Author's Note: I'm going to try to update at least semi-regularly now that I have a little extra time. Thank you again to all my reviewers, and kudos to Fierce, who made a valiant effort in guessing my Trekkie references. And now, for something new.
Chapter the Thirteenth: Of Balls and Botheration
21 Quickening 2075
Spritely dance music filled the Great Hall of Anvard. The Hall was decorated festively and full of Archen nobles in their colorful finery, the necessary conclusion to the Opening of Parliament that morning.
This morning had held more trouble for Galen. Parliament held its opening ceremonies (every bit as grandiose as Lyra warned), and their first order of business included a motion to create a gallery to house the Stone Knife. The Parliament unanimously approved the measure to offer all of Archenland's citizens an opportunity to view the legendary relic. As for Galen, he was not sure what to make of this, and very sure that he did not like politicians.
Now, he found himself standing to the side of the room near the tables of food, a glass in hand, watching the waltzers whirl by in their brightly colored silks and satins. He wore his deep blue heraldic tunic, silken breeches, and well-polished boots.
The first song ended and Lyra, clad in a violet gown with silver trim, happened near where Galen stood as she helped the slowly healing Sir Donovan to sit in one of the plush chairs provided for those who had been wounded in the battle.
"Good evening, Sir Galen," she greeted when Sir Donovan was comfortably seated.
"My lady," he returned with a nod.
"What do you think of the Ball?"
"I think it is lovely. My compliments."
"Thank you," she replied, inclining her head. A moment or two went by, then Galen set his glass down on the table nearby as the minstrels began another waltz.
"Your highness," Galen bowed, "May I have the pleasure of this dance?"
"I would be honored, sir," Lyra answered with a smile and curtsey.
The pair joined the other colorful, whirling dancers.
"This ball is unlike anything I have experienced," Galen remarked as they danced.
"Really? You dance very well for someone who has never been to one."
"Despite my life spent in the forest far away from culture and finery, dancing of all sorts was something my mother was adamant that I learn," Galen replied, and Lyra smiled.
"Your mother must be a fine lady."
"Aye," said Galen, slightly wistful for a moment, then he laughed. "Mother always told father and I that even though we lived in the wilderness of the Shuddering Wood we were going keep alive some bit of refinement and culture even if it killed us."
Lyra laughed. "You weathered her bits of culture remarkably well."
The music ended, and applause filled the room. The leader of the minstrels stood up and addressed the room.
"Good sirs and ladies all, by the request of the King, this next song is an old Narnian folk dance played in honor of Archenland's new friend, Sir Galen of Narnia. Without further ado, 'The Dancing Waters of Beaversdam.'"
The flute, lute, harp, and fiddle began to play the first notes of the spirited reel, and Galen smiled as he recognized the tune from the Christmas celebrations at the Dancing Lawn.
"My lady," he began with a bow.
"My lord," Lyra returned with a curtsey and a smile.
All in the Great Hall set their feet to dancing, whirling, stomping, and spinning to the wild, free-spirited reel. All too soon the song ended, and the minstrels took up a traditional Archen tune. Prince Ayden approached and greeted the two.
"By your leave, Sir Galen," Ayden inclined his head toward Galen and then turned to Lyra, "May I have this dance, sister?"
"Of course, brother," Lyra replied.
As the siblings danced away, Galen returned to his spot by the table and began to converse with Sir Donovan.
"I hope that you are feeling better, sir," Galen began.
"Indeed so, Sir Galen. I only wish I had been able to fight."
"I understand that, Sir Donovan, but do not let it worry you. Had your fight been honorable, there is no doubt in my mind that the outcome would have been much different."
"You are most kind, sir." Donovan replied. After a pause, he continued. "Sir Galen, of your courtesy, would you permit me a question?"
"Of course, sir."
"Was it truly the Stone Knife that brought victory to Anvard?"
"It was the conduit through which Aslan saw fit to bring us aid, if that is what you mean, sir."
"I see," Donovan replied. "I never dreamed I would ever be so fortunate as to see the Knife of legend, a thing all of Archenland feared lost to Telmar."
Galen nodded, and would have replied, but a brown-haired lady in a scarlet gown stopped and addressed him.
"Sir Galen, what fortune! I have been dying to meet you after all I have heard tell of the lionhearted Narnian knight, and we were so late in arriving that we missed the introductory ceremonies."
"I am afraid you have me at a disadvantage, my lady," Galen replied, glancing towards Donovan (who was endeavoring to disguise a very un-knightly smirk).
Regaining his composure, Donovan interjected, "Sir Galen, may I introduce Lady Valencia, daughter of Parliament's Lord Terence."
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady," Galen replied, taking the hand she offered and lightly kissing it.
"Indeed a pleasure, Sir Galen," Valencia curtseyed in return.
"I believe the lady is fond of waltzes, Sir Galen," Donovan continued to interject to Galen's dismay.
"Oh. Well, if that is the case my lady, would you care to dance?"
"Indeed, sir, I thought you would never ask," Valencia replied, smiling.
"The thought did cross my mind," Galen thought to himself, groaning inwardly.
"I cannot wait to tell Paulette and Sara that I have gotten to dance with the famed Narnian knight!" Valencia exclaimed as they began to dance.
"Famed, my lady?"
"Why, I daresay that your name has not left anyone's lips in a fortnight."
"I must beg my lady's pardon. What have I done that could warrant such infamy?"
"You jest, sir. Infamy? Why, the whole of Archenland speaks of your valorous deeds-the victory over the Phantom Knight, the winning of the sword in marble, and the vanquishing of the Telmarines via the Stone Knife you guard."
"My lady gives me praise of which I am undeserving."
"Nay, Sir Galen, I have no doubt that you are as valiant and lionhearted as the rumors tell. Tell me, how did you escape the Telmarines with the Knife? It must have been such an adventure!"
"Well," Galen began, but before he could reply, Princess Lyra approached the two and laid a hand lightly on the talkative lady's arm.
"Lady Valencia, of your courtesy?"
"Of course, your highness," Valencia responded with a curtesy.
Galen bowed to his scarlet-clad dance partner, then offered a hand to Lyra.
"I am in your debt, my lady," whispered a relieved Galen after they had moved a ways off.
Lyra laughed. "I dearly hope you remember this debt in a few weeks when a particularly disagreeable Calormene prince comes to Anvard to seek my hand."
"You may count upon it, my lady," Galen answered, smiling.
Music filled the Great Hall until even the stars tired of dancing and began to retreat before the lightening sky. Wearied dancers dispersed to their rooms fairly dragging their exhausted feet behind them.
The next day was not a peaceful one for Galen. As Lady Valencia asserted, Galen and the Stone Knife was the conversation topic of choice, and Galen found that many a person made requests to see it or hear his tale. After a while, Galen tired of these requests and took refuge in the stables (where no self-respecting politician ever deigned to go).
"Galen, what troubles you?" Aiolos greeted as Galen entered with a rather dark countenance.
"Oh, 'tis nothing of import, I suppose," Galen sighed, leaning against the wall. There are so many worse perils in existence that I have no right to be annoyed at trifles."
"Nay, my friend, you will not get off so easily with me," Aiolos snorted. "What ails thee?"
"These Archen nobles, these politicians, never cease to pester me. Each one wants a glimpse of the Stone Knife, each one ready to assert his ever-so-high status to encourage me to assent. Another wants to hold my sword, still another wishes a retelling of the dreadful tale of Narnia's defeat. Their sons do the same, and their daughters are no better! They wear brightly colored gowns with far too many bows and titter amongst themselves whenever I pass them in the corridor. Ever so often three or four will approach me and beg a story, a tale of my supposedly glorious exploits, giggling and simpering all the while. Glorious exploits? Nothing I have done fits that description. By the Lion, Aiolos, never have I been so tormented."
"A grim sentence indeed, Galen, but surely better than battle," Aiolos replied, whinnying a little as he suppressed a laugh at Galen's comical plight.
"I would rather be fighting for my life, rather have that miserable bolt back in my shoulder than endure these dreadful people!"
"I wish I could help you," Aiolos answered his frustrated friend.
"Oh, I apologize for my whining, Aiolos, I…." Galen trailed off, suddenly alert to sounds of voices outside the stable.
"I think he went in here Almayra, come on!"
The stable door creaked open, and Galen scrambled to hide in the shadows of Aiolos' stall. Just as he concealed himself, two of Galen's satin-clad tormentors entered the stable.
"That's funny, I thought for sure I saw him go in here, Almayra."
"I guess not, Paulette. At least, I hope not. Eew, it smells in here."
"For whom are my ladies searching? Perhaps I might be of assistance," Aiolos abruptly interjected.
"Paulette, did you hear that?" Almayra asked, paling.
"Y-yes, the horse is t-talking!"
"What kind of creatures do they keep in Anvard?"
"Oh, I want to go home!"
With that, the two disconcerted lasses made a remarkably hasty and shriek-ridden exit.
As soon as the stable door swung shut, Galen popped up out of the straw and made no attempt to stifle his laughter.
"Aiolos, you have helped me more than words can say! I feel much better. Thank you."
"You are most welcome, Galen. Anytime you have need, do not hesitate to call upon me!"
31 Quickening 2075
"This has got to be a record!" Lyra exclaimed as she, Galen, and Ayden ate breakfast a few days later. "Parliament usually never gets anything done, and now they've got the Stone Knife's gallery finished today, just a little over a week. If that is not a record, good sirs, I have no idea what is."
"Well, I'll agree, sister, that establishing a place of prominence and permanence for the Stone Knife in time for the New Year's celebration is a remarkable feat," Ayden agreed.
When Galen did not seem to have anything to say on a matter that clearly affected himself, Ayden inquired his opinion in the matter.
"Well," Galen hesitated. "I suppose this gallery for the Stone Knife is a good and beneficial thing. I merely worry that displaying the Knife in such a manner will be a great security risk."
"What of the legend, though? I read that the Knife is known to gravely injure those who would do it harm," Lyra replied.
"That legend is true, but if there was no need to provide for its protection, there would be no need for the knightly order to which I belong. Surely the charge and service of myself, my father, grandfather, and all those who came before us-even to Narnia's Golden Age when the kings and queens ruled from Cair Paravel's four thrones-are not meaningless!"
"You raise a valid point, Sir Galen, I apologize," Lyra replied.
"You needn't apologize, my lady," Galen returned, looking down. No one said anything for a moment, then Lyra spoke again.
"Parliament's president has asked me to inform you that Parliament has overwhelmingly agreed that you should be the one to place the Stone Knife in the gallery."
"Thank you, my lady. When is the ceremony?"
"It has been scheduled for tomorrow morning, at ten o'clock," Lyra replied.
"I shall be there," Galen answered.
"If you will excuse me, my friends," he finished, standing and briskly walking toward his room.
Galen spent the morning in his room, mulling and conflicted. Is this gallery of Parliament's really the best way to safeguard the Knife and fulfill his promise? What would he do if this was the case? Would he have to stay here and guard it all his life, or would his duty be finished? How could he return to Narnia having left her most precious artifact in the hands of another kingdom, however sympathetic that kingdom was?
Lunch time came and went, and Galen still found himself pacing the floor of his room. Finally, in frustration he seized his bow and bracer and made his way to the field near Anvard where targets were set up for archery practice. When frustrated, a little shooting never hurt to take one's mind off problems.
Once he reached the field, Galen strung his bow, pulled his bracer over his left arm, and filled his quiver with a handful of arrows. Taking aim, the frustrated knight let loose arrow after arrow until the target very much resembled a pincushion. After emptying his quiver, Galen turned around because he felt an eery sensation, as though he was being watched. This feeling was not in vain, the Narnian quickly realized. A group of young ladies, in their all-too-familiar too fancy attire, stood several yards behind him, talking amongst themselves as they watched him and two other archers practice. As he glanced back at his unwelcome audience, one of the girls met his gaze and smiled. As she did so, Galen was taken aback, because her smile was not a kind or friendly sort of smile, but a cunning, almost snake-like sort of smile. He turned away quickly, and decided that his time was better spent in a less conspicuous location. As he left, the girl turned to her companions and whispered slyly:
"Give me two weeks, and the great Narnian knight will follow me like a leashed puppy."
Galen returned to his room, and proceeded to busy himself with cleaning and polishing his swords. They did not really need it, but he needed something to do to keep his mind off of everything. Archenland was so different, he mused. So many humans, and with such strange behavior. Galen was beginning to think that he preferred to be in the minority, as he was in Narnia's underground society.
As the sun began to dip behind the western mountains, Galen decided he might as well head to the great hall for dinner. As usual, loud chatter filled the room along with the clatter of dishes. Galen took his usual seat, and after greeting the royal family, quietly began to eat. Of course, a peaceful meal was not to be had.
"Sir Galen!" A voice near him sounded. The Narnian looked over and identified its owner: a man in his mid thirties, one of the representatives of the northwestern province of Silvershire.
"Yes, my lord," Galen replied.
"I have been very anxious to speak with you."
"Indeed?"
"Yes, good sir. I am sure that there is much you can teach us regarding Telmarine tactics that could help us prepare against another invasion."
"Is there anything in particular you would like to know, my lord?"
"Well, sir, I am curious as to how you were able to escape Telmarine Narnia so quickly, and unscathed. It could prove valuable."
"With respect, my lord, I do not think that information could be of any use. I only escaped by inches, and only by Aslan's grace. Nor did I escape unscathed, as the new scar my shoulder bears is quick to remind me."
"I see. Perhaps, then, you could enlighten us of the exact circumstances of Narnia's defeat. I understand a direct relative of yours witnessed the event, and such information could prove invaluable."
"My lord, of your courtesy, do not ask that of me."
"Why, it must also be a grand tale worthy of this court to tell. Tragedies make the best epics, do they not?"
"Narnia's demise is no fairy tale, my lord. The very words bring such pain to my heart that I could not bear to tell, yet again, how my beautiful Narnia has been crushed and broken, her freedom and dignity stolen away without mercy. Nay, my lord, I cannot grant you that."
"Come now, sir! Such refusal is discourteous," the persistent lord returned, and Galen stood.
"I am not your servant, my lord, I am a free Narnian citizen, and I would thank you to keep that in mind," the Narnian replied. "Please excuse me, King Lorn, Queen Layla," Galen turned to the head of the table, "I am afraid I have lost my appetite." The king inclined his head, and Galen turned on his heel and left the room.
A soft breeze wafted across the tree tops as Galen stood on the parapet, watching the brilliantly shimmering night sky above him.
"Aslan, I am so confused," he thought. "I have thought about it inside out, frontwards, backwards, and sideways, and I do not know if this gallery is truly the right solution. I have committed to placing the Knife there, but I am not bound to leave it there. Please, show me how to fulfill my promise. What do I do?" Galen begged.
"Peace." The barest whisper spoke from within his mind, as if in answer. Galen bowed his head a moment, then lifted his gaze to the stars.
"Very well, Aslan. Help me put my trust I Thee."
1 Mayblossom 2076
The new year dawned bright and clear, and as the morning sun rose above the forests, Anvard's court gathered outside the newly converted ground floor turret room that would house the Stone Knife. Clarions announced the Narnian's arrival in the throne room as Galen walked through the row of Archen dignitaries, the mahogany box held in his hands. He walked deliberately, his back straight and head held high. Galen approached the gallery and placed the box on the pedestal inside. He opened the cover to reveal the Stone Knife nestled in in blue velvet. The young knight stepped away and stood to the side, next to Lyra and Ayden, then looked to the king and inclined his head. King Lorn nodded in return and stepped forward.
"Today marks the dawning of a new and blessed year," the king began. "Archenland is pleased to provide the most legendary artifact of both Narnia and Archenland a sanctuary. With Archenland's deepest gratitude and respect to Sir Galen of the Lion's Redemption, We declare this gallery formally christened, and the New Year officially welcomed."
Applause filled the throne room, and the crowd began to disperse.
Lyra turned to speak to Galen, but found him gone. One pair of dark green eyes did see where Galen disappeared, however.
"Aren't you coming to the New Year's celebrations, Juliana?" One companion inquired
"I shall be there presently, Catherine," Juliana replied.
Her friend left to join the celebrations, and the green-eyed girl left by the side door, and climbed the stair to the parapet where Galen stood gazing over the forest.
"A happy New Year, Sir Galen," Juliana greeted as she stood beside him, leaning on the parapet. The wind blew her long black tresses around her shoulders and rustled the sleeves of her green silk dress.
"I suppose so, my lady," Galen replied.
"Allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Lady Juliana, daughter of Parliament's Lord Kellan."
"A pleasure, my lady."
"Thank you. I fear I must offer an apology on behalf of my father. His request that you play the troubadour and entertain the court with a tale so painful to you was uncalled for. I hope it has not blighted your impression of Archenland."
"No, it has not, Lady Juliana. I thank you for your concern," Galen replied.
"I could not help but overhear your description of escaping the Telmarines. Does your injury still cause you pain?" Juliana inquired sympathetically, laying a hand lightly on his shoulder. Galen tensed at her touch, but averted his gaze to the horizon.
"Princess Lyra was very skillful in healing my injury. It is still a little sore, but I have gotten used to it," Galen replied, still looking out on the forest.
"How very heroic of you to say."
"Nay, my lady. Being shot only sounds heroic until it happens to you. Then one feels a proper fool. A miserable one at that."
"Oh, you are so very hard on yourself, sir. You need not be. It did not seem to hamper your archery yesterday," Juliana began.
"I must apologize, my lady. I beg your pardon, but I am afraid I am not feeling very well."
"Is there anything I can do to help you?"
"No, my lady, although I thank you for the offer."
"Will you be at the New Year's ball?" Juliana interjected as he turned to the stairs.
"Perhaps, my lady."
"I look forward to speaking with you again," she finished with a quiet smile. Galen did not reply, but returned the smile politely and inclined his head before descending the stair to the courtyard.
The emerald-clad lady leaned her back against the wall, and after Galen disappeared from sight, a cunning smirk briefly crossed her face. Her calculating eyes looked out on the courtyard a moment before she descended and joined her friend, who was waiting for her.
"Well, Juliana?" Her friend inquired.
"I think my campaign is off to a good start, Catherine," Juliana replied slyly. "Keep your ears alert, my friend, as only you know how. Let me know what you find out."
"Of course," her friend smirked a little and began to move away.
"Oh, and Catherine?"
"Yes?"
"Make sure the girls know to back off," Juliana finished in steely tones.
Author's Note: Let me know what you thought! And don't worry: the Stone Knife will reach Aslan's Table. Eventually. ;)
Please, please, please review!