Disclaimer: I'd love to visit this festival, but I certainly don't own it.
Lucy gasped when the three reached the edge of the Dancing Lawn. Later than either of her companions, she had heard the new music, made by air rushing through a hundred pan pipes, backed by the beat of hundreds of hooves on soft grass. Most of the Fauns wore brilliant red, blue, green, or purple scarves, with a few white ones dotted here and there. Though the dancing Fauns did not sing, they laughed at times. Other times the music built to a peak that made Lucy want to jump and twirl, and all the Fauns in the three circles—the smallest one circled by the next largest, and the third outside that one—raised their hands and clapped. The music paused, the Fauns bowed to the inside of the circles, where the musicians sat, and then turned and bowed to the outside, before the circles broke apart, the Fauns gesturing, talking, and heading for the trees, or taking up new positions, forming a square with straight lines extending from the four corners. The musicians stayed in the middle.
Lucy looked up at Oreius, ready to ask if they could join, only to find him already watching her. He nodded at the dancers and she smiled, running forward, her hand still in Oreius', to join the line closest to them. Ferela faded into the shadows of the trees behind them, watching, out of the light of the five bonfires burning on the edges.
"Welcome, Your Majesty!" said the breathless, delighted Faun, his green scarf flapping as he hopped from hoof to hoof. "Welcome, General!"
Lucy took his outstretched hand, and followed him when he began to swing towards the square, the lines moving in and then out again while the square stopped, perfectly in beat. The lines swung in, out, in, and out, Oreius stretching his legs to make longer steps; Lucy, laughing, noticed the Fauns on the end of the lines had to run to reach the middle and run back. The cheerful music, rhythmic stomping, and running warmed her, flushing her cheeks and making her feel alive.
Music to warm the winter, she thought; music that made the hearers move and enjoy moving.
The square began marching, the lines moving with them, and the runners began going faster and faster, till the first few stumbled and, still laughing, fell out of line. Every time a Faun or other Narnian left, the square grew a little smaller as the Fauns at the end of the lines joined in the running. Lucy, with her short legs, fell out very quickly, and Oreius stayed with her.
The musicians began speeding up the tune. The Fauns ran faster and faster, panting, too out of breath for laughter but still smiling and hopping and running with all they had. The music began to race with them, hurrying their steps. More Fauns fell, more, and more; only thirty Fauns left now, and two Leopards.
"Leo and Por," Lucy whispered excitedly to Oreius, pointing. He nodded, though his eyes kept sweeping over the crowd, the trees, and then the dance, before circling back out again; Lucy remembered he was there for other reasons than having fun.
And so was she.
So she took a tighter grasp on Oreius' hand, took a deep breath, and went still. She began to listen.
The musicians' music sounded swifter and still swifter, and Lucy felt the ache to dance, to run, as she had for so many nights, but—it was a little different now. She closed her eyes.
Now that she was listening, listening and doing nothing else, she could hear the other tune. Beneath the music, still tugging at her heart, still—
Overwhelming in its demand. She could hear it, and suddenly it was clearer than any other sound.
She opened her eyes. She wanted to follow it.
"Ferela!" Oreius' sharp voice pulled her back, back to Narnia and Narnians and being their Queen. She looked towards the shadows, where a four-legged shadow slipped beside a fire and came towards them.
"General?" she rasped.
"Por just signalled—their Majesties have found something. Take Queen Lucy home; I don't want her anywhere near this enchantment, if it already has a foothold."
Ferela nodded. Oreius laid Lucy's hand on Ferela's thick fur, then took the Queen by her cloaked shoulders and turned her towards the Cair. "Go." He let her go and she could hear his hoofbeats thudding quickly as he ran.
"Take hold, Queen Lucy," Ferela growled, and Lucy closed her hand around the long fur strands. Together they walked away.
But the further they went, the more the music of the Festival faded—and the more clearly the other tune sounded.
And the more Lucy wanted to dance. Her feet began moving on their own, skipping, hopping to the side, or two quick steps and then one slow one. Her body wanted to twist, to spin, to flit through the forest, but her hand was clutching the fur of a Wolf. She had given her word she wouldn't let go.
It was so hard, so hard, to stay in place when all she wanted was to move. But a queen did not break her word.
The music grew louder, louder than the wind whistling through the trees, drowning her mind in the darkness of the night and the way no one could see, no one could stop her—
"Your Majesty!" Ferela's bark broke through the music, and Lucy realised her hand, still clutched in the fur, was pulling the hair with all her might. She'd been heading towards woods.
"Ferela?" she asked, her voice shaking. She looked at the Wolf and saw the mouth open, close, the tongue twist, but she couldn't hear a word. Only the music. "Ferela?"
The Wolf said one thing more, head bobbing in the yips and snarls Lucy knew she was making but couldn't hear. Lucy shook her head.
Ferela lunged, teeth snapping, grabbing a mouthful of Lucy's dress and cloak, and pulling her with all she had towards home.
Lucy tried to follow, tripping forward, her feet still trying to dance.
But the music played with a faster beat, and she had to fly, to dance, to go—she turned back towards the woods, just to look, she told herself, to see—
There was only darkness beneath the trees. But the music changed.
Soft, high, and slow, and Lucy felt every muscle in her body relax, her feet slow and still, and she stood, content, listening. She could feel something pulling at her—at her dress, and she could feel the fur moving in her hand. She frowned. It should be still. Everything should be still now. She let go.
She heard a sound, strange amidst the music—the sound of fabric ripping, and glanced down, seeing two holes in her cloak and in her dress. And she noticed that, strangely enough, she could see through her feet and clothing. The world—the trees, the path, and the sky—were blurring as well. It felt as though her feet stood on air.
But the music sang stronger than before, and that was all that mattered.
Then the ground felt firm again, and Lucy looked around, looking for the source of the music. She looked around the five bonfires burning on the edges of the empty clearing, at the odd scarlet grass in the middle, and the mushrooms dotting it in small white circles.
The music ceased, and Lucy found she could walk. She could think.
This must be where all the Fauns got hurt. Now I'm here all by myself. Oreius, I'm sorry I let go of Ferela. She listened for a moment, and shivered. There were no sounds of animals, not Talking or dumb. There was no music.
She thought of what Peter or Edmund would say, and spun to leave, to run. But a single note sounded. Not a pipe's fluting this time, but a note sung by a high, clear voice, and she froze. She had to, the music commanded it—and here, where there was no other sound, she could do nothing but obey it absolutely.
She knew what the singer wanted. And though her mind screamed at her to keep going, to flee and to scream, she didn't. She couldn't. She turned again and stepped into the clearing shaped just like the Festival Dance Lawn, walking with steady steps towards the dark red grass in the middle. But her breaths came short and fast, and her eyes darted around, looking for a person, an enemy, or an escape. She could not run away. But she must be ready, if a break or change came. If the music ceased.
The song, still a wordless tune sung by a voice, brought her to the middle and commanded her to dance. Lucy swept her torn skirt in a curtsey and rose, feet twisting in swift circles, hands outstretched and skirts flying, and began dancing beneath the watching sky.