A/N: Hello everyone, quick note: This is my first CoN fanfic so please be nice. I would love if you would tell me what I could do better and what you really think of this idea. It's been bugging me for nearly a year now so here you go. Also this will be a mixture of the movie and the book so if you are only aware of one you may be confused in some places.
Disclaimer: I own nothing; why else would I be on this site.
A/N 2: Can you believe I've actually made it to ten chapters? Because I can't. Please review!
Chapter Ten: A Long, Long, Long, Long Walk
We had not been stopped for very long at all when Mr. Beaver announced it was time to be on the move. I was not too discouraged at the idea seeing as how my fingers had managed to freeze stiff in that brief amount of time that we had rested. At first it was almost nice, the moon shining brilliantly on the pure un-trodden snow. This however quickly grew old as we continued on with the snow crunching softly beneath us and the ever constant calls from Mr. Beaver to keep up. The snowfall slowly let up a bit which was either a blessing or a curse. The easier travel was for us the easier it would be for the Witch. On and on this went the snow going crunch-crunch and poor Lucy looked as if she might fall over the moment we stopped again.
After several hours of the repeated pattern we reached a place where a cliff rose on one side and a narrow trail down the other. Carefully we picked our way down the lower path since the Witch's sleigh could not easily follow there. It seemed as though we were going to continue our odd little parade all night when suddenly Mr. Beaver disappeared from sight. I was so close to being deliriously tired that his momentary absence threw my brain completely off. The next moment, his furry head poked up from behind a small little bluff that rose maybe three feet above the surrounding ground. He motioned us to follow him and what we found was a small sort of cave, only it was too small to really be a cave. The bluff made a sort of outcropping that the five of us could fit under and when we finally got settled it was actually almost cozy. Peter and I lay each on one side of Lucy, huddling close to try and keep away the cold, the Beavers were next to Peter. I thought him quite lucky to be near the extra heat of the two beavers. At first I imagined it would be difficult to fall asleep but soon I found that exhaustion won out.
There was a ticklish feeling along my face that startled me awake. I looked to see Mrs. Beaver hovering over Lucy and me trying to get closer to the entrance of the little cave. Peter was sitting bolt upright next to me and Lucy groggily joined us. I could not see Mr. Beaver, but this was not what worried me. It was soft, almost impossible to make out, but I distinctly heard the sound of little bells. I held my breath knowing this would be the end of our journey; the Beaver's kindness would be for nothing. Suddenly Mr. Beaver poked his head back into the cave with a grin that split his face. Lucy gave a little squeal at the start he gave us.
"It's alright, it's not her! There's someone here who's dyin' to meet ya!" the Beaver said excitedly. Carefully and still cautious we each made it out of the rocky hole we had spent the night in and followed Mr. Beaver. There not five feet away from us was a sight that would put anyone in shock. There was a sledge in front of us harnessed with little bells on a team of large brown reindeer, but even more intriguing than that was the man who stood in front of the sleigh. He was much taller than I would have expected standing at least six feet tall, his robes were deep red and richly lined with a fur collar and there was something so wise and kind in his eye all at once that I wondered if he didn't know exactly what I was thinking. Before us stood Father Christmas.
Even when he was standing right in front of us I found it slightly hard to be sure he was really there. We paused for a moment each endlessly glad that this was no witch. Lucy was the first to break the momentary silence. With a huge grin on her face she walked up and said, "Merry Christmas sir."
He gave a slight laugh, "It certainly is Lucy, now that you've arrived." His voice was kind and gentle.
I turned to Peter. "Look I've put up with a lot since I got here, but this-"
"We thought you were the Witch." Peter interrupted; probably wisely in this case. Even for a magic country we found in a magic wardrobe this was crazy… right?
"Yes," Father Christmas replied overlooking my disbelief, "sorry about that, but in my defense I have been driving one of these longer than the Witch."
"I thought there was no Christmas in Narnia." I stepped toward him, suddenly more relieved than before.
"No," he said almost breathlessly, "not for a long time. But Aslan is on the move; and the hope you have brought, your Majesties, has finally started to weaken the Witch's power. But I daresay you could still do with these." He turned Mrs. Beaver at first. "There is a new sewing machine for you Mrs. Beaver; I shall drop it by your house as I pass."
"If you please sir," Mrs. Beaver said with a polite dip of her head, "it's all locked up."
"Locks and bolts make no difference to me." He said with a twinkle in his eye. "And for Mr. Beaver, when you return home you will find your dam repaired and finished with all the leaks mended." Mr. Beaver looked like he would reply but instead seemed to just smile as if he could not find the right thanks.
After he had spoken to them he turned to us and pulled out a huge cloth bag. "Presents!" Lucy exclaimed.
He gave a hearty laugh and bent to her level. He pulled out a small bottle that looked like it was made from glass and contained a red liquid that made you feel you'd never truly seen the color red before. "In this bottle, is a cordial made from the juice of a fire-flower that grows on the mountains of the sun. One drop will cure any injury. And though I hope you never have to use it-"he pulled out a small dagger and carefully placed it in her small hands.
"Thank you, sir," Lucy began politely, "but I think I could be brave enough."
His blue eyes locked on to hers. "I'm sure you could, but battles are ugly affairs." He smiled a little sadly at her then she returned to where Peter and I stood.
"Susan, Eve's Daughter," I slowly stepped toward him and he handed me a beautifully carved ivory bow and a quiver full of arrows. "Trust in this bow and it will not easily miss."
"What happened to battles are ugly affairs?" I asked a little concerned now. He merely laughed but I sensed in that moment that he had left the decision to fight up to me.
"And although you don't seem to have a problem making yourself heard-"he handed me a horn, similar to the bow and arrows, carved with a lion's face into it, "blow on this and wherever you are, help will find you." I looked into his eyes, so good, so true, and found I could barely thank him. I stepped back with Lucy and held her hand around my horn.
"Peter, Adam's Son," my brother solemnly stepped forward and Father Christmas gave him a silver shield and sword, complete with a sword belt and everything it needed, "the time to use these may be near at hand." Peter slowly pulled the sword out of its sheath and admired the gleaming weapon.
"Thank you, sir." Peter said softly.
"These are tools, not toys." He warned. "Bear them well and wisely." Peter carefully put it away.
"And now, something for everybody," seemingly out of nowhere and I'll never be sure where it came from there was a table filled with food and tea things and plates. "Now I must be off, things do tend to pile up when you've been gone a hundred years." He said with a cheerful laugh. "Merry Christmas! Long live the true King!" He cried and just like that he was gone.
"Merry Christmas!" We each cried out after him.
"Told you he was real." Lucy turned to me with a laugh. We turned our attention to the food and quickly ate everything provided. I wished we could have stopped longer but Mr. Beaver shortly set us on the move again. And so again we began what felt like a never ending walk.
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