A/N: I decided to add another one of these gift stories since I had the time and idea brewing. Yes I'll write the third and forth (Edmund got his own gift even if it wasn't from inside Father Christmas' bag) sometime too. I don't know when, but for now enjoy.
The Diamond Vial
Her face looked at her new gift with awe that joyous Christmas morning. But I thought I saw a glimpse of fear in her eyes too. After all when she would have to use this would be in midst of great pain and strife. But I could also see the fire burning in her spirit. Regardless of any fear I knew she her valor would prevail.
"Your task is simple my friend. Three royal gifts befitting the monarchs of Narnia need making. One for the soon to be High King, and two for his sisters." Aslan's command was sounded simple, yet nothing was ever simple with the Lion. He had just approached me and sent my head spinning with the first words of hope to be spoken about regarding Narnia in a hundred years.
"Of course My Lord," I replied. "But the prophecy speaks of four monarchs. What of the younger king?"
"His tale is his own, as his gift." Aslan replied cryptically. "Rest assured my friend, he shall also receive his own gift that shall prosper Narnia."
"As you wish Aslan. I am at your service as always."
Aslan smiled at me and my heart glowed. "Thank you good Father. Here is what you must make first and the journey it requires."
The mountains towered over me. After several days of travel I had finally come to the mountains of Aslan's country. Somewhere within those peaks lay the Valley of the Sun. However I suddenly felt lost. I had never travelled this way before and knew not where the fire flowers grew. Just as I came to despair a birds cry from above caused me to look up.
It was the most spectacular bird I had ever seen. As large as swan yet its plumage rivaled the most glorious sunsets I had ever seen. Its song was thrilling, haunting, joyous, and simple all at once. I tried to wrap my head around such a thing could happen when I realized that it would be better to just enjoy it. I watched as the bird flew overhead like a streak of fire calling out its song. It flew straight to the mountains and was then lost to view in the crags.
"Lovely tune isn't it?"
The booming voice behind me caused me to jump. Turning I saw an old friend walking my way. Atlas, father of the good giants and more faithful friend one couldn't have. I smiled as I talked to him.
"That it is Atlas. I've never seen that bird before. Have you?"
"Aye," the giant replied. "Comes this way twice a day. Once in the morning and again near noon. When it comes back it always carries a piece of glowing sun-fire in its beak. Never knew a bird that could grip something that hot in its beak, but that's a phoenix for you."
That was it! I then knew how I would be able to find the Valley of the Sun. I looked up at my giant friend as my idea blossomed. "Atlas, do you know where in those mountains the phoenix goes?"
Good giants usually have a deep rumbling laugh that is a delight to hear. Atlas was no different as he chuckled at me. "Of course Father Christmas. That phoenix is the personal messenger of the Stars. Rumor has it that the Stars have decreed one of their old companions should be raised back to the sky. The only thing that can do that is the fire-berries from their valley. However the fire-berries can only heal a small bit of health at once. For a truly miraculous cure one would want the fire-flowers from which the berries bud from. But good luck, the flowers seldom bloom and even if one did find them, their nectar is hot enough to burn through just about anything."
"That's alright," I replied. "Can you take me there?"
Atlas smiled at me again. "I suppose so; you'd need my help anyway. There is a cliff guarding the entrance to the Valley of the Sun only I or one of my kin could lift you over. It's not like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders or anything." Talking as friends do we set off.
A day later we came to the cliffs Atlas had spoken of. He was right. The wall of stone was perfectly sheer. There would have been no way I could have climbed up on my own. Atlas however was as good as his word. Bending down he put his hand on the ground.
"Here we go. Up you get."
I sat down in his palm and he gently raised me to the cliff top. He set me down gently on the edge of the cliff and looked up at me. "I'll be right here when you get back."
Thanking him I turning into the valley. It nearly blinded me. The Valley of the Sun lived up to its name. The bushes on which the fire-berries grew glowed as bright as any star I had ever seen. The sheer walls of the mountains reflected the light to make everything a pure golden color. The heat from them was great, but not so much that it would be impossible to move around. Taking off my red coat I started looking amidst the bushes for any sign of the flowers I needed. However while there were plenty of berries to be found none of the bushed were in blossom. Undaunted I pressed farther into the valley.
I don't know how long it took me to reach the head of the valley, since there was no sense of time. It was always lit up like the brightest noontide within that place. Finally I reached the end of the valley and still hadn't seen single blossom. I was about to go back the way I had come when I noticed a path leading up into the mountains.
As far as paths go this one wasn't the best. Unlike the rest of the peaks, with their perfect smoothness, this crag was bruised and crumbling. The path up it was covered in loose gravel and sharp corners. It wandered up the face of the valley before turning into the mountain and disappearing overhead. Walking carefully I began to follow the path.
At once I noticed the way was rougher than it looked. My feet were constantly sliding on the ground and I had to steady myself more times than I care to remember. The stone of the mountain was rough on my hands. Soon I had acquired an impressive collection of small nicks and cuts. Looking at the stone in more detail revealed it to be of sharp obsidian of broken glass like sharpness. As I looked back where I had come and where I had to go, the path before me defiantly seemed harder.
I don't know why, stubbornness probably, I kept going. Time and again I slipped and fell. Soon not only my hands were cut, but my knees and shins too. Then I fell hard and heard the rip of cloth on stone and the slice of obsidian going through my right hand. A small tumble of rocks fell as I steadied myself. I inspected the wound and fear gripped my heart. My right hand was cut clean to the bone. I tried clenching my fist to stanch the blood flow but found the tendons had been cut too. I was devastated. If I couldn't use my hand then how would I be able to finish my work?
Then I heard the phoenix cry again. I looked to the sky and saw it carrying another berry in its beak as it winged its way west. The song it sang calmed my heart even if my hand still burned with pain. I watched until it was lost to view over the mountain. Then I saw it. One small flower growing out of a crack in the ground. It had five petals over a brown stem. Reds, oranges, and yellows colored the flower to make it look like a miniature campfire. Peering inside I could see the red nectar that was its juice.
Careful not to pick the flower I tipped it gently to the side to pour the nectar into an iron cup I had brought. I was a little too careful and thank the Lion for it. I was only able to pour one drop into my cup, but the instant it hit the iron the nectar sizzled and burned right through the metal. It fell to the slope as if the iron hadn't even been there. I looked down and started to think of how to move the nectar when I noticed something. It wasn't burning through the obsidian rock. The drop of nectar was just laying there glowing faintly.
I looked around frantically and then saw the small pile of rocks that had fallen when I had sliced open my hand. One of the rocks had broken to form a slight depression in the middle. It might not be a lot, but I thought it would hold a few drops of the precious nectar. Using my left hand I picked up the rock and brought it next the flower. My injured right hand was shaking from the pain, but I was able to use it to tip the nectar towards the rock cup I held. Just as I was about to pour my hand jerked and sent the nectar splashing all over the place, but sadly not into the rock I held.
It was then that I felt a burning sensation on my right hand. Two drops had fallen on my hand. One had landed squarely on my wound and to my great amazement the cut was mending itself. The nectar had found its way into my bloodstream and I could feel it burning through my veins. All of my other cuts were similarly healed within a few seconds, but the burning sensation was decidedly uncomfortable. Still my wounds were healed and I quickly sent Aslan a prayer of thanks and gratitude. Tipping my right hand I caught the second drop in the rock cup in I still held and ever so carefully I walked back down the path that somehow seemed a great deal easier.
I reached the edge of the Valley of the Sun to find Atlas waiting for me. "Found it then did you?" he asked as he lifted me down.
"I did," I replied. "However, I was only able to collect one drop. I doubt that will serve our needs. Maybe I can brew a similar potion when I get back to my shop."
"I think not," Atlas said. "One drop you might have, but that should be enough. Pour some water in it and I think you should be able to make a nice cordial. After all there are few things more healing as cold clear water, save that nectar of course."
"Of course," I said. Thanking my friend for his help I returned to my shop. I was still puzzled as to find a vessel secure enough to hold the fiery nectar I held in its rock cup. When I returned to my shop, I went to the stream outside that powered my waterwheel. The stream came from the same mountains I had just visited and was fed by the high glaciers at their peaks. The water was ice cold and clear as crystal. Kneeling next the stream I peered into it. A piece of glacier ice floated by and I was somehow reminded of a diamond as it passed.
Just then a strong wind blew in from behind me causing me to stagger a bit. My hand brushed the rock cup holding the nectar sending it flying towards the stream. It hit the water and something miraculous happened. As soon as the rock hit the water it started turning clear. Water poured over the top and mixed with the nectar. The rock was still turning clear and the change was continuing up as it grew of its own accord under the pure waters. I then heard the voice on the wind.
By valor found, by healing made new, for the Valiant given to restore the lost.
The wind died down and I reached into the stream. The rock had somehow changed and reformed. It was no longer rough and sharp. Rather the obsidian had been made new into a beautiful glass vial. The red juice within filled the vial to the top. Because of the wetness of the vial it slipped out of my hand and fell on the rocky stream bank. I fully expected the glass to break, but once again Aslan surprised me. He loves a good joke that Lion. The vial didn't shatter, the rock it landed on did. I knew at once the vial was made of diamond and nothing could shatter it.
I picked up the vial and brought it inside my shop. Swiftly I made a red leather pouch and belt for the vial. Another thought came to me as I set down my work. Suppose the wound was under layers of clothes and hard to see? I plucked the knife from my belt and added it and its sheath to the belt I had just made. Battles might be ugly affairs, but they still needed to be fought from time to time. And at the end the virtue of those who had fought would be well matched by the valor of the one who would heal them.