Chapter 2: An Unexpected Guest

The weeks that followed did little to alleviate Drinian's concerns. He'd suspected that Caspian had not yet recovered from the events at the edge of the Eastern Sea, but the fact had never shown itself so visibly before. Rilami had provided a distraction that had masked his feelings, but now that she was gone, it was more than obvious. At least, to him it was. Trufflehunter, Trumpkin, and indeed, the rest of the court, imagined Caspian's melancholy was due solely to Rilami's absence.

But they did not know the full story of the Dawn Treader's final hours at the eastern edge.

Drinian did his best to help. He suggested to Caspian that they take some horses and ride out to visit the marshwiggles on the northern border. Trillitook had given him the idea, when he said marshwiggles were excellent company for people in low spirits. Besides, Caspian always loved to gallop across the plains on his well-loved horse, Destrier. But the King had said it was too hot for riding, and it looked like rain, besides. Drinian considered arguing, pointing out that it was a cooler-than-average day, and there wasn't a rain cloud in sight, but arguing with one's king wasn't the best way to cheer him up.

Trumpkin, knowing how much Caspian enjoyed a good swordfight, asked the king to humor him with a duel, over in the jousting arena. Caspian obliged, and their hopes were momentarily raised. But as soon as they began, it became clear his heart was not in it. His reflexes were so lax, Trumpkin even managed to wound the King's wrist, much to the dwarf's distress. Drinian suspected Caspian had allowed it to happen, merely to have an excuse to stop.

Events took a turn for the worse when Trufflehunter, in a bid to lift Caspian's mood, invited the talking mice to a grand feast at Cair Paravel. It all went well, until the conversation turned, predictably, to Reepicheep. The mice pressed them for the story of the last time they'd seen their hero, even though they'd heard it many times before. Drinian, obliging, struck up the tale. Caspian stared fixedly into his wine glass. As the story passed the lighter moments, of Reepicheep's unorthodox way of testing whether the waves were in fact sweet, Caspian began to shuffle in his seat like he had just remembered a vital appointment. Drinian did his best to cut the story short, but the mice were interrupting every second word. Finally, Caspian stood and left, without so much as excusing himself. The mice quickly fell silent.

"Forgive his majesty," Drinian said, hastily. "He misses Reepicheep dearly."

"Aye, as do I," Peepiceek said. "But I also rejoice ... for I know, wherever our fearless leader is, he is following his heart's desire. Here - " Peepiceek produced a small rapier. "Tis Reepicheep's second best sword. I intended to gift it to his majesty after the feast."

"He will be overjoyed," Trufflehunter said. "And tell me ... what other treasures has Reepicheep left behind?"

The mice eagerly chattered on about the many uses they'd found for Reepicheep's burrow - it had become a sort of shrine to all his great deeds. As soon as Drinian found he was no longer needed for the conversation, he quietly excused himself and slipped away. The others imagined he had gone to ensure all was well with Caspian. He would have done so, if he had possessed any idea what words could possibly comfort the troubled king.

Instead, he headed for the beach, as he often did in the evenings. Without some deep breaths of the salty sea air, he could never sleep the whole night through, and he needed the time alone with the ocean. His footprints from yesterday's walk had not completely washed away. He walked a few steps, idly placing his boots into the old depressions. When he was far enough away, he turned to look back at the castle. It was always a beautiful sight, with the sun setting behind it, and the Narnian flags flapping proudly in the coastal wind.

Drinian stared at the waving golden and red lions, and then found his gaze shifting back to the eastern horizon. The waves were rough and the sky near the ocean was unusually dark. There must be a storm brewing, somewhere out there. He said a silent prayer for any ships unfortunate enough to encounter it. And quickly, his prayer also turned to more personal concerns. To Caspian, to the court, and to the continued prosperity of Narnia itself.

"Wishing you were back at the helm of the Dawn Treader, my lord?"

Drinian started, and turned to find himself looking at the stark black and white face of the badger. He smiled.

"Not likely, Trufflehunter." He pointed to the horizon. "There's a storm out there."

"Ah. To be truthful, I've never understood you humans' fascination with the ocean."

"Tis an unnatural oddity," Drinian agreed, looking wistful.

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment. Trufflehunter began to nosy around in the sand, perhaps seeking a post-dinner snack.

"I am worried about his highness," Drinian said, finally.

"Do not be concerned. Trumpkin has gone to talk some sense into him."

"That sounds like the blind leading the blind," Drinian laughed.

Trufflehunter rose up on his hind legs and gave him a wide, toothy grin. "At any rate, he will cheer him up."

"We can only hope," Drinian said, more seriously. Privately, he wished Reepicheep were here. No one could talk sense into Caspian like the mouse.

A gust of wind rushed through his hair, and the badger dropped down on all fours. His coat began to stand on end.

"That storm you mentioned may find its way here, my lord. We should return."

"Aye," Drinian agreed.

They began to walk back towards Cair Paravel, with Drinian walking slowly to allow the badger to keep pace. His thoughts turned to his unfinished prayer, and he idly sent one last thought to the eastern end of the world. And by your grace, please reveal to Caspian that he did not turn from adventure, but has instead embraced a greater one ...

"Do you smell something?" Trufflehunter asked, raising his nose to the air.

Drinian glanced over his shoulder. The beach was deserted, just as they had left it. "Like what, my friend?"

"Perhaps it was nothing."

They were about to walk on, but Drinian felt compelled to look once again. And then, by luck or by some divine guidance, he happened to see a piece of splintered wood, sticking out from behind a distant rock. That hadn't been there yesterday ...

He began to run back down the beach, and Trufflehunter scampered behind him, now following his nose like a dog. As soon as they came within sight of the rocks, Drinian began to sprint. There was no mistaking it now. It was a washed up lifeboat.

"I smell human," Trufflehunter said, panting for breath.

The tide was coming in, and the water was nearly ankle deep around the rocks. Trufflehunter climbed up to avoid getting wet, but Drinian waded around. The boat was turned on its side, with the bottom facing out to sea. It was embedded firmly into the sand.

"Drinian!" Trufflehunter called. "A man!"

And indeed there was. Around thirty, and dressed in a dark purple tunic and leggings, of a fashion Drinian did not recognize. Unconscious, but he was still breathing. His head and torso were sheltered from the water within the boat, but another half-hour and he surely would have drowned.

As Drinian began to drag the man out of the wreckage, Trufflehunter climbed back down to the fast-vanishing strip of dry sand.

"I will run ahead and call the palace physician."

"And please send someone to fetch his belongings," Drinian said, gesturing at the large sack, nestled further into the boat. "They might provide us with some clue as to who this man is."

Within an hour, their unexpected guest was awake, but unable to give a proper account of whatever tragedy had befallen him. The physician, a faun by the name of Gilamaud, said he was best left to rest. He guessed he hadn't eaten anything in at least a week, judging by his haggard appearance.

They debated whether or not to go through his belongings, or whether it was politer to wait until the man himself could tell them who he was. But Trumpkin insisted it was necessary, as he could be a spy or an enemy.

And so they sat in a circle, with the sack lying open on the table before them. Each of them reached into the sack in turns, pulling out random objects.

"Ah ha," Trumpkin said, pulling out a long leather sleeve, with a glinting handle sticking out the top. "A sword!"

"We all carry swords, Trumpkin," Caspian said. "And here we have some clothes." He felt the fabric between his fingers. "We don't have cloth like this in Narnia. Or anywhere else I've been, for that matter."

"Check the pockets," Trumpkin said, immediately.

"A telescope," Drinian said, placing the device carefully on the table. "Perhaps he is the sole survivor of some great voyage of exploration."

"A book," Trufflehunter said, dragging the heavy volume out with both paws. "But the title is in no language I recognize."

He showed it to the others, who agreed it must have come from very far away.

"And what is this?" Trumpkin said, pulling out an odd-looking device. It was made of metal and glass, with symbols carved into the side. It had a flat bottom, but curved up into a point, like a pine cone.

Caspian fingered it. "You don't think ... you don't think this man is from that other place, do you? The place that our other-worldly friends come from?"

They all stared at each other, both curious and hopeful.

"Perhaps he is a friend of theirs," Caspian said, excited. "How wonderful. We must prepare a great feast for him when he is well enough for company."

"Their highnesses never came dressed like this, Sire," Drinian said, running his hands over the fabric.

"Well, I'm sure they have more than one type of fashion over there," Caspian said. "How many do we have here?"

"Maybe he's been here for a while," Trumpkin said. "Maybe he ended up in the wrong place and has been looking for Narnia. That would explain why he's dressed oddly."

"Maybe this device -" Caspian pointed at the odd contraption. "Is a piece of technology from the other world. Like that torch thing of Edmund's that he left behind."

"The torch had an obvious purpose," Trumpkin said. "A portable light. The Lion only knows what this device is for."

"We shall soon find out," Caspian said. "I can't wait! If only Rilami were still here ..."

His smile faded for a moment, but then he brightened up.

"It has reached a late hour, my friends. We should retire. By the morning, I'm sure our guest will be rested enough to treat us with his heroic tale."

"Aye, Sire," Drinian said. But he reached out to finger the odd contraption, running his hands over the metal protrusions at the base of it. Then there was an odd click, and Drinian drew his arm back quickly. The device began humming, and bright green light shone from within. It was brightest at a point above the device, where the light beams criss-crossed into a triangular field.

"A portable light, you said, my lord?" Drinian said to Trumpkin.

"By the Lion, he must be a wizard!" Trumpkin said, his eyes going wide at the sight.

"Or a treasure hunter," Drinian suggested.

"Or a thief," Trufflehunter said, folding his paws.