Note from the authoress: And now for something very unusual. For the sake of this chapter and the story it tells, I've switched the location of Narnia's last battle in Lewis's seventh chronicle. My apologies to readers who want me to stick strictly to what the book says, but I feel the change of location really works for the story you're about to read.
I'll be interested in what you all thought of this Narnian tale, once the idea popped into my head I thought it would fit well into this series.
Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed, I appreciate all of your feedback.
Next chapter will be an interesting mix of the story behind the four thrones, and the tale of a king and queen from our own world will also make a surprising appearance.
Thanks for reading.
It had stood upright and immovable since the birth of their nation, an unusual sight amidst the living trees of the ancient Narnian forest.
Tall and strong, it was crafted of iron, so the dwarfs who came to inspect this wonder proclaimed.
Though it was not alive as were many of the walking trees, at its top burned a steady light. It did not seek to consume like the flames of a fire, or dance and flicker as does the light of a single candle.
Instead it burned without ceasing, needing nothing to sustain its fierce unwavering light, a wonder to all who dwelt in Narnia.
Always it remained untouched by the passage of centuries, an ancient relic which had been brought to Narnia on the day of its creation.
Thus it became a symbol of the truth of the old stories, living proof that Narnia had indeed been created as they had claimed.
One of the ancient tales, often repeated at hearths throughout the land during the time of Jadis was the history of the tree of protection, and the promise of safety it represented for their nation as long as it was tended.
The last king and queen of Narnia before the coming of Jadis, had urged their people to cling to the tales of Aslan, to honor the great lion and guard the sacred tree.
But despite their warnings, there were many in Narnia who ignored their wise counsel.
After their deaths Narnia had fallen into chaos, and with none left of the royal house of Frank to take up the duty of ruling, Jadis found Narnia an easy conquest.
Had any Narnians been acquainted with the ancient legends of our world, they would have said that the destruction of the tree of protection resembled the opening of the fabled box of Pandora.
For as the false queen spread terror and destruction, casting spells of power to lock the land in endless winter, many whispered that evil times were afoot.
And in secret some passed on the knowledge of the prophecy of the four, so that it would never be forgotten.
Many sought relics from the first century of their nation, scraps of proof that the old tales were real and could offer some encouragement amidst the dark and endless years of winter.
This was not an easy task, for Jadis had moved quickly to destroy anything that would corroborate the truth of the ancient stories.
And yet she neglected the one thing which would not be corrupted by her power, for it had been taken from another world in hatred and thus could not be forced to obey her will. Nor did it carry a trace of life or dark magic, something which she could twist and corrupt for her own purposes.
And so this simple tree of iron, crowned by a light which never died, became the symbol of something which had long forsaken the hearts of Narnians. It became a single spark of hope, the one thing left to them amidst the sorrow, cruelty and despair which their enemy had unleashed upon their land with the destruction of the sacred tree.
But for the false queen, it was different. For every time she passed through the glade where this relic of Narnia's history still stood, she was consumed by thoughts of her greatest enemy.
Aslan, the great lion, the true king of Narnia, who had by will and song alone created this empire she now claimed as her own.
And she would remember. The ancient echoes of the great lion's song of power, calling this land to awake, giving an empty world unspeakable beauty and life.
Of how enraged she had sought to end his existence, by hurling an iron bar at his head, and her shock and fury as it had no affect.
And even now, centuries later, after she had worked to eradicate all the tales of his glory, this iron bar remained, grown into something her subjects looked upon as a symbol of hope and rebirth.
And there was nothing she could do to quench its light, or stamp out the fire of hope and expectation it had rekindled in the souls of her unwilling subjects.
Nor did Jadis want to admit to herself that whenever she passed the clearing which contained the tree of iron, she would be gripped with the long ago memory of a lion's deep and unwavering gaze, and the knowledge that though she had won immortality and endless strength, her power was no match for the might of Aslan.
She had decreed that none should ever speak that name within her realm, for at the sound of it she felt a cold dread, the knowledge that one day her reign would end, according to the will of the great lion, and the prophecy he had given his people which spoke of others coming from that other world to end her time as empress.
Thus she avoided looking at this cold and lifeless tree, for it represented fear, failure, and the sure promise of her downfall.
She could not know that long after her death, it would become a symbol around which friends and family would gather once a year. And after a respectful silence stories would be shared, songs sung, in loving memory of the four, whose coming she had fought so hard to prevent.
In time this tradition would fade, as those who remembered the prophesied ones passed into Aslan's country. But their tales and treasures kept from the golden age of Narnia remained, tangible proof that even in times of darkness, Aslan had not forgotten his people.
It was a great pity, that this tree forged of iron would never know or comprehend its impact upon a nation, of the hope it brought to those who had long thought their land desolate.
It would never know of how at the death of Narnia, the clearing where it stood would become the site of the last battle for a nation once again struggling under the crushing weight of darkness.
Nor could it know how it would fill the mind of a powerful queen with fury, terror, and an approaching sense of doom whenever she gazed upon its light.
After all, it was only a lamppost.