Author's note: Hiya all! Thanks for the glowing reviews! To leezh: I suppose there are other Talking Mice scattered around Narnia too . . . thanks for reminding me though! I admit that I've forgotten about that, how silly and stupid of me! But these Talking Mice are one of a kind ;P Thanks lots to Jillie: I'm glad you loved it! And mis.mira: thanks for calling this little fic 'smashing'! I really owe you guys!
I'd like to make one correction too: in the second chapter I wrote that Mallory threw the rope into the Chest, but in the third chapter I wrote that the rope was still on her shoulder. So the correction is this: the rope was still on Mallory's shoulder right until Aslan vanished. Sorry about that!
Chapter 7: At the Silver Tree and Onwards
By morning the next day, the tension that had struck the Narnians lifted. They congratulated Mallory and praised her skill with the sword, leaving Mallory to blush and shake her head and said, "No, no, I don't know how I did it, really. It was all just an instinct." But she was really pleased that they were all on talking terms now. And even better news was that the Chest felt lighter now.
By afternoon, they were all a happy, merry band again, including Firumel, who had crept up to her side suddenly and nudged her gently, whispering humbly: "I'm awfully sorry for doubting you. Are we friends again?"
Mallory was so glad that she let go of the Chest and threw her arms around his gleaming, silver neck. "Of course, Firumel! You'll always be my friend!"
The day could not have gotten any better for Mallory and the Narnians when she suddenly noticed that she had been seeing nothing but pine trees for miles and miles.
"How queer!" she exclaimed. "There's nothing but pine trees here!"
"That's because," shouted the beaming Christmas-Elf, whose name was Hogswell. "We're close to the House of Father Christmas! Oh, can you hear the sound of toys a-making? Can you smell the lovely scent of cinnamon and caramel? Oooh, oooh, and the sound of bells too! Can you all hear the lovely tinkling?"
Indeed they could, and they were so happy that they jumped and danced with joy. The Fauns held hands with each other and pranced about in circles. Cheeveereep gave a shrill squeal of joy and grasped another Mouse for him to hug. Firumel's eyes glistened and his magnificent, grey chest beamed with joy. The joy of the Narnians affected Mallory so much that soon she had let go of the Chest and clapped and danced with the Fauns and the Mice, laughing and crying as she did, for such was her joy.
Eventually they came to the brightest and most beautiful tree they had ever laid their eyes upon, and it made them all stop and gaze in wonder.
It was a pine tree, but it was much, much taller than a Giant. Its needles were coated in lovely silver, bright, but not too bright, so that they looked like real needles, but so much more kindly and alive too. Its pine-cones were much larger than what was normal, and they peeked out among the silver needles and shone in all their golden glory. At the very top of the tree was a silver arch and a dainty gold bell sat underneath the arch.
"Behold, my friends!" Hogswell the Christmas-Elf opened his arms proudly, "The Silver Tree of Father Christmas!"
The Narnians clapped and whooped with happiness, even Mallory, who wished that she could pick one of the pretty pine-cones. When she asked the Christmas-Elf whether she could do so, he nodded his head. "Why, of course you may! But one only, you mind? The Tree can tell the ones who've taken and those who haven't. And mind you choose the best because this is the only chance of picking one!"
Mallory looked up at Firumel excitedly. "Come let's, Firumel!"
Firumel shook his head. "No, Mallory. You go, I'll watch your Chest for you."
So Mallory ran towards the Tree and skirted the edges for a nice pine-cone. The Faun Corcus joined her in the search, and very soon he found one and showed it to Mallory. "Look, Daughter of Eve! Isn't it the most darling one you've ever seen?" And Mallory said yes, it was, and he danced for joy and tucked it away in its pocket.
As fate would have it, Cheeveereep the Mouse wanted one too, but he (even though a Talking Mouse of Narnia) was not tall enough to even pluck at a silver needle. He turned away miserably from the tree and was stopped by Mallory. "Hold there, Cheeveereep! Why the sad face?"
"I do so want one of the cones," he said to her, a fat tear ran down his cheek. "But I can't reach up to them. Such is the sad fate of a Mouse!"
"Oh, you can always ask, you know!" Mallory immediately reached up and picked a particularly fat and bright one. She handed it to the surprised Mouse. "Here you go, Cheeveereep! And do cheer up!"
"But – but Daughter of Eve!" he gasped. "You've wasted your only pick!"
Mallory stared at the Mouse for a moment and realised that he was right. "Oh dear! Oh dear! I suppose you're right! But there now, it's yours. I picked it for you."
"I can't! I can't!" If possible, Cheeveereep looked even more miserable than ever and Mallory couldn't bear it. She pushed the cone into his paw and drew her hands back quickly. "There, keep it! It belongs to you now!"
Cheeveereep smiled weakly at last and nodded. "Thank you! I've always wanted one of these! I will always remember your good will, Daughter of Eve, and I will serve you with great loyalty and my generation will continue my tradition until we vanish completely from the face of Narnia!"
Mallory blushed. "Don't say such – er, heavy things."
"But I will, you see I will!" Cheeveereep beamed and scuttled off to share his cone with the other Talking Mice.
Mallory felt utterly wretched, but a glimmer of gladness surfaced amid all the despair. She had done a good deed, yes, and she had also missed a golden opportunity to possess a valuable thing that was not likely to be found in her world. Then the glimmer of gladness faded and the tears came to her eyes.
"Now, now, Daughter of Eve!" said a thin, wheezy voice beside her. Mallory turned around and saw Hogswell, the Christmas-Elf, holding out a particularly big and stocky silver-gold pine cone. She gasped in pure delight. It was the prettiest cone she ever saw, prettier than the decorated ones that were sold in department stores in London.
"What do you think of this, Daughter of Eve?" Hogswell beamed.
"It's – it's magnificent! I should very much like to hang this on my Christmas tree. Oh, how bright it is!"
"I'm sure that you'll like it! It's been touched by Elf-magic, that's why! I saw how you picked one for the Mouse, and frankly I was touched! So, as a reward, you get an even bigger cone! A gift from Hogswell the Elf!" At that he bowed low.
Mallory couldn't believe her ears. "I could really have it?"
Hogswell nodded eagerly. "Yes, yes! Take it! A Christmas-Elf can pluck as many pine-cones as he wishes! And, because this is a very special cone (touched by Elf-magic at that!) it will never wither and it will bring you good luck! Yes, good luck! But the luck only works until you plant the cone. The cone will grow into a silver pine tree as beautiful as this but not so tall, of course, but it's silver and golden rays will protect your dwelling from harm. Let it grow long enough and it won't be so easily cut down! Keep it, Daughter of Eve, before somebody else sees it and demands another one too!"
Mallory pocketed the precious cone carefully in her vest-pocket and felt thrilled to bits. The cone seemed to throb ever so gently with life and magic.
"Thank you, Hogswell! How wonderful of you!" she leaned and gave him a gentle peck. Hogswell blushed, muttered something and scampered off, much to her amusement.
Firumel ruffled his feathers and gave a loud cry that rattled everyone's cheerful bones. "Let's move on! To the House of Father Christmas!"
"Aye! Aye!" exclaimed the Narnians, and everyone said a heartfelt goodbye to the Silver Tree of Father Christmas and continued the pleasant journey.
From the Silver Tree, they descended down a gentle, grassy slope into a wide, green but cold valley littered here and there with clusters of unusually tall and sweet-smelling pine trees. The sharply-creviced mountains loomed tall and fearsome beyond the pine trees, making Mallory feel afraid of it for the first time.
At the foot of the mountain in a cosy-looking glade, was a large smokehouse. Merry white smoke wisped out through a chimney poking out through a roof of brick red. Its walls were light, cream brown and the windows open and a little crude. Outside the house was a sprawling but messy lawn scattered with tools, piles of presents, brightly-coloured wrapping papers and boxes, bits of wood and metal and occasionally a reindeer or two munching at the grass.
They were greeted warmly by Christmas-Elves hard at work in the lawn. Hogswell waved and smiled at the other Elves, who whispered to him things like, "Where have you been?" and "Moosey needs a good scrubbing!" and "Father Christmas is getting ready for something!"
Hogswell led the Narnians to a humble wooden door. A fine, polished brass knocker with the head of a roaring lion sat on the door. He turned to Mallory and bowed a little. "After you, Daughter of Eve!"
Mallory looked at him excitably. "Oh, can I really?" She turned to Firumel. "What about you? You've known him for ages!"
Firumel smiled a little, but his wing nudged her. "No, Daughter of Eve before Talking Animals."
Mallory turned to the Fauns, Corcus and Grumbus, who shook their heads. "Firumel's right. Daughter of Eve before Narnians!" When she asked the Talking Mice, they threatened to bite her ankle. With a hearty laugh that was shared throughout the band, she stepped forwards and rapped the brass handle three times on the door.
A few minutes ticked by, making everyone feel restless. Firumel fidgeted and flexed his wings. Hogswell muttered about tending to Moosey and he trotted away. Cheeveereep jumped a little. A bitter and cold wind blew about them and bit at their senses. Mallory had to stand close to Firumel for the warmth of his body.
Then there came the sound of quick but heavy footsteps and the door opened.
A large, smiling old man with the brightest green eyes Mallory had ever seen appeared. He wore a heavy coat of bearskin and smart, black boots. His huge belly was barely covered by the bearskin coat. The soft tumble of white beard that hung from his chin to his tummy bulge gave him away.
"Hallo, Visitors! Welcome to the House of Father Christmas! How are you, little Daughter of Eve?" His lean, thick fingers grasped Mallory's hands, since she was at the very front of the party. She broke into a disbelieving smile. She was actually shaking hands with Father Christmas!
"I – I'm fine!" she gasped out, and then, remembering her manners, she added, "Thank you very much! And how are you?"
He laughed. His laugh was like a loud boom and was quite frightening, but because it was filled with good cheer, it made everyone laugh too instead backing away.
"I'm well, I'm well! And what is your name, and you, and you, and you, and you, and you?" He pointed at every single one of the Narnians. When his eyes stopped at Firumel, he laughed again. "My good Eagle! It's been an age!"
Firumel blushed a little, then he bowed. "So it has, good Father! Never have I felt more joy and comfort in seeing you once more!"
Father Christmas patted Firumel on the head gently with a merry laugh and turned towards the Narnians with such agility so out of place for a big, bumbling man like him.
"Now, now! I'd like to know your names!"
The Talking Mice, led by Cheeveereep, introduced themselves first, and when they were done, Father Christmas ho-hoed and gave each and every Mouse a hearty pat on the head. He was more solemn with the Fauns. He asked them for news about Narnia and the White Witch, whether there was any sign of her power weakening, and most importantly, was Aslan anywhere to be seen?
At this point, Mallory felt that she should interrupt. "Please, Father Christmas, I don't mean to jolly rude like this. But I've seen him. That's why I've come. He's got a mission for me."
Father Christmas stopped abruptly and looked at her, his green eyes wide and doubtful. She was afraid that he might suddenly swoop on her and shake her, maybe even explode in anger. Instead, he broke into a generous, fatherly smile.
"How rude of me, letting my guests stay outside in the cold like this! Come! Come! You are all just in time for tea! And you, Daughter of Eve," he said quietly to her, a sparkle in his eyes, "I should like to hear all that my royal brother, Aslan, has said to you. Let me carry that Chest for you!"
