Chapter 3:
When at long last I came to, I lay still, frozen like icicles on a snowy winter's day. The sun blinded me and I blinked at the sky, turned my head and blinked at the stalks of timber, shrubs, rocks, and things of nature around me.
Trees everywhere. A soft wind swept through the forest and the sunlit trees danced with it, their branches flowing in the breeze. Flustered, I picked myself up off the grass and continued to study the new findings around my person.
Suddenly, I turned on my heel. How peculiar…I thought I heard someone exhale with amuse. But when I peered through the copse of evergreens and over short leafy bushes, not a soul could be seen.
I had only been hearing things. I took a right nasty fall and maybe….
Oh my…
I was dreaming again! Everything was as it should be. This strange place was an exact copy to the images in my dream. Every last tree to the very toadstool growing beside the fallen log. Even the blasted dirt smear on my leg had all the correct scratch lines. Down to the very last pinprick blade of grass, or pebble by my toe. Not a thing was seemingly out of place.
So then, I wonder…
I waited. Only a second I paused, until that vague sound of wood snapping arrived to my ears. I whipped around, all too knowing what stood there, yet my eyes grew as big as saucers (regardless what I knew) at the sight.
He was even more gloriously majestic in this dream than I remembered. I was terrorized with a strange calmness. It settled over me like a warm plush blanket.
The lion's eyes were piercing; even so, they were gentle. He blinked once, standing as if posing for a mosaic. The image was right out of a painting. The lion shone with a radiance I can only describe as Godlike. A halo of light surrounded his hefty, broad, muscular—powerful being and his tan coat streaked with gold.
I swallowed.
"Son of Adam," his voice penetrated my wall of muddled emotions, "Come, we must seek shelter from these woods." The creature turned, a twitch in its ear, and walked a pace or two deeper into the greenwood before sparing a moment to gaze back at me with knowing eyes. He lifted his head slightly, "Cair Paraval is in need of your aid." His whiskers rippled upon his muzzle as I caught a glimpse of what I believed to be a smile.
He waited for me to accompany him, as I took reluctantly slow and apprehensive steps towards him. My legs and feet shook as I walked alongside the beast, my voice box incapable of producing dialogue.
"Why so quiet, young one?" he asked without turning his maned head to me and took more silent measured steps. "Cat got your tongue?" He laughed, a deep rumbling sound in the back of his throat.
I opened my mouth to speak and finding that I was still at a loss of words, I clamped it shut tight once again. I cleared my throat, "Sir—"
I saw him acknowledge me out of the corner of my eye, but he didn't speak.
"Am I in a dream?" I cautiously questioned the lion.
"Does this seem like a dream?" he answered a question with a question.
I looked around and up between the branches of the overhang above. I listened to the birds in the canopy, which were immersed in a unique, delicate, uplifting chorus. And I felt the rough scratchy bark of the trees with the tips of my finger. "No….Sir," I answered.
He grunted. "Young one, I fear you have a thing or two to learn about dreams. These trees, this grass, and that rock, are all part of something much bigger than themselves," He looked to each object as he named them off, "You and I are also members in this scheme, however much bigger as any number of those squirrels scampering in above our heads now. You, Son of Adam, are in no such dream."
"Sir, can I ask where I am?" Questions upon questions bombarded my brain, each begging to me to be answered. He seemed like a friendly lion, however fierce he also appeared, so I managed to speak to the beast, even if only a sentence.
"A land you are familiar with. You've heard of this world only in tales, however you do know of it," the wise old lion said.
I thought hard, "The only stories I can remember was that of a place named Narnia—"
A solid blink was all I needed from him.
Flabbergasted, I said, "But if this is Narnia, then what my Grandfather said was true. And—and that makes you Aslan," I realized grimly. I quickly dropped to my knees in an awkwardly messy bow. I was angry with myself for being such a half-wit.
This is Narnia. This is The Lion, and my Grandfather's stories were true, so indeed Aslan was not a tame lion. I was a fool for thinking otherwise on—on everything.
"Rise, Son of Adam," The Lion directed, and I did as I was told. "Do you know why I brought you here?" He asked, his voice gruff, "My land is in need of your assistance and I fear those who do not believe cannot truly help this land. Do you understand?"
"Yes, but—"
"As I recall, you never trusted in my world. You thought of it, in all its entirety, merely entertainment. Nothing more."
"But Aslan, it was only a fairytale then—"
"So you must see to believe, am I incorrect?"
"No Sir," I rubbed the back of my neck with a dirty, aching hand. I felt as if I was only a small child being scolded.
"Then I hope your visit here can change your perception on things both within and without yourself."
"Aslan, why me? Do you know who I am?" I could not even begin to believe why He chose me…me! Out of a world full of better, more equipped people.
He growled, showing diamond-like, razor sharp teeth. It made me jump back a few inches from that unpredicted outburst.
His voice was harsher now, "Of course I know who you are. Matthew James Bollard, Son of Adam, and grandson to High King Peter of Narnia," He softened His voice to the level of a purr, "The question is: do you know who you are?"
I hung my head in defeat. Grandpa ruled here as Narnia's king—as I knew only from his adventurous tales. But now I knew (with all the evidence around me) that they were not stories. They were fact. Grandfather is a king. And I am in the very land he ruled over.
At that instant, we came to the edge of the wood. We stood upon a ledge of a small cliff, overlooking the land below.
Tents dotted the wavy green hills. Tents of all shapes and sizes. All were a crimson red color and the heavy cloth gave in little to the wind.
However they weren't the only things down below. Creatures, both real and from fantasy, could be seen moving about amongst the red clumps. Half-goat men, cheetahs, centaurs, jaguars, all of those from the stories, were here. They moved about dressed heavily in armor from head to toe. Some were toting weapons along, others were sparring with each other, their sword clanging loudly across the land, a few were blacksmithing and then there were those who just sat around a pot over a fire, laughing and passing something around in the circle.
"This," The Lion started, "is what is left after an attack on the ruins of Cair Paraval. Five hundred men and women retreated to these hills, where they wait for one of noble blood to lead them."
"What of the King and Queen?"
"King Joseph and Queen Maria both perished in the battle that led these warriors here. The King was attempting to rebuild Cair Paraval to its former glory when The Nomads attacked."
My brow furrowed, "The Nomads?"
"The free-roaming souls and spirits who wish to keep the old ways of the land. Even after the laws of the kingdom have changed and many years have already passed. For hundreds of years The Nomads have terrorized my people, drove many into hiding, and for a while now they have destroyed all ideas of peace."
I watched the empty space between my boots, "Aslan, why don't you lead them? You're King of everything—" I looked back up only to see that The Lion had vanished into thin air. Gone. I pivoted to look within the forest, "Aslan?" But I found nothing.
I stood alone on that ledge. Just then, a vicious kite-flying type gust of wind flew in over my head, flinging my dark hair over my eyes. As the wind brushed over me, I heard the voice of Aslan. It drew with the air, as if it was the air. He was saying, "Do you know who you are?"
**Hello again readers! (: How am I faring so far? Please inform me in your reviews, they are much appreciated. I am an author in the making, and I would love for any suggestions on my techniques if you have them. More to come as soon as I am able.**