The Last Autumn
Chapter 2: A Journey Through Narnia
King Eldred and his company walked through an awakening Narnia. It was the time when many people were starting to eat breakfast, or going out onto the lawn to start gardening, or just traipsing through the hills, taking in the fresh morning breeze and sun. The King's company was hailed merrily, these pleasantly ignorant folk presuming that they were going to some grand tournament or feast. King Eldred felt great joy for them that they didn't know of the troubles that disturbed the peace to the North and to the West.
However, the swift, determined pace of the King soon left the fairly well-inhabited lands near Cair Paravel, and entered the slightly more wild country. Here there were rolling green hills, but not many homes. Herds of Talking Horses roamed this region, but the company didn't meet any that day. The King led his force by the Great River for the most part, because it kept the soft sound of the Sea closer to King Eldred's ears, in his mind at least. The rest of the company enjoyed traveling by the river because of the glorious, beautiful things that grew along the way. Willows draped over it, cat-tails shot out beside it, and in calmer parts lilies absolutely blanketed the water.
They didn't stop until near dusk, dwarves and centaurs being hardy folk and not needing many rests. King Eldred had not eaten any real lunch, just some cold chicken during the midday rest. King Eldred tied his horse to a willow with a long rope so that he could graze a wide radius, and the company set camp. Small white tents sprouted up like strangely shaped mushrooms in the gathering dusk, and some energetic younger dwarves helped King Eldred pitch his tent. It went along the lines of the color scheme of his shield, blue with silver and golden trees embroidered along the sides.
The King didn't retire yet, however, because he had matters to discuss with Areto. He found his tent, a slightly garish affair of red and green. King Eldred entered the tent, stooping slightly to clear the tent roof.
Areto was standing on the far side of a camp table littered with maps of various regions and areas of Narnia, most prominent being a map of Lantern Waste. Areto was far younger than the King, and, indeed, had never actually been in a full-fledged battle, but he had shown great imagination and courage in a small skirmish against some giants that came from the North fifteen years ago. Since then he had studied all the old books on war, and had trained very hard in swordsmanship, occasionally being tutored by the King himself. King Eldred liked to think of Areto as a wise head on lamb's feet, and so trusted him enough to make him general of all his forces. Even though his advisors had all suggested that a human or centaur would do better for the post, the King had nevertheless supported young Areto.
The Faun bowed as King Eldred entered, and gestured at his maps.
"I was just studying the locale. This is merely for appearances, understand, I know the Lantern Waste like the back of my hand. I grew up there, and I knew almost every tree by its bark, every hillock by the texture under my hooves."
"Excellent. The White Witch may very well attack in the forest, as her strength lies in numbers and fear, and in a dark, close forest, numbers are very fearful indeed." King Eldred said as he leaned over the map.
Areto fidgeted nervously for a second, and then asked,
"Is it true that we're going against the White Witch? It doesn't seem plausible, it's like fighting a legend, in a sense."
"If she is a legend, then I have conquered myths. You weren't there, at the battle many years ago. Many of the centaurs and dwarfs here were present, and they'll eagerly testify that the White Witch is no legend." King Eldred said, stroking his beard thoughtfully as he studied the map. "What is Bevers?"
"Oh, that's supposed to be 'Beavers,' sir. A very respectable family in these parts, gave me sweets every Christmas, when I was young, sir." Areto explained.
"Have you thought of a strategy, Areto?" King Eldred said, changing the subject.
"Yes, several, sir."
"Excellent. Elaborate, please."
"Well, sir, I think it would be best to first try to root out the werewolves in the woods, and then try to engage her outside of the eaves of the forest. Centaurs aren't very comfortable fighting where they can't gallop easily, see. If we need to fight the Witch in the forest, we can perhaps engage her with centaurs at one flank, and maneuver the dwarfs to the other. However, the Tree of Protection is right in the middle of the woods, so I don't think she'll move her forces there. I believe the Witch will go along the river, from the Mountains. It's highly possible that she will have giants, so I took the precaution of making sure that every dwarf is armed with a bow and many arrows."
King Eldred pondered for a few minutes, his brow furrowed with concentration. Finally he nodded.
"That makes sense. Of course, no plan escapes contact with the enemy, it is said. I think we should try to recruit some of the natives in the Waste."
"No real sense in that, sir. The folk around here aren't trained for war, they're soft folk with simple lives and simple pleasures." Areto said.
"Very well. We'll just have to make due with what we have." King Eldred said. He straightened up, his head brushing the cloth of the tent roof. A thought suddenly struck him.
"What of the Wolves?" he asked.
"The werewolves?" Areto asked, confused.
"No, the Talking Wolves. Would they join us?"
"Can't say, sir. Actually, I haven't heard from them for quite a while. But they generally keep to themselves in most matters. I wouldn't really worry about them, sometimes they haven't communicated with Cair Paravel for weeks, only to show up with important or pleasant news suddenly and unexpectedly."
King Eldred considered this, and said,
"Very well. I would like you to send a messenger anyway, perhaps a Robin or Squirrel. I remember Fleetoak lived somewhere close by."
"No, not anymore, her tree got struck by lightning last summer, sir. But I'll contact her sometime tomorrow, sir."
"Excellent. I'll take my leave now, Areto. Good evening," King Eldred said, walking out of the tent.
The news about the Wolves troubled the King slightly. He'd had good relations with the Wolves for years, especially with their chief, Grim-maw. But somehow, King Eldred felt that the Wolves always viewed themselves as an independent entity within Narnia, and he couldn't be fully confident about their allegiance until the King had word from them. Most troubling indeed…
King Eldred retired to his tent, setting his mail shirt to one side but keeping his sword and shield close at hand. He went to sleep slowly, all the things he had done, said, and learned today swirling inside his mind like some kind of thunderstorm. At last, he drifted off to sleep to the sound of his centaurs and dwarfs singing a dryad song, about trees and flowers. It told of the wonderful reign of plants in the summer, and of the decay in autumn, the long rest in winter, and the glorious reawakening in the spring. It was a very soothing song, and very soon the King was fast asleep.
In the morning, King Eldred woke up early and took his time eating breakfast, because the centaurs were taking their time eating theirs. He sat outside his tent on a campstool, quietly eating a bowl of plain porridge as he looked over his camp. The King had put on his mail shirt the first thing in the morning, to get more used to its substantial weight, so he glittered faintly in the morning sun.
His worries about the Wolves had not lessened during the night. But King Eldred knew that all he could do was wait until he could send a message to them and receive a reply.
Finally, he received word that the centaurs had finished their breakfast and were breaking camp. The dwarves who helped King Eldred pitch his tent last night now aided him in the task of taking it down. The tent was fashioned in a cunning way, so that it took up no more space than a saddlebag when not in use.
He was walking to his horse when he suddenly realized something. He had left his oak staff at Cair Paravel, yet here he was walking, and riding, in a mail shirt nonetheless. In fact, he had not used his staff since he started preparing this strike against the White Witch. King Eldred thought about this as he mounted his horse. Perhaps he had just been letting the ill news of his reign way down upon him, until he cast it off when he decided to do something about it… Or perhaps there was something stranger happening.
These thoughts were driven from King Eldred's mind as he rode around the camp, supervising the breaking of camp. However, it was almost finished anyway, and soon the King and his company were on their way again.
Today, feeling that speed was of the essence, the King asked the company to move at a smarter pace. They trotted and jogged for a period, then walked for another, and resumed trotting. Before long they were glad of the brisk autumn breezes coming from the west, blowing in their faces and cooling them down.
By about mid-afternoon the company reached the borders of the Lantern Waste. It was colder here than at Cair Paravel, but that was because the castle was on the shore, and had regular warm east breezes.
As they rode under the first trees, King Eldred sent for Areto. When Areto approached, the King realized his folly. Dwarfs and centaurs may travel swiftly without complaint, but fauns were of a lighter build, and more frail. Areto looked absolutely exhausted, but gamely saluted the King and tried to keep from panting.
"Come, friend! I would not have pressed the company thus, if I had known the toll it would take on you. Why did you not speak up?" The King said as he dismounted and placed the faun in the saddle.
"Speed… is of the essence, sir… Didn't want… to slow you down…" Areto said, pausing for breaths.
King Eldred took the reigns of his horse and led him on foot.
"I am sorry, Areto. I was going to ask you to go look for Fleetoak, but since you are weary-"
"There is no need to search and look for Fleetoak, your Majesty, Fleetoak is here!" said a voice in the boughs overhead. After a faint sound of rustling leaves, a black furry streak ran down the trunk of a nearby tree and stopped at the feet of the King. Looking up at King Eldred was a large squirrel, about three feet high. She had dusky black fur, which was groomed carefully.
"Fleetoak is here, your Majesty!" The Squirrel said in a high-pitched voice, but not a quick-paced squeaky one.
"Ah, we had need of you." King Eldred. "We have an errand for you to run."
"Anywhere in the woods, the feet of Fleetoak do not touch the fallen leaves. Out of the woods, Fleetoak is just a black mouse with nowhere to go." Fleetoak responded.
"I would like you to take a message to the Talking Wolves. I think they are laired near Cauldron Pool, at this time of year." The King said.
"Fleetoak knows where Wolves live, your Majesty. What is the message?"
"Hmm… Please wait for a minute or so." The King turned to Areto, who had recuperated somewhat.
"Move on with the company, and make camp near the Tree of Protection. That will be our temporary base of operations. I will meet you later."
"Perhaps I should leave a small guard with you, sir, against the chance that you run into the werewolves." Areto protested, scrabbling down from the saddle.
"Darkness is the werewolf's friend, and their might is diminished in the bright sunlight. I do not fear them during the day," King Eldred said. "Go on ahead."
"Very well, sir. Good-bye!" Areto said, trotting off to the company. Distantly, King Eldred could hear him yelling orders.
The King turned to his horse, and started rummaging in a saddlebag. Finally, he found a piece of paper, a vial of ink, and a goose-feather quill. He sat Indian-style on the grass, his shield on his knees, and started writing;
Greetings to Grim-maw, Chief of the Wolves,
His Royal Majesty, King Eldred I, Emperor of the Lone Islands, bids you greetings, and well-wishing. His Royal Majesty has gone to war against the White Witch, a foe of dreadful might. His Royal Majesty, in his position as King of Narnia, bids you to hasten to the Tree of Protection and join him in his effort against his Enemy, for the might of the Wolves is not easily forgotten. His Royal Majesty will look forward to the visist, and would greatly reward any aid given unto him.
Your faithful Companion, and Loyal Friend,
Eldred, King of Narnia
King Eldred rolled it up and handed it to Fleetoak, who carefully clutched it in her little claws.
"Take this to Grim-maw, and either wait for a message or, if none is forthcoming, flee for your life." King Eldred said.
Fleetoak looked puzzled.
"The Wolves have always been good neighbors, your Majesty. I'm sure they will come to your aid."
"I hope so. Now go, and swift be your journey." King Edlred said. He watched Fleetoak bound away through the trees until she was out of sight, and then mounted his horse and went on his way.
Author's Note: I hope Grim-maw's name doesn't remind the reader too much of Gramma; I just wanted to forge a small connection between the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and my story (e.g.; Maugrim-Grim-maw.) Grim-maw has absolutely, positively nothing to do with Maugrim. Nothin'. The reader has my word! Honest! Stop smirking like that.