I neither own nor created Narnia, Cair Paravel, the Great Forest, the Marshlands of Narnia, the Marshwiggles, Telmar, Telmarines, or general Oreius. I did create the Mayor of the Marshlands, other Marshwiggles, and Storm-hoof.
This story was written for entertainment purposes only, so please read and be entertained.
The reeds continued to rise above the tips of my ears even as the breeze bent them. The tramp of steel-plated lined boots was carried on the wind. I and those stationed among the marsh-reeds with me wore no metal. No light could be allowed to reflect back into our enemies eyes. Their ranks shone as they approached.
They paused as the ground grew soft beneath their feet. One commander rode a horse, it looked to be a dumb one from the northern farms. Perhaps the beast had been left behind or escaped from the fleeing throngs to find strangers in its stall upon its return. Either way, I glared upon the one riding it now. I kept my hoof from pawing in the muck, though.
The mounted commander gestured to some of his men. These entered the reeds as tall as young trees. We remained motionless.
A Telmarine with a crossbow passed a Leopard. The large Cat did not stir. A Telmarine with a spear nearly stepped upon the paw of a Water-Rat. Yet, the small soldier remained still. The boot missed.
As the last line of their soldiers passed the first row of mine, one soldier's eyes locked upon my chest. I shouted. "NOW!"
I struck off the head of the soldier before me and leapt over his body. The Telmarine archers raised their crossbows. The Leopard took one from behind. Another of their archers was taken by an arrow himself. The Water Rat managed to stick his sword between the joints of an enemy's leg armor. As the man turned to confront him a great Dog tackled him from the side. Within moments it was over.
We looked back toward the edge of the marsh. Our ears swiveled to hear shouts coming from those there. The Telmarine soldier they had sent in with a horn had not sounded it. He lay dead behind my back-hooves.
A sharp command was followed by rustlings and clankings carried to us on the breeze. I gave a softer command. We turned, picked up the wounded, and ran east.
My gaze remained fixed upon my path. We had studied this terrain. I had let us do almost nothing else except a little weapons training upon it for the last two days. Now it paid off. If I strayed even a little I'd be up to my hocks in mud or worse. I could break a leg or at least be slowed until the enemy found me and the Willow Dryad I carried. The other heavy soldiers behind me did as I. We weaved and sometimes leapt from firm-patch to firm-patch. Then shouts came from behind us.
At their sound, we stopped and turned. The sounds of rustling and clanking ceased. Men "not" shouting also stopped to look toward the cries of their own. Many of these raised their weapons. One near me looked down the sights of his cross-bow, before he fell with an arrow through his own neck.
More squelches followed as others met similar fates. Those not felled by arrows were taken down by our rear guard. As the twangs of bowstrings ceased, I turned and picked my way back. Others also moved toward the pools. About three Telmarines had fallen into each quick-sand trap.
I stopped about three furlongs beyond the edge of the pool nearest me as did most of my heaviest soldiers. Smaller creatures and marsh natives, such as the Water Rats, continued on. However, the small soldiers could not reach the thrashing men with their skewering swords. The Herons might do better at getting to them with their long necks and beaks. Even such beaks, though, could not be counted upon to deliver swift death, nor did the tall Birds wish that task upon themselves. Those appointed to the task of rescuing or slaying these flailing sons of Adam passed all these moving almost silently in their own environment.
Tall, thin bodies parted from the reed forest and drew the Telmarines stares. Wide eyes gazed up at thin, long faces under wide-brimmed hats woven from the reeds they'd come through. Beneath pointed chins were dwarf-sized bodies perched upon tall legs ending in webbed feet. Webbed hands clutched spears once used for fishing and eel-hunting. They'd been turned into war-spears with new heads my soldiers had provided them with. One of the tall figures lowered his spear and doffed his hat at the edge of the pool. He gazed mournfully at the men up to their thighs in sand.
"Begging your pardon sirs, but you did invade our land. However, if you swear in the name of Aslan to turn and go back to your own kingdom, doing no harm to any Narnian on the way, we will pull you out and let you be on your way. You will likely be lying. Your captain will almost certainly make you break your word with cruel torture or great bribes even if you don't mean to lie at first. You'll surely bring your whole army back here to slaughter us all, but as Aslan-fearing folk we would be obliged to save and set you free."
I could hear the same offer being given along the edges of the other pools of quick-sand. Each speaker received similar shouted replies. None were words of thanks. I grit my teeth as the name of Aslan was maligned. There was even the ringing of swords being drawn.
Then there was the sound of spears stabbing into flesh. It was over in moments. The Mayor of the Marshwiggles went to every pool, checking on his folk, and then came over to me. I met his solemn gaze. "Were any of your people harmed?"
"Oh, there were a few nicks which shall doubtless prove to be far more trouble than they look now. Likely some hound among the Telmarines will smell the blood and sound the alarm, or they'll become infected and spread through the whole body and to others' bodies I wouldn't doubt, or they could simply throw off our aim so we don't hit a thing let alone a Telmarine. Grimgull's cut is right on this arm you know."
I hadn't known, but I asked to see and inspect his and the other wounds of the Marshwiggles. Even Grimgull's seemed a slice no more serious than that some of the sharp grasses of the marshes gave some of my soldiers. He said he could shoot though he warned he likely wouldn't shoot "well." I sent more gravely wounded soldiers back to our camp in the arms of others, including Marshwiggles who aimed better with spears than bows. The rest of us headed back to the marsh.
The Telmarine soldiers who'd not dared yet to enter the long reeds stared into them. We crept close but not too close. Then, a screech came from above the sons of Adam's heads. They looked up. A few raised crossbows. Before they could aim at the Gull taking refuge in the light of the still-high sun, our archers raced forward. They were now less mindful of moving the reeds in their way. They took aim themselves.
As the Telmarines looked up they raised the metal beards of their masks designed to protect their throats. This mistake proved fatal for over forty of the men from Telmar. As they fell, we turned and raced away.
Still some of their own arrows followed us. Several stumbled. A few fell. I paused, turned, and scooped a Hound up in my arms before running on. One great brown eye stared up at me as he struggled to breathe.
. . .
Marshwiggles treasure solitude, but their community did have a "hall," a long hut that served as a meeting place for all the Creatures of the Marshlands to meet and discuss community problems. This hall became a makeshift hospital when we reached it. My soldiers and I had already made our camp around it. The families of those non-soldiers who'd gone with us to fight awaited our arrival. They stood upon the small Island of dry, sturdy ground the hut rested atop of.
Water Rats, Herons, Gulls, and Marshwiggles came forward to greet us as we left the long reeds behind. I was relieved to no longer have them scratching at my exposed skin. Many of the greetings were those like my soldiers and I were used to. The rushing forward, the hand-clasps, the embraces, as few tears.
Those greetings the Marshwiggle warriors received were a bit less enthusiastic and optimistic. A pair of parents approached their unharmed son with slow, steady steps and sad faces. "Oh, Slimreed, Aslan has let you return to us. I suppose we get to spend one more day with ye at least then. You aren't trying to bravely hide a wound are you? No? Well, we'll do all we can together these next several hours until you leave us again to go fight tonight for the last time likely as not."
A child ran up and jumped into his father's waiting arms. "Father! Aslan let you come back to us. Mother said we musn't be bitter if He took you to his country instead and you'd be happy there especially if we were brave. Father, if Aslan does take you to his country can I paddle my raft across the sea to see you?"
Unlike a few of my soldiers shaking their heads, I did not react to the Marshwiggles' different ways. In these days the dire possibilities that sprouted in their minds could well come true. The proof was in my arms. I carried my soldier to a Marshwiggle healer. I reserved their services for their own people and the dying. To one who needed encouragement to get well a Marshwiggle healer could be a road to set-back, but to the dying they were encouraging.
I set the Hound before one now and he fell upon one knee and examined the wound. His face only grew slightly grimmer and far more gentle. "This arrow is making breathing hard for you, I imagine."
The Beast looked to his healer with the same mournful brown eyes he'd been staring at me with. The Marshwiggle healer met that gaze and then called out for a Telmarine arrow to examine. One was brought to him by a Dryad healer who'd removed it from a less dire wound. After a brief examination the Marshwiggle healer held it forth before my soldier's eyes. "If I remove it, the arrowhead will tear the flesh further. The Beast gave a low whine. The healer laid a webbed hand upon the Hound's shoulder and gave a firm squeeze. "If you belong to Aslan, you are on the way to his country now. May take time. All day no doubt or longer, but then that's not such a long time in the grand scheme of things. I and your general will endeavor to stay with you as long as we aren't shot down by an assassin's arrow ourselves."
None of these things happened except that my soldier did indeed enter Aslan's country, but within the hour. After this, I went down near where the now very low creek wound around the shoreline of the island. I used more sand than water to scrub off the filth of battle.
I looked up to see the Mayor of the Marshlands watching me. I went up to him. We nodded and exchanged solemn greetings before he began our discussion.
"That first battle went what a body could call well, but one might expect that of a first battle. They'll be ready for us next time no doubt. They'll probably get some dogs or even more horses near the marshes that will sound the alarm for them when we go back. Then they'll shoot every arrow they have at us. We'll see real battle then. My people will have to pause in their grief long enough to elect another mayor more likely than not. Can't say as I've enjoyed it at all either. There's more sport in stabbing eels than helpless sons of Adam even if they do wish to slaughter us all like a flock of fowl and claim Narnia for their own. Must be done though. We marsh-folk will be behind you all the way until we perish, unless they rebel against my leadership or you go mad general, which would be entirely understandable after all you've been through in your life and recent days."
I did raise my eyebrows at this dire prediction for myself, but kept my voice solemn and steady. "Tis hard on one's sense of honor to slay enemies this way, particularly when they are sons of Adam and not fell, but every one we kill here is another who will not venture further south. We appreciate your folk's help greatly, good Mayor or the Marshlands."
"And we are honored to be of service. However, the rest of the Telmarines could be venturing further south even now to spite us for killing their own. We'll keep doing our part anyway, though, general. I don't mean for us to shirk our duty during my time as their mayor. Narnia is our home and other Narnians our people. They are the land and people Aslan has given us to protect."
I nodded again. "So it is with us as well. Together, we must take advantage of the cover these lands of yours offer us while we can and keep our foes busy while our forces amass to the south."
He nodded back. "Course they'd likely just burn us out like they had the army back near the northwestern border along the Shribble do, but might as well go on doing what we can. Though we'll likely get killed doing it."
"I gave another slow, steady, somber nod. "Your concerns have merit, Mayor Marshwiggle. We must take into account they know our strategy now as you said earlier."
He nodded back to me, "I suppose you and your soldiers will be hungry. We know you've only been pretending to be satisfied by the small meals we've given ye up till now. With a battle to recover from you'll be wanting to do some real eating I imagine. Just as well, we should see how fast we'll run out of food. Suppose we should be grateful some of us are wounded and will be off their feed. Course, if they recover they'll eat twice as much as usual I dare say."
He then strode past me to where cauldrons were already being set out upon stacks of fuel. Several jars of stored food were already being carried hence by Marshwiggle women. For years the Marshwiggles had been expecting a food shortage and storing away for one. Since the beginning of the drought they had been eating sparingly from these supplies expecting it to last ten to twenty years. So while not starved they had lost weight. But they shared with us and even seemed far more generous with their visitors than with themselves and each other.
Some youths with bows, just underage to serve with the army, came up with sea-fowl they had shot. With somber faces they went first to their mayor and had a grave conversation. Then, shoulders slumping and faces having fallen further they approached me. They held out the birds toward me. "Please, General Sir, we know they're mostly feather and bone, but we were thinking maybe you and your soldiers could get some good out of them."
I gave them a a slight bow. "I am certain we can get much good from your offerings good hosts. I shall take them and see if they can be added to the stew and shared with my soldiers, your warriors, and all others who would like to join us for the noon meal."
I did so and the youths turned and began to walk home talking together of what a polite and well-brought-up Creature I was. What a shame it was I who was certain to break my leg in a bog or get slain by a Telmarine arrow. Those Telmarine humans had aim like dwarves you know. That last was a phrase that had spread through first the pessimistic Marshwiggles, and then their neighbors, and now was now being taken up by my own soldiers. I shook my head at it as I carried the sea-fowl toward the cauldrons and those filling them. It was not true, and I wished I could put a stop to it being said, but it was close enough to the truth it was difficult to argue with. I let it go, though it irked me.
The Marshwiggle ladies took the sea-fowl from me with solemn nods of their heads and warnings not to be surprised if after they cleaned them there was nothing left to put in the pot, but they would certainly try, and weren't their youths polite and well-brought-up to have offered them to our guests and Narnia's general. This was mostly discussed after I had begun to leave.
Later, younger Marshwiggles came to camp carrying nets of fish and eels. They went first to the Mayor who gave a one-sentence response and gestured to me. The Marshwiggles attempt to not "discourage their children" by explaining in great detail all that which might go wrong. Tis a sign you have reached full maturity when you are given "all the hard facts or possibilities." Therefore, Marshwiggle children generally have very short conversations with their elders.
The children brought me their offerings from the sea. "Mostly bones and scales sir, but we hope you might get some good out of them. We knows you must be awful hungry by now since our stores can't possibly satisfy ya."
I nodded gravely and told them their fish looked quite fine to me and with their people's stores and these, my soldiers and I would likely make a good meal here within the hour. The youths bowed their heads and gave greyish-greenish blushes before turning and carrying their net toward the cauldrons, which already had steam rising from them. There the Marshwiggle women gave far less bright predictions of how their offerings would fare, but did not, as a few left later to inform me of, say the fish might have already gone bad in the sun since being caught. I told them the fish had looked and smelled quite fresh to me, and I thought it would be fine. They nodded, thanked me, then turned and talked among themselves of whether or not I would continue to be so kind and polite when my fist soldier cramped up with food poisoning.
When the meal was ready all the soldiers well enough to do so gathered with borrowed bowls, pottery was common in the Marshlands and the Marshwiggles had been as generous with their clay dishes as with their food. Many of the Marsh-folk, not just the cooks, warriors, and mayor, but their families and the curious joined us, some bringing their own food and sharing it. Healers took dishes back to their patients if friends and family members of the wounded did not. No one got food poisoning and while it was not as filling as the banquets in the time of The Four and the few good years after, all felt strengthened.
…
As the stars shone down upon the marsh we ventured forth. Marsh folk walked on ahead testing the ground, whispering of the terrain as long as they could. Truly the drought had made the marsh less difficult if not easy to transverse. The Telmarines seemed to not agree as they had withdrawn beyond the reeds again and there made their camp. We came near to the edge of the reeds and stopped.
We watched until the guards revealed themselves and their posts as they marched back and forth in the starlight. Bows were raised. With a twang of bowstrings and hiss of cut air the arrows sped forth. The Telmarine guards fell.
Then, the small soldiers, the Water Rats, Mice, Weasels, and other Beasts who could wield swords and go nearly unnoticed in low cover crept forth. These went in among the enemies' tents. Moments passed.
Snorts, twitched ears, and shifting stances showed how raw the wait made our nerves. Then cries came from the camp. Sons of Adams flung open tent-flaps and stepped forth. More arrows were loosed. More Telmarines fell. And then many more. From farther in and farther in the camp men in steel armor rushed forth. Wave after wave followed those who fell. The chorus of bowstring slowed. The archers were running low on arrows despite taking some from the felled Telmarine archers the night before. Then the grass rustled as some of the small soldiers returned. A Mouse stopped and rose to his hind feet before me with an almost-hidden wince. He was bleeding from a cut ear. "We managed to slay five, but two of my brothers were killed in the tent we attacked."
I nodded. "You did well." Then I stooped and picked the soldier up. The Marshwiggle Mayor beside me whistled. Larger soldiers picked up the smaller and ran. Our enemy began to follow us in, but then their commander called them back. As I had hoped, he did not want his soldiers to travel the Marshlands at night.
…
For days the Telmarines stayed out of the Marshlands, though they tripled their guards and gave them horns to sound at a hint of trouble. We, however, stayed far from their tents. Our wounded healed. We all rested. The Marsh-folk continued to feed us apologetically. I worried we were depleting even their food stores. Then, what we had feared and waited for came. Telmarine reinforcements arrived.
Five times the original numbers which had tracked us to the Marshlands joined them. Their general was with them. I mustered my troops, but kept them back from the edge of the reeds so the enemy would have to come to us. They did.
He led the way himself cautiously picking over the firmer terrain. As they came within shooting distance I shouted the order. The first volley of arrows flew. As the Telmarines attempted to recover we charged. We drove the confused sons of Adam hard and toward the quicksand pits. A few of our own got pulled into these. Blood turned the marshlands crimson. Birds calling out orders and developments overhead were shot down. Pouncing beasts dove straight into swords. The smaller Beasts were kicked.
The sons of Adam were learning. And they outnumbered us badly. In time their numbers won out, they began to drive us back even as their feet sank into the muck. We were far fewer than before. I no longer knew how few. The Birds had fallen silent. Screams told me little. I tried to charge their general, but his spearmen and archers guarded him well. Then a horn sounded in the distance, the great distance. Reinforcements, but not Telmarine. The Telmarine horn back at their camp was blown soon after. Then the roar of great forces meeting each other came from there.
Their general turned his gaze upon me. I smirked. His eyes scrunched nearly shut, but he gave the shout for withdrawal. His forces pulled back and together, as well as they could in the Marsh, and backed away. Survivors gathered to me and we waited, soon after they left we hastily gathered our dead and wounded. Then we also retreated to the great hut.
The next morning a Hawk found me there. "There was great loss on both sides, but most of the Telmarines survived. Our forces lost a fourth. Storm-hoof asks you and the Marsh-folk to retreat south toward the Great Forest and Cair Paravel that his force might do the same.
I turned my gaze upon the Marsh-folk. Their Mayor nodded to me. "Likely they would burn us out or a sudden storm would flood us out anyway."
I turned back to the Hawk and nodded. "Tell Storm-hoof we will meet at Cair Paravel."
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God Bless
ScribeofHeroes
