Title: Out of the Woods
Author: Elizabeth. eliza_bethie@yahoo.co.uk
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All things Narnia belong to C.S. Lewis. I make no money from this.
Summary: There were no dreams, because there was nothing to fear and nothing to hope for in this place of drugged contentment.
Story notes: It bothers me that Caspian's wife is never named. She's wise, and just, and beautiful and supposedly super-terrific, but she's Caspian's bride, or Ramandu's daughter.
Feedback: Comments and criticisms gratefully received.
*****************************
Once upon a time, everything was different.
The stories were important. 'Once upon a time' was all she had between dawn and dreamless night. There were no dreams, because there was nothing to fear and nothing to hope for in this place of drugged contentment. Dawn followed dawn endlessly, and the sleepers' hair and beards grew long and tangled, and she felt lost on this broad canvas where dawn would follow dawn forever, and never change.
She was clever, and she remembered every story her father had ever told her, so when Caspian asked her to come with him, she said, "Yes." A new song beat in her heart, faster, more joyous than the dawn song.
Narnia, she thought.
*************************
Once upon a time, everything was the same.
She asked Caspian about Narnia, and he dizzied her with stories. He told her of the old days, of King Peter and Edmund, Queen Lucy and Susan, and he told her of the new days, of Peter and Edmund, Lucy and Susan. He told her about himself too, about the Telmarines, King Caspian the first and King Miraz, and of his own struggles to win his throne.
He asked her about herself, and she told him about Ramandu, about Coriakin, about the stars, wheeling solitary in the sky. But all the while, her thoughts were of Narnia.
The sound of the crowd dazzled her so much that for the rest of her life, she was never able to recall much of what happened just after the ship docked. A spill of stories, (too many to be known, she thought), crowded the shore. Still, through the haze of faces and blur of noise, one clear memory stood out. A little dwarf hurried up to them, and bowed low.
"Your Majesty!" he said. "Welcome back!"
"Thank you Trumpkin," Caspian smiled. "It's good to be home."
Trumpkin turned to her and stopped for a moment. Then he bowed again. "May I ask, Majesty, who is the lady?" he asked. There was a hush in his voice.
Caspian looked at her, and took her hand in his. Then he turned to Trumpkin and in a voice that rang out proudly, he said, "This.is my Queen."
********************************************
Once upon a time, she told Rilian stories. She told him about King Peter and Edmund, Queen Susan and Lucy, because every Narnian knew those stories. And she told him about Caspian. She told him too about strange places that only stars have seen. As he grew older, she saw him take up his sword and ride off, in search of adventure.
She wondered, sometimes, if the princesses and princes had ever felt like this. Poor things, carried inexorably onwards, helpless against happily ever after.
Sometimes, from the look in Caspian's eyes as he watched Rilian ride away, she knew he felt so too. But Caspian had had his 'once upon a time'.
******************************
Once upon a time, Aslan came to her.
One morning she sat on the cool courtyard steps, alone. The stars were being chased away by the first flush of dawn. The unheralded dawn. She thought about her father, patiently awaiting his turn to shine again, and wondered how many more dawns there would be before his chance came.
She felt a heave of feeling inside her, deep as the sea. All the stories were so narrow, so crowded.and they all came to an end so soon. Hers, she supposed, would be the same, even though it had never properly begun. For a moment, she hated Peter and Edmund, Susan and Lucy, because they came back. They lived their stories and then they came back and lived their stories again. Pages and pages, songs and songs, verses and verses.
She was a good Queen, wise and just. It was easy to be good and wise and just, when you were a part of someone else's story.
She stared hard at the pale sky. A movement to her left drew her eye. A huge lion padded noiselessly towards her. He came to a stop in front of the steps, just in front of her and he lay down at her feet.
She tangled her hands in his fur - so tightly they looked like claws. She buried her face in his mane so that she didn't have to see. He stayed with her until dawn was done.
*************************************
They carried the dead Queen back to Cair Paravel, and she was bitterly mourned by Rilian and by the King, and by all Narnia. She had been a great lady, wise and gracious and happy, King Caspian's bride whom he had brought home from the eastern end of the world.
The end.
Author: Elizabeth. eliza_bethie@yahoo.co.uk
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All things Narnia belong to C.S. Lewis. I make no money from this.
Summary: There were no dreams, because there was nothing to fear and nothing to hope for in this place of drugged contentment.
Story notes: It bothers me that Caspian's wife is never named. She's wise, and just, and beautiful and supposedly super-terrific, but she's Caspian's bride, or Ramandu's daughter.
Feedback: Comments and criticisms gratefully received.
*****************************
Once upon a time, everything was different.
The stories were important. 'Once upon a time' was all she had between dawn and dreamless night. There were no dreams, because there was nothing to fear and nothing to hope for in this place of drugged contentment. Dawn followed dawn endlessly, and the sleepers' hair and beards grew long and tangled, and she felt lost on this broad canvas where dawn would follow dawn forever, and never change.
She was clever, and she remembered every story her father had ever told her, so when Caspian asked her to come with him, she said, "Yes." A new song beat in her heart, faster, more joyous than the dawn song.
Narnia, she thought.
*************************
Once upon a time, everything was the same.
She asked Caspian about Narnia, and he dizzied her with stories. He told her of the old days, of King Peter and Edmund, Queen Lucy and Susan, and he told her of the new days, of Peter and Edmund, Lucy and Susan. He told her about himself too, about the Telmarines, King Caspian the first and King Miraz, and of his own struggles to win his throne.
He asked her about herself, and she told him about Ramandu, about Coriakin, about the stars, wheeling solitary in the sky. But all the while, her thoughts were of Narnia.
The sound of the crowd dazzled her so much that for the rest of her life, she was never able to recall much of what happened just after the ship docked. A spill of stories, (too many to be known, she thought), crowded the shore. Still, through the haze of faces and blur of noise, one clear memory stood out. A little dwarf hurried up to them, and bowed low.
"Your Majesty!" he said. "Welcome back!"
"Thank you Trumpkin," Caspian smiled. "It's good to be home."
Trumpkin turned to her and stopped for a moment. Then he bowed again. "May I ask, Majesty, who is the lady?" he asked. There was a hush in his voice.
Caspian looked at her, and took her hand in his. Then he turned to Trumpkin and in a voice that rang out proudly, he said, "This.is my Queen."
********************************************
Once upon a time, she told Rilian stories. She told him about King Peter and Edmund, Queen Susan and Lucy, because every Narnian knew those stories. And she told him about Caspian. She told him too about strange places that only stars have seen. As he grew older, she saw him take up his sword and ride off, in search of adventure.
She wondered, sometimes, if the princesses and princes had ever felt like this. Poor things, carried inexorably onwards, helpless against happily ever after.
Sometimes, from the look in Caspian's eyes as he watched Rilian ride away, she knew he felt so too. But Caspian had had his 'once upon a time'.
******************************
Once upon a time, Aslan came to her.
One morning she sat on the cool courtyard steps, alone. The stars were being chased away by the first flush of dawn. The unheralded dawn. She thought about her father, patiently awaiting his turn to shine again, and wondered how many more dawns there would be before his chance came.
She felt a heave of feeling inside her, deep as the sea. All the stories were so narrow, so crowded.and they all came to an end so soon. Hers, she supposed, would be the same, even though it had never properly begun. For a moment, she hated Peter and Edmund, Susan and Lucy, because they came back. They lived their stories and then they came back and lived their stories again. Pages and pages, songs and songs, verses and verses.
She was a good Queen, wise and just. It was easy to be good and wise and just, when you were a part of someone else's story.
She stared hard at the pale sky. A movement to her left drew her eye. A huge lion padded noiselessly towards her. He came to a stop in front of the steps, just in front of her and he lay down at her feet.
She tangled her hands in his fur - so tightly they looked like claws. She buried her face in his mane so that she didn't have to see. He stayed with her until dawn was done.
*************************************
They carried the dead Queen back to Cair Paravel, and she was bitterly mourned by Rilian and by the King, and by all Narnia. She had been a great lady, wise and gracious and happy, King Caspian's bride whom he had brought home from the eastern end of the world.
The end.