Chapter 17.

And now we must go back a few days, three to be exact. While Elisud was preparing for a battle, Galian could be seen picking his way around the mountain pass to Narnia. It was a beautiful day, as mentioned before, but Galian could not enjoy it any more than Elisud could. He was deep in thought, mostly trying to convince himself he was doing the right thing. The more convincing he required for himself, the more short tempered he got, and he was rather harsh with Dancer, who could be as stubborn as her master, and proceeded to do things her way, irritating Galian all the more. Finally, the land more or less leveled out, and the road forked into three lanes. Galian took the far left path, which presently led to heavily forested area. Very few men lived here. Mostly talking animals, fauns, dwarves, centaurs, and the like called this part of Narnia home. The Dancing Lawn was not more than a few miles away, and most creatures resided on the edge. Galian's destination was a little farm situated between the Dancing Lawn and the mountains. As he rode, Galian noticed several familiar landmarks; the places he used to hide from Domus, the locations where he would set small snares for the occasional rabbit or squirrel (the non-talking sort, of course), or possibly abandoned buildings where people he may have known had lived. Everything was familiar, though Galian noticed with rather foolish surprise that nothing was the same.

He finally reached the area more commonly inhabited by fauns. Here the houses were close enough to walk to but far enough for privacy. He met many homesteaders along this road, most of them looking at him with curiosity. He thought he recognized some of them, but he couldn't be sure.

He finally came to a long, dark, dirt road, and he paused, his heart pounding. There was the warm, comforting home of his boyhood. In there, hopefully, was Domus, probably expecting no one, receiving instead his long-lost adopted son.

It may have been the longest walk of his life. With Dancer following unsurely behind him, Galian walked as quickly as he could, feeling like he was in a dream. He finally, after what seemed to be forever, reached the door. Should he knock? Or just barge in? It was his home, after all. But Galian was unsure of himself, and knocked all the same.

It took several tries, but eventually the door flew open. An old, gray faun stood on the threshold, obviously irritated. This faun was old, and wrinkled, with a down turned mouth and gritted teeth. One look at him, and Galian's heart sunk. This wasn't Domus.

"Well?"the faun croaked in the squeaky voice of a grumpy old man.

"Domus?"Galian chanced, thinking he might have been wrong.

"No. Who the bloody hell are you?"

"It doesn't matter. I'm sorry I bothered you,"and Galian began to walk away, a lump in his throat.

"Wait a moment,"the old faun called. Galian turned around, "I don't believe it,"the faun croaked, "Galian?"

"Yes?"

"I don't believe it,"the faun said again, awestruck, standing openmouthed and wide eyed on the steps, "well, don't you know me, son?"when Galian didn't answer, the excited faun exclaimed, "You young fool! It's me! Silex! Domus's brother, you idiot!"

And now Galian understood. Underneath those wrinkles and that extensive beard was the faun he had called uncle. But what a change in him!

In a moment, Galian was pushed into the house, and tea was set out, though Galian felt there were more important things than eating at the moment. As soon as Silex sat, Galian fired off his first question, "Where is Domus?"

Silex shook his head, "I'm sorry, Galian. He's dead. He died three months ago."

Galian had figured as much, but even prior knowledge couldn't make the lump in his throat go away. Silex continued, "You should know, boy, he never stopped looking for you. Every day of his life, every time he went anywhere, he asked anyone and everyone about you. He was often gone for days with some search party or another. After some time, no one would volunteer to go on a search party, figuring you were gone for good, or else dead. I admit, even I abandoned him in the later years. I'm an old faun, my boy, and I couldn't handle the distance anymore. But Domus, no, nothing would stop him, not rain, not snow, nothing."

There was a pause as the elderly faun carefully sipped the scalding tea. Galian's lay abandoned, his thoughts still with his dead guardian. An emptiness lay inside of him. He didn't know what he should do now.

"Tell me, boy,"Silex croaked, "where have you been all this time?"

Galian took a deep breath, looking from his knees to Silex's face. And the story came out. Every bit, from his first fight with Hapeth to his last with Aoife, and everything in between. It seemed to take forever, and when he was done, the food lying cold and forgotten, Silex stroked his massive beard as he had done throughout the entire story, eyes still wide and jaw half open. He leaned back as if to recover from all the information he had just heard, glancing out the window. Finally, he returned his attention back to Galian, and asked, "And why did you want to come home?"

"Well...because..."Galian sputtered. It seemed to be a most ridiculous question, and yet a fair one. Why did he come home? "Because it's my home."

"You weren't so keen to call it home when you were a boy. Isn't that why you ran away from home all the time?"

"No. I ran away because...because I was a stupid, irresponsible ass, I suppose. But I'm back now, and after eleven years of slavery, I'm not too inclined to participate in any more adventures. I want to stay here, on the farm, and grow corn and cotton and tobacco (A/N: A tribute to my southern heritage), and anything else Domus ever grew on this farm."

"Alright. This land is yours, actually. Domus left it to you in his will. I was supposed to take care of it until you returned. But it's all yours. So you'll stay here, and be a farmer, and be done with it all?"

"Yes, I will."

"And forget about your friends? Your friends that might die in this battle you told me about?"

"Of course I won't forget them! They're my friends."

"Then why did you leave?"

"I told you why!"

"You told me some cock and bull story about not wanting to be a fighter anymore. Do you realize what it is you've done? You've done the exact same thing you did when you were a boy. When things get complicated, you run away."

Galian opened his mouth to object, but closed it again. He hadn't really thought of it like that before.

"That's why you always ran away. Domus would give you a chore, or set a standard for you, expect you to do well in school, and you'd run away, just because you didn't want to face the work. You weren't a lazy boy, but you were irresponsible. Galian, you've become a man, anyone can see that. You're twice the man most are. But in some ways, you are very much that little boy that used to run away for weeks on end, afraid of responsibility, afraid of trying."

Galian still didn't say anything. The realization of the truth was hard to accept, and yet it was so very true he couldn't ignore it. He wasn't the hero he had thought himself to be. He was an irresponsible fool, afraid to face the problems in life most important. He could kill any man on earth who dared to face him, but he couldn't let bygones be bygones, accept his situation, and fight alongside his friends.

"Listen, son, it's been a long day for you. Why don't you go and rest a bit? In the morning, you can decide what you'd like to do."

Even though it was the middle of the afternoon, Galian obeyed, feeling as if he could sleep for a thousand years. He entered the bedroom that used to be his, laughed when his feet hung off the end of the bed, and immediately fell fast asleep. And he slept and slept. He slept well into the afternoon, into twilight, into the late hours of the night. It was early morning, and he was still asleep, only this time, in the deepest sleep imaginable, he had the most peculiar dream.

He was in Archenland, standing just before Anvard. It was a bright day, the red clay contrasting drastically against the greenness all round him. But somehow, the red clay didn't look natural. It was more red than brown, in fact, it was very red, almost blood red. He looked again, and the castle seemed to have something falling off of it. At a closer glance, Galian saw nothing was falling off. The castle was...melting.

Slowly, it oozed down the slope, growing thicker and thicker. Galian only just avoided it by getting to higher ground. As he watched, the ooze crept about, consuming everything in it's path, until everything he saw was covered in the chilling red. He dipped his fingers into the liquid. To his horror, it was real blood.

"Archenland is dying."

Galian spun around, previously unaware that anyone else was there. When he did turn, he saw with a start that it was none other than Domus himself, just as Galian remembered him. He didn't look a bit old, or wrinkled, and the light of a faun's eyes was still there. Without really meaning to, Galian began to cry and shake. He fell to his knees, unable to look up at the one he had always thought of as a father.

"Stand up, Galian. It's no good hiding anymore."

Galian found he couldn't. Physically, mentally, he just couldn't. He felt a hand under his elbow, and obeyed Domus's summons. He stood, and finally looked the faun in the eye.

"Galian, this is where you should be. Archenland is dying. They need you."

"What can I do? I'm just one man!"

"You are not just one man. You are a leader, Galian. You are a fighter. Like it or not, that is who you are. That is who you were meant to be. You can't run from destiny anymore. You have a duty. You have a purpose."

"I'm afraid, Domus."

The other smiled, and gripped the young man's shoulder, "Even the bravest of creatures feels fear."

Domus stepped aside, and there, so bright and golden that everything in comparison looked dull. It was Him. The Great Lion.

Galian still didn't feel brave. He felt dirty, unclean. All the mistakes he had ever made, all the men he had ever killed, and all the horrible thoughts that Aslan and Domus had abandoned him came rushing to him. He began to shake all the more. He waited for Aslan's anger and His scolding. Hell, he deserved to be whipped for all his feats in the past week alone. He would almost be glad to pay for what he had done...

But Aslan didn't rebuke. He didn't scold, and he wasn't angry. He leaned his head forward, touching Galian's head with his nose, his warm breath washing all over Galian, the latter of which finally feeling more or less relaxed.

"You are not a boy any longer. You are a leader. I would not give you this task if I did not know you could carry it out, and carry it out well. Go, my son. Archenland is dying."

Galian awoke in a cold sweat mingled with tears. The morning sun shown through his window. It was another beautiful day.

Gaian stood. He knew what he had to do. It didn't make him any less afraid, but somehow he knew he could do it.

"Good morning, boy,"Silex greeted him as Galian walked into the kitchen. Galian had to smile. For some reason, Silex hardly ever called him by his name. Mostly it was "boy" or "son."

"Silex, do you think you could manage the estate a bit longer?"

"Absolutely. Are you going back, then?"

"Yes, I am,"Galian hesitated a moment before adding, "and I'm not going alone..."