The Lion, the Professor, and the Wardrobe
"Please! Please! Let me see Narnia! Oh Aslan, will you not answer me?! How long have I waited? And these children just walk right in?" The old man pounded his fists against the mahogany paneling of the back of the wardrobe. His face streaked with tears and his paper thin skin bruised from all the pounding. He slumped to the floor breathing hard, anger and sadness overwhelming him.
"…please…" He whispered, his voice hoarse from crying. "…please…" His head rested against the wall, his body rounded upon itself as he crouched and wept for the longing in his heart.
Then, as if knowing that it was of no use, he rose, wiped his face, and walked out of the wardrobe not looking back once.
Since the Pevensies had left the quiet had returned tenfold making the professor even lonelier. He longed to hear their cheery laughter and watch them play their games outside, or even just to see one of them walking through a hall. The professor had never realized how lonely he was till they had left. Mrs. Macready tried valiantly to cheer up the professor, but it had never been in her nature to show kindness so her attempts were lacking. What really bothered him, though he could not admit it, was the fact that the children had seen Narnia, and he had not. Ever since he was a child and had journeyed back from that magical place, Digory had longed to return. But it had been Aslan's will not to let him, so he must content himself with his memories and long talks with Polly. Then, years later, the children had come and the first moment they stepped through the wardrobe they had been whisked away to the very land he sought.
After they had returned, Digory questioned them thoroughly and had spent hours in long conversation with Peter. He had learned of all their adventures, of Aslan, and His beautiful country. Jealousy had at first sprung into his heart but had soon passed. His old age had made him wise and allowed him to forgive more easily, but the longing still remained. His heart ached for that beautiful country, to be young again, to ride upon a winged horse, and to touch Aslan's mane once more. It was not a lack of trying that he had not been back, for he had tried the moment the children first mentioned a magical wardrobe, but it was in vain. He then resolved to trust Aslan, knowing that one day he would meet Him again, just not on this earth.
Months passed, he nearly forgot about the wardrobe, so caught up in the war ending and keeping his finances straight. But the occasional letter from Peter or Lucy reminded him of what lay so close yet was not within his grasp. One evening he was sitting in his library, a warm cup of tea at his elbow, and a roaring fire upon the hearth. The book he had been reading lay open upon his lap, his hand resting gently upon it, as he drifted into a doze. Suddenly a gust of wind swirled through the room, carrying what sounded faintly of voices. Digory, still half asleep thought he dreamed it and upon wakening was startled to find his fire had all but burned out, though he had been asleep but five minutes.
"Perhaps it was not a dream after all?" Said the professor out loud, but he shook his head trying to rid himself of such a crazy notion.
As he went to lift the book off his lap, a wind brushed by, fluttering the pages, and startling Digory so much that he dropped the book and rose to his feet. Suddenly he heard the voice, clearly, coming from the room next to his. The room with the wardrobe.
Digory... Digory…..
Walking slowly, as if in a daze, the professor made his way to the door of his library, around the corner, and through the spare room to stand, trembling before the wardrobe. Uncertainty and fear clutched at his heart. Slowly he reached up to place his wrinkled hand upon the nob. He turned it and let the door swing slowly open. A warm breath ruffled his gray hair and warmed his face. In the breath he heard the barest hint of words.
It has been long, has it not, son of Adam?
"Oh! Oh!" Was all Digory could say, as he fell to the ground. "Is it really you Aslan? It…It cannot be… I must be dreaming, because it is too wonderful to believe."
I am real, son of Adam. More real than you may believe. I have come to grant your request, one last look upon Narnia. Will you come, son of Adam, will you come look upon the world you saw created?
"Oh, yes Aslan! Oh yes I will come!" Exclaimed Digory, his heart bursting inside his chest.
The professor rose on shaky legs, and, taking a robe, walked into the wardrobe for the last time. As he passed through the robes, his hands soon brushed tree branches, and stepping out into bright sunlight he beheld the beautiful country of Narnia once again. And there… OH! There standing before him in all the glory of the rising sun, stood Aslan. The Aslan, whom he had so longed to see. He fell upon his knees before the awe-inspiring majesty of the lion, tears streamed down his face.
Do not weep son of Adam. I am here. Dry your tears and look upon the land that you have longed to see. Look and remember, for the next time you see Narnia, it will be much changed, all for the better of course.
Digory rose and grasping Aslan's mane, walked with Him towards the lamppost that so many years ago he had seen placed there. They continued on till they came to an opening in the trees and, there spread out before his eyes was Narnia. The beautiful country he loved. After a time, Aslan said it was time for him to go, and Digory turned and went back towards the opening to our world with a glad heart. He wished to stay but knew that it was his time to go. He gazed once more into the lion's face and saw a love and peace so strong that it nearly knocked him over. Digory kissed the big nose, hugged the glossy mane, and turned away. Making his way back through the trees, then the coats, and finally through the wardrobe door, Digory felt a lightness he had not felt for many years. He turned and as he was looking through the door he whispered "thank you," and felt a warm breath brush his face as he closed the door for the last time. Turning away, the professor left that room without looking back but with a renewed heart.
Many years later, after the house had burned down, and he had moved, the professor would walk through his new garden in the evenings. And, every so often, he thought he could hear faint voices of nymphs, fawns, and even, sometimes, Aslan Himself, carried to him upon the wind.