Chapter 3: The Cross Country Ride

…

Digory

It had been many years since Digory had last ridden.

When he had been about forty-two, a few years after the Great War, he had come down to Dorset from Oxford University because his father was gravely ill. But after spending time at Alexander's bedside, sitting in vigil with his mother, he had needed to get out for a while. So he had taken one of the horses out for a run. But the horse had shied when a large dog had come bounding out of nowhere barking like mad. The horse had then taken off along the river flats in a mad gallop. Digory had been thrown and dragged. He had torn ligaments in his shoulder, cracked a few ribs, dislocated his knee and bruised his coccyx badly, and never ridden again.

So when Polly had madly suggested a few hours before that they put on their riding gear because they were going riding anyway, the psilocybin-induced derring-do that had been awash in them both had pushed aside any resistance.

But with a clear head, the prospect of actually riding reindeer here and now, brought him up a bit, more out of habit than anything. However, when he thought more about it, he found that the bodily memory of his hurt and pain and fear was no longer with him. It seemed to be rather dim and in a faraway past - or future – that no longer made him wince in remembered pain and anxiety.

So he rather cheerfully looked at the two reindeer hoping for a new and wonderful experience. And after all, this was Narnia.

The deer introduced themselves as Soffá and Miljá. Soffá, whose name meant Wisdom, and who had the larger and more complicated antlers, was the elder. She claimed that whilst they rather enjoyed running around in a team pulling The Winterfather about in his sleigh every year, she admitted they were looking forward to something a little different. In listening to her, Polly felt that she sounded rather like herself when she had been about thirty-five but with a gruffy lilt that reminded her of some Finnish refugees she had interviewed only the year before.

And Miljá, whose name meant Freedom, and whose smaller antlers only amounted to about six seasons, in a voice that was almost a dead-ringer for Ingrid Bergman, said:

"Well, we did hear your story just now, here in the Glade of the Lantern. So when the Winterfather chose us to be your companions for a while, we felt very honoured. Imagine! Taking two of the first ever humans who were in this world on a ride across Narnia!"

"Oh, Miljá, you have stars in your eyes my dear," replied Soffá, blowing warm steam, but she still had a very pleased look about her.

"What do you know?" retorted Miljá out the corner of her mouth, bucking her hips about, eyes rolling. "Personally I think we might just make it into the songs and tales now. Just think, 'Soffá and Miljá, noble caribou of northern tundra clime, the chosen steeds for those returned from the Dawn of Time,'"she chortled with glee.

"I told you, stars in your eyes! 'The chosen of the Winterfather worked herself into a lather!' you mean. But you're right. They will be popular and some of the glory might just rub off on us. Come on… we haven't got all day."

…

So it was that Digory found himself and Polly sitting astride, trying hard to muffle their noses in their fur coats and doing their best to avoid the tossing antlers of their steeds as they raced through great tracts of cold snowy forest, planting their springy wide toed feet carefully in the snow as they went. It was marvellous. The wind whistled past their chilly ears, their hearts raced and they clutched the pommels and hung onto the reins more for stability than for steering. Digory could see Polly frantically tying the ribbon of her hat under her chin with one hand, her titian blond hair whipping about in the icy wind. And he was glad they had the stirrups because some of the country was rough and some turns of direction had to be navigated.

But the deer were excellent at finding the smoothest ground and nobody lost their seat. To tell the truth, their gait reminded Digory slightly of some Lipizzaner horses he had seen in Vienna some years before but naturally had never ridden. There was thus none of the bone shaking motion of the trot and none of the thunderous rise and fall of the gallop. This was something else entirely.

And in the mid-afternoon, they came down from Upper Lantern Waste, just as when the world was new. They saw the upper vale of Narnia spreading out below them, with the main river in the distance, but this time disappearing and reappearing in loops from behind snowy white hills dotted with trees. The tors and steep gullies, thicker forest and glades were behind them. Here the country was opening out and after only a very few miles, they came down a winding path into a gentle vale in which the semi-frozen flatness of water meadows and spreading pools could be clearly seen.

…

As they came into the vicinity, Soffá said quietly but firmly, "Best we tread extra quietly here Miljá, and best keep your voices down Lord Digory and Lady Polly. These parts are inhabited and we don't want to crash into the residents' backyards so to speak and wake them up if they are trying to sleep. They mainly get up at night you know."

For quite some time, they trod along carefully, with Polly and Digory looking about eagerly to see any sign of habitation. But Digory, who could not see a house anywhere said, "But where are people living around here? It just looks like a lot of bushy trees and mud banks with tussocks and pools everywhere. I don't think any man or woman we know would want to try and navigate around here at night."

"Oh! So you don't recognise beaver country then?" asked Miljá.

Poor Digory went a little pink again and realised his ignorance was showing. Polly glanced over at him and winked reassuringly.

He said, "Well... er… I must s-s-say, I believe I do not. Y-y-you see, in our country I, I think beavers have not been seen for at least th-th-three hundred years.

"Oh my goodness, it sounds worse than the White Witch!" replied Miljá, who had been born well after her reign had ended and thus had no comparison.

But Polly answered smoothly, "Indeed Miljá, there are many things wrong in the world from which we come and the continued absence of Beavers from our particular country is one of the saddest. If Beavers are indeed here, it would be a sad loss to pass through and not meet any. I assume you mean Talking Beavers?"

"Of course" said Miljá.

"Yes, of course! She does mean talking Beavers Polly," put in Digory. "It's coming back now. Lucy… Queen Lucy, was telling me that when they all first entered Narnia together, they were befriended by a pair of Beavers. I believe they were simply called Mr and Mrs Beaver. This wouldn't be near their home by any chance?" he asked.

"Oh indeed it is," offered Soffá. "I have been here several times with the Winterfather. I was just a young thing; my first time drawing the sleigh and it was the beginning of the great thaw, the end of the White Witch's reign! We had to deliver a new treadle sewing machine of all things! And it was such a weight! What does a beaver need with a sewing machine I wanted to ask. It is still beyond my comprehension!" she said. "But Aslan works in mysterious ways and the Winterfather only provides what is most needed and no more, so she must have needed it for something."

"You know, I admit I thought exactly the same thing when I heard it from Lucy," said Digory. "But I believe she said that before they were all crowned, and often afterwards, Mrs Beaver used it to run up clothing for the new Kings and Queens of Narnia. Lucy told me that the story went that Mrs Beaver's great grandparents had rescued the original one from the depredations of Jadis and with the help of the centaurs had brought it up here in secret from, where was it, Beruna?"

"Probably Beruna," replied Soffá. "It was and still is the market town and those Narnians who need clothes usually go there to find them."

Digory nodded. "And really, I mean, a Beaver's Lodge would be the last place the Witch – or anyone else for that matter - would have ever thought of looking for a sewing machine. It would get so damp and rusty! Lucy told me that there had only been one in Narnia ever, and that the origins seem to be lost in the mists of time, but she said that her research into the matter at Cair Paravel suggested that it may have originally been a gift from Father Christmas to Queen Helen the first Christmas they had here. We suspect that Mrs Beaver must have been preparing for the prophecy to be fulfilled and planning to become the new sovereigns' seamstress. I understand she was most concerned about Jadis getting her hands on it and fiddling with it; losing the bobbins and misthreading to turn it into an instrument of mischief perhaps?"

The image in Digory's mind was comical in the extreme and he almost giggled, but the memory of Jadis wrenching an iron bar and later throwing it with dead accuracy at the singing Lion in the very act of Creation gave him pause.

"Are they still alive though?" was Polly's question. "I don't want to ask for Mr and Mrs Beaver and then find they aren't here anymore. I mean it has been seventeen years since Lucy and the others arrived. Do Beavers even live that long?"

"Well, as to that, most Talking Beasts in Narnia and nearby countries do tend to live much longer than our dumb cousins you know," said Soffá, "but I couldn't say in this instance. Certainly I think you'll find that their many descendants also live hereabouts too. Quite a colony."

"Are we still alive?!" came a deep and gruff, slightly cross voice. "Of course we are still alive! Who wants to know?"

The two reindeer and Polly and Digory looked about trying to locate the voice. It was only then that Digory finally spied a crooked little chimney rising up from the snow about 100 feet away, half hidden behind some willow and aspen branches. But a sudden explosion of snow from what looked like a drift only a few yards away, revealed the head and shoulders of the most enormous rodent that Digory had ever seen, poking out from a tunnel that came out halfway through a mass of branches, mud and twigs covered in snow. The muzzle and forehead were rather grizzled, and as the whole creature emerged, they could see the powerful dark brown body flecked with more than a little white and then the flattened tail.

"And who might you be, shouting down our front door, talking about me and the Mrs being dead? We was asleep, not dead! We should be both alive and asleep if we weren't being woken up every five minutes by troublesome visitors." He sounded most put out.

The beaver peered up at them with bleary and slightly rheumy eyes and then he wiped a bit of sleep away with the back of a paw. His expression changed when he finally saw his visitors. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped slackly revealing rather worn yellow teeth.

"Oooh!" Then he turned quickly and cupping his paws around his muzzle he bellowed down the tunnel, "Missus! You better get here double quick! There's young humans here in long fur coats again and this time they're on Christmas reindeer!"

There was a slightly querulous voice that echoed up the tunnel, "What's that you say Mr Beaver? I didn't hear all that! More stoats and Christmas cheer? Talk sense dear. The stoat family aren't welcome here, even in mid-winter. And it isn't time for a visit from the Winterfather for another few weeks!"

"Just come out Missus. You'll see for yourself."

"Who are ya?" he quizzed them more quietly in an aside. "Her bladder's not the best and I don't want her havin' too much of a shock."

Polly and Digory hastily dismounted.

Digory quickly got down on bended knee and looking Mr Beaver in the eye, said carefully, "My name is Digory and my companion's name is Polly. We have come to bring you all news of Queen Lucy and the rest. We are …er… close friends of theirs from… the other side of the wardrobe."

"Oooh hoooh! I knew it. It was the fur coats that gave it away. And you talk almost the same too." If Mr Beaver had been younger and fitter he would have been hopping from one foot to the other. As it was he just jiggled from side to side a little, looking excited, suppressing his glee.

They all waited.

Mrs Beaver finally emerged, a little gingham apron tied around her middle. She squinted up at them, her face almost white, but she could see very little. "Just a moment Mr Beaver, I've got to polish me specs; they've got a bit gummed up. The chars we were given by that Wiggle who was passing through were that slimy!"

She rubbed her paws on her apron. "Now what was that you were trying to tell me about? Stoats and Christmas cheer? Or was it Boats and Christmas Beer" she said with a bit of a scoff in her voice.

She then carefully took off her spectacles, reached down, grabbed a pawful of snow and with great dexterity began to use the snow and a cleanish corner of her apron to rub her spectacles clean.

The cold snow didn't look like it would shift much, but it must have done something, because she had a quick shrewd look through them at arm's length, gave a satisfied nod and then popped them back over her ears and finally looked up.

By this time, Mr Beaver had waddled over to Mrs Beaver and stood next to her. "I said, 'There's young humans here in long fur coats again and this time they're on Christmas reindeer.' See for yourself."

Mrs Beaver saw the fur coats with Digory and Polly's faces looking out of them and the two deer looming behind.

"Oh…! Oh…! Oh…!" She gave a little whimper, sat down and took a deep breath.

Then she said in a low tone, "Aslan's mane. Well… they sure looks like something we've seen before, but there's only two of 'em and there's no prophecy to go on this time Mr Beaver. At least they look a little older than the last ones did when they arrived."

She planted her paws on her apron trembling and with her spectacles glinting, fixed them with her eye and said in a shaky voice, "Am I right in thinking you come from the place where long fur coats come from then?"

"Missus!" said Mr Beaver with some embarrassment.

"Oh dear, well… I really meant to ask, are, are, are you from the same place that Lucy and her family came from? Did you come through the wardrobe?"

She had tears in her beaver eyes.

"A..a..and do you know aught of what became of them?"

She looked up imploringly, her paws now up near her mouth, wide eyed with distress and hope. A few tears ran down her cheeks and off her snout where they turned into icicles.

Polly spoke this time. "Oh yes, we do indeed Mrs Beaver. My name is Polly. This is Digory. We are all staying together in the same house back in our world. They are all safe and sound. And whilst they are finding it difficult to not be in Narnia anymore, they seem to be adjusting rather well with a little help from Aslan. It had been less than a week in our time you see."

"Oh, well I never, that is such a relief to me. She sniffled. Oh, I am leaking at both ends again," she said. "Just a moment if you please."

She waddled off behind a mound of snow for a few seconds, heaved an audible sigh of relief and then came waddling back.

"That's better, now… so has Aslan sent you two here to be our King and Queen instead then?"

Polly and Digory looked at each other horrified. Neither of them had thought of that.

Seeing their faces, Mr Beaver asked, "So he hasn't even asked you then? Oh, he's not a tame lion, not Aslan," waving paw at them.

"No he's not a tame lion, not Aslan," Mrs Beaver repeated in a sing-song kind of voice.

"Not to worry! You should have seen the look on the faces of Peter and Susan and Lucy when we told them about the prophecy and about him being a lion! They went grey as herons. Sovereigns of Narnia was the last thing they wanted to be. They just wanted to go home with their brother… " he paused, considering his next words.

"Yes, with their brother…" echoed Mrs Beaver. "But with Aslan's help and later with Edmund's they did it, and a fine job they did too. They became the pride of Narnia and the envy of all its neighbours."

"For nigh on sixteen years it was. It was a Golden Age!" finished Mr Beaver.

"Oh yes, it was a Golden Age!" echoed Mrs Beaver again nostalgically. "And we'll never see the like of it again," she whimpered bleakly.

But she took charge of herself and had another look at Polly and Digory once again through her grimy spectacles, before saying, as if in reassurance "B..b..but I'm sure you'll do almost as good a job," before elbowing Mr Beaver who said "Oh, yes, ahem, … almost as good a job," before joining his wife in giving them two rather unconvincing beaver smiles.

…

Polly

"Oh what a predicament!" Polly thought to herself. "We've got to nip this in the bud at once!"

She coughed and said, "Mr and Mrs Beaver, we are delighted to meet you. I trust we can share a little confidential information with you? Soffá and Miljá here have already heard most of it and know to be careful."

They both nodded, all eyes and bristling whiskers.

"Well… we need to let you know several things. Peter and Susan, and Edmund and Lucy have all been talking to Digory here since they all left Narnia. I have only met them myself two days before arriving here, so there are many things that I know little about. We want you two especially, as you were among their first friends here, to understand that they were led astray by the White Stag and found themselves back in our own world, almost as if no time had passed at all. They are children again you see."

I am not sure if you have ever seen a Beaver wince, but Mr Beaver managed it.

"We think it means they have been given a chance at a new life back at where they started, but with the wisdom and knowledge that they gained from Narnia, and yourselves of course... and knowing Aslan."

"So whilst it has been a terrible loss to you all in Narnia for the last eighteen months… is that correct?" she asked, to which they nodded again, "you can be hopeful for them and grateful that you knew them for so long. For myself in two short days and nights I must say that I have been most impressed and gratified that I have come to know them. Be assured that they have taken the best of Narnia with them in their hearts."

Mrs Beaver pulled a handkerchief out of her apron pocket and blew her nose. Mr Beaver patted her on the back gently. He put a paw up to his own face and wiped a tear.

Digory stepped in to support Polly with the task.

"For ourselves, we must be honest. We are not quite sure why we are here, so we wish for no false rumours of our task or intentions to be spread about, if we can help it. As we have found ourselves here and returned to what we think is the age of about seventeen years old, we must believe that Aslan has sent us here with some purpose. We are both certainly far more youthful than when we entered the wardrobe. We both have long lives of experience in many things. It may be that we have been brought by Aslan to help Narnia restore its royal rule above and beyond the new Legates at Beruna, but we do not think it will be our rule to command. Before we left, Peter did leave us a riddle which we think signifies our task in this direction. But as neither of us has yet spoken with Aslan directly, or met the people named in the riddle, we cannot confirm our suspicions and do not wish to speak it just yet."

Digory paused and coughed a little in the cold air, pulling his coat about him some more. He continued.

"You are quite correct though. Aslan is not a tame lion. You should know that Polly and I have been to Narnia before and that we do know Aslan. We were lucky enough to be drawn into Narnia on the very moment of its creation by his high self, but we stayed less than two days. In our own world we are about sixty years old."

Mr Beaver even managed a bow at that and an awed whisper, "So that's who you are! I thought I remembered those names."

"And less than six hours ago, we were in the company of High King Peter and the rest," commented Polly.

Mrs Beaver hugged Mr Beaver in her delight as Digory continued.

"Just before we left, he presented us with scrolls which give our titles and broad functions and declare our status as Narnians and give recognition for some past tasks to Narnia's benefit. None of us knew we were coming. But someone mysterious slipped these scrolls into the pockets of the long fur coats we now wear and we must assume it was Aslan himself."

"We were also given gifts form the Winterfather earlier today which we must assume are to help us in our tasks. |And yes he did come early this year I believe. That is really about all we can tell you," he finished, looking at the two beavers concernedly and then glancing back up at Soffá and Miljá who had been patiently listening to this exchange.

Mr Beaver smiled with some toothy satisfaction, put his paw to his mouth and let out a piercing whistle. There was nothing, but then after a few moments and over the next few minutes, Talking Beavers began to appear from all directions. There were also a few Otters and Water Rats in the mix, but far larger than we would ever see in our world.

"Allow us to introduce our children and grandchildren," he said.

When they were all gathered together standing or squatting or crouching in a semi-circle expectantly, watching for their patriarch's word, he said,

"Friends, neighbours, children, grandchildren… and relatives to the tenth degree. May I have the pleasure of giving you great news! This Daughter of Eve and this Son of Adam have been sent by Aslan and the High King Peter from across the worlds to restore the rule of Narnia!"

There was much cheering and slapping of tails on the snow.

"As you know, their task will not be easy! If rumour is true, there is strife amongst the royals of neighbouring lands. This strife which has now come upon Narnia. The whole neighbourhood wants a piece, but these two are going to fix it. They will restore the Golden Age!"

Polly and Digory looked at each other alarmed. This was not quite what they had been hoping for from a confidential discussion. They grasped hands in trepidation and realised they felt very cold, despite the fur coats.

It was then, that several things all began to happen almost at once.

First, the entire clan and their friends began capering drolly about in the snow with clumsy steps. The otters were slithering around on themselves and each other with delight. Mr and Mrs Beaver were hugging their legs in glee and relief.

Next, a thunderous tremor could be heard through the earth and several enormous black and bay centaurs galloped up the side of the vale, above the water line, puffing mightily, but smiling with bright eyes under black brows at the scene before them, flexing their chests and looking grand.

Then the Winterfather's train and sleigh scudded across one of the most frozen ponds and dams and came to a halt not far away, reindeer blowing, his laughter echoing across the ice.

And last of all, one of Polly's rings began to pulse with warmth. The heat spread from her hand and into Digory's and tingled throughout their bodies, banishing the winter cold. It also gave them the feeling that maybe they need not feel so nervous after all. The simple joy and love and the passion of the Narnian inhabitants was what it was all about after all.

There was nothing to fear. They had a combined lifetime experience of one hundred and twenty years. They had both been to Narnia before and Aslan had sent them to do good deeds.

Then Saint Nicholas, the Winterfather picked up a handful of snow and threw it glittering into the air. Before you could say "Jack Robinson", the entire cavorting crowd of creatures found themselves tussling with flopping fish or crayfish, and a few had eels which slipped and slithered about; others had the sweetest of sappy branches, others with dried berries according to their kind.

With a final wave, his train swooped away up the vale again and disappeared into the trees midst the echoing joyous laughter of his boundless love and generosity.

It was then that Polly noticed with gladness that Soffá and Miljá were still with them when they saw them grazing on a great pile of tundra moss and she realised they had become friends.

Then both she and Digory turned towards the centaurs who trotted to a halt not far away, gazing at them intently.

One of the centaurs spoke first. "Well met! My name is Knitbone and I am one of the Legates of Beruna. We have come with all haste. The trees of Lantern Waste have spoken. Two visitors from the Dawn of Time have come to Narnia as now we see with our own eyes. The star of the Winterfather has fallen early and here are his gifts of sustenance. Let us break bread together! Let it be a symbol of the times to come! All praise to Aslan!" he said in ringing tones.

There was not one creature that did not echo his last words.

For nearby had appeared a large cauldron of hot fish chowder over a merry fire. There were several enormous birch bark mugs for the Centaurs and two smaller ones for Polly and Digory.

So as they introduced themselves to these slightly alarming but noble beings, Polly and Digory found themselves ladling soup into the mugs and handing them out, along with torn off hunks from seven loaves of delicious crusty dark rye bread. There was enough to go round for Mr and Mrs Beaver and second and third helpings to any who wanted.

It was as they studied each other shyly over their mugs of soup that Digory asked, "And for what do we have the pleasure of your visit today Master Knitbone?

"We are your escort to Beruna."

…