It was early morning when Susan ran lightly down the long spiraling staircase that lead from the tetrarch's sleeping quarters to one of Cair Paravel's large open foyers. Though she hadn't slept well during the night, on account of a disturbing entry in Swanwhite's last diary, it was impossible to not feel rejuvenated when she saw the pink and gold sunrise glittering through her window.
After all, the Spring Festival started today.
For an entire week, everyone joined forces for some major spring cleaning, then, when nightfall came, the whole country would come together for singing, dancing, and happy revelry. It had become a time for Beasts and Humans alike to reaffirm their commitment to each other and celebrate the gift of life that Aslan had given them. The annual event was one that everyone looked forward too; after one hundred years of winter the season of renewal would always be worth celebrating, no matter how many years separated them from the Witch's rule.
"High-ho there, little sister," Peter called, waving cheerfully as he strode into the foyer with a mug of coffee, "Did you sleep well?"
Susan deflated slightly, sorry to have to give him bad news.
"No," she sighed, "Not particularly. Then she smiled brightly, hoping to dispel any worry, "But you'd be amazed at how a lovely sunrise can raise one's spirits. I nearly forgot everything bad when the sun shone on my face this morning."
"What things?" he asked, trying to conceal his concern.
"Oh, just something in Swanwhite's diary," she replied innocently, wondering if any of her siblings could really understand, since they weren't reading the ancient queen's diary.
"Oh, well that explains it," he replied, with gentle sarcasm, hoping to prompt her to explain farther. Taking her arm, he guided her down the hall towards the kitchen and breakfast.
Su?" he prompted again.
"A battle is brewing with, as she put it, strange foreign creatures." Anxiety flashed momentarily in Susan's eyes, "It's the Witch's forces, Peter, I'm sure of it. She wrote the entry while encamped somewhere along the Great River. I have a feeling, though I'm not sure why, that she's near the Tree of Protection and that this will lead to—"
"A woman's intuition," Peter interrupted, muttering to himself, "It never fails them."
He pressed a finger to her lips, "Shh, little sister; don't think about it right now."
Smiling sadly, understanding her sorrow like only a fellow ruler could, he continued, "Enjoy the festival today and what it means, both for our family and Narnia. Then tonight, read the next entry in light of today. We know, after all, how the story really ends, and that's not in any of the pages of Swanwhite's diary."
"Thank you," she whispered, allowing a small smile to crack her sudden sadness.
"Whew," Edmund said, straightening his back and wiping his brow with a colorful bandana a few hours later, after pulling a row of ripe turnips in the royal garden, "It always amazes me how a nice cool morning can get so hot when you're working hard, even here along the coast."
Susan laughed happily, from her squatted position, retying some heavily laden tomato vines to a trellis, "Stow it, little bro! You love manual labor just as much, if not more, than the rest of us."
"Too true," he replied, eyeing her craftily, "I love dirtying my hands."
She laughed again, then picked up a soggy chunk of dirt and flicked it at him, splattering his gray tunic, "How about a dirty tunic?"
That's fine too," he agreed, nodding sagely. Then, grinning mischievously, he repeated her move, scooping up a handful of muddy soil.
"Edmund, don't you dare!" she cried, freezing in place as he began walking slowly towards her, "Edmund Pevensie!"
Like a fugitive, she looked left and right but stayed rooted in place until he stood directly in front of her, eyeing the mud that oozed between his fingers. Quivering instinctively, she just knew that he was about to plop his mud in her silky raven hair, just like he'd often done when they were children in England.
His rascally grin got even bigger when he dropped his mud. It landed with a plop on the ground in front of her.
"Ed!" she sighed with relief, then cracked up, "You're terrible."
"No," he replied, grinning, "Ivan was Terrible; I'm Just."
"You are that, little brother," she agreed, serenely giving him a twisted smile, "You are that."
"I'm just…" he repeated, letting his voice trail off.
"Just terrible!" she said, cracking up again.
"Hey, what's all this laughter about?" Lucy asked brightly, rounding the corner of the palace lugging two small apple trees. Five or six Moles trailed behind her, each one carrying another tree, "I thought we were supposed to be working, not playing."
"We're doing both," Edmund retorted, before picking up his spade again. "In every job there is an element of fun and if you find it…" He snapped his fingers, "The job's a game."
"So, what sort of game has he cooked up this time, Su?" Lucy asked, smiling knowingly at her sister.
"Well, he acted like he was going to plop mud in my hair—" Susan began.
"Edmund!" Lucy interrupted hotly.
"But, I didn't," he defended himself, "You didn't let her finish."
"He didn't," Susan confirmed, "But he made a good show of acting like it." She laughed again, "That's why I was laughing; he really had me going for a minute."
"Oh," Lucy said, giggling, "Ed!"
"What?" he replied, feigning innocence.
"You're terrible!"
"That's what Susan just said."
"So, what are you up too, Lu?" Susan asked, curiosity prompting her to charge the subject.
"Oh, the Moles think that we ought to plant an apple orchard," she replied, "I have to say, I agree. They'll be lovely shade when they're grown and who doesn't love good ole apples?"
"Say, that is an idea!" Edmund agreed, staring longingly after his younger sister as she headed off.
"Alight, little bro," Susan said, cocking her head at his back, "Tell you what, if we get the vegetables pulled, and if the Moles haven't finished planting the trees, then you can go help them, but for now, you're stuck with me."
"Rats, where's a high king and greatest big brother ever when you need him?" he asked, turning toward her.
"Peter is helping clear the underbrush out of the woods." she replied, "The heavy snowfall last winter really did a number in there." She looked coy, then continued, "He wouldn't help you get out of helping me anyway."
"Rats," he said again.
"In fact, he might go and help Lu himself," she laughed mockingly, "and leave you with me."
"Well now, that wouldn't be very just at all," Edmund grumbled, giving her a cheeky grin before getting back to work.
"No, but it would be pretty magnificant," Susan replied, snickering as she too returned to work.
"What's next on our list to do?" she asked, changing the subject, "assuming the Moles and Lucy get done before us."
"I'm going to ride out and check on that Naiad-Dryad argument along Glasswater Creek," he said, rolling his eyes.
"Not their same old argument?" she asked, giving him a sharp glance.
"Of course. The streams flood in the spring thaw and the trees get all uppity about their roots getting to much water. Blah, blah, blah. The same thing every year."
"What will you do after we get done here?" he asked, before she could say any more.
"More gardening," Susan replied, "The flower gardens need some tending and I'm going to collect seeds for the wedding banquet tonight."
"Oh! That's right," Edmund exclaimed, his eyes lighting up, "Squeakicheep and Ebby are getting married tonight." He smiled blissfully, "I can't possibly imagine a better wedding day than the first day of the Spring Festival."
"Yes, well, then you'd better get those veggies picked," she retorted, "or the wedding feast might be a little skimpy."
Another few hours past and found Susan carefully plucking the dead blooms and leaves from a row of potted flowers along a window ledge, wondering if she'd given Peter enough flowers when he'd headed off to the Stone Table.
Glancing at the sun's position, she instantly knew lunchtime was at hand and hurriedly scooped her piles of seeds into small baskets and rushed inside just in time to see Lucy skipping and twilling up the hall to meet her.
"Well now, you look especially pleased with yourself," Susan remarked.
"Oh, I am," Lucy answered, smiling joyfully, "I love this time of year."
"You know, I think we all do," Susan said reflectively, "Spring means so much more than it used too, doesn't it?"
"It does indeed," Lucy agreed, "Much, much more than it did in England." Then, changing the subject, she asked, "Do you know what the kitchen staff cooked up for lunch?"
"No, but I'm sure it won't be anything too heavy," Susan replied, "They still have to get things done for the wedding tonight and, small though it is, I told them to not make a special effort for us."
"It'll still be the wedding of the century, in my opinion," Lucy said, spinning a quick circle, "followed by a week of blissful celebration. What more could you ask for?"
"Well, let's hope everything is blissful," Susan answered practically.
"Will Peter and Edmund join us for lunch?"
"I don't think so. Ed told me that he had to ride out and check on the Naiads and Dryads by Glasswater—"
"Oh, not that again! Why can't they ever get along?"
"And Peter was going ahead to take the flowers to the Stone Table and to make sure everything is in order for the ceremony. He said to ride over after lunch and Ed would be along whenever. I think they were both going to eat on the run."
"What could be out of order for the ceremony?"
"I don't know, but you know Peter."
"Yes, I do."
"Did you get the apple trees all planted?"
"Oh, we did! The Moles make such quick work of any digging and they're just so nice too."
"I can't think of why we ever ran them off when they dug in our garden in England."
"Well, those weren't Talking Moles!"
The two sisters' excited chatter died away when they entered the frenzied kitchen. Talking Beasts scurried to and fro, hurrying about as if they had too much to do and too little time to get it done.
"Oh, no, no," Lucy admonished brightly, plucking a huge platter of meats and cheeses off the outstretched hands of a flustered Muskrat, "It will never do to have you in such a state. Let me take this. Where does it go?"
"And, I'll take that, if you please," Susan said, quickly sweeping up a platter of fresh fruits and vegetables before a Ferret could get to them, She smiled kindly at the daunted Beast, "Would you bring the loaf of bread to the table? Lu and I are quite adapted at making sandwiches for ourselves."
"Yes, we'll make ourselves and our brothers a nice lunch," Lucy added, "You guys have quite enough to keep you busy with the wedding preparations."
"W-well, If that's what you want, your majesty," the Ferret stammered.
"It's perfectly alright," Susan assured her. Then, when both girls were out of earshot, she added, "I thought I said not to make a fuss for us?"
"Well, you know the kitchen staff," Lucy said.
"You mean the whole castle staff," her sister retorted, frowning with a sigh.
Lucy grinned at her, "I bet the boys won't have time to eat. Let's make them sandwiches and we can all eat at the Stone Table before everyone comes."
"Yes, lets." Susan replied, "What a good idea!"
"You know, I hardly remember the last time I made my own lunch." Lucy said, as they set the platters on the table and began sorting out what to put in each sandwich.
"Me too," Susan agreed, her face getting a little pink, "I feel rather shameful now that I think of it."
"Me too."
"We must think to do things like this more often on our own from now on. As I remember it, we came here to serve, not be served."
"Yes, but we can't forget that our staff is here to serve us too. If we take over all the serving, then we'll be denying them the very pleasure that we ourselves seek."
"Too true," Susan acknowledged,"It's a strange balance, isn't it?"
"It is!" Lucy agreed, then asked, "Won't it be fun to surprise the boys with lunch?"
"It will indeed. In fact, I'll race you to the barn!"
"Hey, no fair! You got a head start!"
"Well, well, I didn't expect to see you two so soon," Peter called, waving happily as his sisters cantered up to him, pulling up only at the last possible moment.
"Ha, ha," he continued, completely unruffled, a slight smirk on his face, "The only person I might be concerned about doing that is Edmund on Ajax." He shook his head, chuckling, "That horse of his…"
"Have you heard from him yet?" Lucy asked brightly, hopping down from her mare's back before he could move to help her. She set her basket of food down and bounced up to give him a peck on the cheek.
"No, and I don't expect too until Ajax comes barreling over the hill." Peter replied, taking Susan's basket of food and offering a hand to help her down, "He'll be along shortly, I suspect. If I know him, he won't let a silly argument keep him away."
"Particularly from this," Susan said, spreading her arms to encompass the Stone Table, "It's the most important ceremony all year." Then, cocking her head, she added, "I wish I was with him now, watching him, helping him. It's just pathetic how long that argument has lasted."
"Well, then, dear big sister," Edmund said, having ridden up unawares, "You can take the assignment next year!"
"To tough for you?" Peter asked sweetly, noting Edmund's red irritated face.
""All I can say is blah, blah, blah," Edmund said, scowling menacingly, "Why is it that every year I reason the Dryads down with the same old explanation about the Naiads not being in control of flooding and then, the very next year, they're at each other's throats again?"
He feigned pulling his hair, "Grrr!"
"Well, forget that now," Susan advised, wrapping him in an affectionate hug and adding peck on the cheek, "You're here and we have more important things to do." Then she offered her proposition, "May I be the one to take them on next year?"
""Be my guest," Edmund huffed, "Be my guest."
"Put my service to the test?" Susan asked, grinning.
"No, let me do it." Lucy interjected, looking up from her job of spreading a blue-checkered blanket on the grassy ground, "I love domestic diplomacy."
"Okay," Susan agreed, kneeling on the blanket to unpack the sandwiches and canteens of spicy cider, "I really hope you boys haven't eaten yet."
"No, siree!" Peter said, his eyes lighting up.
Edmund rubbed his hands together, then plopped down cross-legged, "Looks yummy!"
"Here you are," Susan said, handing him a sandwich thickly packed with meats, vegetables, and cheeses.
"Oh man, what about my diet?" he said, clutching his stomach, "Look at this thing, Pete! Venison, pheasant, quail, ham, not to mention, tomatoes, lettuce, kale, turnip greens, radishes, carrot slices, and three kinds of cheese!"
He was interrupted by Lucy's giggling. "You've never been on a diet in your life, Ed!" she said. Handing Peter a similar sandwich, she continued, "And don't forget to save room for desert. It's peach cobbler."
"Peach cobbler?" Edmund looked aghast, "How can I be expected to eat a decent meal at the wedding tonight when you gorge me at noon like this?"
"Well, perhaps we did go a tad overboard" Susan admitted, "but it is a Mouse-sized wedding, after all, so it's not like we'll be pigging out."
"And the opening ceremonies afterward," Edmund continued, putting his arm over his face for dramatic effect.
"Oh, you know that's mostly dancing, music, and fireworks," Peter replied, between bites, rolling his eyes at his brother, "The only thing you should be worried about is digesting your food enough for your fiddle solo."
"Exactly!" Edmund insisted, continuing with the dramatics.
"Oh, I'm not worried about that," Lucy offered, waving her hand dismissively.
"I'm sunk!" Edmund sighed exaggeratingly, "I have to dance around while I'm playing too."
"Well, it's a good thing you've been practicing for weeks," Susan said, "if not months. You're in excellent shape."
"That's true," Edmund acknowledged, with a sigh, "But I wish I'd practiced some on a full stomach." Then, he added, dropping the dramatics, "I love to play."
"And, frankly, you're one of the best, brother" Peter offered.
"Thank you,." Edmund replied.
"Actually, do you know, you've inspired me, Ed," Lucy said, taking a few dainty sips of cider, "Whew, the spicy cider always makes my eyes water."
Everyone waited expectantly for her to continue.
"I've recently taken up learning to play the piccolo." Wrinkling her nose, she added, "Maybe, by the time I'm old and gray and the arthritis in my fingers prevents me from practicing, I'll be halfway decent."
Everyone laughed, then Susan offered encouragement, "You can do anything you want, Lu. Goodness knows, if you can be a fabulous queen of Narnia from the age of ten on, then you can learn to play a silly ole instrument."
"I agree," Edmund said, patting his younger sister's back encouragingly, "Anything I can do, you can probably do better."
"No, I can't."
"Yes, you can."
"No, I can't."
"Yes, you can."
"What about being a diplomat?" she asked, trying to throw him off.
"Well, we'll find out about this time next year," Edmund reminded her, winking.
"Oh!" she replied, the reminder subduing her, "I suppose we will."
"Well," Peter interjected, "I insist on hearing a duet at the festival next year."
Lucy was embarrassed, "Um, you guys…"
They answered together, as innocently as possible, "What?"
"Maybe, we should just finish our sandwiches now, please. Everyone will be here soon."
"Okay, okay," Peter said, "Fine, fine."
Toward the end of their meal, they began to notice small Beasts poking their heads out of burrows and some bigger ones lumbering through the tall grass. As often as they took a bit of food, the Pevenises would paused to smile and wave at this or that creature and it became hard to concentrate and somewhat embarrassing to eat in front of everyone.
Finally, Peter stood up to address the crowd. His siblings stood quietly beside him. The lunch and their dumb horses faded away as they looked lovingly on the crowd of joyous but solemn Beasts.
"Friends, Narnians, countrymen, lend me your ears." he began, his voice ringing over the grassy plain, "Spring is here again. Aslan has roared and winter is gone. He has shaken His mane and flowers are blooming. The gloom and cold has lifted and so have our spirits."
He paused and nodded affectionately acknowledging a small smattering of excited applause, then continued.
"Today we gather again at this place to remember the Lion's sacrifice, the sacrifice that returned this blessed season to our land. At this time, I want reaffirm my commitment to lead you all in the way that He likes and love you all as He does."
Edmund spoke next, his eyes glowing, "What can I say that I haven't already? Every year I think and feel the same gratitude toward all of you. When I first came to Narnia, my heart was as cold as the snow and ice that surrounded me but, through His grace, I experienced a renewal that is more dramatic than the first blooms poking their heads out of the snow. My thanks for your love and His is perpetual."
More applause and a few calls of "We love you, King Edmund" came from the crowd, making Edmund blush and Peter cock his eyebrows at his younger brother.
Susan came next, "When I was a girl in the other world, I used to play at being princess, thinking that it meant leading a life of ease and romance. Perhaps it does in some stories, but a life of ease and romance would never satisfy me now. When Aslan set the crown on my head and I promised that, whether my life was long or short, I would devote it to serving you and seeking Him, I was still green in judgment but, today, in front of all of you, I declare that I do not regret or retract one word of it."
Applause followed, along with a few whistles.
Lucy spoke last, "As I look out across this marvelous land at all of you, some of my most treasured friends, I feel the same sort of wonder and astonishment that I felt the first time I came here. Who could have imagined all the happiness I would know? Who could have imagined all the love that I would find? Who could have imagined that a ten year old, a mere girl, could reign over such a beautiful place and know for certain that, come what may, she is supported by the most wonderful family, friends, and Lord to ever be found. As this new year begins, I want to tell you again that I am forever grateful."
As a final ovation rose over the plain, the Pevensies each picked up one flower from the pile that Peter had brought out earlier. The High King took a purple tulip, Edmund a goldenrod, Susan a bluebell, and Lucy a white iris. They laid their blooms against one of the broken boulders then they stood back, beckoning everyone to come forward and do the same. Most of the animals had brought their own blooms, but for those who had no flower, the Pevensies had a ready supply.
As the sun began to sink below a maroon and gold horizon, a small party, including the tetrarchs, Ebby's family and friends, and several larger Beasts who fought alongside Squeakicheep in Narnian's Army, gathered to watch the bride and groom take their marriage vows.
Ebby's head was beautifully adorned with brilliantly colored spring flowers and as she progressed up the Beast-lined aisle, nightingales sang their beautiful song. Squeakicheep mice comrades drew their swords to formed an arch over her.
To everyone's amazement and pleasure, as the bride was taking her final steps towards the little alter, a shooting star soared overhead then plummeted through the dark turquoise sky trailing a brilliant flame and landed with a fitting explosion miles away from them out to sea.
"My, but that was beautiful," Peter sighed, hardly able to take his eyes off the smoldering cloud of ashes rising from the darkened water, even as he prepared to officiate the wedding.
"That was definitely a sign of blessings from above," Susan whispered to Lucy from where they stood a few steps behind the aisle.
"No doubt," Lucy whispered back.
"And a magnificent one it is," Edmund whispered from the other side, hearing them.
"Friends," Peter began the service, "We have gathered tonight to bear witness to the marriage of Squeekicheep and Ebby..."
He went on to explain how holy the sacrament of marriage is and told the guests to help the bride and groom along their way, now that their stories would be bond together until death bade them to part. They exchanged vows and rings and then were pronounced Mouse and Wife. Finally everyone joined together in a final song as the new couple practically skipped back down the aisle together. Then the partying began.
"You know," Edmund said, as he picked up his fiddle to play a wedding gig, "I'm glad that I have no qualms about getting sore feet by playing now and then at the opening ceremonies later."
"Me too," Lucy giggled, "Otherwise everyone would be forced to endure my squeaky piccolo playing."
About to touch his bow to the strings, Edmund gave her a wicked smile and dropped his hand to his side.
"Edmund!" she cried, horrified, "You wouldn't."
"What's he doing now?" Susan asked, as she and Peter strode up.
"He was going to make everyone suffer to endure my piccolo playing!"
"A fine idea," Peter said, a twinkle in his eyes, "I'm sure they wouldn't mind."
"Peter!"
The older three Pevensies laughed while Lucy pouted then grinned.
"Okay, girls," Peter said, getting down to business, "Close your eyes."
"Close our eyes?" Susan asked, suspiciously, "Why?"
"Ed and I figured it out earlier," Peter explained, "You close your eyes and we'll close ours and then we'll walk around each other until we run into you and that's how we'll pick dance partners."
"Only two men could come up with something like that," Lucy mouthed to her sister.
"What's wrong with our idea?" Edmund asked, reading her expression and lips.
"Well, let me see…" she replied, acting as if she would count off on her fingers, "What if you both run into the same girl?"
"Oh, we worked that out too," Peter assured her, "In that case, Edmund will take on the other one."
"You guys always have to do things the hard way," Susan complained,"Wouldn't it be easier to just—"
"Yes, but it wouldn't be as much fun," Peter interrupted.
"But we wouldn't look like morons!" Susan shot back.
"Oh, come on, please, Su?"
Well, alright," she sighed, shaking her head.
"Let the party begin!" Peter roared happily, several hours later, as bonfires glowed on the sandy beach and lanterns floated lazily on the palace's wide grassy lawn.
On cue, a myriad of Fauns leapt to their feet and began a wild jig, weaving and spinning their way around each other and everyone else in the most intricate patterns. Then, after several minutes of watching the Fauns, the onlookers gasped when King Edmund himself sprang from his seat and began following them, playing his fiddle and matching their steps perfectly.
"It's always amazed me that everyone is always surprised that he can keep up with the Fauns when he plays," Susan noted to Lucy, as they sat on the grass, enjoying the action, "He can do anything he wants."
Then she pinched Lucy between the ribs, "Just like you, Miss Piccolo."
Lucy turned to give her a generous smile, "Thanks."
"I do mean it, you know," Susan answered her, "I'm not just saying so to hear myself talk."
"You never talk just to hear yourself."
"So, what's up?" Peter asked, interrupting them when he flopped on the grass between them.
"Not us," Susan replied, stating the obvious. She laid back, her hands behind her head, to sort through the constellations in the sky.
"Well, it can't be because your feet hurt," he said, "You're much to used to dancing till dawn for that and we've been in the nice soft grass all day."
"No, I'm not tired," she grinned, "I just need a partner."
"Say no more," he said, pulling her to a seated position and offering his arm.
"Then I'll need someone to talk too," Lucy frowned.
"Say no more," he replied, offering her his other arm.
"You'll dance with both of us?" Susan asked, cautiously.
"Why not?" he asked, "I've danced with two girls before."
"Yes, you're so popular with the ladies," Lucy giggled.
Peter nodded, "That's right." Then he added, "Just until Ed gets done hamming it up with the Fauns."
"Oh, for the rest of the night then," Susan answered dryly.
As the tetrarchs staggered into the foyer and headed up to their rooms in the wee hours of the morning, they couldn't imagine walking another step.
"Oh mercy," Peter sighed, "Is the Festival really a week long?"
"Yes, we'll have to be rip roaring and ready to go tomorrow and the next day and the next and the—"
"Shut up, Ed," Peter grumbled.
"That'll teach you to ride a dancing winged horse," Susan admonished, "Lucky for you, he wasn't that far off the ground."
"Thanks for the reminder," Peter replied sarcastically.
"I can't wait to get back out there," Lucy said, chiefly to tease her oldest brother.
"Lu!" he grumbled, faking irritation, then sighed.
Suddenly they heard hoof beats hurrying after them and turned to see Tumnus agilely bounding up the stairs.
"Fauns have boundless energy," Peter whispered to his siblings.
"Your majesties," Tumnus called, "Your majesties!"
"What is it Tumnus?" Peter asked sharply. Tumnus' voice made him rigid with concern.
Tumnus thrust a scroll into his hands and hastily explained that it was from the Telmarine king.
"Oh?" Peter said, "Well thanks, Tumnus. We'll read it upstairs."
Once alone, in their private conference room, he continued.
"Well, well, now," he said, suddenly feigning the act of a circus ring master, "Gather around, ladies and gent and see what I here in my hand."
"Well, I hope it's spectacular," Edmund said, folding his hands over his chest, playing the part of a skeptical fan, "I don't pay to read rubbish."
"Oh, I'm sure it will be, sir, "Peter answered, tossing his head with arrogant confidence, playing his part perfectly, "Now, would one of you beautiful ladies like to pull the string and untie it for me?"
"Eww, will it bite, sir?" Lucy asked, pretending to be a squeamish little girl, "I don't want it bite me."
"It probably will," Edmund muttered.
"Eww!" Lucy squealed, but wasn't quite able to hold back a snicker.
"Now don't listen to that ole fussbudget, miss," Peter admonished, "He's an old sourpuss. If I know these types of messages, they do not bite." He held it out to her, "Here, open it."
"Oh, let me!" Susan interjected, "Let me!" She bounced on her heels, fringing excitement, "I've never gotten to open one before!" She held her hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter.
"Very well, miss," Peter said, handing it to her, "Very well. Just be careful. You never know what's going to come out of those things."
"Ohhh," Susan breathed, as the scroll unfurled, "Ohhh."
"Well, what's it say," Edmund prompted, suddenly growing interested, "What's it say?"
"Ah, see there," Peter said, "I've won over another sceptic."
"It say," Susan said, her voice growing formal as she gathered its length into her hands.
"To the noble Narnian Tetrarchs: I've been greatly distressed by the hardness that you've shown my citizens and land and I wish that, if possible, the present situation could be righted so that, in future years, Telmar and Narnia might become the best of friends. Therefore, I, the humble King of Telmar, wish to discuss relations between my land and yours and to establish, if possible, a lasting peace between ourselves and you. It would be my pleasure to meet with the four of you as soon as is convenient."
"Well…," Peter said, cautiously, "That sure is unexpected."
"That's baloney," Edmund corrected, "Why, I've never read such bald-faced lies, even from the Tisroc's hand."
Susan shook her head in confusion, "It is rather strange. I wonder what he's up too and why now?"
"Honestly," Edmund groused, "One shouldn't play politics if one isn't good at it."
"He's a king, Ed," Lucy reminded him, "It's his job to play politics."
"I know, but that's why Telmar always comes out on the short end of the stick."
"What's that got to do with us?" Peter asked, "Don't tell me that you feel bad for them?"
"No, not a bit." Edmund answered, "I like it just fine."
"Well, how shall we respond?" Susan asked, getting back to the point, as she wrapped a lock of hair around her finger and then unwound it, "I say very cautiously. Feel him out. Don't commit to anything yet."
"I second that approach," Edmund said.
"I have no trouble with it," Lucy acknowledged.
"Well, who am I to argue with greatness?" Peter asked. Spreading his arms to take them all into his embrace, "I'm so glad that you guys are my brother and sisters. Happy Spring."
Happy Spring!" the younger three chorused together.
Susan entered her bedroom wearily but, exhausted as she was from the exciting day, she came wide awake and gasped when she stared at her open window.
Brilliant white moon beams streamed in, glowing directly on Swanwhite's last diary, the book's cover was royal blue with a meteor falling in a ball of flames stenciled onto it. Susan thought it was the most beautifully designed journal cover that she'd ever seen.
Her heartbeat instinctively throbbed with the terrible knowledge of hindsight, but she was drawn toward the moonlit book as if beckoned by an invisible hand. With a lump in her throat, she sat gently on her bed, found her place, and began to read, alarmed that Swanwhite's writing seemed uncharacteristically hurried in this entry.
I've made a terrible mistake but there can be no going back. The proverbial poisoned glass is before me and I must drink it, no matter how hard it goes down. Never did I think things would end like this. I only pray that both my dear subjects and the Great Lion Himself will forgive my foolishness. I realize now that I have lead many to their deaths.
Only for the sake of the ones who may read this after I'm gone will I describe what has happened tonight and how my foolishness has given Narnia into the hands of an enemy who is the most powerful foe to ever come against this sweet land.
We were drawn out into battle tonight by strange fierce creatures and when they saw our great numbers, they ran away. Supposing that we had frightened them into retreating, I ordered my army to pursue and kill them and we did just that all the way to the Tree of Protection. But there, to my horror, we found that their leader, a strange tall pale woman wearing the whitest gown and most cruel expression that I've ever seen, and her chief assistant, had chopped our Tree down and were burning it like cheap firewood.
And my foolishness, you might ask? Her chief assistant is my trusted footman Canis. He is no man, but a hideous werewolf.
I must go now, for someone is coming.
Susan let out a painful animal-like wail and threw the old diary against the wall, hardly caring if it fell to pieces or not. Onca, who was half-sleep on the carpet near the door, jumped to his feet.
"Your majesty!" he cried, "What happened?"
"Why?" she exploded, ignoring him and sobbing into her hands, "I could have told you that." She raged at the ancient queen.
"You idiot," she seethed, searching for something else to throw. Then she jumped and spun around when her door flew open. Peter, Edmund, and Lucy charged in and retrained her before she could do any damage. Other creatures' heads peered intently through the open doorway, wondering if their usually cool-headed queen had suddenly gone mad.
"Susan?" Peter demanded, "What in blazes is going on?"
Startled back to her senses, she turned a deep shade of red, "Sorry," she muttered, "It was Swanwhite's diary."
Peter sat back, closing his eyes with relief. Edmund and Lucy exchanged curious glances.
"Alright, everybody out," Peter said, taking quick command, "I want to talk to Su alone."
"Well now—" Edmund spoke up.
"Su can tell you two later if she wants."
"But—" Lucy began.
"Out, please," Peter barked.
"Well, fine, fine" Edmund grumbled, "Come on, Lu. We know when we're not wanted." He glanced sharply at the creatures hovering by the door and snapped, "You heard him, everybody out."
Once they were alone, the High King turned to his tear-stained sister and quietly asked, "Did the Tree fall?"
"Yes," she answered meekly.
"Remember what I said this morning?"
"Yes."
"Hindsight can be both beautiful and painful, and sometimes both at the same time, I think."
"You can choose," he continued, "to remember that the Tree fell and the Witch won the battle and winter prevailed for a hundred years. Or you can remember the blossoms that we saw when we first came here and the snow melting for the first time and the joyous smiles on everyone's faces. And you can remember the joy and amazement that you and Lucy felt when Aslan rose from the dead and that He chose us to live and rule this land and right the wrongs that the Witch had done."
"Just think, Su," he finished, his eyes suddenly radiant with peace, "We are a part of His answer. Our reign, our very lives, is a part of His gift of love to Narnia."
"That is pretty awesome," she agreed, her eyes lighting up briefly.
"And now," he said, walking over and picking up the uninjured diary and setting it in its place on the shelf, "To sleep and then get up bright and early tomorrow."
"Are you really ready?" she asked, skeptically cocking her head, "You took a pretty nasty fall tonight."
"Of course, it is spring after all." he said, glowering for a split second, "and I am High King."
Susan settled back onto her pillow and he leaned in to kiss her forehead, "Good night, Su."
"Good night, Peter."
But after he'd gone, all she could do was stare out her window, at the clear cold moon, and wonder why it was that, while her own life was happy and full of joy, her ancient friend was soon going to die.
Author's Notes: Wow! That was longer than I thought it would be at the beginning! I really was intending to get this up about two weeks ago, but my life got a tad busy.
Did you wonder about when the diary entry was going to show up? I just thought that I'd change things up some in this chapter. It's fun to change things up when you're the author, I think. I also wanted to do sections where Susan is with one or the other of her siblings and some when they're all together.
I'm sure some of you are wondering about the end of the story, so I'll just say that I'm planning two more chapters. That will make it a nice even thirty.
Now, for a bit of fun. I based some lines in this chapter on movie/play quotes or real life speeches…can you spot them? One from a Mary Poppins song, one from Beauty and the Beast song, one from an Annie Get Your Gun song, one from Shakespeare's Julius Caesar play, one from a speech Queen Elizabeth gave over ten years ago for her Golden Jubilee, and one from Pilate on NBC's AD series. Have fun searching!
