Spare 'Oom. That's the hardest to say goodbye to. The room he himself never cared about, the room tourists never looked twice at. Just goes to show how "wise" this "wise old man" is. It looks just the same as always, the Wardrobe was much too important to be sent with everything else. There's even a long dead blue-bottle on the window. Probably the Pevensies would find some significance in that.
He's been known to spend hours in this room, staring out the window or at the Wardrobe that has come to mean so much more than merely a souvenir. And he sits here now, wincing at the pain in his back as he lowers himself to the ground. This will be his last goodbye to this sacred room. It's almost unbearable to think of the people that bought the house it sticking a bed in here, or painting it, or just leaving it lonely and alone and…no. He mustn't think of that. There's no time for sadness.
He sits for a while, letting the sunlight warm his aching joints, when, in a sudden rush of boyish energy, he leaps up and runs to over to the Wardrobe. He has to try, one last time. This room is special, this Wardrobe is made of Narnian wood, he's the Lord Digory from the legends, by gum! He's practically on the same level as High King Peter, why shouldn't he get to go back one last time? And why not today?
He opens the door, laughing softly at its depleted store of coats. This feels wonderful, he feels like he hasn't felt in years, like a little boy afraid to be caught but having too much fun to stop. He wonders why the Beavers weren't offended by the coats, many are in fact beaver, and he actually feels quite bad about it. He steps in, relishing the feel of fur against his wrinkled skin, the wonderful energy coursing through him. It seems like the perfect moment, this is when it's going to happen! The excitement builds- he's going back! How he's missed it, how he's dwelt on it, how he's wished he'd just been at the right place at the right time. But no more wishing. A laugh escapes him, and he pushes the last few coats aside and…..
Wood. Solid, unyielding wood. He knocks against it just to be sure. The energy leaves him.
"You shouldn't have expected it, you old fool." He gives a soft, sad laugh. "You're only supposed to go once, and that's more than most people get. Be thankful." He closes the door, but not without one last peek. All wood. "It's Narnian wood." He tries to console himself, and slides down the door, closing his eyes, the nostalgia threatening to overwhelm him. He sits for what seems like days, until the sadness leaves him and he's filled with memories, some of Narnia, some of before, some of after.
He doesn't know when he drops off to sleep, but when he does he dreams of lions. And for the first time in a long while, he feels peace. Peace that is so very Narnian.
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Thoughts? Reviews always loved, cherished, savored etc.