It feels good to be reunited...
Snowy footprints led from the mound and across the river. Peter, Susan, Lucy, and Beaver stared at the tracks.
"Edmund!" Peter called out.
"EDMUND!" Lucy shouted.
"When did he leave?" Mister Beaver asked.
"What?" Susan looked down at him, then shook her head. "I'm not sure..."
"It's vital that we try and remember what he heard."
Peter looked down at him skeptically. "Why?"
Beaver pointed up toward the two dark hills. "Because he's gone to her."
Peter then found himself reaching through the trees, Mister Beaver right behind him, and Susan and Lucy a bit further behind, straining to catch up.
"There's no point in this!" Mister Beaver exclaimed. "You won't get him back this way! You've lost him to the Witch."
"No, I haven't!" Peter shouted.
"You tell me you trust him, then."
Peter whipped around. "I can still catch him."
He turned back to his way and tore across the snow, stopping at the rocks where his brother's footprints ended. Susan and Lucy looked up the hillside to where Edmund climbed, tiny against the cliff.
"Edmund!" Lucy shouted.
"Shhh!" Mister Beaver hissed slightly. "They'll hear you."
Up ahead, Peter threw himself up the rocks, only to be tackled by the Narnian.
"But, he's our brother!" Susan exclaimed when she saw the beaver stopping Peter.
"He's the bait! The Witch wants all four of you."
"What about Ella?"
"From the looks of it, the Witch does not know the princess is here yet. Though if she did know, she would no doubt want the five of you."
"Why?" Susan practically cried out.
"To kill you."
Peter and Susan stared at Mister Beaver, shocked. Then—
"Look!" Lucy helplessly pointed ahead as Edmund hauled himself to the top. In front of him, an open gate yawned, and Edmund walked through, vanishing.
"Blast him," Peter muttered.
Then Susan turned on Peter angrily. "I told you we should've gone back! But you wouldn't listen!"
"Oh, you knew this would happen?"
"I didn't know what would happen! Which is why we should've left while we still could."
"Stop it! Both of you!" Peter and Susan glared, wind whipping their faces. "This isn't helping Edmund!" Lucy continued.
"The only thing to do now is get as far away from this place as possible," said Mister Beaver.
Peter whipped around and gave him a look of disbelief. "And just leave him?"
"Only Aslan and the princess can help Edmund now."
"Then take us to them," Lucy pleaded. Lucy stared up at the dark cliff, then turned to them, tearful. "What choice do we have?"
Mister Beaver led the children through the woods, then, suddenly, dozens of howls ripped through the air, causing his eyes to go wide. They ran. The wolves flashed through the trees, not so far behind, slicing over new-fallen snow.
"Come on, Mother, there's no time!" Mister Beaver exclaimed as he, Peter, Susan and Lucy waiting impatiently, while Missus Beaver packed as much as she could from the kitchen.
After a moment, Missus Beaver reached up and brought down a jar, holding it up, looking thoughtful. "Do you think we'll need jam?" she asked as Mister Beaver tried to drag her toward the door.
"Only if the Witch serves toast in prison," he retorted.
Missus Beaver squeezed her basket closed. "Oh, shush. You'll be thanking me later."
Susan gave the couple a disbelieving look. "Jam, toast— what are you doing, Missus Beaver?!" exclaimed the girl.
"Packing a load for each of us, dearie," said Missus Beaver very coolly. "You didn't think we'd set out on a journey with nothing to eat, did you?"
"But we haven't time!" said Susan, buttoning the collar of her coat. "She may be here any minute."
"That's what I say," chimed in Mister Beaver.
"Get along with you all," said his wife. "Think it over, Mister Beaver. She can't be here for quarter of an hour at least."
"But don't we want as big a start as we can possibly get," said Peter, "if we're to reach the Stone Table before her?"
"You've got to remember that, Missus Beaver," said Susan. "As soon as she has looked in here and finds we're gone she'll be off at top speed."
"That she will," said Missus Beaver. "But we can't get there before her whatever we do, for she'll be on a sled and we'll be walking."
"Then— have we no hope?" said Susan.
"Now don't you get fussing, there's a dear," said Missus Beaver, "but just get half a dozen clean handkerchiefs out of the drawer. 'Course we've got a hope. We can't get there before her, but we can keep under cover and go by ways she won't expect, and perhaps we'll get through."
"That's true enough, Missus Beaver," said her husband. "But it's time we were out of this."
"And don't you start fussing either, Mister Beaver," said his wife. "There. That's better. There's five loads and the smallest for the smallest of us: that's you, my dear," she added, looking at Lucy.
"Oh, do please come on," said Lucy.
"Well, I'm nearly ready now," answered Missus Beaver at last. "I suppose the sewing machine's too heavy to bring?"
"Yes. It is," said Mister Beaver. "A great deal too heavy. And you don't think you'll be able to use it while we're on the run, I suppose?"
"I can't abide the thought of that Witch fiddling with it," said Missus Beaver, "and breaking it or stealing it, as likely as not."
"Oh, please, please, please, do hurry!" said the three children.
The snow had stopped, and the moon had come out when they began their journey. They went in single file— first Mister Beaver, then Lucy, then Peter, then Susan, and Missus Beaver last of all. Mister Beaver led them across the dam and on to the right bank of the river and then along a very rough sort of path among the trees right down by the river-bank. The sides of the valley, shining in the moonlight, towered up far above them on either hand.
"Best keep down here as much as possible," he said. "She'll have to keep to the top, for you couldn't bring a sled down here."
Suddenly, the baying of wolves pierced the night air. The group froze, trapped. Outside in the cold winter, the wolves raged across the river, leaping onto the dam, surrounding the Beavers' home.
"Take them!" Maugrim, the 'leader,' ordered.
And the pack savagely tore at the mound.
Inside the Beavers' home, splinters began to fly as the wolves burst through the door. They ransacked the room, shredding everything. Finally, Maugrim stopped. He sniffed, his head swiveling to a rough-hewn wardrobe.
The wolf eased open the wardrobe door, revealing...
A tunnel.
Maugrim's yellow eyes narrowed. "Smell them out."
Further ahead, Mister Beaver led the group through a dark tunnel. Peter and Susan had to crouch to avoid low-hanging beams.
"We'll be safe up ahead," said Mister Beaver. "A Badger friend of mine dug this tunnel. It comes up right near his place."
"And his barrel of ale, I shouldn't wonder," Missus Beaver muttered, making her husband roll his eyes.
At one point, Lucy's long coat caught on a root, causing her to fall to the ground. Susan reached down to help her, but...
"Sssh," said Lucy. Everyone froze, and Lucy's eyes widened in fear. "They're in the tunnel."
Indeed, the wolves poured into the tunnel, their howls echoing off the walls. The group quickly barreled around a corner but came upon a dead end.
"I told you we should've brought the map," Missus Beaver snapped.
"There wasn't room next to the jam!" Mister Beaver defended himself; after all, she was the one who chose to bring the sweet bread-spreading in the first place. "Peter, kneel down!"
Beaver then leaped onto the boy's back, reaching for the ceiling. Above, on the outside, a rock rolled away, revealing Mister Beaver himself. The other climbed out quickly after him, and out into a tiny village that sat in the pale moonlight. A mother Otter drew water from the well, squirrel children playing nearby. Beaver led the others in a run for the town. Lucy peered at the squirrels standing still under a tree, and Missus Beaver followed her gaze.
"Something's wrong," said the latter.
Something must've been wrong indeed as the village stood disconcertingly silent. Everyone took a moment, glancing around, before letting out a chorus of gasps as they gaped around, horrified as they realized the entire town had been turned to stone.
A Badger stood frozen, baring his fierce claws. Mister Beaver approached him slowly and stood, laying a hand on his old friend, tears welling.
"Now do you see what we're up against?"
The three Pevensies left stared, devastated.
Past the two hills, in the frozen castle, Edmund sat alone in a cell, ashamed and disappointed; nothing had gone as he had hoped— expected. The Witch was perfectly worthy of the nasty titles the Narnians gave her as she was, indeed, a witch. Awfully deceiving at first glance... well, to him anyway. He hated himself for having let his arrogance blind him.
He hugged his arms around himself, shuddering; there were, surprisingly, bugs everywhere, scurrying about. He tried to eat a piece of bread but gagged. He took a gulp of water but immediately spat it out. He looked into the cup and gagged as he saw more bugs floating in the slowly freezing water. He placed the cup down and pushed away his meal, disgusted.
"Excuse me."
Edmund jumped up, startled. He looked into the next cell and approached it warily, and saw, there, laying on the floor a gaunt, beaten Faun, his hooves shackled to the floor. "What do you want?"
"Sorry," said the Faun in a small, tired voice. "I'd get up, but I'm afraid my legs aren't working very well."
Realization came crashing down onto the boy as he stared at the Narnian with wide eyes. "Mister Tumnus...?"
Mister Tumnus chuckled sadly. "What's left of him, at least." Edmund looked away as Mister Tumnus smiled awkwardly."You're Lucy Pevensie's brother."
The boy was silent for a moment before he nodded. "I'm Edmund."
Mister Tumnus smiled slightly. "You have the same nose." And Edmund unwittingly scratched his nose. "Is your sister safe? Is she all right?"
Edmund looked away, troubled. "I don't know."
He felt even more ashamed now for how he had down-put his siblings, and though part of him still held an unreasonable grudge against them, he wished he was with them rather than in that freezing cell.
The rest of the Pevensies and Beavers stared out, in awe as they passed the Rock Bridge, being led by Hunta, the Fox who had had the pleasure in doing so; before them spread Narnia— vast, open and white.
The Fox stood proudly. "I told you it wasn't all trees."
"It's enormous," said Lucy, eyes sparkling with wonder.
"It's the world, my dear," said Missus Beaver. "Did you expect it to be small?"
Peter peered out across the immense expanse. "Where's the Stone Table?" he asked.
"You see that frozen lake?" The Fox nodded ahead of them. "Beyond that is Shuddering Wood, and then some foothills. You see the largest of them far off there?"
A tiny dark mound wavered on the horizon.
"Barely," said Peter.
"Well, the little gray bit on top of that— that's the Stone table."
Susan frowned. "I thought you said you knew a shortcut."
The Fox shrugged. "You'll save two days if you cross the Frozen River."
Susan peered at a long green strip in the distance. "Frozen? Is it safe?"
"Hard as a rock for a hundred years," Hunta reassured her. "Quite lovely, actually. Almost wish I was crossing it with you."
Susan looked down at him in surprise. "You're not coming."
"I might've known," Mister Beaver growled.
"Friend." The Fox sighed. "Aslan's readying an army. He'll need soldiers and I can get them." He turned toward the children. "The princess asked me to apprise you and lead you as close as I could, and I have done as best as I could, but I must now return to my primary duty." He then bowed. "It's been a distinct honor and privilege, your Majesties."
He turned to go, but Missus Beaver quickly nudged her husband, causing the latter to sigh.
"Oh... ah... Fox...?" The Fox turned. "Good luck."
They exchanged a smile before Hunta turned and raced off. The five of them then made their way off the Rock Bridge and over to the white landscape. The Beavers galloped easily over the snowy plain. The Pevensies, however, lagged behind, their legs bogging down in the snow.
"If he tells us to hurry one more time, I'm going to turn him into a big fluffy hat," Peter muttered.
At the shore, Beaver clambered atop a mound. "Hurry, Humans! While you're still young!"
Peter seethed.
Something then caught Beaver's eye. In the far distance, a rooster tail of snow plumed in the air. Beaver's eyes went wide as saucers.
He cupped his paws and shouted. "Hurry up! Run! Run!"
Out in the snow, the children sighed.
"He is getting a bit bossy," said Lucy.
Missus Beaver jumped up and down. "Behind you! It's her!"
The children turned and saw a speeding sleigh bearing down on them. Peter grabbed Lucy and ran for the shore as the air shook with the sound of sleigh bells. Susan slipped on the ice, scrambling. Atop the sleigh, a tall figure stood at the reigns.
Beaver pointed to a small hole between two icy slabs. "Inside! Dive! Dive!"
The children threw themselves into the hole, Beaver jamming himself in right after. He stuck for a moment, then slipped inside, tail flapping behind. The Beavers and humans laid crammed in the tiny hole, trembling as the sleigh bells grew louder. Finally, with a hiss of runners, the sleigh stopped right outside. A shadow passed over the mouth of the hole. Lucy swallowed hard. They waited.
Finally, the youngest Pevensie spoke, "Perhaps she's gone."
Both girls looked at Peter. "I guess I'll look," he said, readying himself to stand, but Mister Beaver held him back.
"No. You're worth nothing to Narnia dead."
He squared his shoulders, readying himself to leave, but Missus Beaver quickly reached out to him. "Neither are you, Beaver."
He squeezed her hand, then slipped into the light. Everyone waited. Susan held Missus Beaver, frightened. Suddenly, the sound of laughter filled the air.
"Come up! Come out!" Beaver popped his face back into the hole. "There's someone here to see you."
Lucy was first to peek out of the hole and found herself staring at two huge reindeer resting in front of an ancient sleigh. And there, next to Beaver stood a tall man in a cherry red robe and a great white beard. A broadsword on his hip, he could be an ancient warrior, or...
Lucy grinned. "Merry Christmas, sir."
Father Christmas beamed, gladly shaking her hand. "Merry Christmas, Lucy."
Peter gaped, astonished.
"After all these years," said Missus Beaver.
"I've put up with a lot since I got here, but this—"
Peter stepped in front of her. "We heard there was no Christmas in Narnia."
"The Witch has kept me out for a long time. But her magic is weakening. The ice is losing its grip on the world— thanks to you all."
"What?" said Susan.
"You've given Narnia back its hope." He reached into his sleigh and pulled out a sack. "You've still a difficult road ahead, however. I hope these will be of some help along your way."
And Lucy felt running through her that deep shiver of gladness which you only get if you are being solemn and still.
"And now," said Father Christmas, "for your presents. There is a new and better sewing machine for you, Missus Beaver. I will drop it at your house as I pass."
"If you please, sir," said Missus Beaver, making a curtsy. "It's locked up."
"Locks and bolts make no difference to me," said Father Christmas. "And as for you, Mister Beaver, when you get home you will find your dam finished and mended, and all the leaks stopped, and a new sluice gate fitted."
Mister Beaver was so pleased that he opened his mouth very wide and then found he couldn't say anything at all.
"Peter, Adam's Son," said Father Christmas.
"Here, sir," said Peter.
"These are your presents," was the answer, "and they are tools, not toys. The time to use them is perhaps near at hand. Bear them well."
With these words, he handed Peter a shield and a sword. The shield was the color of silver and across it there ramped a red lion, as bright as a ripe strawberry at the moment when you pick it. The hilt of the sword was of gold, and it had a sheath and a sword belt and everything it needed, and it was just the right size and weight for Peter to use. Peter was silent and solemn as he received these gifts, for he felt they were a very serious kind of present.
"Susan, Eve's Daughter," said Father Christmas. "These are for you," and he handed her a bow and a quiver full of arrows and a little ivory horn. "You must use the bow only in great need," he said, "for I do not mean you to fight in the battle. It does not easily miss."
Last of all, he said, "Lucy, Eve's Daughter," and Lucy came forward. He gave her a little bottle of what looked like glass and a small dagger. "In this bottle," he said, "there is cordial made of the juice of one of the fire-flowers that grow in the mountains of the sun. If you or any of your friends are hurt, a few drops of this restore them. And the dagger is to defend yourself at great need. For you also are not to be in battle."
"Why, sir?" said Lucy. "I think— I don't know, but I think I could be brave enough."
"That is not the point," he said. "But battles are ugly when women fight. And now—" Here he suddenly looked less grave. "— here is something for the moment for you all!"
And he brought out a large tray containing five cups and saucers, a bowl of lump sugar, a jug of cream, and a great big teapot all sizzling and piping hot. Then he cried out, "Merry Christmas! Long live the true King!" and cracked his whip. Everyone watched him go.
Finally, Lucy turned to Susan. "I told you he was real."
Susan opened her mouth to speak, then just shut it.
"Are you mad?"
"No, Ella, I'm not mad. You said you had a bad dream; what was so bad about it?"
"I'm tired," said Ella in a small voice. "I don't wanna talk anymore."
Caroline, her mother, sighed. "Okay, that's fine. Goodnight, Sweetheart."
Ella squeezed her eyes shut, and Caroline continued to stroke her hair. "Can you sing me a lullaby?" the little girl whispered, eyes still shut.
Caroline smiled and thought for a moment. "Alright, I used to sing this one to your brothers, it always put them to sleep," Caroline said, clearing her throat before she started to sing, softly.
"Lavender's blue, dilly, dilly, lavender's green; when you are king, dilly, dilly, I shall be queen."
Ella opened her eyes and started to giggle.
"What?" Caroline asked, smiling.
"I can't be King; I'm a girl!"
"Alright, fine, forget that line. Let me start over."
Ella smiled and closed her eyes again. Caroline snuggled in a little closer and began to sing again.
"Lavender's green, dilly, dilly, Lavender's blue; if you love me, dilly, dilly, I will love you. Let the birds sing, dilly, dilly, and the lambs play; we shall be safe, dilly, dilly, out of harm's way..."
Her eyes snapped open, and she pushed herself forward, away from the tree trunk she was leaning her back against. How much longer did she have to wait before the Pevensies arrived at the Table? She sighed, also wondering what had become of Hunta. Had he made it to the Pevensies? Had he managed to avoid the Witch's wolves, or the Witch herself?
"You worry too much."
She looked back and found Gwaindir standing a few feet away, sword and shield out, his stallion cantering behind him.
"You train too much," she countered, pushing herself onto her feet.
"Well, I do plan on defeating you in battle someday."
She chuckled, shaking her head. "You're never going to give up, are you?"
"Lá," (No) he replied, shaking his head as he sheathed his sword latched his shield to his back. "You think they're on their way?"
Ella pursed her lips as she turned to rest her gaze beyond the trees and towards the frozen river. "They're close," she said quietly. "I can feel it. It's just... the Witch is weakening. That means no more snow, and no more ice. And if they come through where I think they came through... the only way to get here is past the river, and since winter is ending—"
"The river is melting," Gwaindir finished, realization finally falling upon him.
"I can't help but worry. What if she catches them?"
Gwaindir placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Have faith, Hiril vuin..." (My Lady...) he said softly. "I'm sure they will be fine."
She sighed, running a hand over her face. "I hope you're right."
"Hey, if it'll make you feel better— do you want to go toward the river to see..."
She looked back at him and nodded. Philip, whom she had taken to accompany her this time, cantered over and stood before her, waiting for her to get on his back, while Gwaindir mounted his own stallion.
"We need to cross now!" said Peter as he, his sisters and the Beavers stood by the bank of the river.
Winter was ending, and so was its components that projected the season; the snow was melting, and the century-old thick ice was breaking.
The Pevensies followed the Beavers through a sparse forest. Around them, water dripped from thawing icicles.
"I wonder if the Professor had any galoshes in his wardrobe," said Lucy.
At that moment, Susan's foot sank in a puddle. She quickly yanked it out, all soggy, and groaned. "I'd be happy to go back and get them."
Suddenly, the Beavers stopped, absolutely still.
"Quiet," Mister Beaver hushed.
The children listened. Then, they all heard it— running water. The group advanced quickly then stopped and stood on a precipice, staring down at the great river. Cracks ran along its frozen surface, dark green water shooting from underneath. To their left, a massive frozen waterfall loomed, huge chunks of ice cracking off. To their right, the river flowed, plates of ice breaking away and shooting downstream.
"Our shortcut is melting!" Susan all but whined in disappointment and disbelief.
Lucy stared down at the rocky slope to the jagged ice. "What do we do?"
Peter's eyes flickered from shore to shore, calculating. "We cross."
"We'll never make it," Susan interjected.
The older Pevensie adjusted his shield and sword, looking steely. "Not if we keep talking about it." And he scrambled down the hill. After a beat, the others followed, the Beavers sharing a worried look before following suite.
Nearing the other side of the river, Ella scouted around, like a predator looking for its prey, something Gwaindir did not miss a beat to point out.
She grumbled, glaring at him. "Shut up, Felvanthar."
He grinned, shrugging nonchalantly. "Just making a harmless point, Your Majesty."
She sighed. She knew he meant well, only wanting to lighten the mood enough to make her smile, but right now wasn't the time.
"Gwaindir, I know what you're trying to do, but right now isn't the time. They could be in real danger at this very moment, what with the ice breaking—"
Gwaindir sighed this time, running a hand over his short hair. "I know, Princess."
His ears perked, almost like thus of a horse when their attention is caught, and his head snapped toward the left.
"This way, Your Majesty."
"Don't beavers make dams?" Lucy asked.
"I'm not that fast, dear!" Mister Beaver exclaimed himself.
"Wait, just think about this for a minute," said Susan.
"We don't have a minute!" Peter all but shouted at her.
"I'm just trying to be realistic."
"No, you're trying to be smart... as usual!" said Peter as they began to climb down to the ice. He stepped onto the ice first, though quickly pulled his foot back when he noticed it break under his weight.
"Wait, maybe I should go first," offered Mister Beaver.
Peter looked at him for barely a second before nodding in agreement. "Maybe you should."
Mister Beaver carefully stepped onto the ice and started patting his tale a few times.
"You've been sneaking second helpings haven't you?" Missus Beaver said accusingly.
"Well, you never know what meal is gonna be your last, especially with your cooking."
And the children started to cross, very slowly.
Susan huffed, cheeks flushing red from the cold. "If Mum knew what we were doing..."
"Mum's not here!" Peter snapped.
Lucy let out an exhausted breath as she looked up from her feet, then gasped when she saw the wolves. "Oh, no!"
Eyes widening at the threatening sight, Peter shouted, "Run!"
But before either of them could turn, the wolves leaped onto the ice, in front of them. One of them held Mister Beaver down as Maugrim started walking towards Peter, who had fumbled, and awkwardly drawn his sword.
"Put that down, boy. Someone could get hurt."
"Don't worry about me!" Mister Beaver exclaimed himself. "Run him through!"
Maugrim rolled his eyes at him and continued to advance toward the boy. "Leave now while you can, and your brother leaves with you."
Biting her lip hesitantly, Susan finally spoke. "Stop Peter; maybe we should listen to him!"
Maugrim smirked. "Smart girl."
"Don't listen to him!" Mister Beaver protested. "Kill him! Kill him now!"
"Come on, this isn't your war," Maugrim said. "All my queen wants is for you to take your family and go."
Susan let out an exasperated sigh. "Look, just because some man in a red suit hands you a sword, it doesn't make you a hero! So just drop it!"
"No, Peter! Narnia needs ya! Gut him while you still have a chance!" Mister Beaver exclaimed himself.
"What's it gonna be Son of Adam?" the wolf taunted. "I won't wait forever. And neither will the river!"
Swallowing hard, Lucy glanced up at the frozen waterfall and gasped. "Peter!"
They all looked up and see the waterfall beginning to melt.
"Hold onto me!"
Without wasting another second, Lucy, Susan, and the Beavers latched onto Peter as he stuck his sword into the ice. They looked up as a wall of ice came crashing down, causing a huge wave to engulf them. The girls screamed. The wolves were thrown into the River. There was a moment of silence, then, suddenly, the Pevensies appeared, clinging to the block of ice as it raced down the river.
When they reached the shore, Peter looked at his left hand to find that he was holding Lucy's coat... but no Lucy.
Susan looked at his hand and felt her eyes widen. "What have you done?!" She turned, glancing around desperately, looking for her little sister. "Lucy?! Lucy!"
"Lucy?! Lucy!"
"Ella! Over there!"
Ella glanced up toward where Gwaindir was pointing and told Philip to go that way. They raced down the wet bank, hooves hitting hard against the muddy ground. When Ella caught sight of the small familiar figure, she urged her stallion to go faster. As they neared the drowning figure, Ella glanced up quickly, smirking slightly to herself when she noticed an arched tree up ahead.
"Philip, at my signal, you give me a boost, alright?"
"Of course, Your Majesty."
Realizing Ella's intention, Gwaindir urged his own stallion to hurry, so he could ride beside her, rather than behind. "Princess, I don't think that's a good—"
"Too late," she cut him off, standing on Philip's saddle. "Now!"
And the horse's rear rose abruptly, sending Ella flying forward. The chances of her catching hold of a branch were around a poor fifty percent, as well as the chances of it breaking under her weight. Luckily for her, she caught a thick branch and managed to pull herself up onto the tree, breaking a small branch along her climb.
"Sorry," she said, padding the tree.
The tree grunted slightly, then calmed down. Ella quickly scrambled to stand on her feet to walk toward the arch of the tree as it was no longer necessary to climb it. She waited a few seconds before jumping off the arc, straightening her body, legs shut together, arms forward as she dived into the freezing salt sea water. She resurfaced a few seconds later, glancing around frantically.
She was afraid she wouldn't find Lucy, what with the water rushing with such rage. She sucked in a breath and dived back in. She squinted her eyes, looked around frantically, resurfaced, then repeated the action for about five minutes before she finally caught sight of the small struggling figure. She quickly pushed herself toward it, pushing her muscles as hard as she could, only being slightly relieved when she finally caught a hold of Lucy's arm.
She pressed her back against the younger girl's chest and wrapped Lucy's arms around her neck before pushing upward as much as she could to keep the girl above the water.
"Ella!"
"Don't talk! Just hold onto me!" Ella shouted above the roaring water. "I'll get you out."
And she began swimming back toward where she could see land. She knew she was headed the right way when she caught sight of the arched tree she had jumped from. Noticing how it was arching downward even more, she smiled in spite of herself.
"Lucy! Grab on to the tree!"
"I can't!"
"Just try!"
"O-okay!"
And the little girl reached up. It was hard to reach the tree as her arms were small, but, after a third attempt, she caught a thick branch, and the tree instantly hauled her up and out of the water, dropping her on the grass-covered ground. Ella quickly swam after her, catching another offered branch, and hauled herself out of the water, landing beside Lucy. Both coughed and gasped for air as water flew out of their lungs.
Exhausted, they both slumped onto the ground beside each other. Lucy blinked and gazed toward her left; Ella was really there. Not only that, but she saved her.
"You saved me," said Lucy in a small voice, smiling tiredly. "Thank you."
Ella gave her a sideways glance and huffed, but then found herself smiling in the presence of the young Pevensie. "I can't rule Narnia alone, now, can I?"
Lucy grinned as she took hold of the older girl's hand and gave it a small squeeze.
"Lucy?! Lucy!"
Ella sighed, then grunted as she pushed herself up and helped Lucy onto her feet. "Go to them."
"What about you?"
"I'll be fine; I know my way around. You— they've been looking for you for a while. They've probably got a coat you could wear; you're shivering," Ella replied, getting onto her feet and brushing some dirt and grass off herself, then squeezed some water out of her hair.
"When will I see you again?"
Ella smiled down at her. "When you meet the Great King. Now go."
Sighing, Lucy nodded and waved at Ella before stumbling off, following her siblings' calls.
"You truly care about them, don't you?"
Ella rolled her eyes at Gwaindir and grabbed her cloak from her bag she had tied on the side of Philip's saddle.
"I don't 'care,' I'm just nice... to a certain extent," she mumbled before mounting her stallion.
Gwaindir snorted and shook his head. "Of course you are, Princess."
"Come on," said Ella as she took hold of Philip's reins. "They'll get there soon enough."
"That was stupid. You could've gotten everyone killed!" Mister Beaver grumbled.
Peter rolled his eyes at him. "I feel pretty sure you could swim."
"It's not me I'm worried about! Why didn't you kill that wolf when you had the chance?"
They passed a budding tree, but neither Peter nor Beaver noticed.
"I tried!"
Susan whipped around, eyes flaming. "He saved your life! You should be thanking him!" Peter looked at her surprised, but Susan ignored his look and glared at the Beaver. "Now, you! Mister Beaver's right, it was stupid what you did, but right now isn't the time, we should be looking for—"
"Has anyone seen my coat?"
Peter and Susan spun around and almost simultaneously sighed in relief when they found their little sister standing there. Peter quickly rushed forward and wrapped Lucy's large coat around her small figure.
Mister Beaver sighed and shook his head. "Your brother has you well looked after," he decided.
Then, the previous tension dissipated from the air, leaving place to their laughter as they all embraced.
"I don't think you'll be needing those coats anymore!" said Missus Beaver.
Confused and curious, they all followed Missus Beaver's finger and gaped in surprise and awe. All around them, Narnia erupted in life and color. Mister Beaver jumped back as yellow tulips burst from the earth. Missus Beaver just smiled and took his paw.
"Now, let's all calm down. We're nearly there."
Mister Beaver nodded. "You're right, m'dear." He then turned to look at the children. "It won't be long now."
He then began leading them uphill across some very deep, springy moss in a place where only tall trees grew, very wide apart. The climb, coming at the end of the long day, made them all pant and blow. And just as Lucy was wondering whether she could really get to the top without another long rest, suddenly they were at the top.
The Pevensies and Beavers gazed in awe at the Monolith.
They were on a green open space from which you could look down on the forest spreading as far as one could see in every direction— except right ahead. There, far to the East, was something twinkling and moving.
"My God!" whispered Peter to Susan, "the sea!"
In the very middle of this open hill-top was the Stone Table. It was a great grim slab of gray stone supported on four upright stones. It looked very old, and it was cut all over with strange lines and figures that might be the letters of an unknown language. They gave you a curious feeling when you looked at them. The next thing they saw was a pavilion pitched on one side of the open place. A wonderful pavilion it was— and especially now when the light of the setting sun fell upon it— with sides of what looked like yellow silk and cords of crimson and tent-pegs of ivory; and high above it on a pole a banner which bore a red rampant lion fluttering in the breeze which was blowing in their faces from the far-off sea. While they were looking at this, they heard a sound of music on their right, and, turning in that direction they saw what they had come to see.
Aslan stood in the center of a crowd of creatures who had grouped themselves around him in the shape of a half-moon. There were Tree-Women there and Well-Women (Dryads and Naiads as they used to be called in our world) who had stringed instruments; it was they who had made the music the Pevensie's had heard from afar. There were four great centaurs. There was also two unicorns, and a bull with the head of a man, and a pelican, and an eagle, and a great Dog. And next to Aslan stood two leopards of whom one carried his crown and the other his standard.
But as for Aslan himself, the Beavers and the children didn't know what to do or say when they saw him. People who have not been in Narnia sometimes think that a thing cannot be good and terrible at the same time. If the children had ever thought so, they were cured of it now. For when they tried to look at Aslan's face they just caught a glimpse of the golden mane and the great, royal, solemn, overwhelming eyes; and then they found they couldn't look at him and went all trembly.
"Go on," whispered Mister Beaver.
"No," whispered Peter, "you first."
"No, Sons of Adam before animals," whispered Mister Beaver back again.
"Susan," whispered Peter, "What about you? Ladies first."
"No, you're the eldest," whispered Susan.
And of course the longer they went on doing this, the more awkward they felt. Then, at last, Peter realized that it was up to him. He drew his sword and raised it to the salute and hastily saying to the others, "Come on. Pull yourselves together."
He advanced to the Lion and said, "We have come— Aslan."
"Welcome, Peter, Son of Adam," said Aslan. "Welcome, Susan and Lucy, Daughters of Eve. Welcome, He-Beaver and She-Beaver."
His voice was deep and rich and somehow took the fidgets out of them. They now felt glad and quiet, and it didn't seem awkward to them to stand and say nothing.
At that moment, the unexpected to the eldest Pevensies happened. The familiar dark-haired beauty glided ever so gracefully through the crowd and went to stand by the lion. Had the nerves not left them slightly, they would've been wrecked inside.
There stood the princess, at the Great King's side, head held high with incomparable confidence. Hair lightened slightly, lengthened and pulled back into a braid— the girl didn't even need a gown and a crown to look of high importance. Even with the pair of black leather trousers, the black shirt and green sleeveless tunic she wore over it, she looked strong— warrior-like, with the bow and quiver full of arrows slung over her shoulder diagonally, her sword sheathed and strapped to her hip, along with her shield strapped over the weapons on her back.
"But, where is the fourth?" asked Aslan.
The princess's young yet wistful eyes followed the lion's gaze, and an undecipherable look took over them as they stared at the siblings who were missing one.
"That's why we're here. We need your help," said Peter.
"We had a little trouble along the way," Susan chimed in.
"Our brother's been captured by the White Witch," the oldest Pevensie spoke. He kept his voice strong, but his eyes betrayed him.
"Captured? How could this happen?" asked the lion.
"He has tried to betray them, Your Majesty," said Mister Beaver.
Oreius growled as he stepped forward. "Then he has betrayed us all!"
"Peace, Oreius. I'm sure there's an explanation," said Aslan.
And then something made Peter say, "That was partly my fault, Aslan. I was too hard on him."
Susan stepped forward and placed a hand on her brother's shoulder. "We all were."
And Aslan said nothing either to excuse Peter or to blame him but merely stood looking at him with his great unchanging eyes. And it seemed to all of them that there was nothing to be said.
Lucy than braved herself into stepping forward. "Sir? He's our brother."
Aslan regarded the little girl with kind eyes. "I know, dear one. But that only makes the betrayal all the worse…"
Her bottom lip jutted out. "Can anything be done to save Edmund?"
"All shall be done," said Aslan. "But it may be harder than you think."
And then he was silent again for some time. The princess placed a hand on his mane, and he turned to look at the older girl with adoration clear in his eyes.
"Grandpapa, please," she mumbled.
He knew what she was asking, but he could not let her go, especially not now that one of the princes stray.
"I'm afraid that now you must not," he said quietly.
"But—"
"It is too dangerous. You can go, but wait until the day loses a bit of light. She will be camping by then as I am sure she is on her way."
Ella retracted hand and bowed her head, bending her legs in a small curtsy before spinning on her heels and gliding away.
Up to that moment, Lucy had been thinking how royal and strong and peaceful his face looked; now it suddenly came into her head that he looked sad as well. But next minute that expression was quite gone.
The Lion shook his mane and clapped his paws together. "Meanwhile, let the feast be prepared. Ladies, take these Daughters of Eve to the pavilion and minister to them."
"Look at her go," Lucy whispered in awe as she and Susan watched Ella practicing her sword fighting against several stronger, male opponents, a few female, and beating them all.
"She's good," Susan remarked, sharing her sister's admiration.
"Alright, a hauta sinomë," (rest here,) they heard her say.
Then, she sheathed her sword and made her way toward them. Lucy perked up as she watched the princess near her, but her sister was more panicked than ever. Just the previous day she had not believed her sister's words. Now, they actually were in Narnia, where Ella was actually a princess; Susan had no idea how to talk to her or act around her.
"At ease, my friend," Ella said calmly once she reached them. She had noticed the panicked look on Susan's face.
"Sorry," she blurted out.
"For thinking I was as mad as you thought your sister to be for believing in Narnia?"
Susan felt her face flush pink. "I'm really sorry about that, I—"
But Ella cut her off with a small laugh, surprising her. "It's alright. It was rather amusing, if I do say so myself."
Susan frowned. "If you knew this place was real, why didn't you insist so?"
"You can't force someone to believe what they've never believed. Lucy always believed what's beyond the human eye, so she got to taste the cake first. Edmund doesn't like to share, but some part of him believed as much as Lucy does. Peter's just growing up, so it would take seeing to believe, and you as well."
"How come we're all here then?"
"Because at times of trouble, people open their mind to anything so they can get away." A smug look flashed across Ella's face. "And I'm guessing the trouble you were trying to escape was Missus Macready?"
Susan, in spite of herself, giggled along with Lucy, who nodded. "How did you know?"
"Rather it'd be a coincidence or not, but I was running from her too when I first came to Narnia a little older. I accidentally broke a glass cabinet."
The three laughed softly.
"I wanted to give you this," she said, changing the subject.
She reached into a small leather pouch they had just realized was strapped around her waist, over her sword's sheath, and pulled out an ivory colored horn. Closing her pouch, she looked at Susan and handed it to her.
"I'm guessing the two of you will be together a lot while you're here, so I want you to have this in case anything goes wrong. The instant you blow in it, wherever you are, help of some kind will come to you."
Susan looked at the horn in wonder as she grabbed it and held it carefully. She then looked up at the princess and smiled gratefully. "Thank you."
And Ella smiled.
"Feel free to go around, alright? I'll see you later, I've still got some more training to do for the day."
Peter stood on a hill, starting at a castle in the distance.
"That is Cair Paravel," said Aslan, walking up beside him. "The castle the five thrones in one of which you will sit, Peter, as High King."
Peter said nothing.
"You doubt the prophecy?"
"No, that's just it... Aslan, I'm not who you all think I am."
"Peter Pevensie, formerly of Finchley. … Beaver also mentioned you planned on turning him into a hat." Peter smiled. "Peter, there is a Deep Magic more powerful than any of us that rules over Narnia. It defines right from wrong and governs all our destinies. Yours and mine."
"But I couldn't even protect my own family."
"You've brought them safely this far."
Peter sighed. "Not all of them."
"Peter, I will do what I can to help your brother. But I need you to consider what I ask of you. … I too want my family safe."
At those words, Peter wondered to himself why he gazed down the hill toward the training area, where Ella was battling against an elf she seemed to always have around her.
Then, not even a minute later, a strange noise woke the silence suddenly. It was like a bugle, but richer.
Knowing Ella was no longer in possession of the horn as she had told him before that she would give it to the eldest female Pevensie, Aslan looked ahead, eyes squinting slightly with an indecipherable look in them.
"It is your sister's horn," said Aslan in a low voice; so low as to be almost a purr, if it is not disrespectful to think of a Lion purring.
For a moment, Peter did not understand. When had his sister gotten a horn? Never mind that! If she was blowing it and Aslan was commenting on it, then it must've meant she was in trouble of some sort.
Then, Peter saw all the other creatures start forward and heard Aslan say with a wave of his paw, "Back! Let the Prince win his spurs."
He understood and set off running as hard as he could to the pavilion. And there he saw a dreadful sight.
The Naiads and Dryads were scattering in every direction. Lucy was running towards him as fast as her short legs would carry her and her face was as white as paper. Then he saw Susan make a dash for a tree, and swing herself up, followed by a huge gray beast. At first, Peter thought it was a bear. Then he saw that it looked like an Alsatian, though it was far too big to be a dog. Then he realized that it was a wolf— a wolf standing on its hind legs, with its front paws against the tree-trunk, snapping and snarling. All the hair on its back stood up on end. Susan had not been able to get higher than the second big branch. One of her legs hung down so that her foot was only an inch or two above the snapping teeth. Peter wondered why she did not get higher or at least take a better grip; then he realized that she was just going to faint and that if she fainted, she would fall off.
Peter did not feel very brave; indeed, he felt he was going to be sick. But that made no difference to what he had to do. He rushed straight up to the monster and aimed a slash of his sword at its side. That stroke never reached the Wolf. Quick as lightning it turned around, its eyes flaming, and its mouth wide open in a howl of anger. If it had not been so angry that it simply had to howl it would have got him by the throat at once. As it was— though all this happened too quickly for Peter to think at all— he had just time to duck down and plunge his sword, as hard as he could, between the brute's forelegs into its heart. Then came a horrible, confused moment like something in a nightmare. He was tugging and pulling, and the Wolf seemed neither alive nor dead, and its bared teeth knocked against his forehead, and everything was blood and heat and hair. A moment later he found that the monster lay dead and he had drawn his sword out of it and was straightening his back and rubbing the sweat off his face and out of his eyes. He felt tired all over.
Then, after a bit, Susan came down the tree. She and Peter felt pretty shaky when they met, and I won't say there wasn't kissing and crying on both sides. But in Narnia, no one thinks any the worse of you for that.
"Follow him," Aslan ordered. "He will lead you to Edmund."
Suddenly, Ella appeared out of nowhere and cried out, "Midnight!"
And a midnight black, uni-horned stallion came cantering toward her. She ran forward, black cloak flying behind her, then, barely a foot away, she jumped, gracefully landing on his saddle.
Grabbing the unicorn's reins, she shouted, "Go!" And she soon disappeared into the gathering darkness, with a thunder of hoofs belonging to a dozen or so of the swiftest creatures, who followed right behind her.
"Stop!"
They did. The Witch's camp was just a few yards away, a small fire visible in the distance Ella and her troupe had left between them.
"Oreius, I want the place surrounded. They don't know we followed them, so we have an advantage."
"Sneak attack?" Gwaindir chimed in.
Ella nodded as she slid off the unicorn's back. "I'm going in first. I'll get Edmund; then I'll leave the rest to you." She looked at Midnight and patted his head. "Follow me quietly, alright?"
Neigh.
A warm smile curled onto her lips from under the large hood of her dark cloak. "Thank you, my friend."
"Will you be alright alone, Your Majesty?"
Ella nodded. "I'll be fine. Follow Oreius, Gwaindir."
"Of course."
With that planned, Ella marched ahead with Midnight walking right at her heels, both hiding in the shadows of the trees as to not be noticed, while the others went in two directions to surround the camp as instructed.
As soon as they reached their destination, Ella pulled her stallion behind a large bark, where she began to survey the scene. Edmund was not far away from the edge of the camp, but it was far enough to have about twelve monsters around him. Not to mention that stupid dwarf was guarding him.
"Is our little prince comfortable?" she heard the dwarf taunt Edmund. "Does he want his pillow fluffed? Special treatment for the special boy. Isn't that what you wanted?"
Ella looked around the camp; there was not much to work with. In a few moments, the camp would be surrounded as planned and she would not be as outnumbered as she currently was. She glanced toward the tent that the Witch was under and listened carefully. Jadis was talking with a Minotaur about battle plans. Having an idea, Ella brought out her bow and an arrow. Aiming for the highest cord on the tent, she shot.
Bullseye! ... or whatever you call it when it comes to a rope.
The rope snapped, and the tent fell on the Witch and the Minotaur and anyone else in it.
"Get me out of here! Get this thing off me!" Ella heard the Witch scream.
She watched as every creature around came to help get the tent off, leaving Ella with the perfect opportunity to snatch Edmund from their grasp. While the dwarf was watching what was happening, Ella jumped down from the tree. Edmund turned when he heard her, and his eyes widened. Putting her finger up to her lips, she began to cut his bonds. She then took the dwarf by surprise. Still looking the other way, Ella knocked him out and tied him to the tree.
"Come on," she whispered to Edmund.
Not saying a word, he followed. When they were a safer distance away, he spoke.
"Who are you?"
She did not reply, but he found himself gasping in surprise when she pulled her hood down. Without a word, she took off her cloak and wrapped it around his shivering body.
"Come on," she said softly, leading him toward the shadow of the tree she'd been hiding behind. He gaped when he saw the unicorn, but at this point, he was no longer too surprised; he had after all been held prisoner with a Faun by a witch and dwarves and minotaurs, and other creatures.
She pulled him up into her arms and placed him onto the black stallion's back, before mounting herself behind him. At that moment, another stallion cantered over, carrying a man with pointy ears on his back.
"Princess."
"Gwaindir," she returned the greeting. "I assume the ambush has continued from where I left off?"
"Indeed," he replied. "Oreius has sent me to watch your back while you take the prince to the Table."
With one nod from Ella, Edmund found himself flying through the forest, with the princess' arms wrapped securely around his waist, to keep him from falling, as her hands held her stallion's reins.
Edmund woke up in a red and gold tent, with drapes and curtains that made him feel closer to a home than he had in a long time.
"Where am I?"
"The Stone Table," a voice said beside him. He turned his head to the girl who saved his life.
He hesitated. "... Ella?"
"Hello, Edmund," she said quietly.
"... you saved me."
"I wouldn't really call it saving. More like lending a fellow ruler a hand."
"The Witch—"
She placed a hand on his forehead and gave him a small smile. "It's alright, Edmund. You don't have to worry about her right now. You're safe." She then got up ready to leave, when suddenly his hand shot out from his side and grabbed hers, stopping her.
"Can you stay?" he asked in a small voice.
She hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "Move over, big boy," she said softly, lifting the large blanket that covered him. Edmund scrambled around a bit until there was enough space for her. The moment she settled in, however, he hurried into her open arms that offered the comfort and protection he sought.
Smiling softly, she wrapped an extra blanket closer, over their bodies, before wrapping an arm around him and pulling him close to keep him warm with not only the blanket but also the warmth of her own body.
A long moment of silence passed, and though it was a rather comfortable silence, Ella knew the boy was not about to sleep just yet, especially not after whatever had been done to him by the Witch. He wouldn't have asked her to stay had the case been otherwise. She didn't know Edmund all too well, but she knew he was the kind of person who was too proud of himself to show any weakness. However, she had a feeling that was about to change soon.
Opting to do what her mother always did whenever she had nightmares, Ella held the boy close and began to sing softly in his ear. However, the song she sang was not the one of the colors, but one of the stars.
"Constant as the stars above, darling, you will always be loved..."
Her soft voice flowed around and out of her tent, echoing through the calm, silent night. The many Narnians who were still awake stopped their doings and listened to the beautiful voice they knew belonged to their dear princess.
"Will help you make your dreams come true... will help your dreams come true."
Peter lay on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Many thoughts flashed through his head, though it stopped as soon as the singing voice reached his ears. He closed his eyes and savored it as it soared through the air like a nightingale singing beautifully at night.
"I'll cradle you in my arms tonight as sun embraces the moonlight..." A small, sad chuckle rang in her head before the familiar soprano voice that sounded like the soft blow of an ocarina continued to sing.
"Susan!" Lucy whispered.
"... hmmm, what?"
"Listen."
"Lucy, what are you on ab—"
"The clouds will carry us off tonight... Our dreams will run deep like the sea..."
She listened.
"That's Ella."
"Constant as the stars above, always know that you are loved..."
"... she's got a beautiful voice."
"Yes, she really does."
And they continued to listen until her voice slowly lulled them to sleep.
"And my love shining in you... will help you make your dreams come true..." Pause. "Will help your dreams come true..."
"Sir Peter Wolf's-Bane... s'got a nice ring to it."
Peter let out a startled yelp, then spun around, coming face to face with yours truly, Ella. His face reddened. He had seen her wearing dresses now and then, but none like the long violet gown she was wearing. Like all other clothes in Narnia, the gown held a medieval air.
The satin-looking gown hugged her figure, following her curves. The dark purple was gorgeous against her pale russet skin, giving it a rather peculiar yet stunning glow. The sleeves widened from the elbows, downward, where the thick fabric changed into a silky veil-like material. The bodice altogether was complimented by the violet pair of flats her feet were slipped into. Her hair, which he usually saw either braided or in a fashionably curled mess, was down in neat curls, a golden crown adorning the top of her head. Around her neck hung a golden necklace that practically matched the crown and the golden patterns on her dress. She always wore it, he noticed.
"You heard about that?"
"Have you forgotten I was there when you killed the wolf before I set out to find your brother?"
"Edmund!" he suddenly remembered. "Is he alright? Did you find him? Is—"
"Calm your horses, Pensive." He blushed. "Edmund is fine. He's up there talking with gran— Aslan."
Making a mental note on her slip-up, Peter followed her gaze and saw Edmund talking to Aslan on a hill. Then, the girls walked out of the tent and joined them, though Lucy noticed her other brother before Susan.
"Edmund!"
Ella's arm shot in front of her, stopping her mid-pounce. Puzzled, Lucy looked back at Ella, who shook her head at her. "Wait a moment."
They looked back toward the lion and the boy, only to see them looking back at them. Aslan then motioned Edmund down, and they both went toward the group of his siblings and Ella.
"What's done is done. There is no need to speak to Edmund about what is past."
With that said, Aslan walked off, Ella trailing behind him.
Edmund looked at his siblings for a moment before looking at the ground in shame. He doubted they would be as forgiving as Ella had been, even though she had not voiced it; he knew he had given his siblings a really hard time.
"Hello," he mumbled.
Not waiting another second, Lucy and Susan launched themselves at him, hugging him tightly.
"How are you feeling?" Susan asked softly.
"I'm a little tired." He had slept the previous night, but being within the Witch's grasp had really drained him.
"Get some rest," Peter said curtly. Edmund nodded and began to make his way toward the tent he'd been told he would share with his brother.
"And Edmund…" The boy looked back at his older brother. "Try not to wander off again," Peter added with a small smile Edmund returned.
It feels good to be reunited...