Chapter Six: The Journey Begins
"Well there's only one thing left to do," Peter said, "we'd better go join Caspian."
"The sooner the better," Trumpkin agreed, "my being a fool has wasted nearly an hour."
"It ought to be about a two days journey the way you came since we can't walk all night like you can." Peter was once again becoming the great navigator who knew every stick and stone of his country. "What Trumpkin calls Aslan's How must be the stone table itself. And it is about half a day's march from there down to the Fords of Beruna-"
"They call it Beruna's Bridge these days." Trumpkin added.
"There wasn't a bridge in our time," Peter said calmly, "and from Beruna down to here was another day and a bit. We used to do the whole thing and be back by tea time going easy, if we kept pace we could probably make it in a day and a half-"
"Except it's all wood now, and there's the Telmarines to avoid."
"Need we go the same way as our Dear Little Friend at all?" Edmund glibly questioned.
"No more of that if you love me." The dwarf said less edgily than usual.
"Oh mightn't we call you D.L.F.?" I received a glare from Susan.
"Don't let's keep on him like that." She reprimanded.
"Don't worry, lass- Your Majesty, there's no jibe that'll raise a blister." And so Trumpkin became D.L.F. until we almost couldn't remember why we called him that in the first place.
"What I meant was couldn't we row back up Glasswater until it comes up near the Stone- I mean Aslan's How?"
"It must be nice to know the waters." Trumpkin said.
"We'd better prepare some apples and take a good long drink from the well." Susan suggested and everyone followed.
The boat reminded me of all the old times when we would sail out on our grand ships all over the world. "The trees are so still." I sighed as I looked at the slightly windblown branches.
"They're trees. What'd you expect?" D.L.F. asked not harshly but out of sincere curiosity.
"They used to dance." There was a pause and only the sound of Peter and Edmund's rowing could be heard.
"It wasn't long after you left that the Telmarines invaded. Those who survived fled to the woods and they say the trees retreated so far into themselves they haven't been heard from since. Sounds like a bunch of fairy fluff if you ask me."
"How could Aslan let this happen?" I looked to each of my siblings. Peter looked a bit sad. Susan looked like she was trying to be strong. Edmund was peculiarly quiet. The D.L.F. looked at me quizzically.
"Aslan?" He asked. "I thought he abandoned us when you did."
"We didn't mean to leave, you know." Susan said softly.
"Doesn't matter now." He answered cynically.
The going was slow, and I knew we hadn't made it nearly halfway up Glasswater Creek when it started to fall dark. The boys and Susan who had been taking turns rowing were exhausted and it seemed there was nothing better to do but have a supper of apples and settle down for the night. Getting out of the boat was tremendous relief to the start of a headache I had gotten after being out in the sun all day. Still I found I wasn't tired at all, and I had forgotten that dwarfs snore. I stared up at the sky and started tracing the Friends of the Sky with my eyes. This time of year the Ship and the Leopard where clearly visible and part of the Hammer was high in the sky. I had missed the dear Leopard. Mum never allowed me to stay up late to watch the stars and that was one of the worse things about being a child again. Long ago I had found some excuse nearly every clear night just to watch the stars. Oreius had tried to teach me how to read the stars once, and I smiled at the memory. He hadn't been able to explain it very well so I soon thought the sky was telling of a rain of angry bunnies. The General had then decided that reading the stars was better left to the Centaurs.
Instead of being more tired I found I couldn't sleep if I wanted to now. I felt so happy to be home (well sort of home) and I didn't want to miss a second of the sights and sounds that made Narnia so special. Of course without the trees it wasn't the same. The night grew brighter as the moon rose and I found myself in a fog. For some reason whether it was like a sleepwalker's intuition or it was some form of vision I rose and walked a little ways from the bivouac.
Out amongst the trees a nightingale whistled the start of its tune than waited then started again. I walked out into the trees until I came to a place where little clearings of moonlight pooled about. The shadows of the trees kept everything feeling ethereal. "Oh trees, dear, dear trees. Oh trees awake, don't you remember it? Don't you remember me? Awake oh trees and come to me." There was silence all around the nightingale had paused in his melody and then softly, oh so softly there was a whisper of wind. The leaves shuffled softly and I felt at any moment the tree's words would break forth and I would understand them clearly.
Then as quickly as it came the wind left: the trees where silent once more. I couldn't help but feel that I had missed only the slightest ingredient in arousing the trees from themselves. I felt as though I had left out a single word.
Suddenly I felt quite tired and made my way back to our little camp where I hunkered down between Susan and Edmund. I was able to sleep at last.