Chapter 13: Hope While Waiting

Disclaimer: I'm merely fingerpainting on the walls of Lewis's great cathedral, but I hope they'd make him smile, to see such things.
And anything underlined is a direct quote from his masterpiece.

A/N: I made this a lot shorter because of the monster the last chapter was. Hopefully it's easier (and maybe better?) reading.

OOOOO

Tomorrow came, and the morrow after that, and again, and again. She left Doctor Cornelius alone. She offered sympathy to Lady Belisar and the others who started coming to her, after the lady's introduction. And she went back to the window in the tower, every day, to pray to Aslan.

And it made a difference. She could not have told even Aslan Himself why (perhaps He could have told her), but little by little, her fear fell away. There was darkness, but there wasn't despair.

And she grew stronger, and wiser, as she counselled the hurting. Caspian was still her joy—after the very hard evenings, waking up to the seven-year-old's energy was annoying, but seeing him smile made all the other burdens fall away. But in the evenings, after he was sleeping, when the bereaved sought her out at her window, she found herself bolder. If the queen had still been alive, she thought one night with a pang, she probably would have had the courage to ask her what she thought of Aslan. Not because the situation changed, but because the nurse trusted Aslan more.

And as the tomorrows continued to come, and nothing changed, she started to focus more on the future.

Narnia's future.

Caspian, who held all her hopes for that future. He had the incurable inquisitiveness of a child, and a love for the stories she told, and those combined taught him more about Narnia, Old Narnia, than any of the Caspians before him had known. She'd told him of the dwarves, the dryads, the naiads, and a little of the fauns, but she found her stories had mainly been of Narnia's Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve.

And though they made up most of Caspian's people now, if Old Narnia ever came back, there would be so many more to know.

So she started asking for books on the habits of creatures, and having Caspian tell her stories on picnics of what the animals they saw could do, if they could think and talk. Hobbling after his running steps, she had him talk to the birds that sang back, or talk to distant hares about what their holes were like. She played the part of the animals, pitching her voice to different tones, talking to him as if she were the creatures from her stories. She did her absolute best to open his eyes to what the world would be like, if Old Narnia returned.

And the more she dreamed about it, the more her old heart grew more certain of its coming. Please Aslan, in my lifetime, she prayed at the window at night. It made such a difference, to have that hope to hold on to.

Caspian loved the stories of the battles and adventures, but the more he "spoke" with the animals around him, the more he wanted to know about them, their stories. He started acting out each animal as the stories were told. Though it made it harder for him to fall asleep right away, it tied him to Narnia's other people all the more. His gentleness with all the animals around him warmed the nurse's heart. But it brought its own set of troubles too.

For the nurse still avoided the Lord Protector, and so she was not there, the morning Caspian was returning, escorted by one of the Lord Protector's perpetual hangers-on. The two, she was told later, were crossing the courtyard when the seven-year-old heard yips of pain coming from the shed where the dogs were kept. The prince, breaking away from the bored lord at a run, had been at the door lifting the latch before the grown-up caught on, and inside before he'd had time to say more than two words. Inside were some of the other noble boys, who'd found a puppy and were throwing it from boy to boy like a ball, laughing as it yipped and whimpered. Caspian, yelling with all the fury of a righteous seven-year-old, ran into the middle and caught the dog, bringing it to his chest with both arms, its little paws still kicking, and it whimpering as he yelled at the others to stop, stop hurting it, it's a puppy! Some of the knights outside, including Lord Bern, had heard the shouts, and had come to rescue both prince and puppy when the other boys surrounded them and decided a little kid made an even better target. Lord Bern had ordered the boys out the door and ordered the hounds on them, chasing them all the way to the palace door and inside with yelps not unlike the puppy's as they ran. The Lord Bern had taken the puppy, with a kind word to the prince to see it healed and trained, and promising to bring the trained puppy back to see him some day, before delivering him back to the irate and scared lord who was supposed to escort him.

Not that Caspian used those words, but the nurse was fluent in his storytelling by now.

"Nurse?"

"Yes, my prince?" By now she did not even bother stopping her work unless he asked a serious question.

"Lord Bern rescued us, didn't he?"

"Yes, my prince. He is a good man." She smiled. One of the few left, but one whose common sense and kindness might keep him safe from any scheming usurper. Too many people liked him for the Lord Protector to kill him.

She hoped. She prayed.

"But he didn't alone."

"No?"

"The animals helped him."

"Animals are a great help to humans, my prince."

"Nurse?"

"Yes, my prince?"

"Did animals ever save the old kings and queens?"

The nurse set her work-stitching up a hole in the prince's clothing-aside, and looked out the window. It was nearly sunset anyway. "Put your toys away, my prince, and I will tell you a tale of Moonwood the Hare…"

OOOOO

Once, long ago, when Narnia was ruled from a different castle, there were Narnian animals with great gifts. One of them was Moonwood the Hare, who had such ears that he could sit by Cauldron Pool under the thunder of the great waterfall and hear what men spoke in whispers in Cair Paravel. Yes, my prince, and could even hear a shout at the Lone Islands, if he was really listening, from Narnia's shore. That is further than you can see! And if he were not a wise hare, it would have been most difficult for their majesties, for he could hear all their secrets, their arguments, their unkingly moments. But he was a wise hare, and believed that Aslan made the destinies of Narnians, and he need not interfere overmuch. Unless he was asked. But for all his gifts, and his patient, waiting mind, he had a hope in his heart, that someday, Aslan would let him use his gifts to do something great for Narnia.

There were a few times he had done a little for Narnia—hopping at a leisurely pace for two days, my prince, to tell their majesties that the marshwiggles believed that all four were deathly ill, and might need to be visited so they didn't create a fortress to stave off the oncoming civil war. Their majesties thanked him politely, between sneezes (achoo!), and went and made sure their dour subjects didn't withdraw from the rest of Narnia because of a common cold. The marshwiggles were most unhappy to hear their majesties were not dead, but as the majesties accidentally passed on their colds to the marshwiggle population soon enough the marshwiggles had enough misery to predict to keep themselves happy.

And another time he stopped their majesties from riding through a valley because he heard the creaking and rumbling of loose boulders at the top, but...that was common courtesy. He wanted to do something big. He wanted to save Narnia.

But he grew older, and a little wiser, but not much, because he'd had such a good start from hearing so much of the world. And nothing very exciting seemed to happen, nothing like the stories he heard parents telling their children so often of the defeat of the White Witch. Or the stories of King Peter and King Edmund fighting giants. Or Queen Lucy gathering a neighborhood of animals and routing a group of ogres that came to stomp on all the animals' homes. He could hear all the fighting as it took place over Narnia, but it seemed he was never where it happened. Not until one day, after the four had been reigning for years, when Queen Susan was riding in his forest and stopped to talk to him, leaning down on the neck of her horse, though he could hear her clearly without that courtesy. But all of the sudden he stopped listening, and started listening to something else. It was panting breaths, like an animal had been running, and claws digging into the dirt on otherwise-silent footsteps, and the soft, soft sound of a tail swishing through the air.

It was the sounds of a dog, a large one, a talking dog as big as a your pony, and he could hear the drool dripping from its mouth. It was hungry. Moonwood, who had turned away from the Queen, turned back with one jump and screamed "Ride!" in the high voice of a terrified rabbit. And the queen, stooping lower, grabbed his ears and hauled him on her horse, and with firm hand and feet booted her horse into a run while turning him at the same time. And Moonwood, sitting on the horse in front of the queen, listened as hard as he could above the noise of the horse, and heard the footsteps of the hound coming closer, closer, and could hear the calm voice of the queen and her quick, quick, quick heartbeats, and he knew she was frightened. But she her voice and hands were calm, urging the horse, one hand on the rabbit to keep him from falling off. And he hated it.

He hated that she, one of the four who brought good sounds back to Narnia, would be so frightened. He hated that she might get hurt. And when the hound got closer, close enough to growl and snap at the horse's heels, he shook himself loose from the queen's hand and jumped, prince, yes, just like that! And he landed on the hound's head, and quick as a rabbit, scratched out his eyes! And the hound, yelping with a deep voice, just, like that! Pawed at his eyes and head, and one raking claw hit the rabbit across his back, and made bloody rips, and the rabbit flew off. And the queen, despite having no weapon, had turned her horse around and was riding back, and she rode the horse over the hound, making it yelp more, and fall, body bruised, and she slide off her horse by the rabbit and picked him up once again, cradling him like this. She took him back to the castle, calling the guards to go find and arrest the hound, and took him to the healers. And poor Moonwood, quivering, lay under their hands as they sewed his white fur back together and wondered why he had ever wanted to be part of adventures.

It took him a long time to heal, my prince, for his skin grew back together slowly, for it had several places to heal. And the kings and queens invited, nay, insisted, he stay at the palace till he was better. And so he wandered, slowly, about the palace for several days. But he could hear everything in it louder than ever, my prince, and no matter how he folded his ears down the sounds still hurt him. So he went into the gardens, more and more, or the shore, by the blue sea. And staying there, he asked Aslan why he'd had to get hurt. And Aslan said nothing.

But he was wise. And he waited. And a week afterwards, as he wandered from the gardens to the shore, his ears unfolded, for he heard a new sound. He heard water slapping wood. Now, think of the beach, my prince. I know you do not like it, but think of it for a moment. Do trees grow there? No. So how could the water be hitting wood? He raised his ears all the way up, and heard other sounds; the wind hitting cloth, metal clinking against wood, and the small hum of many, many whispers. And all these sounds were coming from the sea.

And he sat back, listening harder, and waited. He had learned, my prince, that most secrets will tell themselves to someone who can wait. And he heard the voices of men, cold, cruel, voices, the snap of whips, and finally, a captain of a ship giving orders to soldiers in low voices, to row backwards and keep the ships out of sight until the cover of night. And then he gave orders to storm the castle of the four and kill those within. Moonwood, looking at the setting sun, felt his own heart start to race, for there was little time before the soldiers would arrive, and taking a deep breath, he raced, ignoring the way the rips in his back tore, up the hill, through the trees, through the gardens, and into the nearest guard, and yelled at them to warn the four, the soldiers, the generals, for there were soldiers posted offshore!

And the guards heard him, and one ran for a general, and he came—clop, clop, clop!—and within minutes sea gulls had been sent to find the ships, and came back with a report of three, and the general himself took Moonwood to the very tallest tower, where the kings and queens already were, and there they made their plans while Moonwood listened for any more information from what he could hear on the ships. And that night, before they set sail for land, mermen and mermaids swam beneath the ships and bore holes in them, and rescued the men in chains who almost drowned, and the soldiers who swam to shore were met by Narnian soldiers and arrested. And thus, my prince, Moonwood the Hare used his incredible hearing to save Narnia, with the help Aslan's timing that drove him to the shore for quiet.

OOOOO

She finished the tale, and Caspian jumped one more time to imitate the hero Moonwood, and then rose to put him to bed. He thanked her for the story with a hug around her neck, before nestling into his blankets with a toy horse clutched close. She pulled a blanket over them both.

Hope. He was so bright, so curious, so loving, her prince. She went back to her window and started to pray, asking for the fulfillment of her hopes. And as she prayed, she heard a single word.

Mine.

She paused, frowning for a moment. She heard it repeated, in a voice so low it could be a growl.

Mine.

His? She paused, taking her old, sharp mind back over what she'd been saying.

Her hope. Her dreams.

Her prince.

Only he wasn't, and there was something terrifying in that idea.

Aslan—wasn't he hers?

Aslan Himself had placed her in Caspian's life.

But—Aslan had never promised she would get to keep him.

She bowed her head. Caspian—wasn't hers. Hers to love, yes. Hers to serve.

Not hers to keep.

She went back to the nursery, and watched the sleeping, heavily-breathing prince for several long moments. Aslan, she prayed, keep him safe.

I will trust You with this too.

OOOOO

Response to Anonymousme: I have plans for the Lords of Beaversdam-and Lady Belisar, too, as it happens. I will admit Caspian's part of the story isn't as clear in my head yet. But the nurse's is planned out, with two more chapters after this one. I wanted her to be there through the time when Miraz is declared king, because that seems to be canonically accurate; but everyone else has to disappear first. I'm sorry if that stretches it out further than you wanted it to go. And yes, you're right about Leisa. Again, I just wanted to make it vague, but didn't want to leave anyone unprepared. Lion be with you as well.