Ok! I said I wasn't going to post any more chapters until I had written a good many more, but I have decided to post Chapter One, just to wet your appetites a bit. However, the comment from the previous chapter still stands, though this time I will post again after I have written 5 chapters. A compromise!
Thanks to MonDieu666 and Kal's Gal for being my first reviewers. I'm so glad you like the story so far. Hope you enjoy this chapter!
Chapter One
The Ranger
The sound of a deep, hearty laugh resonated through the air, while the old man known as Father Christmas eased himself into the large sleigh, after re-loading a heavy bag onto the back.
"I best be off, winter is almost over and things do pile up when you've been gone a hundred years. Long live Aslan!" Father Christmas said in a jolly voice, before snapping the reins and speeding away across the snow.
"Bye... merry Christmas!" the three Pevensies yelled.
"Told you he was real!" Lucy exclaimed, pointing at Peter. Susan and Peter laughed; then they started to examine their presents.
"They really are nice presents. Aren't they, Peter?" Susan commented, gazing at her quiver, admiring the craftsmanship.
There was no reply. Susan looked up from her quiver to find Peter standing still, staring out across the frozen lake they had recently crossed in haste, when they had thought the White Witch was chasing them in her sleigh. Thankfully, it had not been the White Witch but Father Christmas, who had proceeded to give the three of them presents, explaining that they would need them in the near future.
Lucy had received a small knife and a bottle of cordial made from the fire flower, which Father Christmas had said would heal any injury with only one drop. Susan had received a beautiful bow, with a quiver of arrows, and an ornately carved horn. Peter had been given a fine sword and a shield, which had a depiction of a rearing lion.
"Peter?" Susan asked, coming and standing beside him. She was about to ask him what was wrong, when she caught sight of what her oldest brother was obviously staring at.
"Beaver," Peter said. Beaver and his wife, Mrs. Beaver came over and stood next to Peter, looking at where Peter was pointing and staring.
"What…who is that?" Peter asked.
On the other side of the frozen lake, almost blending-in with the ice, a figure, clad entirely in light grey was slowly moving forward in a crouching position, keeping its head facing downwards. The figure put a gloved hand on the snow-dusted ice, finding and examining the tracks left by the sleigh of Father Christmas.
A soft whistle was then heard, and the figure lifted its left arm parallel with the now-clear sky. A few seconds later, the cry of a bird was heard, and a majestic hawk landed on the figure's outstretched arm. The figure lifted its head, gazing at the hawk, but all Peter could see of the figure's face was the pair of warm eyes, a rich dark-brown, almost like the colour of chocolate.
The figure reached its right hand inside its thick cloak, and retrieved what was, obviously, a small piece of food, and fed it to the hawk. After a few minutes, the figure returned the hawk to the sky and went back to examining the faint tracks on the ice.
Suddenly, a piercing howl was heard across the wind, chilling the bones of the three Pevensies. The figure turned its head and looked behind itself, but stayed completely still. Apparently seeing something that the Pevensies and beavers could not, the figure leapt to its feet and began running, at a very swift pace, across the frozen lake towards the land and where the Pevensie siblings and their animal counterparts were standing.
There was a mad scramble as Peter picked Lucy up, and grabbing Susan by the arm, followed the beavers to a hiding place under the roots of a great tree. After settling themselves under the roots, the group returned their gaze to the figure, who had run up the path made by the sleigh and hid amongst a small grove of trees.
Peter suddenly noticed that the colour of the cloak which the figure wore had changed slightly, and had become a mixture of light grey, like the snow, and a pale brown, similar to the bark of the trees which the figure was hiding amongst. Only then did Peter also notice that the figure had a full quiver of arrows strapped across its back, and a bow secured behind the strap of the quiver.
The tugging of his arm fiercely by Susan abruptly interrupted Peter's scrutiny of the figure.
"Peter, look," Susan said, pointing past the figure towards the frozen lake. Peter followed her arm to be greeted with the sight of 10 wolves, undoubtedly the wolves which had been chasing them not more than a day ago. Peter took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, and hugged Lucy closer to him, as she held her hands over her mouth, trying to refrain from making any noise.
"What?" Peter whispered in annoyance, when Susan tugged on his arm again, making him take his eyes off the pack of wolves. Susan said nothing, but pointed in the direction of the figure. Peter looked to see that the figure had removed the bow from its position behind the quiver, and at that point, was slowly removing two arrows from the quiver. The figure fitted the two arrows to the bow, and steadily pulled the bow back, aiming at the pack of wolves.
It seemed like a lifetime that the figure was crouched there, grasping the bow flawlessly still, the points of the arrows aimed at the wolves. But then, a quiet 'twang' was heard, and the arrows were released almost silently, flying towards their targets.
Howls of fury and grief were suddenly heard, echoing against the trees, as the arrows buried deep into two wolves' necks, killing them instantly. The figure started to creep backwards, returning the bow to its place behind the quiver. Peter was confused, but when he saw the wolves begin to spread out, obviously searching for the culprit of their counterparts' deaths, he understood perfectly.
Beaver began to pull them away from under the tree. "We should keep moving, the wolves will soon pick up our scent," he said, crawling into the open.
Peter grabbed Susan and Lucy's hands, and together, they crawled out from under the tree; then followed after the two beavers. Peter ran to catch up to Beaver.
"Beaver," Peter asked. "Who was that?"
"I'm not entirely certain," Beaver said. "But if my memory serves me correctly, that was the Ranger."
"The Ranger?" Mrs. Beaver questioned. "That was the Ranger?"
"Who's the Ranger?" Peter asked, while Susan's face mirrored the same question.
"On the word of the inhabitants, mostly the non-talking animals, of Narnia, the Ranger is Aslan's closest and most trusted ally, exceptionally loyal, and is his undisclosed scout and spy," Beaver stated. "Only the non-talking animals know these sorts of things, the Ranger is known to be very friendly to the animals, so the non-talking ones know the Ranger the best. But the Ranger also doesn't stay long anywhere, part of being a spy for Aslan, I suppose."
Beaver shrugged. "I myself met the Ranger on one occasion, when I was searching for nuts and berries to store at the dam. Spoke to me very kindly, the Ranger did, gave me some tasty bread to eat, and inquired about the state of the forest. Never saw the Ranger's face, only the dark-brown eyes, but the Ranger's voice was…oh, how do you say it… sort of youthful sounding."
Beaver paused, taking time to breathe, while Peter, Susan and Lucy had managed to catch up and now waited impatiently. Irritated, Mrs. Beaver smacked Beaver on the nose, as if telling him to hurry up.
"Ok, dear, ok," Beaver said, rubbing his nose. "Rumour has it that the Ranger comes from the same land that you humans hail from. But as I said, I've never seen the Ranger's face, so there is no way of knowing for sure. Actually, as far as I know, no one in Narnia, except for the great Aslan, has ever seen the Ranger's face, appearance, or know whether the Ranger is male or female. The reason, I don't know why, but the forest animals say it is the Ranger's choice and Aslan's request."
"Strange, if you ask…" Lucy began, but Peter quickly cupped his hand over her mouth.
"Lucy," Peter chided, whispering in her ear. "Don't be rude about someone we don't know."
"I hope that's enough facts to be thinking about," Beaver said. "I'm afraid that's all I know."
Susan shrugged, while Peter looked almost thoughtful, as if pondering all the information that Beaver had just given them. Silence reigned over the group as they continued to trudge through the snow, heading towards the river.
"Did you hear what Father Christmas said... winter is almost over," Peter said suddenly. "You know what that means... no more ice!"
"Come on!" Beaver exclaimed. "We must cross the river before it melts!"
The two beavers darted off quickly towards the river, Susan grasping Lucy's hand and following, with Peter close behind. But as they rushed through the thick forest, Peter took a quick glance over his shoulder.
Through the snow-dusted trees, he saw a figure in grey-brown apparel mounting a magnificent, midnight black horse, watching them for a moment as they all ran, before galloping away swiftly to the east.
There you go! Hope that was good enough for you! Please take time to review, it means a lot to know what you all think. Not too many flames, please!
