AN: Okay, wow, so I had a little extra writting time and well...the whole second chapter resulted from it!
No spring is truly eternal and no summer lasts for ever; autumn set in without warning over the land of Narnia, covering the ground with leaves of crimson and gold, and later, light frost, as if warning that winter was only a few short weeks away.
It was on one of these uncomfortable in-between major season nights, too chilly for unlit black coal and too warm for a full-on roaring fire, snuggled up in what had probably once been a wool blanket before it aged and became a victim of patchwork turning it into more of a quilt, that Lucy began to have strange dreams. In them, she would be walking through the forest at what seemed to be the twilight hour and always thought she saw some sort of white light ahead of her, beckoning to her.
It was a kindly voice, not high like a woman's, deeper, like that of an older boy or of a man. "Lucy..."
She might have thought it to be Aslan, the great Lion, but she'd met him before (with her sister and mother), and could tell the voice wasn't his. It wasn't quite rich enough, there wasn't any hint of a golden timbre, no sense of Lion-likeness. It was certainly a human's voice, that much she was pretty sure of. Still, what male human would call her name? Really, how many male humans actually knew it? Apart from her father, who'd died when she was very, very small, she could very nearly count on one hand all the men she had met in her life with the exception of a few travelers here and there.
Still, no matter how far the dream-Lucy wandered in the forest, she never got any closer to the light, nor the voice, and the twilight hour never ended; the sun didn't set. Lucy always woke up before anything was clarified.
Susan, who-Aslan bless her-was so complete in her practicality, that even her dreams were, on the whole, often disturbingly realistic (literally, of herself washing clothes and mending tears and sweeping the cottage just as she would in real life), had no real interest in Lucy's sudden forest outings in the land of nod. It was her job, she felt, to protect her sister from real dangers, not dreamt ones. What did it matter if Lucy thought someone was trying to call her? Lucy was always pretending things and thinking things; it was just part of what made Lucy, well...Lucy. So, while she listened in her usual polite, sisterly fashion, she didn't harp on it the way her little sister did.
When winter arrived, one of the coldest and wettest winters either of the two sisters could remember, even Widow Pevensie having very few worse ones to compare it to, Lucy's dreams changed. She was no longer in the forest going after white lights, rather, she was, oddly enough, sleeping in bed just as she was in real life. Only, in the dream, she could hear the footsteps of unfamiliar boots that were not, she was positive, her mother's winter shoes, nor Susan's dainty light foot-falls. They got closer to the bed each night and soon, it occurred to Lucy that the feet were not heading over towards the side where Susan always slept, but towards her own side. Once, she thought she caught a glimpse of the faint out-line of a hand coming quite close to her shoulder as if to shake her awake, but she woke up mere seconds later, before anything more could happen.
On the night before the first hard snow-fall in that icy, bitter, almost-deathly winter, in her dream, she saw the hand again. This time, though, she got both a better look at it-it was thicker than that of her mother's or sister's and the arm it was attached to seemed thicker, too. And the hand did actually come down on her shoulder and gently shake her. "Lucy, wake up, I need to talk to you."
Not like Susan's voice. Not like mother's voice. Very like the white light's voice from the autumn dreams.
She opened her eyes and turned to look at the face; it was sort of dark but she could tell it was a boy, and she felt as if they had met at least once before though the rum lighting didn't help her place him. Blinking twice, she sat up in the bed. Susan moaned; she didn't like when Lucy moved too much in her sleep, it irritated her.
"Lucy." said the boy, noticing she was doing nothing but blinking and squinting at him.
"Who are you?" She finally managed to whispered in a very low voice so as not to wake anyone else up (she was the sort of girl who had manners even in her dreams, having had a good deal of them hammered into her brain by Susan and Widow Pevensie since birth).
"No time for that now." He whispered back, sort of snappishly. "I have to tell you something, Lucy, it's very important."
"How do you know my name?" Lucy wanted to know, deciding she would hear him out when his presence became a little less alarming.
"I heard your sister say it, she talks in her sleep." He explained hurriedly.
"But how-" Lucy started, feeling more confused than ever.
"Oh, girls!" He groaned, making a motion almost as if to slap himself on the forehead out of frustration. "Never stop prattling on and let a chap speak his mind!"
Lucy pursed her lips and frowned, somewhat offended. She may have been of the female sex but she certainly wasn't one of those gossiping never-shut-up sort of girls. Why was there some strange boy wandering around their cottage anyway?
"Come now," he said; there was a little more light in the cottage as it seemed to be getting closer to dawn and he could make out the displeased expression on her face. "don't be cross, really, I haven't said anything so horrible."
And truly he hadn't, not really. But that wasn't what made Lucy's face change so suddenly and light up with excitement. Because of the extra light, she could see him more clearly, just as he could see her; it was the boy from the forest! The one mother had called a fairy! She could tell because even though this tunic was more of a gray colour rather than a white one, his face and hair were still the same and he still wore the silver scabbard at his side.
"It's you!" Lucy blurted out, still rather softly though a little louder than she had intended so she lowered her tone a bit. "You're the boy who was watching over Susan and me that night at the gorge."
"Yes, that's me." He admitted quickly, taking a step closer to the bed and eyeing the small bay window at his back nervously as if worried either about something coming after him or of the time. "Now then, here's what I need to tell you: My brother is coming tomorrow night. You and your sister have to watch over him, alright? Let him stay in the cottage-it's safer and warmer."
"How do you mean?" Lucy's brow crinkled slightly. Brother? The fairy who watches over good children-if that's what he was-had a brother?
"Just let him stay with you when he wants to, alright then?" The boy seemed even more anxious now, though Lucy couldn't figure why.
She supposed it wasn't a very great thing to offer someone hospitality. Widow Pevensie always offered tired travelers shelter for a night or so when they needed it and if the boy was this desperate for his brother to have a place to stay for a while surely she could promise him that if it would put him at ease.
"I guess he can stay...for a little while..." Lucy told the boy at last.
"Good." He breathed a sigh of relief and turned to leave. Then he stopped suddenly to say something over his shoulder. "But um, you might not know him for who he is right away. He looks...different...in all that fur."
Oh, thought Lucy-as the boy started to fast-walk away again, I suppose he means his brother has a large fur coat he wears in the winter? "Mum wanted to buy fur coats for me and Susan but we can't afford them."
The boy stopped again. "Are you very poor?"
"I don't know." Lucy admitted with a small shrug of her shoulders, never having truly given the matter much thought. When Widow Pevensie said they could have something, they had it and when she said she was very sorry but they couldn't have something, then they didn't. It was as simple as that.
"I see. Goodnight, Lucy." He chuckled slightly, the first real hint of a sense of humor Lucy had seen in him as if yet. "Or, should I say, good morning."
Lucy's eyes shot open. She wasn't sitting up talking to the strange boy from the gorge, rather she was still laying down on the bed with her head on the pillow, turned to the opposite side of the window. An inch or so away, Susan snored contently as if she hadn't a care in the world.
At first, Lucy was somewhat indignant that Susan could sleep through something so strange going on in their cottage until it came to her that her dreams were not automatically common knowledge even when they felt as real as the one she'd just had. Strangely enough, dream or not, Lucy had the very odd feeling that the boy's brother, whoever he was, really would come to stay at their cottage that night. Of course, Susan would just think that was pure nonsense and be quite cranky if Lucy woke her up and told her the news now; but surely when she saw the boy's brother at their front door that night, she would have to believe it. Then Lucy realized she hadn't even learned his name or even the brother's name and made up her mind that she would not forget to ask the brother all about everything when he came.
That night, Lucy was a little restless waiting for the visitor. Her strange conviction that he would come hadn't lessened at all during the day and she had even slipped up and mentioned something to Susan about it-and she of course thought her little sister was just making up a story as a sort of game and didn't really say anything about it.
Now they were all seated around Widow Pevensie's chair and she held in her hands a book of old tales instead of a needle and thread, reading to her daughters by the warm orange-coloured glow of the firelight. That night's story was about a soldier who was given a magical sack that could catch anything inside of it-all he had to do was order it in there.
"When the soldier wanted to capture something he would hold open his great sack and say, 'What is this? Do you know what it is?' and the creature would answer, 'A sack?' " Widow Pevensie read aloud, pausing for dramatic effect as the wind outside the cottage howled and blew the thick swarms of bee-like snowflakes around in little mini-hurricanes. "The man gave his soon-to-be prey a sharp look and said to it, 'If this is a sack, get in it!' and the creature had no choice but to jump into the sack and let itself be caught."
Lucy actually forgot about the boy's brother for a little while and allowed herself to be caught up in the story. It ended badly with the soldier capturing the source of all death and evil in his sack and then having to release it all over again for some reason or other that Lucy couldn't understand, thinking the ending of the story quite a let down. All the same, when it was over she couldn't resist looking over at Susan with a rather impish smile.
"What?" as it happened, Susan was mending an old burlap sack they used to store rice and other grains on good years when they could afford it while she listened to the story.
"Susan, what's that you're mending? Do you know what it is?" Lucy forced back an involuntary giggle.
"A sack." Susan replied, wondering why Lucy couldn't tell what it was for herself.
"If that is a sack, get in it." Lucy waited for a moment. Nothing happened but Susan did finally get the joke.
"Nice try, Lu." She smiled back at her and shook her head, thinking how very dull life without a little sister would be.
Widow Pevensie chuckled a little at her elder daughter's grace and her younger daughter's playfulness, thinking only how wonderful it was to have two such good-hearted children.
A sudden rapping at the door, shaking the wooden planks on the floor just below it, snapped them out of their thoughts.
"Lucy, dear, please make haste and go open the door." Widow Pevensie said sympathetically. "It must be a traveler seeking shelter for the night and anyone out there is sure to freeze to death in this weather."
The brother! Thought Lucy-getting up and rushing over to the door to lift up the latch and open it.
Susan stopped mending the sack and let her eyes drift curiously over to the door, wondering what the traveler would be like. Sometimes they had visitors who where very old and weak and didn't say much, but other times they had jolly-faced persons who liked to tell amusing jokes. Susan had a way of taking a liking to both sorts but she always wondered for that one moment before the door was opened all the way, which they would be and wished she could know before-hand and prepare herself.
The first thing Lucy saw was thick, black fur absolutely covered, even crusted-over, with snow and frozen rain. Thinking this to just be the brother's fur coat (it was, but not in the way she was expecting), she held the door open a little wider so she could let him in. A slight grunt came out of whatever was under all that black fur and a black nose and stuck its way in, sniffing a little. It wasn't a person at all; at least, not a human person. It was a large black bear.
Stunned and caught completely off-guard, Lucy made a short backwards leap from the doorway and let out a scream.
Susan, even more frightened than Lucy, yelped, dropped the sack on the floor, and hid behind their mother's cot.
The bear, taking all this in with his steady rarely-blinking eyes, seemed a little distraught, but he didn't spring at anyone. He didn't pounce on Lucy who was the closest or pull himself completely into the cottage. Rather, he shifted his sad glance over from Lucy to Widow Pevensie as if to make a plea.
AN: thoughts please? Do leave a review!
