All My Children: Doorways of Yesterday
A small, uninhabited island in the Pacific. An open doorway made of tree branches. The homeland of the original Telmarines. World War II. See where I'm going with this?
A magical doorway takes the Telmarines, after their defeat by Caspian X, to their original homeland. That doorway in the Pacific Ocean, three hundred miles off the coast of Japan is left open. Platoon Sergeant Pevensie and his platoon are about to enter Narnia at the height of the Golden Age.
oOoOoOoOo
The first brave former Telmarine soldier stepped out onto the new—or, rather, old soil. The first thing he noticed was that it was very warm, much warmer than it had ever been in Narnia. Humid, as well. The flora also seemed much changed, with wide, bright green leaves and brilliant flowers blooming as far as he could see into the thick forest. Birds, far more colorful than he had ever seen flew to and fro, singing beautiful and exotic songs, while vibrant frogs chirped from their perches on small shrubs.
He took off his stuffy jacket, helmet, and chain mail, and removed the rest of his armor, along with his shoes and stockings. Much better! But, where were the others? He looked back to the doorway, but could not see through the pure white glow it emitted. Hadn't the Lion said they would all come to this new land together? He frowned, and then shrugged. He supposed he would simply have to wait. After all, the last time the Telmarines didn't trust Him, look where that got them.
He strolled out from the shade of the trees and into the glaring sun. Had it ever been so intense back home? He didn't think so. But no matter. It would not do to be hesitant in this new world.
Stopping to listen, he heard the faint sound of crashing waves, smiling faintly as he recalled his childhood by the Eastern Ocean, in the days when his parents were still alive, before he was drafted into the king's army, when his greatest joy was to go sailing and feel the wind through his hair. Still grinning, he set off toward the noise.
oOoOoOoOo
"All right men, form ranks!"
"Yes, sir!"
William Pevensie, husband of Helen Pevensie, father of Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy Pevensie, fell in line with twenty-six other men. They had just landed on the shore of an unknown, seemingly uninhabited island. Nevertheless, this close to Japan, one would do well to stay alert.
Sure enough, William was right. In the distance, he caught sight of a lone figure rapidly approaching the platoon. "Lieutenant!" he hissed. Lieutenant Kelly looked at him and raised an eyebrow. William subtly nodded toward the incoming silhouette. Kelly nodded fractionally and nonchalantly turned his head toward the possible threat. The rest of the men, noticing the exchange, stared at the pair with an unusual alertness.
"Men," the lieutenant began quietly, "there is an unknown entity breaching the perimeter. It is not clear whether it is hostile, but we shall find out rather soon, I imagine." He gave a wolfish grin. "Arms at the ready." William gulped.
oOoOoOoOo
"Well, this might be a problem." The former soldier thought to himself. He had been walking for only a few minutes, and already he was thirsty. He decided to keep walking towards the sound of water. Maybe this ocean's water would be as sweet as that of the Eastern Ocean. There was only one way to find out.
Finally, he cleared the last of the foliage and stepped out onto the pale, squishy sand. "But, by the king, that's hot!" The sand was scorching and seared the poor man's feet. After experimenting a few more times, the unfortunate man concluded that he could not get across the sand barefooted. Trotting back to the shade on tender soles, he found two broad, moist leaves that were soothing against his burnt feet. He also scrounged around for some rope-like material, and found several suitable lengths of wiry roots. Tying the leaves to his feet with the roots, he tentatively stepped out again onto the sand. Discovering that with the makeshift shoes the sand's heat was not nearly so severe, he set off—albeit clumsily—for the waves.
Almost running the last few meters downhill, he jumps into the surf. The water was cool, but not too cold, and he tore off his leafy footwear in favor of letting the waterlogged sand envelop his feet. But didn't that feel wonderful! Bending down, he cupped his hands together and scooped up some of the clear water. Bringing his hands to his mouth, he took a drink.
Immediately, he spit it out, sputtering, throat burning and nose aching. No, this was nothing like the Eastern Ocean. Nothing at all like the Eastern Ocean. What was this place?
Suddenly, he heard splashing. Wading a bit farther out into the sea, he craned his neck to look for the commotion. Could it have been his comrades?
No, it wasn't. There was a cluster of figures in the distance, but he could not make out a single trait. They seemed strangely bulky, and moved with a wary stiffness. Shrugging to himself, and figuring it could not hurt just to take a quick peek, he slowly ambled through the knee-high water towards what would hopefully be an explanation. After this week, really, he was beyond being surprised.
oOoOoOoOo
"Dear God, is he carrying a sword?"
"Armor! By Jove, would you look at that! The poor sod looks like a medieval knight!"
"Maybe he's one of King Arthur's, eh?"
As the figure came closer and closer, and his apparel became more defined, the jibes got louder and louder. Indeed, the strange man looked like something out of one of William's youngest daughter's storybooks. He had pale pink skin and shaggy sandy blond hair, so he probably wasn't an enemy. Barelegged to his knees and fairly buff, he strode through the surf blissfully unaware of their presence. They watched and laughed as he sampled the Pacific water—"That's not gonna get'cha anywhere, mate!" –and sobered as he started directly towards the platoon. Each man had a hand on his rifle.
"Oh, hello!" the odd man, waved. "I say, who are you?" He had a unidentifiable accent. Coming closer and closer, he called out, "Do you happen to have any water?"
Private Jonathon Cook, a brash man standing next to William, yelled back, "Yes, we do. Would you like some?" Lieutenant Kelly shot him a sharp look, which he ignored. "All you'd have to do is drop your arms!"
"Alrigh—"
"Enough!" Shouted Kelly.
But it was too late. The man had already dropped his sword, and also what looked like a dagger, and picked up his pace.
oOoOoOoOo
"So," the former Telmarine began, "what exactly is this place?" Forty minutes later, after many introductions and gulps of water, they had made camp and shared their rations with him. "And who are you all?"
"This is an unidentified island in the Pacific Ocean, and we are a platoon of His Majesty's Royal Army." Said a man named Harold Smith. He raised an eyebrow. "I think the better question is, who are you?"
"Well," the fellow in question began, "I used to be a Narnian—or, at least, what I thought was a Narnian—and apparently before that, I was Telmarine. Now I don't know what I am. But my name is Rolf."
The His Majesty's 23rd Platoon exchanged glances.
"Rolf, would you like to take a lie down? You're probably very tired after a trip across universes, aren't you?" Rolf yawned.
"Well, I suppose I am a mite sleepy." He slurred. "But really, good people, the way from Narnia wasn't too difficult. Just follow Aslan, I mean, right?" He stretched out and lied down. "Right?" Rolf was fast asleep.
oOoOoOoOo
"He's a looney." William looked over at his friend Gregory McGuffey and couldn't help but agree.
"The man is certainly touched in the head. Sunstroke, you think?" William suggested.
"Maybe, but I don't think so." The platoon's unofficial medic, Thomas Brady, examined him. "Look, he isn't sunburned at all."
"Wonder what an aslan is?" Henry asked.
"Dunno. And what do you suppose Narnian or a Telmarine is?" questioned Jonathon.
"They almost sound like…nationalities? But I've never heard of either." William responded. Just then, Lieutenant Kelly marched over to the clustered soldiers.
"Listen up, men," everyone stood at attention. "We don't know who the hell this guy is, or where the hell he's from, but we're going to find out. Pevensie, you take your cluster over here and scout the area where 'Rolf'" he nudged the man in question with his boot, "appeared. Perhaps there are more of them. You will report back to me at sixteen hundred hours. Is that clear?" Kelly glared at them. At their affirmation, he nodded approvingly. "Good." He snapped a salute, and then walked back to the rest of the platoon.
"Alright, men, you heard the lieutenant." William called out. "Let's move!" They gathered canteens of water and other supplies needed for a short hike, and set off into the jungle.
oOoOoOoOo
"Great Scott, would you look at this!"
"What?"
"It's…it's a doorway! A bloody doorway!"
"What?"
"Come, see for yourselves!"
The four other men hurried over to where Private Gregory McGuffey was staring, mouth agape. In front of them was a rectangle frame made of—tree branches? Jonathon walked around the—thing—slowly, eyeing it critically. "You sure it's a doorway? It's probably just a funny growin' tree."
"With no leaves?" Gregory said reproachfully. "No, this is unmistakably a doorway. I can feel it." William stared at his comrade with a sad, longing look. McGuffey was the youngest man in the platoon and painfully reminded him of his youngest daughter. Oh, how he missed Lucy! How he missed all four of them! He mentally shook himself. There would be time to dwell on such matters afterwards.
"This is abs—"Cook's voice suddenly cut off.
"Er, Pevensie?"
"Mmm?"
"We have a problem."
"What do you—oi! Where's Cook?"
"That's the problem!" Brady exclaimed, panicking. "He walked through that doorway," his face twisted into a scowl. "And he disappeared!"
"Are you daft?" William questioned incredulously. "If he went through the tree branches, he would have come out the other side. It's quite simple Brady."
"I know that! I know that!" Brady was waving his hands emphatically and pacing frantically. "But he didn't come out the other side!"
"Brady!" William barked. "There is nothing magical or fantastical about those sticks! They. Are. Just. Wood." His patience was wearing thin. And as if to prove his point, he strode over to the mysterious doorway and took a purposeful step through it. And he vanished.
"See! See! Look!" Brady was jumping up and down, pointing at the place where Pevensie and Cook had seemingly evaporated. He laughed somewhat hysterically. "It's magic! Magic!"
"Magic." Gregory repeated. He walked in a circle around the spot. It looked exactly the same from the other side. In fact, he could even see Brady through the gaps in the branches, along with a few flowers blooming behind the frantic man. But when he poked his index finger into the doorway, he could no longer see it. And from Brady's gasp, Gregory knew that he couldn't see it either.
Gregory jerked his hand back, and his finger reappeared. This was all so surreal. He took a deep breath, and looked over at Brady. The man was staring at him with wide eyes. Gregory made a decision.
"Right. Magic. We're going in there."
"What?" aghast, Brady's face melted into a mask of horror.
"You heard me."
"But…but…there could be…there could be…"
"Could be what?"
"I don't know! Bears! All sorts of wild beasts and creatures!"
"Brady, that's Cook and Pevensie in there. Besides, what would Kelly say if we came back without them?"
Brady muttered something under his breath. "I still think it's a bad idea."
"Come on, already." Gregory grasped Brady's arm and shoved him through the doorway. He disappeared. Gregory took another step, and vanished as well. The forest was silent.
oOoOoOoOo
A/N: Yes, I know that there weren't many British soldiers in the Pacific during WWII. Yes, I know that C.S. Lewis never gave the Pevensies' father a name. Do I care? No, because it's fiction.
So Mr. Pevensie and a few other guys are sent back to the Golden Age, right before the four children fall back through the wardrobe. It's been stewing in my head for a bit, and I'd like to see what the reception would be. So, do you like?
Please review. I keeps me going, and it jumpstarts me into writing. Oh, and I need a beta reader. Thanks!