Author's Note: I loved writing the first two parts of this chapter. I find them a bit amusing. Somewhere near the part it got boring and I slacked off a bit, so sorry if it's bad. To Mrs. St John Allerdyce: Aceline's going to be a little bit blind on the whole concept, but I won't make her so blind that you hate her.

Anywho, back to the story!

Chapter Six: I Thought There Was No Christmas

Aceline woke up from the most happiest dream you can imagine. (It was a miracle that she had slept at all since she usually couldn't without Angel.) She was dreaming about how she was back in London with her father still alive and the war over. Her family was reunited once more and everyone was happy.

She sat up, rubbing her eyes. She saw the Pevensie sisters huddled together, their eyes closed. The beavers did the same thing. But Peter was still awake, making sure that fire still burned. She walked over towards him and sat down on the log. He looked over at her in surprise.

"Shouldn't you be asleep?" he asked.

"Shouldn't you?" she replied. Peter shook his head.

"It's no use arguing with a girl. You just never win," he said. Aceline grinned.

"Well, I'm glad someone finally sees the light," she joked. The boy chuckled. Then suddenly he stopped.

"What are you doing up?" he asked. She shrugged.

"I woke up. And you?"

"Couldn't sleep." The look on his face told her what he was thinking.

"We'll get him back Peter," she said seriously.

"But what if we don't? What if they hurt him or kill him or-" He stopped as Aceline put her hand on his shoulder.

"Stop it. You're driving yourself mad by worrying." Peter looked like he was about to argue, but she continued, "Edmund is still alive. I know it." He nodded, still looking doubtful. Then he looked back at her.

"Aceline, what were you dreaming about? I heard you muttering..." The girl felt herself grow warm and she knew it had nothing to do with the source of heat in front of her.

"England actually. How the war was over and everyone was happy," she said, and then whispered, "And how Dad was still alive."

"What did you say?" Aceline swallowed. She was a bit touchy on the whole "my dad is dead" concept.

"My dad. He-He-He died a month ago," she faltered. She slumped on the log, looking put out. She looked up when she felt her hand being patted by Peter's. She gave a small smile.

"We should really go to sleep," Peter said to cover up the awkward moment. She nodded and they both stood up. But they stopped when they realized that neither one of them was going to watch over the fire.

"How are we going to keep warm?" he asked, looking at her. Aceline felt herself turned the darkest red as she said (or at least tried to), "Well, we could-well, you know like your sisters and the beavers. Like that." Peter blushed pink.

"Okay," he said. He looked around and chose the spot that they were standing on. "How about here?" She nodded. They sat down, this time both of them feeling awkward. They hesistantly got close to each other. She laid her head on his chest while she felt his nestled on hers. She manage to slow down her breathing so that one would guess that her heart had rushed to about ten times its normal speed. What would Emilia say to this? She closed her eyes and buried her head in his chest. Just before going to sleep, she thought of the pleasing aroma (peppermint and ferns) Peter gave off.

--------

The next morning, Aceline woke up to the sound of giggling.

Her eyes opened and she was stunned to see the sisters standing over her. She was even more stunned to see how close she was with Peter.

Their legs had somehow become entwined with one another. She cursed herself for sleeping in such a spread-eagled way. What more, Peter had managed to wrap his arms around her waist. She blushed (Why was she doing that so often now?) as she imagined the sight. She gently shook him awake. He groaned and opened his eyes. He looked just as shocked as she did. They both pulled out of each other's grasp. Suddenly, the beavers appeared. They didn't say anything until the fish (which the beavers had caught) was thoroughly cooked. Mrs. Beaver looked over towards the oldest children, who were sitting on the same log.

"Did you two have fun?" she asked. Aceline nearly choked and Peter turned red while the sisters laughed. The beavers looked amused. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He was determinedly staring at his plate. But she noticed that his ears were bright red. She knew she probably looked more or less the same way.

--------

Aceline trudged on with the siblings. Right now, it was around noon. She had wrapped her arms around herself to try to perserve what little warmth she had. As you know, when you're cold and have your arms around yourself, you're usually looking down. So this was why she crashed into Peter as he stopped.

"Now, Aslan's camp is near the Stone Table, just across the frozen river," Mr. Beaver said.

"River?" Peter asked, wearing a disbelieving expression.

"Oh don't worry, dear," Mrs. Beaver said. "The river's been frozen solid for a hundred years." Aceline looked over Peter's shoulder. In front of them, a snow-covered plain stretched in front of them. It was so large that she could barely see the leafless trees that were on the other side. It looked like it would take them forever to reach it. Peter seemed to read her mind.

"It's so far away," he said.

"It's the world, dear. Did you expect it to be small?" Mrs. Beaver asked. Susan pursed her lips at her brother.

"Smaller," she said. She walked past Peter, who wore an injured look. Aceline looked over at him and then at Lucy. They exchanged looks and walked behind Peter, who was ahead of them.

The walk proved a challenge, for some parts were pure ice and you regularly fell. Aceline felt tired as they trudged on. Mercifully, they were almost there.

"Come on, humans. While we're still young," Mr. Beaver called over his shoulder. He and his wife were a good distance ahead of them. The girl grounded to a halt, hands on her hips. As if we could walk that quickly.

"If he tells us to hurry up one more time," Peter said behind her, "I'm going to turn him into a big, fluffy hat." Aceline chuckled at the boy's comment.

"You do that and I don't think he'll be too keen on helping us," she joked. The sisters giggled while Peter gave her a grin. She smiled back and walked just a little bit ahead of them.

"Come on!" Mr. Beaver yelled.

"Peter, I think that's your cue to turn him into a hat," she said, hands in her pockets.

"He is getting a little bossy," Lucy agreed. Aceline nodded. Suddenly, she heard sleigh bells ringing. She turned to the Pevensies.

"Do you hear bells?" she asked.

"Behind you!" Mrs. Beaver screamed. "It's her!" All of the children looked behind them. Sure enough, a sleigh was coming towards them.

"Come on," Peter ordered, grabbing his youngest sister's hand. Susan was already ahead of them. Aceline groaned inwardly at the thought of running. But, she didn't want to get caught, so her legs carried her a great distance. They had arrived at the trees. The beavers were gesturing towards a boulder. She pushed Susan towards it and she quickly entered it herself.

The place were they had decided to hide was a bit small. Aceline was squished behind Peter's elbow. She gently nudged him. He looked at his elbow and moved over slightly. It was more or less the same. Now, their knees and shoulders were pressed against each other. She felt uncomfortable once more, but didn't dare ask the boy to move again. She sucked in her breath as she saw the shadow of a figure on the snow.

"Maybe she's gone," Lucy said.

"I'll go look," Peter volunteered.

"No," Mr. Beaver said. "You're worth nothing to Narnia dead."

"Neither are you, Beaver," his wife said.

"Thanks, sweetheart," he said and bravely went outside. Aceline held her breath and then let out a gasp as he reappeared.

"I hope you've all been good, 'cause there's someone 'ere to see you!" he announced happily. Her eyebrows knotted together as she followed Susan out.

In front of them stood a jolly-looking man with white hair and a beard dropping down to his waist. He wore a red coat that somehow matched with the rosy tint in his cheeks. She wondered who he was until Lucy said, "Merry Christmas, sir." Aceline's jaw dropped.

"Father Christmas," she whispered in awe.

"Look," Susan said. "I've been putting up with a lot since we got here. But this..."

"We thought you were the Witch," Peter said loudly. Father Christmas chuckled.

"Ah, yes. I'm sorry about that. But in my defense, I've been driving one of these longer than the Witch."

"I thought there was no Christmas in Narnia," Susan said.

"No," he agreed. "For a long time, there weren't any. But the hope that you have brought, Your Majesties, is finally starting to weaken her power. But, on a lighter note, I dare say you could use these." As he spoke, he took a large red bag out of his sleigh. Lucy immediately dashed forward.

"Presents!" she exclaimed. Father Christmas chuckled at her enthusiam and produced a dagger and a small bottle. He showed her the bottle first.

"The juice of the fire flower. One drop will cure any injury. And though I hope you never have to use it," he said, handing her the dagger.

"Thank you, sir," she said. "But I think I can be brave enough."

"I'm sure you can. Battles are nasty affairs." He then picked out a horn, a bow and a quiver of arrows from his bag. "Susan, trust in this bow and arrow and you will not easily miss."

"What happened to 'battles are nasty affairs'?" she asked, taking her gift. Father Christmas laughed.

"And though you don't seem to have a problem making yourself heard, take this and blow it. Help will come, wherever you are." Susan smiled at him.

"Thanks." He nodded and took out a sword and shield.

"Peter, the time to use these may be near at hand." Peter took it out of its sheath, the metal being reflected nicely on his face by the sunlight. Father Christmas looked amused as the boy said. Then he turned to Aceline.

"Aceline, this is for you." Out of nowhere, he produced a sword that was shorter than Peter's but longer than Lucy's dagger. It had the slightest curve to it. She took it with a trembling hand. It had intricate carvings on the blades. She saw that it had runes etched on it. But she couldn't make out what it said.

"It's beautiful," she breathed. "Thank you, sir." He nodded.

"These are not toys. Use them well and nicely. Now, I must be off. Winter is almost over and things do pile up when you've been gone for a century," he said, hauling the bag into his sleigh. "Long live Aslan. And Merry Christmas!" With a jolly wave, he got into his sleigh and was off.

"Merry Christmas! See you next year!" the Pevensies said. Aceline looked down at her gift. Then she looked back up.

"Merry Christmas," she whispered.

"He said winter was almost over," Peter quoted. Then his eyes grew wide. "You know what that means." No one answered him. "No more ice." Finally, Aceline understood.

"The river, our shortcut-it's melting!"

And with that being said, they were off.