Chapter Twenty-One: The Return of the Lion
In the blue haze of the first hours of morning, Lucy and Tilda crept toward the abandoned Table on which the Lion's body remained.
"He must have known what he was doing," Lucy remarked sadly, getting up onto the Table beside him while Tilda crawled onto the other side.
"But what did he accomplish other than leave us without a leader?" Tilda questioned. "You heard the Witch, she is still going to attack us. We have to warn the others."
"But we can't just leave him." Lucy rubbed her hand down the shone neck. She wished to feel the thick tresses under her fingers once more – wished to hear him purr her name.
"There isn't time." Tilda looked seriously over to her companion. "They have to be warned."
Lucy glanced up, staring back into the forest from where they had come. Her face lit up with an idea. "The trees."
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Peter tossed uncomfortably in his hammock. He had had a fretful sleep that night, thinking about what had happened to Sigrid. It could happen to any one of his siblings or cousin or Bard's remaining two children or the Dwarves he barely knew or Gandalf or… The list could go on forever, Peter realized. Being King meant he had to be responsible for every one of his followers – whether they were Narnian or not.
Again, his mind returned to standing under the lamppost with Sigrid. He wished they could have had more time together.
The flaps at the tent door blew gently back and leaves and petals flew in. Peter was up in a flash, drawing his sword when he noticed that a figure was materializing out of the foliage. Bain and Edmund jerked awake.
"Be still, my Princes," the Dryad spoke. "I bring grave news from your sisters."
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"She's right." Peter walked out of Aslan's pavilion to meet Edmund, Bain, Eustace, Susan and the black-coated Centaur called Oreius, all standing round a table on which was sprawled a map. "He's gone."
Edmund gazed up at his brother. "Then you'll have to lead us."
Peter met the gaze doubtfully before dipping his head over the map.
"Peter, there's an army out there and it's ready to follow you," Bain pointed out, surveying the Narnians who were hurrying about camp.
"I can't." The eldest boy shook his blonde mob. "I wouldn't know the first thing."
"Aslan believed you could lead them." Edmund stepped nearer his brother. "And so do I."
"Same here," added Eustace and Bain together. Susan nodded encouragingly though it was plain that she was apprehensive.
"The Witch's army is nearing, Sire," Oreius stated. "What are your orders?"
Peter looked down again, but this time not in doubt. There was a growing determination in his eyes as he studied over the map of the plains of Beruna. "Susan, can you handle the archers?"
"If Tauriel and Kili are with me."
"That'll do. We'll position the archers up on…these rocks here. They should have a good view." Peter began situating little flags over the map to mark the location of the army. "I'll be at the head with the fastest and most fleet-footed. We'll charge first. The Dwarves are a bit slower but powerful fighters; I'll want them close at hand. Also, I've a job for Dain and his horde – I just hope they can finish it in time. Furthermore, Bain, you'll have a small command off on the left flank, and Ed, you'll take the right." Peter looked up at Eustace. "What can you do?"
The question seemed to catch the boy off guard. "I…er…ah…"
Susan rolled her eyes. "Let him do sentry duty here at camp."
"Yes!" Eustace exclaimed. "I can do that. I'll have everything under control. The camp will be in safe hands."
Oreius withdrew a short dagger from a sheath on his side, handing it to the boy. "You may need this."
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As Peter and his captains began organizing and laying out the battle plans to their respectful hordes, Edmund went off in search of a sword he could use. He was moving briskly toward the armory tent when a noise to his right caught his attention. He paused and saw a little man beckoning to him from behind one of the red tents. Edmund made his way toward the Hobbit, now knowing that was what the creature was. He had known ever since he laid eyes on the short figure when he had first come into camp that there would be a time of reckoning between them.
"Mr. Bilbo?" Edmund asked, uncertain if that was the creature's name.
"Yes." The Hobbit fumbled with a chainmail shirt. "I propose a trade. This vest, no sword can pierce it, very handy to have in war, in exchange for a certain ring."
The Human shook his head. "I can't."
"Yes, you can," Bilbo put in eagerly.
"No, I can't. The Witch took it."
"Oh." Bilbo looked very dejected. "Are you sure it's not in one of your pockets? It's always in pockets." He reached toward Edmund who yanked back.
"I don't have it. And I think I am glad to be rid of it. Can't you see what's happening to you, what it's done to you?" Hurriedly, Edmund turned away. The bizarre ring had been one of his topics of discussion with Aslan, and the Great Lion had taken away his own uncouth desire to behold the ring once more.
"Ed – I mean, Sire," Bilbo called after him. He stumbled forward as the Human turned to face him. "You'll be needing this in battle. But it's, ah, just a loaner though."
Edmund took the chainmail vest into his hands. "Thank you, Mr. Bilbo."
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Lucy and Tilda had managed to pull off the horrid muzzle, but they could not work free the cords that bound the Lion's body to the Table. For the hour following, they lay on either side of him, weeping until they had no more tears to shed, and all was quiet. At last, Lucy looked up at the eastern sky and perceived that it was growing lighter. She also noted that something was scurrying about in the grass alongside the paved path. All at once, whatever-they-were were on the Table beside the girls, brandishing little rapiers.
"Go away! Go away!" screamed Tilda in fright, jerking away, then getting in front of them so that they could not cut up what remained of Aslan.
"It's all right, milady, I am Peepiceep and we are the Mouse Warriors of Narnia," the leader of the band spoke in a gentle voice. "We heard what happened and have come to pay our last respects." He brought his tiny blade up. "If you would permit us, we wish cut off the Great Lion's bonds."
"Oh, please do!" cried Lucy.
The Mice, who were larger than the ones Lucy had seen in her world, set about sawing at the ropes until all fell away. Then, in complete silence, they left one at a time, bowing their heads. Peepiceep was the last to leave, and after he had paid his farewell to Aslan, he whispered to Lucy.
"The battle will begin at dawn on the plains of Beruna. Your royal brothers are getting everyone ready as we speak. My tribe and I must hurry back. Good-bye, my Queen, and I hope we shall see each other again in a free Narnia."
"Good-bye," Lucy whispered back, and watched until all the Mice were out of sight.
The sky in the east was whitish by now and the stars were getting fainter – all except one very big, blue one low on the eastern horizon, over the sea. As the light grew, the dead face of the Lion looked nobler, and Lucy thought for a moment that he was alive.
"We should go," Tilda said softly, getting down from the Table. "You heard the Mice. They'll all be going into battle soon, and I want to wish Bain well."
Lucy stirred, not wanting to leave Aslan, but she also wanted to see her siblings off. After seeing Sigrid turned to stone, she realized just how much her family meant to her and just how little time they might have together. She got up, and she and Tilda walked, arms around each other's shoulders, back to camp.
All at once, the wind began howling and the whole earth shook, knocking the girls off their feet. When all was still once more, they stood and stared in disbelief behind them. The Stone Table was split down its center.
"Where's Aslan?" Lucy demanded.
"What have they done?" wailed Tilda.
Then the sun rose, shining brightly into the girls' eyes, but the glare did not bother them. They stared in wonder as a golden figure appeared in the sphere of light.
"Aslan!" both shouted with delight, rushing around the Table to embrace him.
"Aren't you dead?" Lucy asked once she had hugged him, still keeping a hand in his brilliant new mane.
"Not now."
"You're not – not a –" Tilda tried to question in a shaky voice, but she could not bring herself to say the word 'ghost.'
"Do I look it?"
"Oh, you're real, you're real! Oh, Aslan!" cheered Lucy, hugging him all over again.
Tilda ran her hand through his silky hair. "But what does it all mean?"
"It means that though the Witch knew the Deep Magic, there is a magic deeper still which she did not know. Her knowledge goes back only to the dawn of time. But if she could have looked a little further back, into the stillness and the darkness before Time dawned – but she can't; not even an Elf can – she would have read there a different incantation. She would have known that when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor's stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backward."
"But what about Sauron?" Lucy inquired.
Aslan sighed. "Death cannot be reversed until Death is defeated."
"So…" Lucy mumbled, muddling over something. "You defeated Sauron?"
"His spirit is broken, but the time to defeat him in body is yet to come. But that is for another time, dear one. For now…"
Lucy grinned at the mischievous look the Lion wore, and Tilda frowned in curiosity.
"Oh, children," said the Lion, "I feel my strength coming back to me. Oh, children, catch me if you can!" He stood for a second, his eyes bright, his limbs quivering, lashing himself with his tail. Then he made a leap high over their heads and landed on the other side of the Table. Laughing, Lucy and Tilda scrambled over it to reach him. Before they could, however, he had leaped again. A mad chase began. Round and round the hilltop he led them, now hopelessly out of their reach, now letting them almost catch his tail, now diving between them, now tossing them in the air with his huge and beautiful velvet paws and catching them again, and now stopping unexpectedly so that all three of them rolled over together in a happy, laughing heap of fur and arms and legs.
"And now to business," Aslan declared, getting back onto his paws.
Tilda appeared frightened by that. "We told everyone you were dead. They will have all gone to do battle," she announced, having forgotten about the war.
"We have to help them," put in Lucy, drawing her dagger.
"And we will, dear one," the Lion assured, placing his paw over Lucy's hand, lowering her weapon. "But we will not go alone. Get onto my back, you two. We have a long journey ahead, and little time to get there." With that, he got down onto his knees so that the young girls could climb aboard. "And you may want to cover your ears," he added, before he let out a mighty roar.
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Susan sucked in her breath, gazing at the large expanse on the opposite side of the plains that the Witch's army took up. Tauriel and Kili stood on either side of her, seemingly unfazed, to which Susan could only speculate that they were used to this sight. What a cruel world this Middle-Earth was if its people were familiar with the art of war.
"Remember what we practiced," the Elven warrior reminded the girl.
Susan nodded, slowly breathing in and out, putting on a stolid face. She saw Peter raise his hand to signal his captains, and she began to count. "One…two…"
"…three…four…" Peter watched as the Witch's army dashed across the field. They were moving into position. "…five…" He looked back at Oreius, who gave a nod then galloped into the hole Dain's forces had dug.
Inside the tunnel, an assortment of muscular Narnians – mainly Centaurs, a few Wild Men, and a couple loyal Minotaurs – waited for Orieus to arrive. The black Centaur lost no time charging past them and taking the lead into the passages beyond. The Narnians followed with loud cheers, swinging their clubs and axes into the columns holding up the roof.
"…six…seven…" Susan continued. "Archers to the ready! Take aim!"
Peter gripped the white mane of his Unicorn. "…eight…nine…Get ready!"
"Ten," finished Thorin, watching the plain expectantly. Right on cue, the ground collapsed under the enemies' feet, and all of Jadis' forerunners fell with the sod. A cheer rose from the Dwarves.
"NOW!" Susan shouted, and all the archers released their arrows, which flew right into the pit like sharp rain.
Jadis hissed with displeasure, striking the reins across the flanks of two polar bears, who brought her chariot forward. The rest of her army went after her and quickly overtook her, heading at full speed toward the Narnians.
Edmund lifted his sword over his head, and the Griffons that had been lying in wait on the outcrop behind him took to the sky, carrying large rocks in their paws. He remembered the look on Peter's face when he suggested that they try a "Blitz-like approach." Peter had grinned – "Well done, Ed, that's brilliant!" – and Edmund had known that all his wrongs had been redeemed in his brother's eyes.
The Witch's Minotaur caught sight of the high soaring Griffons and hollered back to the soldiers. "Look to the sky." Instantly, the Witch's Dwarves were shooting at the half-bird, half-lion creatures, killing a few. But most of the flying animals were out of reach and reigning havoc over the foe by dropping the boulders.
Once the Griffons were retreating back to the front, Peter raised his sword again. "For Narnia and for Aslan!" With that, he rode out onto the field, leading Centaurs, Fauns, Cheetahs and Rhinos.
Dain quickly whipped his army – that had been standing behind Peter's – into shape, and they began to march after the Narnians. "Let's beat the ol' buggers, laddies!" the Dwarf on the boar roared.
Within moments, Peter and his band had met the onslaught, with hundreds more of Jadis' minions advancing. Peter struck down an Orc with a vicious swipe of his blue-glowing blade. He glanced up and, through his visor, he saw the White Witch making her way toward him, her green eyes malignly locked with his.
Just then, trap doors in the earth fell down on either side of the enemy, and Orieus and the others who had been in the Dwarfish tunnels thundered onto the battlefield. Susan began to panic. "Too soon! They were supposed to be behind the Witch's army."
Kili drew back a flaming arrow and let it fly. Part way to its destination, the arrow transformed into a vibrant red bird, which burned into a blinding mass of fire. It streaked across the ground, creating a burning wall between Orieus' company and the end of Jadis' horde. Unfortunately, Jadis was also behind the wall, and a blue flash from her wand smote the wall into oblivion.
Peter gazed around him. Dain was off his boar and knocking creatures on the head with his lethal hammer, and Bombur was proving surprisingly agile for his size, spinning in circles like a tornado of death. However, it was a losing battle; there was too much space and no element of surprise anymore. Peter twisted in his saddle to look at Edmund.
"Fall back!" he ordered his troops. "Lead them to the rocks!"
"That's the signal," observed Mr. Beaver, who was standing at Edmund's side. Neither he nor Edmund could hear Peter's words, but they knew Peter had devised this back-up plan. "Time to move!"
Quickly, Edmund and Mr. Beaver directed their band of Griffons and other Narnians into the area where white or grey twisted pillars of stone thrust themselves up into the air. The fascinating landscape leant itself perfectly for ambushes. "Take your positions," Edmund advised. "They're almost here!"
Susan, Kili, Tauriel, and the archers were right behind Edmund. "Find good vantage points and lie low," Susan explained. "Do not shoot until they are directly below."
Bain's army was the only one to remain on the ledges above Beruna. He watched as first Edmund, then Susan evacuated the upper shelves of the cliff. On the plains below, the Narnian army had almost completely passed, heading into the rocky land. The foe were close behind.
"Get ready," Bain shouted, moving down the slope, preparing to cut off Jadis' army from the rear. Once she and her followers were in amongst the stones, there would be no escape.