Disclaimer: I don't own "The Chronicles of Narnia."
Author's Note: I wrote this story for a class I took on Lewis and Tolkien, and enjoyed writing it so much I wanted to share!
It is raining in Narnia.
I know you don't usually think about rain falling in Narnia. Beautiful Narnia, land of talking beasts and child heroes, is always sunny and bright, especially in June. But this story will be of a different sort than others you may have read about Narnia. And that is because once again Narnia is in trouble, but this time there are no human children from our world to make it right.
And so it continues to rain. And this rain keeps getting colder and colder.
At Cair Paravel, the great castle by the sea, sits King Derian, Lord of Cair Paravel and Emperor of the Lone Islands, in a window seat of the plushest red velvet. He is trying to stare out across the great expanse of the Great Eastern Ocean and wishes to see all the way out to the Lone Islands, given to his great-great-grandfather King Gale for the crown of Narnia many years before. The only problem is, he can't see very far, because of the wind and the rain lashing against the window. He squints and stares, scrunching up his broad, honest face, but can't see much of anything beyond the waves breaking on the beach far below his window.
King Derian sighs, turns away, and rises, looking around the ornate throne room. Many wrinkles cross his aged face, and his hair, which must once have been a vibrant blond, has faded into an indeterminate gray. His eyes, however, are still a bright, intelligent blue. His attendants and courtiers - fauns, centaurs, dwarves, foxes, are waiting anxiously for him to speak.
"I have decided that I will wait." Derian declares in a voice softened by time but nevertheless still kingly.
The crowd of beasts greets this pronouncement with mixed reactions. Several nod their heads, others begin to mutter disappointedly. One dwarf, smaller than usual in stature, steps forward.
"Dearest King, 11th in descent from King Frank, first of all Kings, Lord of Cair Paravel and Emperor of the Lone Islands, son of that beautiful lady Queen Swanwhite, whose beauty was such that any forest pool into which she looked reflected her glorious visage for a year and a day afterward and who is sorely missed, lone remaining champion of us free people of Narnia, this is a grave mistake."
Others in the room mutter their agreement, and the dwarf steps back into the crowd, in-between a tall and mighty centaur and a small faun.
King Derian smiles sadly. "I know you, Pagun, and others, wish to make war against this Witch who is causing our land and our people such sadness. But I simply cannot. I am an old man, and I fear that after me there will be no more Kings of Narnia, and perhaps no more Narnia.
"This Witch may mean the end of all that we hold dear. But I still hope that the great lion, Aslan himself, will help us in our time of need. And our great Tree of Protection yet grows. The Witch cannot come into Narnia, and I see no need or ability left in us to take another army forward into the wild lands of the North to search for this Witch. We still know not where she might be, and time now is precious.
"I feel the years weighing heavily upon me, and I wish to make Narnia ready for a time when she shall be Kingless, for I fear that this time grows increasingly nearer."
"As you wish, my lord," says Pagun, with a short bow.
The beasts begin to slowly drift out of the room, leaving the King alone with his chief advisor and dearest friend, the tall chestnut centaur Wenum.
"Did I make the right decision?" asks Derian.
"There was a time when your majesty would not have questioned any decision he made" returned Wenum.
"But here, at the end, I cannot help it. How I wish my Queen were still here." said Derian.
For Queen Lilia, the love of his life and his constant source of love and inspiration, had been dead more than 40 years.
The cause of her death was none other than the Witch of whom you have heard Derian and his courtiers speak. In later years, she became known to Narnians as the White Witch, but you will hear about that in later books.
"By all accounts, I am the last human left in Narnia. The Witch has worked her sorcery so completely that any human not killed or enchanted has left Narnia in fear of his life, for Archenland. I am at a loss for what to do. I feel we must continue to wait for Aslan to send us a sign. Perhaps he will summon a Son of Adam or a Daughter of Eve out of their world far away to help us, as he brought the Lord Diggory and the Lady Polly here so many years ago with my ancestors King Frank and Queen Helen.
"Thus far, the Witch has seemed content to wait and not harm me. Perhaps she will wait too long, and help will arrive."
"I feel in my heart that your majesty is right," answers Wenum. "I wish the happiness of our youth were yet with us, but I do not fear the ending that seems to be upon us. We must trust in the lion to save us."
***
Far away, to the North, in a castle hidden by ice and snow, lives the Witch. This Witch, while being incredibly beautiful, has so much evil in her as to turn her beauty into the most repulsive ugliness. Her skin is so white as to be almost papery transparent, and her visage is one of hatred and scorn. On this day, she sits in great expectation for the return of her spy dwarves, sent a week ago down to Narnia and the castle of Cair Paravel by the sea to see if that infernally long-living King Derian is any closer to death. She thinks to herself that he is really lingering on much longer than is necessary and proper. Grinding her teeth together, she slams down her fist on the table in anger thinking of the Tree of Protection and the very aura of protection that seems to linger around the King's person, and that prevents her from journeying into Narnia herself and killing the King and finally taking the whole country for herself, covering it in glorious ice and snow. However, she allows herself a small smile when she thinks of herself living in the great castle of Cair Paravel, ruling all Narnia under her ice and snow. She feels that her time to grind all of Narnia under her heel will be soon.
'For really,' she thinks, 'It will much improved, to have those infernal flowers, and talking trees and those little abnormal talking creatures buried by snow and frozen by ice. And it will so much better suit my icy demeanor. And it is sure to happen very soon.'
Clutching an ornate goblet set with beautiful diamonds and made of steel so dark it almost appears black, she drinks of a potion that seethes and smokes, and then begins to talk aloud to herself in her excitement that the hour of her long-awaited conquest of Narnia is almost at hand.
"Of course, it was sheer brilliance that brought me to this point. Absolute centuries of scheming and planning, of setting spies in the right places, in spreading the right fears and rumors among those simple Narnians. And imagine! The spell that made all those stupid humans barren and impotent was absolute genius. And then, of course, announcing the beginning of the end of my exile all those years ago by drowning Queen Lilia in the Bight of Calormen. Ha! Those stupid fools! After all these years I will conquer. Pity on them that they believed they would be protected by that fool tree forever. My vigilance has finally paid off. They got careless and now my time of ascension is at hand.
"The first thing I will do, of course, once Derian, last of the Kings of Narnia dies and that tree dies with him, will be to outlaw all belief in that Lion. And it will never, ever, be Christmas in Narnia. Those fools will see. I am so much stronger now than anything they could hope to throw against me. I just have to wait for that stupid King to die. No one will dare to oppose me, especially not those fool humans who have fled to Archenland. Who knows? Perhaps eventually I will conquer them as well."
At that moment, a knock comes on her chamber door.
"Enter," snaps the Queen.
A cruel smile twists her face when she sees the arrival of her dwarf spy.
"What news of Narnia?" she demands. "Is the day for the King's death at hand?"
"Not yet," the dwarf says, grinning an evil little grin, "but he'll be gone any day now."
***
Throughout the forests and fields of Narnia, from Lantern Waste in the West to Cair Paravel on the Sea, the creatures of Narnia are scared. The rain, which has been falling steadily for some time, and seems to get worse with every report that comes from the great castle of the increasingly failing health of King Derian, is getting colder. Some of the nighttime animals, such as the barn owls, had been swearing that at the coldest time of night the rain looks and feels like snow.
The fear of the Witch is present in everyone's countenances. No one has been talking to any strange animals, and indeed the very cheerful sounds that once were present throughout Narnia, like the cries and speech of the various animals, the gentle swaying of a dryad in the breeze, the sound of far-off flutes being played by Fauns, the friendly tinkling of a bright stream, have been absent. The only sound the creatures of Narnia can hear as they hide in their burrows and houses, is the steady drum of the rain.
"Aslan, King Derian," they think.
"Help us, please."
***
The castle of Cair Paravel is dark against the cloudy night sky. King Derian lies in bed, but is yet awake. He repeats the prayer he has said night after night for more years than he can remember:
"Dear Aslan. Your children in Narnia need you. Please come to us. We need you now more than ever before. The end of Narnia is near. Send a Son of Adam or Daughter of Eve to us. Come, and save us from the evil Witch."
Derian finishes his prayer, and waits, as he does every night for a few minutes, straining his eyes and ears in the darkness of his room for a response. After waiting for a time, he sighs, as he does every night, and turns over to attempt sleep.
This night, however, Derian sees a golden glow as he shifts, beginning faintly but growing stronger all the time, shining through the doorway. It seems to be coming from the throne room.
A hope growing bright in his heart, Derian rises from bed and crosses the room. He steps through the door and all of his dreams, desires, hopes, are realized.
Standing in the middle of the room is the great Lion himself. Derian sinks to his knees in front of Aslan and begins to cry.
"Dearest, greatest Aslan," he sobs, gazing up at his bright golden face and warm liquidy brown eyes through his tears "I have waited so long for you. Have you come to restore the Tree of Protection, declare a new King and restore Narnia?"
Alsan gazes down at the King for quite some time, pity and a great love in his eyes. He leans down and licks the tears off of Derian's face with his warm and rough tongue.
"Dearest Derian, you have done well. Your faith in me has not been misplaced. I have indeed come to save you, but not in the manner you expect.
"You will be the last King of Narnia, for a time. You and your predecessors grew lax, as men are wont to do, in the many years of peace, tranquility and prosperity. The Witch has grown strong in her dark magic. She will now control Narnia, but only for a time. You will die soon, and when you do, she will ascend to control of Narnia."
As Derian begins to plead with Aslan that it must not be so, Aslan holds up a great paw to stop him.
"All however, is not lost. A time will come when Narnia will be delivered from the power of the Witch and everything will be made right again. That time is not yet upon us. It depends on four very special human children who have not yet been born.
"I have always known that evil will come of the evil of the Witch. I cannot stop what has been preordained from the beginning of Narnia, but I can limit the damage that it does. There will come a Spring at the end of the Witch's impending winter."
And this is what Aslan did to fix the evil.
***
Aslan roars. Derian doesn't feel that it is a particularly loud roar, but it causes a peculiar buzzing in his ears, and he knows that every true subject of Narnia has heard that roar and all of the words that follow it. The very earth shakes under Derian's knees with the impact of the words, and he knows that they will be remembered in Narnia for generations to come.
"Take comfort, dear Narnians. The Witch will not rule forever. Your deliverance will come in the form of human children from another world, as Diggory and Polly appeared so many years ago at the creation of Narnia. Watch for them. Be even vigilant, and remember this verse well.
When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone
Sits at Cair Paravel in throne,
The evil time will be over and done.
Remember also this, created tonight in Cair Paravel are four thrones (and as Aslan said this, four thrones did appear directly to the left of Derian, where his own throne had stood alone but moments before. It seemed to him that they emerged not out of thin air, but from the Lion himself.) When two Sons of Adam and two Daughters of Eve sit in those four thrones, then it will be the end not only of the White Witch's reign but of her life.
Remember this well, Narnians."
Aslan roars again, and all across the land, a great peacefulness and hope descends on all.
***
By the time Aslan has stopped talking, even though it seemed to take no time at all, but must have taken hours, for the sky was tinged gray along the horizon, Derian feels very weary.
Gazing up at Aslan, he whispers, "I am so tired and weak. I must lay down." Aslan supports the King as he makes his way back into his bed. Touching the tip of his tongue to the King's forehead, Aslan breathes "sleep." And King Derian of Narnia dies, and the last descendent of King Frank and Queen Helen, and the last human in Narnia, passes out of the world.
Far away, across the whole expanse of Narnia, the great Tree of Protection withers and dies, disappearing back into the ground from which it grew so many hundreds of years before.
In the North, an exultant shriek of cruel laughter is heard. Reindeer are harnessed onto a great sleigh. As the Witch rides south into Narnia, the rain turns to snow as she passes.
The creatures of Narnia hear her cackle as she passes "Winter...eternal winter. I am the Queen of Narnia, all will fall under my feet."
The Queen's proud and haughty face seems to be glowing from within with a sick glow. "At last," she whispers, "All of Narnia is mine!" She screeches "To Cair Paravel!" and her dwarf driver whips the reindeer until they are running so fast the newly fallen snow flies back under their hooves as they fly east.
Soon, they are at the gates of Cair Paravel. When the Witch sees that they are closed, she scoffs, "As if that could keep me out." But the gates hold, no matter how many spells she hurls at them or how many evil dwarfs beat on them with axes, hammers, and many other implements. Safe inside, sit the four thrones, waiting for their future Kings and Queens.
And so the Witch knows that she can never have all of Narnia. Cursing Aslan, she returns to her castle of the North, contenting herself in ruling unjustly and cruelly over the creatures of Narnia...until she hears of Aslan's prophecies...
***
Across Narnia, the creatures have hope. Birds chirp, fauns flutes twinkle, bears roar, and dryads breathe "Winter will end. Someday. Narnia. Aslan."