Summary: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia, else I'd be rich. Trust me, I'm not. I have an OC, Vaslin, the only thing I own.

Chapter 5:

A dying ember made a cracking noise, snapping Vaslin's previously thoughtful mind back to reality. It was dawn.

"Susan!" Came a loud whisper that sounded like Lucy's voice. "Wake up!"

"Huh?" Came Susan's half asleep mumble. "Certainly, Lu. Whatever you like."

Apparently the High Queen wasn't quite ready to wake up.

"Vaslin?" Lucy asked hopefully.

"I'm awake. It's hardly a question anymore." He answered quietly, rolling onto his back and sitting up. "What is it?"

"I know where Aslan is." She told him. "I found him in my dream."

His eyes went wide for a moment as he processed this information. "Let's go get him then."

A twig snapped loudly to their left. Vaslin reattached the sheath of his sword to his belt as Lucy grabbed her dagger and cordial. They got up, heading in the direction in which the twig had been snapped- the direction Lucy's dream had taken her. They rounded a small cliff, where she stopped.

The Queen placed her hand on one of the trees. "Wake up."

It didn't.

She continued on, Vaslin following her. Neither spoke to each other, enjoying the calmness of the moment. A soft growling could be heard from ahead somewhere and their excitement rose.

"Aslan?" Lucy inquired.

Hands suddenly seized them, pulling them to duck behind a hedge. It was Peter. They peeked around the bushes to see an armed minotaur patrolling the forest, growling. Vaslin couldn't believe his eyes; he'd been hoping to see Aslan. This was something entirely different. Last they knew, minotaurs were part of the fighting force of the White Witch's remaining followers, even after she died.

Peter drew his sword as he stepped from their hiding place, heading towards the minotaur. Instead, another boy attacked him from his left. This boy had long black hair that reached his shoulders and wore clothing similar to that of the Telmarines. He held a sword in his hands. The High King quickly disarmed this boy before his own sword got caught in a tree. The stranger kicked him, knocking him to the ground.

As the boy tried to get ahold of Peter's sword and remove it from the tree, a minotaur raced to help him. Vaslin knew that his adopted brother would need assistance to get out of the situation he was in and leapt up too, drawing his own sword. He might not know how to fight properly, but he figured he might as well try. Peter grabbed a large rock and got up, preparing to hit his attacker in the head with it.

"No, stop!" Lucy cried, revealing herself.

Suddenly, more creatures came into view. Among them were centaurs, fauns, dwarves, a badger, and even a leopard. These were the descendants of Aslan's army; the Narnians they'd been searching for!

The High King turned to the boy he'd been fighting. "Prince Caspian?"

"Yes? And who are you?"

"Peter!" Susan's voice reached their ears. Edmund and Trumpkin were behind her.

Caspian gave the sword in his hand a second glance before looking at the blonde haired boy before him in awe. "High King Peter."

"I believe you called." Peter told him, referring to what Trumpkin had told them about the horn.

"Well, yes, but...I thought you'd be older." The prince admitted.

"If you like, we could come back in a few years…" He offered.

"No." Caspian said quickly. "No, that's alright. You're just...You're not exactly what I expected."

"Neither are you." Edmund told him, eyeing a minotaur in distaste.

"A common enemy unites even the oldest of foes." The badger assured him.

Vaslin let himself relax, sheathing his sword.

A mouse with a red feather on his head and a tiny sword strapped at his side raced up and addressed Peter. "We have anxiously awaited your return, My Liege. Our hearts and swords are at your service."

"Oh my gosh, he is so cute." Lucy whispered, none too discreetly, to Susan.

The mouse drew his sword, offended. "Who said that?"

"Sorry." The Queen apologized.

"Oh. Uh…Your Majesty, with the greatest respect, I do believe "courageous", "courteous", or "chivalrous" might more befit a knight of Narnia." The mouse corrected, sheathing his weapon.

"Well, at least we know some of you can handle a blade." Peter said brightly.

"Yes indeed." The tiny animal explained. "And I have recently put it to good use, securing weapons for your army, sire."

"Good." The High King casted Caspian a significant glance. "Because we're going to need every sword we can get."

"Well, then you will probably be wanting yours back." The prince handed the sword of interest back to its owner.

Peter sheathed his weapon and they started heading to where the Narnians had originally come from.

*X*

Caspian had told them about a How, Aslan's How. He'd told them that it was where the Stone Table was, and where the camp to Aslan's army had been before the final battle against the White Witch. Apparently the current Narnian army was residing there. So they'd set off to it.

"Well, it's good you have troops, but we need some fortifications. Somewhere to train." Vaslin overheard Peter tell the prince.

Behind him, he heard Trumpkin talking to the badger and another dwarf.

"So? What are they like?" The badger was asking.

"Malcontents, complainers, stubborn as mules in the morning." Trumpkin responded.

"Oh. So you like them then." The other dwarf mused.

"Well enough."

Vaslin chuckled from in front of them, recalling his conversation with Trumpkin about the term "dear little friend".

It was late in the afternoon when they stopped at a clearing that was a large green field. Across it was a huge mound of dirt and rocks that resembled a mountain. They could just make out arches that led to the entrance at the base of the mountain. They'd arrived at Aslan's How.

As the Narnians approached, they could see centaurs on either side of the entrance. The incoming group paused, the centaurs drawing and presenting their swords. Then, the four Kings and Queens started forward. Vaslin stood just behind Caspian; it was only right the prince should go first. After a long moment, they followed the Kings and Queens.

They entered the How.

The main room was a forge. Dwarves and various other Narnian creatures were banging away at new weapons. Dirt columns held the roof up and the room was lit by torch light. Vaslin had never been in such a place and felt a bit uneasy.

"It may not be what you are used to, but it is defensible." Caspian told Peter.

"Peter." Susan called from across the room. "You may want to see this."

The High King and prince set off in her direction. Vaslin, figuring he'd leave the royals to their business now that he had others to interact with other than just them, sat off to the side of the room. He sat on the dirt floor, knees tucked up under his chin and his hands wrapped around his legs. Best to stay out of the way.

A sudden weight on his head made him jump. "Hey! Get off!"

The weight lifted and the eloquent mouse was suddenly before him. "My apologies, sire. You just looked a bit lonely over here."

"You don't need to call me that." Vaslin told him. "I'm of no royalty in Narnia."

"All Sons of Adam or Daughters of Eve are of royalty in Narnia; except for the Telmarines, of course." The mouse reminded him.

"Yes, well, I was a wolf once." He explained. "I still don't quite see myself as a human yet, I'm afraid."

"That's curious." The tiny creature said. "The past is the past, however. I must accept you for what you are now, and that is a Son of Adam."

"What's your name?"

"Reepicheep, at your service, sire."

The former wolf inwardly frowned at being called "sire". "I'm Vaslin. Pleasure to meet you, Reepicheep."

The mouse bowed. "The pleasure is all mine."