The Willow Rebellion

Turil hurried down the corridor. As he passed the tall floor length windows he could see glimpses of the night sky, clear and cloudless. King Lune needed to hear this; he wouldn't believe it. No one who knew anything about the culture of Archenland could believe this. And yet it was happening.

Turil had first gone to his majesty's bedchamber but he had not been there. A guard had told him that the King had gone to check on his son, Prince Corin, and so would be in the Royal Nursery. So off Turil had trotted to the nursery. This whole journey was beginning to feel familiar and Turil couldn't help but feel a sense of de-ja-vu. In fact this whole ordeal was making him think about that slave-girl from Tashbaan. What had her name been? Turil could not recall though she had certainly made an impression on Mahlirra; whisking her off, away from the castle. Turil tutted slightly in his haste: taking off like that, from a place so near to her home and her father, what had that dryad-girl been thinking! He had a sneaking suspicion that her disappearance had somehow caused all this.

Turil rounded the corner and came to the doors of the nursery. He knocked on the door which was opened by the wet nurse.

"Where is the King?" He asked, "It's important."

"I don't know," she replied, "He was here no less than an hour ago. He took Prince Corin and disappeared. The poor babe wouldn't stop crying so the King said he would take him for a walk."

"Where?"

"Like I said," she answered, somewhat coldly, "I don't know." She closed the door in his face. Turil had no time to be annoyed by her rudeness. He needed to find the King. His majesty was eccentric in his habits, especially when it came to his son, or when he couldn't sleep. He would do the oddest things. Why – Turil thought – he had decided to call that new rose in the courtyard after Mahlirra because it reminded him of a willow tree. Turil stopped – the Rose Courtyard. Of course that was where the King would be. He loved the Roses and the Courtyard was his favourite place, he spent a lot of time there, especially since Prince Cor's disappearance.

Without another moment of hesitation Turil turned on the spot and headed to the eastern side of the castle.

King Lune was standing, his son asleep in his arms, staring out eastwards, his back to his beloved roses. He heard the doors open and the clipping sound of the faun hurrying over to him.

"Your majesty," Turil said, wheezing slightly from hurrying to find his King, "It's the dryads. They've risen in open rebellion."

"I know," King Lune said and took out of his pockets a letter, "Read this. It's from Salix."

Turil took the letter. Lune returned to staring out over the parapet, cradling Prince Corin to his chest. The letter was sealed with red wax, the soft imprint of a willow just visible. He opened it and read the contents:

To the tyrant Lune, supposed King of the Free Realm of Archenland, and all his corrupt advisors;

Too long has this once free realm been under the control of man and his consorts. The Dryads are an ancient and powerful people, an innate part of these northern lands. Yet for too long we have been subdued by the haste and rash decisions of you and your forebears, decisions oft made in anger and with hate.

I, Salix of the Mountain Slopes, have a host of five hundred of the strongest Dryads from the forests of the north. We march on Anvard and though I bear you and your courtiers no good will, I do not wish this to come to violence or bloodshed. You cannot overcome us. We are a part of the land. And when we rise up against your authority, as we have done, so too has the physical land of this country.

For the lives of the innocents in your care, I ask you to surrender and allow us to take command of the ancient capital without bloodshed. If you chose to take up arms against us there is only one possible outcome: the death of you and all those you love and protect. This we do not want. When we arrive at Anvard at dusk on the morrow, we expect the gates to be open and no arms to be taken up against us.

We can assure the safety of all innocents, your son included, as well as most of your courtiers. However, as to yourself and a select few, we cannot promise this. We shall conduct trials for all the crimes against the Dryads done by you and the other guilty persons. The sentence will be death.

I, in this letter, have been honest with you; something you have always failed to do with me and my people. The decision is yours, but if you do chose to attempt to fight us, I cannot assure the safety of anyone, least of all you or your son.

May Aslan guide you in this decision, though I fear you have turned from him completely.

Yours in good faith,

Salix of the Willow,

Leader of the Dryads

Turil finished reading, there was a look of disgust on his face. King Lune was still staring out eastward.

"When did you receive this letter?"

"Just before I went to bed."

"I see," Turil paused before asking, "You're not going to do what he suggests your majesty? He is a traitor and though he tries to justify what he is doing, there is no possible justification: the Dryads have always been treated with respect by you and all your forebears!"

"Turil," King Lune said, turning to the faun, "Why did you come to find me?"

"To tell you of this."

"But why specifically?"

"So we can arm ourselves. So we can try to speak with the Dryads and find out why they are doing this." Turil stared at his King; why was he not responding, why was he standing there as if resigned to such evil? "WE MUST STOP THIS ABSURD REBELLION! WE MUST STAND AGAINST IT!" He exclaimed, scaring even himself with his anger: he had never raised his voice before, especially not at his King.

"We cannot defeat them." King Lune said simply, "Tell me how many dryads are heading to Anvard. What are the numbers?"

"Lady Pamela was the one who spotted them," Turil said, resigned, "She was riding for the Mountain Pass when she spotted them. Her estimates were between four hundred and seven hundred."

"If there's one thing I'm certain about," King Lune said, taking the letter back, "It's that a Dryad can be counted on for honesty at the very least. He said five hundred. That's how many there are."

"We can't just do nothing."

"I respect Salix," King Lune said, "What he says is true. Why should I get to govern this land? Why should one man get that power?" Turil was horrified. Salix had a way with words but he had not expected his King to be so convinced by this poisonous letter.

"Aslan appointed your forebears. You get your power from Aslan." Turil said desperately, "It is a power given to you and only the Great Lion can take that away."

"But my son," Lune turned back to Turil and he saw that his King was crying, "I can't risk his life."

"You think that Salix will let him be if you hand over Anvard?" Turil said, incredulous, "He would not risk that – the heir would always be a threat to him, and you know that! If Salix gains control of Anvard, Prince Corin is as good as dead."

"What do I do?"

"We must delay the dryads for as long as we can," Turil said, "We should send out a party to speak with them. I have already sent word to Cair Paravel via Ibin the Owl. They will know by morning. The Pevensies will help us."

King Lune nodded and took a deep breath. "We must organise the party who are to go to parley with the Dryads."

"I'd be happy to go your majesty," Turil said, "I'd give Salix a piece of my mind that treacherous little stick!"

"Oh no," King Lune said, smiling at this uncharacteristic anger from the faun, "You must stay here in case things do not go as planned. I'll go with a delegation made up of Naiads, beasts and Oren the centaur. If only we still had Mahlirra. I suppose it would be too much to ask for her to talk to her father."

"Perhaps she is with him?" Turil said, "Perhaps she has joined in this madness alongside the others. What were they thinking?"

"They are loyal primarily to Salix," Lune said sadly, "He is the oldest Dryad, the wisest. Of course they would follow him. I just don't understand what sparked this in Salix himself."

Turil didn't answer; he was staring thoughtfully out to the sea. Lune looked down at his son. Prince Corin was still sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware of the rebellion, of the unrest amongst the most peaceful of people, amongst the wise and kindly Dryads.

Away to the north the line of the forest crept closer to Anvard.

A/N: Oh dear... It's not going too well for poor King Lune. And there are werewolves in Narnia! Don't worry - we'll be returning to Ellen in the next chapter to see how she dealt with that werewolf, and Mahlirra will be appearing again next chapter as well but until then it'd be great to get some opinions on this chapter.

Was it a bit out of the blue? That's actually sort of how I want it to come across... But what ignited this in the dryads, in Mahlirra's father of all people? Don't worry I, as the omniscient writer, know the answer to all the questions... sort of... ;)

Also - Happy Easter!

SHS

:D :D :D

PS: Turil was originally just a filler character, an extra, but I really like him now. He just oozes that loyal servant vibe - like Ser Davos in Game of Thrones or Samwise Gamgee. King Lune is lucky to have him I think. He's a good advisor and I'm imagining him as having sort of goatish good looks. Not sure why...

Anyway, thanks for reading and please do leave an opinion: reviews are, and always will be, the bomb! :D