Author's note: To the reviewer who asked if I'm continuing this story, the answer is yes! I have quite a few chapters planned, although I'm not sure how long it will actually end up being. And to the other reviewer who asked about how long the Pevensies will be staying in Narnia, I'm afraid that's a spoiler I'm not willing to share. You'll just have to wait and see! ;) Anyways, thank you to everyone who has reviewed! I read and appreciate all of your kind words.
...
Despite his better judgment that told him that he shouldn't be following strange, talking, probably magical, beavers into unknown woods, Mr. Pevensie found himself holding his wife's hand tightly all the same and accompanying Mr. and Mrs. Beaver on a short walk through the woods to their home.
He supposed he should have expected to see not a 'regular' house as he was used to, but instead an actual beaver's dam. After all, these were actual beavers he was walking with, not humans. However, it surprised him to see it all the same. The quaint wooden structure was situated on the edge of where the immense forest met a calm stretch of a river, and it looked surprisingly homey. It stood much taller than any beaver's dam that Mr. Pevensie had ever seen in pictures or books, although it was still shorter than either he or his wife. In fact, he could see curtained windows on the sides, and a chimney emitting soft puffs of smoke attached to the roof of the dam, which projected an almost cottage-like feel, if you ignored the fact that it was made entirely out of sticks.
"Here we are!" Mrs. Beaver said pleasantly, proudly opening the door to her home and gesturing for them to come inside. "Do sit down and make yourselves comfortable. I'll get the water boiling for some tea, and I do believe I have a few scones left from breakfast this morning..." Her sentence trailed off as she walked through the door.
Mr. Pevensie shared a quick glance with his wife before ducking his head down to step inside. The interior of the dam was just as cozy as its exterior, and he found it to be a pleasing miniature version of an average home, complete with a miniature kitchen in which Mrs. Beaver was busying herself preparing them tea. In fact, if it weren't for the walls, he might have thought he was back in his late parent's summer cottage in England that he had visited as a young boy. He felt oddly at home, despite the strange circumstances.
As both of the Pevensies stood looking around them in curiosity, Mr. Beaver entered and sat himself down on one of the small stools that stood around a table in the center of the room. Following his lead, George led his wife to the table and pulled out a stool for her to sit on before seating himself as well. It was a little cramped, given that they were significantly larger than either of the Beavers, but it wasn't uncomfortable.
"Well, humans, how did you come to find yourselves in Narnia?" Mr. Beaver asked them curiously, a friendly smile on his furry face. "Oh, and pardon me, but I don't suppose I asked for your names earlier, so you might as well introduce yourselves."
"Right, of course." George found himself answering calmly, surprised at how well he was handling this outwardly despite feeling sufficiently bewildered inside. "My name is George Pevensie, and this is my wife Helen. We're from Finchley. Which is in England. And I can't rightly say how we ended up here in, what did you call it, Narnia? I was wandering in the woods in France just moments ago. At least, I thought I was. Now, I'm not quite so sure."
"I wasn't in France. I was in a bookstore, in Finchley." Helen spoke up softly, sounding puzzled. "I walked through a door that was behind the counter, and then I was suddenly in the woods with you, George."
"My, that is a curious tale." Mrs. Beaver replied as she began placing teacups, saucers, and some delicious looking blackberry scones on the table in front of her guests. "I've never heard of a 'Finch-lee' or a 'France' before. I was certain you'd have arrived the same way our dear Kings and Queens did. Are you certain you weren't near War-drobe? Or the land of Spare Oom?"
"Quite certain." George answered, confused at how this could be relevant at all. "I've never heard of any place with such strange names."
"Well, it would seem our monarchs came to be here in a different manner than you have." Mr. Beaver mused. "Although, I'm certain that, however you came to be here, it was Aslan who brought you all the same. There's no doubt about that!" Mrs. Beaver, hearing her husbands declaration, nodded her head in agreement as she set herself down at the table and poured herself a cup of tea.
"Aslan?" George questioned as he placed a scone on his plate. "I've never heard of such a leader. Is he in league with the Germans or is he with the Allied forces?"
"Germans?" Mr. Beaver scoffed. "I don't know what manner of creature a 'German' is. Aslan is the true King of Narnia, the great lion who comes from overseas."
"A lion?" Helen echoed, as she sipped her tea. "Curious. I think I heard a lion roaring before I found you in the forest, George." She turned to catch his eyes. He returned her gaze with a doubtful look, but the Beaver's latched onto her words.
"That settles it then. It couldn't have been anyone else who brought you here, I dare say!" Mr. Beaver insisted, sounding a bit excited.
"But if it was this mysterious Aslan who brought us here, whatever would he want us for?" Helen asked.
"Well, I'm sure he has his reasons." Mrs. Beaver insisted as she began to clean up the remnants of their tea. "He always wants what is best for Narnia, after all. I reckon the quickest way to find out what that reason may be would be to take you to Cair Paravel. And the sooner we get you there, the better, I think."
"Quite right. And if we leave now and don't dawdle, we should be able to get you both there within a few days." Mr. Beaver added, standing to his feet. "I'll start packing, and we should be able to leave in no time." He moved away from the table and began to busily help Mrs. Beaver pack different odds and ends into a few bags she had produced, leaving George sitting alone with Helen, slowly sipping tea and eating scones.
He watched the beavers for a few moments as they began to busily move around the inside of their home, packing food and supplies for their journey. They spoke quietly and familiarly to each other as they packed, moving in tandem almost. Although he couldn't hear everything they were saying, he could hear Mr. Beaver mention what the best routes would be, and he thought he heard Mrs. Beaver mention something about bringing a few different types of jam.
"George, should we follow them to this 'Cair Paravel'?" Helen whispered into his ear, startling him out of his observance. "How do we know that this isn't some trick or a trap of some kind? All of this is so fantastical I'm not sure I'm not just dreaming it all up." She shook her head slightly in bewilderment.
"I don't know what else we can do." He answered honestly, reaching out and squeezing her hand softly in reassurance. "I don't know how to get back to my camp in France, if that's even possible from where we are. And I certainly don't know how to get you back to Finchley, either. Maybe if we go and meet these mysterious monarchs they can give us a map, or maybe they'll have access to a telephone or telegraph that we can use to get help. At the very least, they may be able to point us in the right direction."
"I suppose you're right." She admitted, still looking worried. "It's just all so strange."
"We'll just have to trust these beavers, and hope that they can help us." He replied, and Helen nodded hesitantly in agreement, before smiling softly at him.
"Well, no matter what happens, I'm glad I got to see you." She said, reaching out to grab both of his hands tenderly. "I missed you very much, my dear."
"And I you, Helen." He returned her smile with a grin of his own.
"You ready, humans?" Mr. Beaver called, breaking the two of them apart. "I believe we've packed everything we need."
"I suppose so." George said reluctantly, rising from his chair. Helen did the same.
"Then let's hurry. No time to waste!" Mr. Beaver instructed, hurrying them all outside of the dam.
And with that, they were back into the forest for the second time that day, and heading towards the mysterious Cair Paravel.
...
Helen was quite certain that Narnia, despite its oddities and fantastical nature, was the most beautiful land she had ever seen. Of course, she would have preferred to see it's beauty under better circumstances, where she knew where she was and how she had come to be there, and preferably with a lot less walking involved and in better walking clothes than her house dress and pumps that, while sensible in England, made for some terrible conditions while tracking through the wilderness. Still, it was a wonderful land nonetheless.
It seemed to be almost untouched by humanity, and not simply because she had seen no other human beings since they had found themselves there. Unlike England, or even other places throughout Europe that she had visited as a child, nature still ran untouched in Narnia. There were no paved roads or worn pathways cutting through the trees, no noisy city streets full of people yelling, and no loud sounds of cars and planes and other machinery at work. The air was clean and clear, none of the smog she'd come to expect from living in London, and she found herself distracted simply from breathing in and out the clear country air. It made her feel rejuvenated, as if she was years younger, and put a spring in her step.
They walked with the beavers for the rest of the day through woods, glens, and meadows, chatting softly with one another about mindless things such as Mrs. Beaver's love of cooking (she promised Helen she would teach her the recipe for those delicious scones they had shared back at the Beaver's dam) as well as Mr. Beaver's love of fishing (something that George was quite passionate about, but that bored Helen and Mrs. Beaver to tears). George attempted to speak about the war a few times, and Helen herself attempted to discuss the part-time work she had taken up in the factory since the war had started, but the Beaver's seemed very confused when it came to machinery, leading them both to realize Narnia must be further behind England in modern advancements. She supposed it must be a very remote and isolated country to be so unaware of the realities of the world around them, which would explain why she had never heard of it or its strange inhabitants. But she still wondered how such a strange place could stay completely hidden from the public for so long.
At a few points during their walk, they were interrupted by a few different types of animals who gave her quite a fright when they spoke aloud without warning and offered the group smiles and greetings of hello as they passed by. And once, she could swear she saw a few wild looking women peaking their heads out from behind the trees, but every time she looked back they were gone, leaving her to assume she had simply imagined it. However, other than these few remarkable situations, the day passed without any major incidents.
When the summer sun had almost disappeared behind the tops of the trees, they arrived at a small home belonging to a pair of talking badgers that were apparently good friends with the Beavers. The Badgers welcomed them into their home, which was really a den dug into the ground, warmly and fed them a delicious stew full of meat and vegetables. After they'd all eaten heartily and the dishes had been cleared, the kindly Badgers laid out pallets on the floor for their guests to stay the night. She and George thanked them profusely for their hospitality and fell asleep almost instantly once they laid down, both exhausted from the constant walking and the shock of all of the new things they had experienced that day.
In the morning, she, along with all of the other occupants in the den (save Mrs. Badger who, according to Mr. Badger, was a late riser) rose at dawn. After a quick breakfast, they were on their way once more. Apparently, according to the Beavers, it would take most if not all of the day to reach their final destination on the coast of the eastern sea.
Still bewildered by all they were experiencing, and nervous about what was to come, Helen and George found themselves much quieter during this stretch of the trip, and they simply listened and nodded as the Beavers chatted on about the areas of the forest they were walking through, and where they were headed, and what sort of creatures lived where.
After walking for the rest of the day, and stopping for a brief lunch of sandwiches in a charming glen, the trees began to finally thin and grow sparse before giving way to rolling fields. Beyond that, the Pevensies could see the rolling waves of the sea and a beautiful castle on a hill, glistening in the sunlight.
Helen came to a stop and let out a gasp. A quick look to her husband showed that he too was awed by the sight before them.
"It's lovely, isn't it?" Mrs. Beaver said kindly.
"That's the castle?" George asked, incredulously.
"Yes, that's Cair Paravel." Answered Mr. Beaver, sounding proud. "The home of our gracious Kings and Queens."
"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." Helen whispered, smiling softly.
"Well, no time to waste! We're almost there now, humans." Mr. Beaver replied jollily, leading them all forward. The Pevensies followed behind him closely, their eyes transfixed on the beautiful sight in the distance.
...
"Come on, Ed! You can do better than that!" Peter Pevensie teased his younger brother lightheartedly, shooting a smirk towards Edmund as he swung at him fiercely with his practice sword.
Edmund didn't answer his brother's taunts with words, but rather smirked in return and swung suddenly at his brother in retaliation, catching him off guard and causing him to let out a small yelp, which in turn caused Edmund to laugh.
Peter grew more serious, determined to be the victor in their practice session, and within a few moments, both boys were so involved with their swordsmanship that all thoughts of taunts were forgotten for pure focus and strategy. Edmund found himself with a bit of an upper hand quickly, being naturally more skilled at swordplay (one of the few things he had ever been better at than Peter, in fact), and he focused on the task of disarming his brother as swiftly as possible.
He lifted his sword, leaned forward to lunge, and then-
"Sires!" A high pitched voice startled them both out of their concentration and caused them to drop their blunt practice swords on the ground with a crash.
"Leverett!" Edmund could hear General Oreius yell sternly from behind him. "How many times have you been instructed by myself and others that their Majesties are not to be interrupted in the middle of a duel?"
"Oh, well, quite a few times, General." Leverett answered, and being the timid rabbit he was, he began pulling at his ears as he often did when he was nervous. "But, it's very important this time! I promise!"
"The importance of your message will not matter if their majesties are injured by their own weapons. Imagine what would have happened had those been sharpened swords they had dropped." Orieus admonished, causing Leverett to gulp nervously and stutter a bit under the harsh glare he was being given.
"It's alright, General." Peter interrupted with a smile. "I'm sure he'll be more careful next time, won't you, Leverett."
The rabbit nodded rapidly and fiercely. Orieus simply grunted in return.
"Well, what did you need then?" Edmund asked, causing the rabbit to forget his previous nerves completely and begin excitedly bouncing in place.
"Oh, your majesties, it's the most interesting thing!" He babbled happily. "Some robins have been flying in, and they've seen the beavers, that is to say, Mr. and Mrs. Beaver, on their way to Cair Paravel. They should be arriving in only a few moments! And they have a son of Adam and a daughter of Eve with them!"
"Archenlanders or Calormens perhaps?" Peter asked. "I didn't think we had any new envoys or visitors coming until next month at least?" Both Edmund and Peter turned a curious gaze toward Orieus, looking for confirmation.
"There are indeed no meetings scheduled until then, my kings." Orieus confirmed, looking slightly puzzled.
"Do you think it's someone in trouble?" Edmund offered.
"Could be." Peter answered. "We'd best hurry back to the Cair and find out. Leverett, can you hurry back and tell Queen Susan and Queen Lucy to get ready for our visitors as well?"
"Of course, Sire!" The rabbit answered, and he was gone with a few hops.
"Well, Ed. Looks like I'll have to beat you soundly later."
"Sure, Pete." Edmund laughed. "But there's no way you would have won. I was about to beat you fair and square!"
"In your dreams, brother!" Peter answered.
Both boys smiled at each other as they handed their swords to a faun attendant who was standing nearby. Then, together, they raced each other back to the castle.
...
Edmund Pevensie was convinced that there was no place more wonderful than Narnia, and the feeling had only grown more and more every day since he had arrived through that mysterious wardrobe three years ago. He had made so many friends here, changed remarkedly for the better, discovered so many magical things, and experienced things he could have only dreamed of back in England. He was so grateful to Aslan for bringing them all here, and he often reminded himself how lucky he was to be given this spectacular opportunity for a second chance. He'd never been as happy as he was here, right now, ruling side by side with his siblings, living in the most beautiful castle, having so many wonderful loving subjects and friends, who right now were all waving and smiling at he and Peter as they passed them by.
Still, despite the happiness he had gained in Narnia, he couldn't help but feel like something was missing.
Edmund had always been the closest to their Father, back in England. He'd loved him dearly, and he'd been the most heartbroken out of all of his family when he'd headed off to fight in the war. Although Edmund couldn't quite remember as clearly as he once had what the war had been about, he did remember clearly the feeling of dread when his father had walked out their door, and his fear that he'd never see him ever again. That wish for his father to return had never left him, even with all of the distractions that ruling over Narnia provided. He couldn't help but wish that their father was here too, to see Narnia with them.
He missed their mother too. Although he had been cold and distant to her the last time he'd seen her at the train station, he still loved her dearly as well. It felt like years ages ago since he'd seen her, but the cold feeling of shame in his stomach when he thought of how he had acted towards her was still fresh. He wondered if he'd ever see her again so that he could apologize.
Thinking on how long they had been away from England was a curious thing to Edmund. He supposed logically he should feel more concerned about the fact that he hadn't seen his parents, or England, for so long. But, for some reason, he strangely felt alright with that, at peace almost. He never truly worried about the fact that they had been away for so long, although he did sometimes miss the place he once called home. It was almost as if his mind and emotions felt distant from everything, as if ages had passed since they arrived in Narnia and not simply three years. He suspected that Aslan had something to do about that, but as he hadn't seen him since the coronation, he couldn't be sure.
He was pulled out of his thinking as he and Peter finally reached the steps to the castle, and were greeted by an excited Lucy who ran wildly down the steps towards them.
"Edmund, Peter!" She cried, as she gave them both a frantic hug and spun them around a bit. Her smile and her joy were contagious as always, and Edmund found himself smiling back at her as her good mood rubbed off onto him.
"Hello, Lu!" Peter answered, ruffling her hair affectionately and giving her forehead a quick peck. "Are we ready to greet our visitors?"
"Yes! Susan is waiting in the throne room. Though she told me to tell you both to change quickly first out of your training clothes, and that you shouldn't greet any potential visitors while sweaty." She grew serious, imitating their practical sister as she repeated Susan's message, and Peter and Edmund shared a small laugh.
"It's all so mysterious, isn't it?" Lucy added. "I wonder who these mysterious people are and what they want?"
"Well, the sooner we change and you get to the throne room, the sooner we'll find out." Edmund said as he steered his younger sister toward the direction of the throne room. "Tell Susan we'll be down in a few moments, and we'll meet you there."
Lucy smiled and waved as they parted ways and she went skipping down the hallway.
Once both young kings had changed into more formal clothing, they rushed to the throne room to find Susan already sitting on her throne and chatting with Lucy. The boys quickly joined them, sitting on their respective thrones as well.
"Peter, Edmund. How was practice with Orieus?" Susan asked curiously.
"Fine, until Leverett interrupted and made us drop our practice swords." Edmund responded with a chuckle.
"He is an excitable rabbit." Lucy said with a smile.
"Very, very excitable." Peter replied in a fond but exasperated tone.
"Your Majesties!" The voice of one of their attendants, a young fox named Rennard, entering the room interrupted them suddenly. "You have visitors." He bowed and stepped to the side to allow two familiar creatures into the room.
"Mr. and Mrs. Beaver!" Lucy cried out happily, standing to her feet and running towards them to give them both warm hugs.
"Hello, my dears." Mrs. Beaver said happily. "I'm so sorry we weren't able to visit you sooner, but we've just been so busy this summer and we haven't found the time to take the trip."
"It's perfectly alright, Mrs. Beaver." Susan responded kindly. "We're just glad to see you whenever you can find the time to visit us. We've heard that you both have been traveling with someone? Are they here as well?"
"Oh, yes, they're right outside dears." Mrs. Beaver said. "We were bringing them here, to see you. It's why we came."
"They seem to be a bit confused about where they are." Mr. Beaver added. "We thought you might be able to help them."
"Well, I'm not sure how much help we'll be, but we're certainly willing to see them." Peter responded honestly. "Send them in, and we'll see what we can do."
At that, Lucy returned to her seat, and Rennard, who had been standing patiently to the side, exited the room and returned in a moment with two surprisingly familiar figures.
For a few seconds, all four of the Pevensie children stood still in shock, unbelieving of the sight in front of them. It was Lucy who broke the silence first.
"Mum? Dad?" She asked, almost breathlessly. Edmund could see her eyes filling with tears, and he watched, stunned, as she stood to her feet and ran towards the two people who were unquestionably their parents. They were both dressed in English clothing, and Edmund was shocked at how unfamiliar it seemed to see his father in his simple military uniform and his mother in her sensible dress.
"Lucy? My little Lucy!" He heard the familiar sound of his father's voice as he bent down to embrace Lucy tightly in his arms. The sound spurred him, and the rest of his siblings, to stand to their own feet and rush towards their parents as well.
"All of you, how are you here? Oh, I'm so glad to see you! You've all grown so much!" Their mother's voice was filled with tears as she drew them all into a large hug and kissed them tenderly on their foreheads.
There were shouts of disbelief that they were seeing each other, and exclamations of joy at being reunited, and there were more than a few tears shed by all as they held one another tightly, reunited for the first time in so long.
After a few moments of joyous exclamations, tears, and hugs, there was an embarrassed cough from the corner, and the group turned to see Rennard, who had been witnessing the encounter with bewilderment, clearing his throat to get their attention.
"Your Majesties? Who are these humans?" He asked timidly.
"You all know each other?" Mr. Beaver asked curiously.
"Oh yes! They're our parents!" Lucy cried out excitedly, causing the fox and the beavers to let out small gasps and exclamations of delight.
"Your Majesties?" Edmund heard their father say softly, his voice filled with confusion. He looked them over, seemingly just now noticing their fancy clothing and the crowns that sat on their heads. "What on earth is going on here?" He said, bemusedly.
"You all look so much older, and your clothes-" Their mother added, tugging at Lucy's gown lightly, and smoothing back a bit of hair from Peter's forehead near his crown. She sounded just as confused as their father, if not more so. "How on earth did you all come to be here as well? You were meant to be safe in the country!"
Peter let out a loud laugh. "We have so much to tell you both!" He responded earnestly.
Edmund tightened his grip slightly around his father subconsciously as he nervously thought about what telling their entire tale would entail. His father looked down at him and tightened his own arms in response.
"Well, then I suggest you start talking, young man." His father replied to Peter in a voice that was partly teasing, partly shocked. "Your mother and I are beyond confused, to say the least."
Lucy giggled and pulled them all to their feet. "We can tell you over dinner!" She announced happily, clapping her hands together in delight. "And Mr. and Mrs. Beaver, you simply must stay and eat with us! And we can invite Orieus and Mr. Tumnus as well! It will be almost like a party!"
"Yes, please stay!" Susan added, smiling brightly. "We'd love to have you, and to hear how you came to meet our parents in the first place."
As the Beavers accepted their dinner invitation happily, and Lucy politely asked Rennard who was still standing by to fetch Mr. Tumnus and Orieus, Edmund turned his gaze to study his parents. Their confusion was clear on their faces as they looked around the room, at the talking animals, the magnificent decorations adorning the large throne room, at the clothes he and his siblings were wearing. Peter was right. They really did have quite a long story to share with each other.
Despite his nerves at what that story would include, and how his parents might react to all that had happened to them in Narnia so far, he was beyond happy that they were here. He thanked Aslan silently for granting one of his deepest wishes and smiled as he hugged his Father tighter.