Chapter 1 – Interrupted Endings

In the Western Woods…

The summer day was warm, but not hot as the four horses crashed through the western woods in chase. The white stag had been spotted and the kings and queens of Narnia were not to be denied their prize that day. Peter, High King of Narnia, took the lead upon his white stallion followed by his younger brother, King Edmund, and their sisters, Queen Susan, and Queen Lucy. Having been crowned by Aslan Himself, the great lion, and the son of the Emperor across the Sea, together, they had ruled the Kingdom of Narnia by royal council for nearly four decades in peace.

After having been through a week of negotiating new trade and defense agreements with Archenland on their immediate border to the south, and listening to their military advisers on the movements of Calormen's troops, the brothers and sisters had chosen to take these past two days in the Western Woods, nearly to the far western borders of their dominion, away from the seat of their government at Cair Paravel on the coast to the east and attempt to enjoy themselves before having to return to deal with those far southern, desert dwelling neighbors that had proven themselves untrustworthy and belligerent time and time again.

The reports on Calormen's movements were especially troubling to the High King because they were confusing. According to Archenland's agents, and their own scouts, talking horses that infiltrated Calormen's cavalry units in order to gather information, the bulk of that kingdom's forces were moving west into the unknown lands beyond, but no one could discern why. Only that an ancient ally to the hostile kingdom was gaining power again and had called on their aid. Aid, it was believed, which might be reciprocated with additional forces to threaten Narnia's borders. But neither the Narnians nor Archenlanders had ventured beyond the wastes which lie on their western borders. This new potential enemy was an unknown to the High King and his siblings.

"Look, there he is!" Shouted Susan playfully as she pointed in a direction deeper into the woods. She had taken her crown at the tender age of twelve years old, just a year behind her brother Peter. Now, just past her fifth decade of life, her dark brown hair sported silver highlights, and her face had been graced with laugh lines. But she had lost none of her health or vigor as of yet, and her laugh lines had been well earned with a lifetime of good friendships among the Narnian peoples.

"I see him!" Edmund responded. One year younger than his sister, his own head and beard were silvered as well, the color well earned from the wisdom he had acquired and demonstrated. He was known as King Edmund the Just for good reason, for he was fair in all his dealings, and dispensed both justice and mercy in equal measure, for to him they were no different. He laughed as he spurred his own horse onwards. "Bet we catch him before you do!"

They had no desire to actually harm the white stag. Far from it. It was all in good fun. In truth, they didn't really care if they caught him or not. There was an old legend which said that the white stag would grant wishes to those who caught him. But for the rulers of Narnia, the diversion from the weight of governing their kingdom was wish granted enough. Soon, they would need to return to deal with the matters of state once more.

The horse chased the stag onwards until it disappeared once more into brush through which the horses could not follow.

"Well rats! We've lost him!" Peter called out in a frustrated voice even as the thrill of the chase had produced a wide grin across his mouth. He pulled his own horse up to a full stop and his siblings followed suit. He had been given the title of "King Peter the Magnificent," and no one could say that it had not been well earned. He had fought sword to sword with the White Witch herself, had led the Armies of Aslan in the great war, and was as good and wise a ruler as any kingdom could hope for. Like his brother, he wore a beard streaked with silver and gray which betrayed his fifty three years of age, and the forty years he had sat on the throne of Narnia as it's king and emperor of all of its dependent islands and provinces.

"Well, it was a good chase at any rate." Queen Lucy had remarked. The youngest of the four, she was also the most gentle in spirit, and was known to be a great healer and diplomat. "It's too bad, I would like to have spoken with the stag. He must have some amazing stories to tell." She mused.

"No doubt, Lu." Peter replied. He then took some time to look around and get his bearings. He knew almost every square inch of their kingdom by heart, but he had to admit, it had been some time since he had been this far west. Years, perhaps decades even. "Where are we?" He finally asked. "We must be some distance from the great river."

"It looks familiar." Susan said. "I think Tumnus' house isn't too far from here." The aged faun was one of their oldest advisers, and also one of their first friends upon arriving in Narnia from the world of their birth.

"I think you're right." Lucy replied. Then, spying something odd she nudged her horse down an old forest path just a little ways. "Peter, Edmund, Susan, would you come take a look at this?" She called back to them.

"What is it, Lucy?" Susan returned, bringing her horse up to where her younger sister was.

"I'm not sure." She said. "It looks like a tree, but made of metal, and with a funny looking fruit at the top made of glass!"

Susan studied the strange tree even as her brothers came up to join them. "It feels familiar. Like something I remember from another life."

"It's a lamppost." Peter announced upon seeing it, though his voice sounded somewhat uncertain. "I remember, from… from London I think."

"London..." Susan tested the foreign sounding word, and yet not so foreign. It conjured up strange images in her mind. Not Narnian images at all, but images of a great city with tall buildings, and smoke, and crowds of people. It conjured other images as well. Images of buildings torn apart by explosions from bombs dropped by machines that flew through the sky. But the images were all a jumble, like something from a dream she hadn't thought about for a long time.

They all looked at the lamppost for some time as though trying to remember something they had forgotten. A life they had lived, and people they had once been many, many years ago.

Then, suddenly, out of the woods, a man crashed onto the path where their horses stood. He wore a maul hauberk and armor with a surcoat over them in dark, midnight blue colors emblazoned with a white tree and stars surrounding it. His head was bleeding from a deep wound, the blood having matted his dark blond hair. An arrow protruded from his back having somehow penetrated the mail coat he wore.

"HELP ME!" He cried out to the royal gathering. "Orcs behind me! Orcs that walk in sunlight! They've killed the rest of my men!"

Instinctively, Peter and Edmund drew their swords, sensing danger at the man's words. Susan, never without her bow when on a hunt, drew it and nocked an arrow. Lucy, with less than a thought, dismounted and ran to the man, pulling her bag of healing ointments and potions from her saddle.

Within seconds, four others broke through the brush of the woods and onto the old path. They were like no creatures any of them had ever seen. They looked similar to humans like themselves, but twisted and corrupted into unholy caricatures of the children of Adam. Their skin was deep, dark black and not like the dark skin of the Calormens, but as though it were the color of coal. They were muscular, and had mouths full of sharp teeth like wolves. Their ears held pointed tips, and their eyes were small, yellow, and cruel. The sigil of a white hand was painted across their jet black faces. They radiated evil in a way the kings and queens had not felt since the days of the White Witch.

Sword held high, Peter didn't hesitate and neither did his brother. They charged the foul creatures on their war horses as Susan began letting arrows fly that did not miss. Not one. Her archery skills were legendary.

Taken by surprise, the orcs raised their own weapons to meet their new human attackers, but did not get the chance to make use of them as the first was felled immediately by an arrow between its cruel eyes. The second felt the edge of the High King's justice across its neck as its head was severed from the blow. The third was trampled down by King Edmund's horse, it's own head cracked open by the blows. Black oily blood spilled hatefully onto Narnia's pristine forest floor.

They pulled up short from executing the fourth immediately, instead the High King shouted at it, "Surrender, foul creature. Surrender to our mercy, or join your mates!" It would be the only offer it was given.

Either the orc did not understand his words, or did not understand the concept, as it roared in defiance and charged the humans that had felled his comrades.

It took two steps and then joined the others on the ground, an arrow lodged in its skull from Susan's bow.

A silence fell over the forest as the four listened for any more. But nothing more askance was heard.

"Thank… thank you..." the human whom Lucy was tending said.

"Don't try to talk much yet. Let the potions do their work. I still need to remove this arrow." She told him as she had him on his side trying to discern the best way to do just that without causing more damage. It was a thick, heavy, black arrow and she was afraid the tip was barbed.

Peter dismounted from his horse, checked the fresh corpses to ensure they were truly dead, and then went to kneel next to his youngest sister to look at the wounded man.

"I don't recognize the sigil of your surcoat, friend. What kingdom are you from?" The High King asked.

"Gondor, sire." The man replied.

"Gondor..." A name even more unfamiliar to Peter than London. "Where is that? Farther west? What brought you to Narnia? And what were these things that attacked you, and why?"

"I… I was..." The man tried to respond, but his eyes fluttered and he passed out.

"He's lost a lot of blood, Pete." Lucy told him. "I can mend him enough here to put him on a horse, but I'll need to tend him back in Cair Paravel in order for him to fully recover."

"Fine." Peter responded seriously, but not unkindly. His eyes still scanning the woods from whence the orcs came. "Let's get him back. We need to know what we can about these creatures, and whether they pose a new threat to Narnia."

"Agreed." Edmund said, his own eyes scanning the woods.

The lamppost had been forgotten as their world was forever changed by the arrival of the strange soldier.

At Cair Paravel…

The soldier woke to the sounds of waves crashing against the shore in the not too far distance, and seagulls calling to one another. He found himself lying in a bed with soft sheets wrapping a mattress stuffed with feathers. His chain mail hauberk had been removed, and his wounds had been bandaged well to where he could feel no pain from the orcish arrow which he had been only too recently certain would end his life, or the gash across his scalp where an orcish blade had nearly cleaved his skull in two if it weren't for his misplaced footing on a slope.

He sat up in the bed and spied his new surroundings. He was in a stone work chamber with large windows whose intricately carved wooden shutters were open to an expansive view of a seaside he did not recognize. Rich scarlet and gold silken curtains hung across them, and intricate tapestries depicting scenes of a great battle and a majestic lion decorated the walls. The air outside smelled of salt, and the rays of an early morning sun shone through the openings. The bed he lay in was the only one in the room.

There were two others present there in the chamber. One was cocoa skinned, well muscled and powerfully built wearing a highly polished steel breastplate, emblazoned with the crest of a roaring lion, over thick leather armor that looked just as well kept, but also just as formidable. This one carried a sword in a sheath on its back, and stood by a heavy wooden door. The other, dressed quite differently stood near his bed.

Sitting up drew the attention of the creature standing near by tending to bottles and bandages on a table. He was certain he had never seen such a creature before. It wore a white coat and spectacles over a forest green dress. The creature had a woman's face and torso, pretty even, but with two distinctly goat like horns protruding out from hair the color of red autumn leaves braided into a rope down her back. Her bottom half, partially obscured by the white coat and dress, was covered in reddish brown fur and cloven hooves.

"Oh my! You're awake finally! I must tell their majesties." The creature announced with a woman's voice before rushing out of the well lit room.

Stunned at the sight of the strange creatures, who in spite of their appearance did not feel threatening to him in the slightest, he did not respond as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. The last thing he remembered was running across four richly dressed strangers on horseback before succumbing to his wounds, and one of those strangers asking him questions. He had been the last of his company, chased by orcs across the wasteland east of Mordor through that unknown forest. The rest of his fellows had not been so fortunate. There had been ten of them when they set out from Minas Tirith.

"Where am I?" He finally asked when he came to himself.

"You're in the castle of Cair Paravel by the sea, friend. Their majesties found you wounded while out on a hunting expedition. You're lucky her majesty Queen Lucy tended you when she did or else you likely wouldn't have woken up ever again." His goat like guard told him.

"Queen Lucy?" The soldier asked in confusion. "I know of no such queen with that name. What land is this?"

"What land?" The guard replied in surprise. "Why this is Narnia, of course. Everything from the western woods to here at Cair Paravel is the Kingdom of Narnia. You look to be Archenlander, are you not?"

"I am not." the soldier told him. "But I must return home as soon as possible. I have important information for the Steward of Gondor. It cannot wait."

"That's not for me to decide friend. Their majesties will decide when and if you're ready to go." The guard told him. His tone was still friendly, but firm as he eyed the curious human that had been brought there to the capital the night before.

"Not be rude, but what manner of creature are you? I've never seen your like before." The soldier asked. It was true. Of course, he hadn't seen many other of the more friendly races to man in Middle Earth either, but he had heard descriptions of elves, hobbits, and dwarves, and tales regarding them. But he had heard not even fanciful stories of goat men.

"No offense taken, friend. I'm a faun, or satyr if you like. I've heard my people called that too. It makes no difference to me." The faun replied. He then said, "I've never heard of a land called Gondor before, much less a steward of it. Where does this land lie?"

Before the soldier could answer, the heavy wooden door opened once more and the other faun, a woman of her race the soldier guessed, returned followed by two of the humans whose faces he only vaguely remembered from before he woke to the two fauns watching over him. The one human was a tall, middle aged man with silver streaked beard and hair wearing rich clothing embroidered with the red crest of the roaring lion. A heavy golden band surrounded his head denoting his rank as High King. The second human was a somewhat younger woman whose hair had not yet begun to gray. Her turquoise dress was made of rich fabrics, and also bore the red lion crest. She too wore a golden diadem across her brow. This face he recognized as the woman who came to his aid with medicines and healing.

"How are you feeling?" She spoke first, a genuine and infectious smile across her lovely face. "We were very concerned for you. The arrow was barbed, and your wound was festering with a poison I haven't seen before."

The king's face also bore a friendly expression, although the soldier could see concern and agitation at his presence and what it meant written there as well. He would be expected to explain himself, and shortly.

"Well, thank you, my lady." The soldier replied.

"You will address the queen as 'your majesty.'" The faun guard corrected him, his tone stern.

"That's alright, Banion. He meant no offense. He's not from Narnia." She told the faun, then turning back to the soldier still sitting on the bed she asked, "are you?"

"My apologies, your majesty." The soldier corrected himself. "No, I am not."

"Indeed." The king then spoke up. "And where are you from? You mentioned a land no one in Narnia has ever heard the name of until two days ago. A land called… what was it again, Lucy?"

"Gondor, I believe. Though I've no idea where that might be." She responded.

"Yes, Gondor. We know all the lands surrounding our kingdom, from Harfang in the Ettenmoors to the north to Archenland and Calormen in the south, and the Lone Islands across the sea to the east. We have ruled here for forty years, and no one has mentioned the land of Gondor until now. Much less those foul things which attacked you. Those are new to us as well, and we have many different races residing within our borders." The king told him. "They had an evil feel about them. One which brings back memories I'd rather not relive."

"The names of those lands mean as little to me as the name of mine means to you, your majesty. Perhaps I should start at the beginning." The soldier told him.

"Perhaps you should." The king agreed, and then stood there with arms folded waiting.

"Your majesty, my name is Sir Eric of Belfalas. I am a knight of Gondor, a land and kingdom far to the west of here, across the wasteland on the other side of Mordor. About a month's worth of travel on horseback I would guess. I am a nobleman with lands of my own. For centuries, my people had held the line against the orcs and the evil which commands them. But year after year, century after century they have whittled us down, taking half of our kingdom and our capital, Osgiliath, in the process. Now there is only Minas Tirith, the white city, which is left to protect our people. Our armies are heavily depleted now, and there is concern about how much longer we can hold out. The northern, southern, and western borders of Mordor are mountainous and heavily fortified. I was sent out by the Steward of Gondor four months ago to lead nine others of an expeditionary force to scout the eastern flank of the land of Mordor for weaknesses that we might exploit against the orcs and their dark master. We had one advantage to them. The orcs are sensitive to light, especially sunlight. They fear it. We moved during the day, taking refuge in caves and crevices at night and when the sun hid itself behind clouds, but we managed to see for ourselves the eastern borders of the cursed land, that it was made up of wasted plains, and not mountains or hills. And it was practically unguarded. Farther east, none of my people had ever ventured, and by the looks of it, neither have Sauron's forces. His attention is turned entirely west, towards us."

At the mention of that name, a shudder ran through the king involuntarily. The very word felt foul and loathsome. "Sauron." He repeated, not liking the feel of it upon his tongue. "This is the master of this land you called Mordor? The ancient evil which you spoke of."

"Yes, your majesty. We could not believe how kindly fortune had smiled on us when we discovered Mordor's back door left almost completely unguarded. But we had become too cocky, and I see that now. We had trusted that the orcs could not operate in the sunlight, and then we were surprised."

"The ones who chased you through the western woods." The king followed him.

"Yes. They took us by chance." The soldier replied. "There were twice as many of them as there were of us at first. My guess is that it was a regular patrol which we could not have foreseen. They came on us at the noon time. Half of my men died there making our stand. Myself and four others, seeing we could not prevail retreated farther east in the hopes of losing them in the crevices and broken landscape of the wastes. The orcs however were relentless. It seemed like they did not sleep, and tracked us through the desert, not caring if their own fell from hunger, thirst, or wild animals. I lost two more men in as many days from vipers. The orcs came upon us as we attempted to make a proper burial for them, and took my lieutenant and sergeant as well, giving me the slash across my head. I thought I was dreaming when I saw the forest at the edge of the wastes three days after I think. They shot me just as I reached the trees, and the rest you know."

The king listened intently to his every word. Then he asked, "Did you see any men, any humans heading west? Cocoa skinned men from the south?"

"I'm sorry to say we did. We saw many men from the Harad in the south traveling in great numbers towards Mordor. Those we saw before we were attacked were welcomed by the orcs as allies." The soldier replied. "And this is why I must return as swiftly as I can to make my report to Lord Denethor, the Steward of Gondor. He must know of the arrival of those human forces, as well as the open back door, so to speak, which we might make use of."

The High King's mind whirred with all the implications of the knight's tale. He recalled the orcs he, his brother, and sister had slaughtered clearly. They appeared to be bestial, brutal, and savage things. Then the thought of whole armies of them ran through his mind and it was nightmarish. The knight had said their master had his focused turned west for centuries. Long before his and his siblings' arrival there for certain, and even before the hundred year winter and the reign of the White Witch, the usurper Jadis who herself had been ancient before even then, or so he had been told. Was it possible that this Sauron did not know of their existence? Was it possible perhaps that somehow Aslan had hidden Narnia's existence from the rest of their world so that the witch had been the worst they had been made to suffer with? Those orcs who had found their way here had paid for it with their lives, and would not be returning to tell the tale of the green and growing land untouched by their deprivations. But would they be missed? Would their compatriots come looking for them? How much longer would Narnia be at peace if the kingdoms to the far west should fall? How much longer till this Sauron repays the loyalty of the men of the south, and turns his eyes towards Narnia? And then the greater question to them all still surfaced in his mind, for he ruled as High King, indeed his siblings and he ruled as kings and queens only by the Great Lion's pleasure.

What would Aslan have him do? What would the Lion's will be in this matter?

They had not heard from the True King of Narnia since their coronation decades ago. It was assumed he had returned to his own country across the sea to the utter east, a land to which none of them dared to travel. But regardless of his presence or absence, Peter would not make the mistake that Aslan was not keenly aware of the goings on in his favored kingdom, and indeed, the entire world. After all, it was Aslan who created it in the first place as he was told, and as he personally believed.

The king had been silent for several moments as he deliberated. In that time, no one had said anything, but instead waited for him to speak again. When he did, his voice was serious, but no less friendly to the man.

"Lucy and I must confer with our brother and sister. We make no decisions alone." he finally said. "However, I invite you to be a true guest of Cair Paravel for the time being. Wander where you will, see what you like, but do not leave the castle grounds, or stray farther than the beach below. Banion here will be your escort." He said, gesturing to the faun who still stood guard.

Banion the faun gave a half bow in return, responding, "As you wish, your majesty."

"And Elise," the High King addressed the female faun in the white coat, "please see to it that Sir Eric's clothes and armor are mended and cleaned for him, and that he has proper attire befitting his noble rank in the meantime."

The faun curtsied as she responded, "Yes, your majesty. At once."

Then turning to Sir Eric once more, he told him reassuringly, "Have no fear. As Aslan wills it, you now have friends here in the east whom your enemy knows nothing about. But now these matters concern us more than just returning you home. If you are right in what you say, if we do nothing, the one who is your enemy today may become our nightmare tomorrow."