. Rum pum pum pum.
"Peter," Susan whispered hopefully, lifting her brother's head gingerly to rest it in her lap.
"He's waking!" Lucy said joyfully.
"It's…it's a miracle," Edmund cried.
Amarecheep simply kept doing what he did best, drumming. Soon, the High King had awakened and his family was crushing him in joyful hugs. Amarecheep slowly slipped out, unsure what to do next. He scurried down the stairs and ran right into a Lion.
"Hello, dear Mouse," the Lion purred, amused.
"A- Ah – I'm sorry," he gasped out. "Ah – are – You're Aslan!"
"Yes, I am."
"I – I…" was all Amarecheep managed to say.
"You have a question for me, my child," Aslan said, touching his muzzle to the Mouse's soft ears.
"W-Why me? Why did my drum wake the High King?" Amarecheep asked shyly. "I'm…I'm just a small Mouse. I'm not important."
"Child, I created you, as I did all Narnians. Does that not make you important?" Aslan asked. "And I was the one who blessed you with the talent to play the drums. I expect you to share the talent as you did today."
Amarecheep blushed and looked down at his drum shyly as he said, "I…I will!"
When he looked up again, the Great Lion had disappeared. Amarecheep picked up his sticks again and began softly playing, excited to begin sharing the talent the Great Lion had bestowed on him. Pa rum pum pum pum. Rum pum pum pum. Rum pum pum pum.
Soon, he became known far and wide as the Little Drummer Mouse.