Chapter Title: Prophecies and Pilgrims
Author: Sam
Story: A Narnian Prophecy: 02 of ?
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Narnia didn't have a standing army; everyone participated as he or she saw fit. Fortunately, her inhabitants so loved Narnia that raising an army seemed to be little problem; making sure they worked together cohesively in battle was. Therefore, the Centaur, Oreius, now official Military Advisor to the Kings and Queens of Narnia, arranged regular drills to be attended on a voluntary basis. Large attendance numbers made using one of the courtyards very impractical, quickly forcing them to create a training area which could hold almost a hundred in tight formation; several proven warriors ran regular drills in other similar areas.
Upon reaching the closest practice yard, Peter and Lucy found the expected Dwarves, Satyrs, Centaurs, Leopards, Bears, Wolverines, Dogs, Foxes, Badgers, and even a pair of Rhinoceroses being instructed in battle formations by Oreius. The unexpected person they found was their brother, Edmund, the second, younger, King of Narnia. He stood to the side of the mass of bodies, quietly discussing something with Oreius as they watched the drilling Narnians.
Breaking away from Peter, Lucy excitedly ran over to the pair and unashamedly bestowed a fierce hug on Edmund, who looked surprised but not displeased. A mere year before, Edmund would have shunned the affectionate embrace; his time in Narnia had changed him and for the better in Peter's opinion. Lucy pulled away and smiled at the Centaur, the leather book clasped in one hand. "Hello, Oreius."
"My Queen, it is a pleasure." His voice reverberated deep and serious, but no one would have dared contradict his claim. "Sire," the Centaur turned his gaze on the High King, adding a brief bow of his head to acknowledge the young man's rank.
Peter smiled at his advisor. "Hello, Oreius, how're the drills coming?" Duty, after all, outweighed curiosity.
Satisfaction tinged his deep voice as Oreius replied, "They are eager to learn and learn well. Rumblebuffin practices harder than any other and his diligence is admirable." Almost as if he'd been asked where the friendly giant was, since he certainly was not in the practice yard, Oreius gestured towards far off Beruna as he spoke. Peter took that hand movement to mean Rumblebuffin drilled in the larger open space on the former battle site.
"Good." Peter thought quickly of a compliment for the friendly, yet not so intelligent, giant. "He's a fierce, loyal warrior. I'm glad he's on our side."
"Oreius," Lucy jumped in before either could say anything more. It was rude to interrupt while others were speaking, but to interrupt while both were paused in conversation… that was a gray area at best. "Mr. Tumnus leant me this book on legends, and I wondered about this one here." She quickly, careful of the delicacy of the damaged book, flipped to the proper section and turned the verse towards the Centaur.
At his advisor's quick glance for approval, Peter smiled and nodded, giving silent permission for the warrior to break their conversation. It had taken some time for the young King to get accustomed to those permission-seeking looks; as 'High King of Narnia', his opinion was sought more often than when he'd only been 'big brother of three younger siblings'.
Just as careful with the delicate book, Oreius reached down and gently took the leather volume from the young queen. He solemnly perused the passage as if it were a great war treatise or something of the sort. After several long minutes, he lowered the book and asked, "What is it you desire to know, Your Majesty?"
Lucy smiled and explained, "Peter and I couldn't decide if it was a legend or a prophecy, and just what it meant, Oreius. I think it's a prophecy; is it?" She had moved closer to the glistening black flank of the Centaur, not seeming to mind the slightly horsy scent of him.
Once more, Oreius perused the verse then turned his serious brown eyes on the little girl. "It is a prophecy, Your Majesty. It concerns a threat to Narnia's freedom."
The smile slipped from Lucy's face, and Peter felt a twinge of alarm, his uneasy feeling of the morning coming back full force. He jumped in. "Do you know the rest of the prophecy, Oreius?"
"I do not have it memorized, Sire, but I will find it. This is, unfortunately, but a little of the prophecy. It concerns a threat which erupts into battle on Midsummer's Eve. If the threat is not eliminated, Narnia's royalty will be slain and the beasts will suffer." He frowned thoughtfully, the attention of the very interested Pevensie siblings not disturbing his thoughts. "Magic, naturally, comes into play, as often it does in these prophecies." Finally, the Centaur shook his head, his mane-like black hair swishing back and forth even as a back hoof stomped. "I do not recall the rest, but I will search for it, Sire."
Edmund finally entered the conversation, inadvertently interrupting what Peter meant to ask. "Could it have anything to do with the White Witch? May it already have come true and we've gone beyond it? After all, the Witch did take over and everyone suffered." Since the question was as interesting as his own, Peter turned expectant eyes on Oreius, waiting his turn.
Oreius did not disappoint, though the answer was not what Peter had hoped. "True, Your Majesty, that evil time was much as I described; however, this prophecy gives the hope that the evil can be stopped while the royalty still lives. Anything concerning the Witch had no such hope… except for the Prophecy of the Four Thrones, which was given many years after she came into power. This prophecy," he gestured to the book, "came about before her time, centuries ago, and that is why it is in this book of legends: it has yet to come true, and to some, that means it will not." The Centaur rolled his brown eyes at the ignorance of some people.
"We think it means a king and queen of Narnia will fight, but make up to fight an enemy of Narnia." Lucy offered, hoping her translation might jar a bit more of Oreius' memory.
The centaur shook his head. "That is a possible meaning, Your Grace, but I do not think…"
Two trumpets, winding but seconds apart, interrupted the small gathering as well as the larger, drilling group. Confusion registered in many faces. Peter, Edmund, and Lucy looked at one another, then the three as one turned and hurried towards the west side of the castle, furthest from the sea, and the horns sounded again. Oreius, as well as the majority of the volunteer army, followed their royalty.
As the rather large group made its way to the front of the castle, they joined with Queen Susan, the last of the Pevensie siblings, and Mr. and Mrs. Beaver, two trusted advisors to the rulers. Peter stopped by his sister's side, his eyes not on the dark-haired beauty but on the sight before them. So interesting was the spectacle, in fact, that the High King failed to notice the arrival of Tumnus, another trusted advisor and dear friend, at his other side.
Before them approached a procession of horses and riders followed by wagons laden with supplies and goods enough for perhaps a month's lodging for the near two dozen travelers. The horses had the look of the dumb, witless animals which lived outside of Narnia, plodding along as instructed by the people who rode them or drove them or lead them. The people all appeared to be human, dressed for long travel in durable leathers and wool of dark, dull colors for all but the seven who rode in the fore. Those six ladies and one man were dressed in the gayest of reds and yellows, ribbons trailing from the manes and tails of their mounts, laughter ringing from raised, merry voices. Following close behind were men garbed as guards and women as maids and laundresses and servants of all work.
Stepping forward to greet this unexpected party, Peter bowed cordially and said, in a courteous voice, "Well come, Fair Ladies, Great Lord. Well come to Narnia, by greeting of the High King Peter. What brings your merry troupe to our lands and our home?" He felt odd using such formal speech, but had studied the proper means of addresses enough in the past year to know what was expected, though technically he could have had one of the many watching Narnians great the travelers instead.
The gaily dressed man trotted his horse up to Peter and smiled down at him in a sort of benevolent tolerance. "Well come, my good man, and tell your master, the High King Peter, and his fair court, that I and my ladies are here to celebrate his ascension to the throne of Narnia and Narnia's future peace and prosperity." With a large smile for the surprised young blond, the equally blond man lifted one leg over the saddle and slid down his horse's side, without waiting for assistance from his groom rushing forward.
With a solemn voice, though those who knew the centaur knew he had taken offense, Oreius said, "You address the High King as a servant, sir." To the far side of Tumnus, Oreius stamped a hoof, watching the newcomers with disapproving eyes but expressionless features, his strong arms crossed over his broad, bare well-muscled chest.
Stopping, the man blinked in surprise, turning an amazed look on the centaur. After a brief moment to study the half-man-half-horse, he nodded and turned back to Peter, bowing low in apparent humility. "My apologies, good Master King. I meant no disrespect. I was not aware of your youth, though your feats, and those of your royal house, have spread even to our humble northern abode. If I have offended you, please know it was by no choice of mine, but by ignorance alone." Straightening, the man strode towards Peter, hand outstretched in all amiability.
Peter did nothing to stop Oreius, Mr. Beaver, Tumnus, and a dozen other loyal Narnians from starting forward to block the stranger's approach. He did, however, nod his head briefly and say, "Your well wishes, and those of your men, are well received. Whom do we address? From whence come you?"
Again, the man halted his forward momentum, a slight frown crossing his features. Apparently he was the type of man whom adjusted to any circumstances, however, for he gave a small shrug and smiled wider, gesturing grandly at his group. "I am the Lord Yarrow and these are my daughters. We come from a small northern country little heard of in most parts; mayhap, however, you have heard of our neighbor? The good people of Harfang reside but over the rise to our northern border and do claim us allies and friends. They are a merry, hearty people who well like visitors and visiting."
Having never heard of Harfang, or many of the other lands beyond Narnia's borders, Peter turned his head to face Oreius, watching for clues as to how to react to this man's recommendation. Oreius gave him the briefest of nods, indicating that he, also, had never heard of these lands. Tumnus, next to Peter, seemed equally clueless of the travelers' identities. Making a quick decision, based out of necessity to treat these people either as welcome guests or distrusted strangers, Peter chose the former.
He smiled at last, and his people moved aside to allow the newcomers access. Holding out a hand, he clasped the suddenly once more outstretched hand of the man before dropping back a small space. "Well come, again, to Narnia. Please, come inside and refresh yourselves at your leisure. We will await you in the receiving room with refreshments and good converse." And Peter nodded his head in greeting before turning and striding into Cair Paravel amidst his siblings and peoples. As he moved, he was very aware that Tumnus, officially holding a high office in the court, strode forward to lead the guests to rooms and fresh water, enduring the same study which the man had given Oreius.
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Continued in Chapter Three: Introducing Tensions