I'm a little late to the Adventures in Narnia Prompt-Fest ... woops. Better late than never I suppose. I'm going to try the challenge on my own; we'll see how it goes. :)
Prompt #1: Blanket fort
Disclaimer: Narnia isn't mine; the world belongs to C.S. Lewis
This is the story of Narnia's First Rain. It begins at the Beginning, which I am sure has been told in other ways by other people - but those are their stories. This is mine:
On the first day, Aslan fed us.
We had already seen the Boy off and afternoon was turning to evening when He called everyone together for a feast. And what a feast it was! There were sausages and stuffings and salads and pudding and pies and pigeons and a creamy sort of filling that reminded me of gravy but was somehow richer. We ate so many different delicious things that night - more than anything I had ever had before.
On the second day, He clothed us and - oh! - what delightful clothes they were.
He dressed us in the richest of robes and the softest of silk. My own train was so long that four dwarfs had to work to hold it up, lest it drag on the ground. And Helen was absolutely stunning. Her hair was down and it shone like gold in the sun. The bright colors she wore only helped to enhance the effect. What's more, the clothes were comfortable. They weren't like the clothes of England. No English King could be dressed as comfortably as Aslan dressed me that day.
During those first days, we felt a need for nothing. We slept under the stars. We ate until our stomachs were full. We walked comfortably and without tiring as Aslan showed us the new world - the world that I was to rule. I was still nervous about becoming a King, but being with the Great Lion can make those sorts of things seem more possible.
Then came the coronation. Helen and I became royalty. The children left. Not long after that, Aslan left.
When the third day dawned, the business of settling into a new world had begun.
We needed to find food ourselves, clothe ourselves, and shelter ourselves. Having grown up in the country, Helen and I both knew how to work the land. We needed only to teach the Beasts how - but it wasn't as easy as I first thought it would be.
It was easy explaining the need for food. Admittedly, many of the Beasts only thought we had to eat because Aslan had taught us to. In fact, Fledge seemed to be the only one who understood that one becomes hungry when they don't eat.
Some of the wiser Beasts did have the idea that Aslan would not have them do things without reason, but the rest just thought eating was for the fun of it. No reason - eating was for fun. And that was why we planted gardens: for fun. I thought about trying to explain it to them, but Helen assured me that in due time they would see. For now, we planted gardens because Aslan taught us to have fun.
The plants grew quickly and before the end of the day we had a few healthy vegetable gardens, a fruit orchard, and one small wheat field. The Rabbits had made an especially big deal about planting plenty of carrots and only Horses saw any purpose in planting a wheat field. Baking bread would have to be a lesson for another day.
Next we taught the dwarfs and nymphs how to clothe themselves. This was also easy because they had been born in the same beautiful Narnian sort of clothes that Aslan had dressed Helen and I in - albeit slightly more practical. We needn't do anything really other than wash what we already had. Still, the Dryads (especially the beech girls) and the Naiads (daughters of the river god) wanted to learn to make clothes themselves. Helen took it upon herself to teach them.
After instructing the dwarfs on how to make looms and needles and other darning tools, she got right to work teaching the girls how to stitch and weave and put fabrics together. They made beautiful robes and gowns and frocks for all occasions. They began to be quite good friends. The nymphs were particularly fond of making party dresses and were already learning which types of skirts were best for dancing in or which types of fabrics shone brightest at night. They would sometimes compete to see who's dresses looked the nicest and the poor fauns were always caught in the crossfire.
After we had food and clothes, the next order of business was to find places for everyone to stay. This was a bit harder to explain. By day six, I had not made much headway.
"Why again we are doing this?" a confused Mr. Badger asked as he dug out a small window on the side of a hill.
"Not that we're complaining, Sire," his partner chimed in, giving Mr. Badger a quick glare. "We love digging."
"We do, we do," sang a chorus of Moles and Gophers and Groundhogs.
I laughed. I knew they liked digging. Just that morning I had offered to let them rest, but they had insisted: We will dig if there is any digging to be done.
"I know," I said. Then to Mr. Badger, "You're making a home. The dwarfs still need a place to live."
"Yes," the She-Gopher agreed, "Hopigg was saying that they wanted us to dig extra rooms. Large ones."
I nodded. "Forges - separate from the other rooms you make."
"Yes, yes," Mr. Badger sighed, "But why? Why make homes, Sire? Why live in holes? We liked it plenty well, sleeping under the stars with nothing but blankets."
I agreed. Summer nights in Narnia were absolutely beautiful. The sky seemed so much bigger here than it ever had in England. And the nymphs were getting good at making blankets too - they liked it nearly as much as making dresses.
Still, I could tell by the air of the country that if the weather were to change it could get cold in a hurry. Rain would come as quite a surprise for the poor creatures. Winter would be down right shocking.
"Someday you'll be glad to have a place to live," I sighed, but I wasn't thinking about how dreadful winter might be.
I was remembering the country where I grew up: the winding roads and the sturdy log houses and how on a cold evening I would help Father bring in firewood while Mother and the girls cleaned up supper. Once the fire was going, Father would bring down his flute while Meg and I begged him to play us a song. Always in the same voice he would laugh ho, if you insist. And on a particularly good night Mother would sing along too.
I smiled. "Homes can be nice."
Mr. Badger shrugged his furry shoulders. "If you say so."
"Oh, it will be," Mrs. Badger declared. "Imagine our own hole after we've added flowers and a sitting chair and a few blankets. Why we could even dig an extra tunnel to the Mole's home - if they are inclined so. And suppose we make a blanket out of grass or moss for the floor!"
"That would be nice," Mr. Badger conceded, "Especially if we make a shelf for my new pipe. And we could carve out the ceiling too. Then we could see the sky from inside our hole!"
"Now you see!"
With that, the Diggers went on to discuss what sorts of improvements they would each make to their respective homes. I left to go see how the Birds and Squirrels were doing.
Out of everyone, the Birds were the quickest to understand the need for a home. Earlier that week, the She-Owl had laid an egg; her need for a place to keep it became quickly clear. The Dryads - particularly the oak and pine and fir gods - had made it their business to help the Owls. Once the Owls had a nest, they began helping the Eagles and the Jackdaws and the other Birds.
The Squirrels too had taken a liking to the Dryads. It was only yesterday they had decided that they wanted to live in the wood where it all began - in the canopies of the trees. This was just as well because before that they had been bouncing all over the country trying to help each Beast with their house and causing more trouble than anything. Besides, the oak people had a way with Squirrels.
No sooner was the forest in sight than a Squirrel leapt out of a tree and came bounding to meet me, in the most squirrely way possible.
"Sire," it called in it's chattery speech, "A most terrible thing had happened!"
"Tell me."
"Mrs. Squirrel and I were collecting nuts again and we thought to ourselves a most lovely idea. Suppose we buried the seeds and stored them in a hole for eating another day. So I did. She chose a place with good and soft dirt then marked the place with a few stones in a sort of crossed shape and I stored the nuts there." He had been gesticulating as he spoke and now was making X shapes with his hands.
"And then what?"
"Today, Sire, we decided it was a good morning for eating so I went to dig up the nuts, but there was a young oak there and it's Dryad was playing with our stones. I asked him where he got the stones and he told me he had found them by his roots. He helped me look but we found nothing so I explained to Mrs. Squirrel that we had lost the nuts. She said perhaps the oak had grown from them. Of course! Just like the fruit trees! But then have we been eating baby oak Dryads? For days, I told her. I am certain I shall never be able to live with myself!"
"I see," I said. "Though the Dryads aren't born from the seeds are they? They are born from trees."
The Squirrel blinked a few times. "Yes," he answered slowly - slower than I had ever heard a Squirrel speak.
"In which case you have not eaten baby Dryads, but baby trees. I wouldn't think a tree can become a walking tree until it has been planted in Narnian soil."
"Yes," he cheered, bobbing his head. "Oh how delightful! I must tell Mrs. Squirrel!" He bowed then turned to leave but stopped short as though he remembered something. "Where should we store our nuts if not in the ground?"
"If any of the trees have unused hollows, perhaps they would let you use them. Large trees with thick trunks should do the trick."
"Oh thank you, thank you, Sire!" he called as he scampered away.
Once Mr. Squirrel was out of sight, I continued on my way up the river. I still needed to see how the Birds were doing, but something had caught my eye. As I got closer I saw what - rather who - it was: the Beavers.
"Good day!" I called.
"It is indeed," Mr. Beaver replied, looking up from a large pile of branches and waddling forward into a bow. Mrs. Beaver did the same. "What brings you here, Sire?"
"I saw you building from downstream and it piqued my interest. I did think you were going to live further down the river - by Berneua, if I'm not mistaken."
"You're not, Sire," Mrs. Beaver said, "But after deciding to build our home of sticks we thought it better to live near the trees."
"Of course," I said. "Though I do wonder how you've come across these branches." I gestured behind them. There were sticks of all sizes - small ones no longer than my forearm and no skinnier than a finger and large ones that were so big they had clearly been cut smaller to carry. All of these had been piled into a feeble sort of tepee shape.
"You have quite the collection there," I said.
"Oh!" Mrs. Beaver gasped, realizing what it must have looked like. "Dear me! These were all from off the ground, Sire - even the big ones!"
Mr. Beaver nodded quickly. "We asked too. The Dryads saw no reason for us to not take them."
"Yes," Mrs. Beaver agreed. "One of the cherry girls was even saying she wanted us to trim her branches this afternoon. Our teeth are good for those things, and her branches are getting a bit heavy."
"Not to worry," I said with a smile. "I'm sure it's good to have them cleared."
"Exactly what we thought, Sire."
"But this really won't do." I gestured again to the flimsy structure. "Suppose you built nearer to the river and used the mud to your advantage."
"A good thought, Sire."
That is how it came to be that I spent the rest of the morning helping the Beavers move their sticks closer to the river. Once the two of them landed on a spot of their choosing (a small outlet where the water slowed down and the fish liked to come) we got to work.
The Beavers put their tails to use by packing mud in and around each support beam while I put the wood in place and constructed the frame. By the end of the morning we had the beginnings of a sturdy three-walled lean-to that both Beavers could move comfortable throughout.
"That has the making of a sturdy home," Mr. Beaver declared, stepping back to admire the work. "That is, once it's been filled out with smaller sticks and a fair bit more mud - more dam-like."
I nodded my approval.
"Yes," Mrs. Beaver agreed. Then to me, "If you don't mind my asking, Sire, where is Your Highness going to live?"
"Helen and I were thinking about building something at the mouth of the river. A home similar to your dam here but more house-shaped. And with less mud."
"But how then will you make the walls, Sire?" Mrs. Beaver asked.
"Wood logs." I thought about how far away the first forest without walking trees was. "I might need to travel a ways to get it though."
"I'd imagine so," Mr. Beaver said. "We'd be happy to offer our teeth and tails when you go, Sire."
"I'm much obliged, dear Beaver. I must be off though; I have yet to see how the Birds are doing."
"And we have a cherry girl to help," Mrs. Beaver added. They bowed and I left.
As it turned out, the Birds were all doing splendidly. Only the Eagles had yet to finish their nests. It probably has more to do with their choosiness than anything else. Mrs. Eagle had insisted on roosting only at the top of the tallest tree and that meant that few people were tall enough to help them with their nests. Slowly but surely they were making progress though.
The She-Owl was also doing well. Her nest was overfilled with blankets and pillows that various nymphs had made to help keep her egg warm.
"Really too many. Too many!" she said. "Sire, what am I to do?"
"Indeed, Mrs. Owl," I consoled. "If you ever need to find a use for them all, Helen could help you. She'd think of something, I'm sure."
"Thank you, tu-whoo, thank you!"
Then I was off. I stopped to talk with a few centaurs who were in the area and by the time I was headed back down the river it was late afternoon. The sun was to my back. I thought as I walked.
The Birds and Diggers have homes. Except for the Eagles who are still working on theirs.
The Beavers have a home - or at least they will by the end of the day. They might need to expand it eventually, but for now it will be enough.
The Bears and Rabbits and fauns have homes: caves and holes and places of the sort.
The nymphs have homes. The Dryads have their trees and the Naiads have their rivers. Not that I'd anything to do with it.
The Wiggles and Giants have homes. They have houses in the north: in the marshes and the mountains.
The dwarfs will soon have homes - the Diggers will see to it. Perhaps by tomorrow's afternoon they can begin moving in.
The Horses and Stags don't have homes; the Cats and Dogs and Elephants too. But they are all the sort of animals who like to move around too much to want a place to stay. Perhaps all of Narnia will be their home.
The centaurs don't have homes either. They have yet to decide if they want to roam like a Horse or settle like a Man. Not to worry though. Something about the way a centaur carries himself - one can just tell that they will find a home when it's time.
That is everyone.
Nearly everyone.
I reached Beruna by sunset and arrived just in time for supper. Helen had cooked fish - not talking fish of course. She also fixed a vegetable salad.
"How did it go?" she asked as she finished laying out the food.
"Everyone's got a home now," I declared. "Not that they appreciate what it means."
Helen laughed. "Oh of course not. How could they?"
"I don't know. But Mr. Badger's ready to carve out the roof on his house and I don't know what I'll do!"
"The poor thing's been alive and thinking for less than a week," she said as she served fish onto little dwarf-made plates. "He wouldn't know how cold it can get in the winter - supposing there even is winter in Narnia. Nor would he know the beauty of having a family or a home or anything like that. It really is quite logical of him: if the most delightful thing that Badger can imagine are the stars in the night sky, why shouldn't he take off the roof of his house?"
"He's met Aslan," I argued.
Helen sighed. "I meant 'the most delightful thing Narnia has to offer,'" she corrected. "And I'm pretty sure Aslan is in a class of His own."
"I think He is," I agreed. "And Mr. Badger isn't wrong about the sky. Just don't tell him I said that."
"I wouldn't dream of it. Logical as his ideas may be, he doesn't need anyone reaffirming them."
I laughed. Helen was done serving, so I blessed the food and we ate our supper. The sun was now setting.
"I was thinking it's about time to start building our own house," I said once the meal was over. "The Beasts don't really need anymore help with theirs - most of them are nearly done."
Helen looked up from the dishes. "I wondered when you would say that," she said. "I'm ready to have a place for ourselves."
"Perhaps tomorrow we can head down to the mouth of the river. We can get a spot in the meadow ready to build on."
"Yes. Though, we'll have to stop by the gardens before we leave."
"Of course. Then you can get your garden planted how you like while I go looking for wood. The closest forest I can get anything from is up beyond the western waterfall. It might be a week's work bringing enough logs for a cottage all that distance."
Helen nodded. "I had been supposing it might take a bit - one can't get much wood around here can they?"
"The Beavers were actually doing quite well at it. A small dam's worth of branches they found just by clearing the floor. The Dryads are also asking for help thinning some of their heavier branches."
"How nice! That also explains what the Centaurs were telling the Rabbits - something about moving a large cherry branch."
"That would be the Beavers' doing."
"You wouldn't know why they are bringing it down the river, would you?"
"Not a clue. Though I should warn you I sent Mrs. Owl your way; she'll be asking what to make of her extra pillows and blankets."
"Not to worry. We'll figure something out."
Once the dishes were done we went to bed. We slept under the bright Narnian sky.
The next morning, Helen and I rose early and packed a wagon for the trip. The cart wobbled and creaked and had one smaller wheel, but it would do. Helen worked in the gardens by the river bed while I packed our belongings. We had clothes and dishes and blankets and pots (one dwarf was particularly fond of making us pots) that filled the wagon nearly full. By the time Helen added the fruits and vegetables and seeds she had harvested there was hardly room. The morning was half over when we left.
We traveled along the river for the rest of the morning and into the afternoon. We stopped once and had a small tea during which the She-Owl came to visit us. Usually the Owls slept at this time of day, but for whatever reason, Mrs. Owl was up and flying.
Helen gave her ideas on how to re-purpose the pillows and blankets as other household items. She offered to help the Owl hem and reshape the cloth for more practical use seeing as wings are no good for that sort of thing. Mrs. Owl happily took up the offer and said she'd bring them down later that day.
"Thank you! To-whoo!" she called as she flew away. "Curtains and cushions, not blankets and pillows. Thank you. Thank you!"
Then we continued our journey. The afternoon was turning late when we came to the mouth of the river. The meadow was lush green and speckled with flowers. It would have been a calm scene if not for a commotion off in the distance.
"What do you suppose is going on?" I asked Helen.
She shook her head. "I wouldn't know."
Drawing nearer to the upheaval the first thing I saw was an Elephant. It was the Bull and he was untangling his tusks from a large branch while trying to hold it up right with his trunk. Around his feet there were Mr. and Mrs. Beaver, one of the Moles, a few other Diggers, a Rabbit, and a pair of excited Squirrels running about.
There was also a centaur who stood to the side and a few nymphs who sat in a circle. The nymphs had an enormous fabric spread between them and were extending it with speed and precision. The centaur seemed to be directing the chaos and helping guide the Elephant as he untangled his tusks. He was the first to notice our approach and cantered over to greet us.
"Your Highnesses," he said with a bow. "You are a bit earlier than we had expected."
Now that he was closer I could see that this was Cloudfoot, whom I had spoken to just yesterday. He was one of the wisest of centaurs - who are among the wisest of Beasts.
"You've been expecting us?" I asked.
"Indeed, Sire," he replied. "It is well known that in Narnia you have set your eyes on this meadow for your home; it is a lovely place. And after speaking with you yesterday I was left with the idea that you intend to start building soon."
"I am," I admitted. "Though it may be a while before any true structure is made. I will have to travel to find enough wood."
Cloudfoot nodded. "That is what I feared," he said. "The star Rahmet has been getting brighter by the night; I couldn't guess what it meant until just last night during the conjunction of Su and Hava - they tell of water filling the air for days on end. Such a wonder will be good for the land and the plants, but I don't suppose it would be good for your travel. You won't be able to leave until after the water is gone."
"Oh dear," came Helen's voice, "I didn't suppose it would rain so soon."
"Neither did I; we will have to find someplace to stay until it is over." I turned to Cloudfoot. "You wouldn't happen to have ideas, would you?"
"But, Sire, that is why we are here," he replied. "The Beavers wanted to bring you the extra wood left over from making their own home, they were under the impression that you would be needing some. I helped them. One branch - a cherry branch - was too much for us to carry so we got word to the Elephants and they brought it the rest of the way for us."
Behind Cloudfoot the Bull Elephant had gotten his tusks untangled and I could see clearly now. The branch he was holding was stuck into the ground and braced in various places by smaller branches. These I recognized from having helped the Beavers the day before. The structure looked surprisingly sturdy and stood roughly four feet high and twice as wide. My attention was drawn back to Cloudfoot as he continued his story.
"Once we got here, I found some nymphs who were willing to help us. The Naiads and Dryads have been working on that blanket since noon and I must say I am impressed with their skill." This he said for Helen's sake and she nodded her head proudly.
"They are quite wonderful," she agreed.
"I was hoping Mrs. Owl would be here already with more blankets and pillows, but you know how Owls can be during the day, Sire - I probably should have set someone else on it. The She-Elephant will be back with rocks soon though."
Sure enough, only a moment later Mrs. Elephant arrived with a trunkful of heavy rocks. Cloudfood cantered over to help direct her on where to put them. Then she and her partner helped to lift the heavy blanket up onto the branches while the Beavers ran about patting the earth down one last time. The rocks were used to hold the fabric down. Then the nymphs tied the blanket up in some places and down in others until it was well secured onto the stick frame. They left one spot well open as well as a few smaller spots between the branches - they looked nearly like doors and windows.
All of this happened so fast. The Beasts worked in the way that Narnias sometimes can - you could hardly tell what was happening. That is why I did not see the structure for what it was until after the last Naiad stepped back.
"You've built a blanket fort."
Cloudfoot tilted his head. "I suppose so. I thought it more like a tent if I'm honest, Sire."
"It's a bit to flat for that," Mr. Beaver explained as he waddled over to us. He stopped to admire the work. "It's nice either way."
"Indeed," Helen said. "However can-"
But just at that moment Mrs. Owl arrived. She was followed by three young fauns.
"Curtains and cushions!" the Bird called as she circled down. "I've brought the curtains and cushions!"
She landed in front of Cloudfoot and placed an enormous basket - larger than the Owl herself - at his feet. Each of the fauns was carrying identical baskets full to the brim with folded blankets and flattened pillows. Panting slightly, they set them down as well.
"My!" the centaur exclaimed. "I didn't realize there were so many! I ought to have sent more help."
"Don't make a to-do," she hooted, when in truth she looked quite pleased with herself.
"Well I'm much obliged. And to you as well," he said to the fauns. They were too breathless to answer but nodded their acknowledgement.
Almost at once the nymphs were back at work. They hung up the blankets, tying them in various places to make curtains for the windows and leaving the largest one for the door. The fauns tried offering their help, but the nymphs were already done by the time they could.
Helen took the rest of the blankets inside and the smaller Beasts helped with the pillows. I watched as they spread them out then climbed inside after them.
"Why this is lovely," Helen said as I lowered down next to her. She sat on a soft green blanket just inside the open door while everyone else stood just outside.
"I'm glad it pleases Your Highness," Cloudfoot said. Then a nervous looking faun stepped forward and handed me a delicate looking instrument.
"I made a flute," he said.
"It's gorgeous," I told him. Then to Helen, "do you mind?"
With her permission I raised the instrument to my lips. It was perfect - each note was tuned and on pitch.
Then I played a song my father had taught me. One about good things like harvest and crops growing and rain falling. Helen must have recognized it because she began to sing. At the end of the first verse, the faun asked a Dryad to dance. She giggled and kindly agreed. Soon they were all dancing - a complicated sort of dance in one great circle. The Beasts clapped along. Then the rain started.
It came down slowly at first but soon picked up speed until there was a strong pitter-patter against the top of our fort. Miraculously, the blankets kept us dry. Perhaps the nymphs had weaved them of a special material - I never knew.
Slowly the evening turned dark. The stars came out and watched us in our festivities. Cloudfoot reckons Su and Hava were dancing alongside us. We sang and played well into the night; until all were so tired we could dance no more. Then, we listened to the rain.
Helen and I lay together in our blanket fort. She drew up a blanket around herself and soon the sound of her breathing slowed and depend.
I continued to lay awake, the sound of rain filled my ears. I murmured to no one in particular, "This country is starting to feel like home."
Then I closed my eyes and quickly fell into sleep.
That is my story.
It is the story of the First Rain; the story of how the Beasts made their homes; the story of how I spent the first month of my rule living in a blanket fort.
Three days. I spent three days writing that. Sorry it ended up being so long, I guess that's the perk doing this challenge on my own though- I can spend however long I like. That said, I'll try to stick to 24 hours in the future; keep the integrity of the challenge. ;)
I hope you liked it.
