I returned to the glade, once again.
Why did I keep on going back there, when there was clearly nothing to be found? Had I not seen that wretched place enough? Yet, I went back. I went back and looked at the flowing fountain, the growing grass, the towering trees. They did not care that death had touched them not so long ago. They had seemed changed to me before. Now I saw that they had not changed at all. They were the same and would be the same for hundreds of years. And then, I saw something sparkling in the bright green grass. I stopped and kneeled, then reached over to pick it up. It was a silver bracelet, very simply made. My mother's bracelet.
But how could it be? I had searched here before. How had I failed to notice it? Yet, it was hers, she wore it often. She wore it that day. I gingerly picked off bits of grass from the bracelet. It was dusty and muddied. No, I suddenly thought, furiously. My mother's bracelet mustn't look this way. It must sparkle. I carried the bracelet to the brook and lowered it into the water. And then, it slipped through my fingers and disappeared into the murky depths. No! I desperately began to grope in the water, trying to find it but all in vain. And that's when the tears came.
I sat down on the grass and sobbed. I wept for the bracelet, I wept for my father, I wept for myself, and most of all, I wept for my mother. What had she done to deserve such an end? What have any of us done? Why? Why? I stood up and clenched my fists as I shouted into the lonely distance, "Why, Aslan, why?"
Coalblack whinnied, startled by my cry. And then I fell to my knees weeping again. I was not a noble prince on an honorable quest. I was a lost child and I wanted my mother. And anger seared me, anger at the creature of evil who had done this to mother, to me, to all of us. I would find him. I would destroy him.
I don't know how long I wept. But when I looked up, she was there.
She wore a gown of sparkling green that left her creamy white shoulders bare and almost blended into the grass. Her long silky curls, the color of golden honey, fell onto her bare shoulders and down her back. She sat on the grass gracefully, and smiled at me. Her green eyes were laughing, yet, gentle. I looked and looked and couldn't look away.
Finally, she spoke, "Why do you weep, my prince?"
Her question was puzzling. If, she knew I was prince, then she surely should know I had reason to weep. But who was I to judge what she should or should not know?
"I grieve for my mother the queen, oh fair maiden," I said softly. Should I have called her that? She was not simply a "fair maiden". She was so much more.
"It is honorable of you to do so," she responded. "But what befell your queen that caused her to depart with so many years of life ahead of her?"
In short abrupt sentences, I told her of my mother's death. It was the first time I had been able to speak of it. Finally, I said, "I have made a vow."
"And what is your vow?"
"I will not rest until I the serpent lies dead at my feet, pierced by my own sword," I said.
At my sharp tone she drew back, and for a moment, I saw something like fear in her beautiful face. Suddenly, I felt ashamed. What sort of man would say such things to a lady, clearly a great lady?
"Forgive me, madam," I added quickly. "It is not for you to hear of such things."
She surprised me with laughter. Trilling laughter, like the notes of a fawn's flute, the song of the nightingale, and so many other things, I couldn't even begin to describe them.
"I have heard many things far worse," she said. "But let us not speak of that now."
I wondered where she had heard things that were far worse. I wondered where she had come from, although I would not ask. To know, would dissolve the mystery, make her into a mere mortal, not the shining fairy that seemed to come to me in the midst of my sorrow.
Coalblack whinnied, restless. I stood up, then, offered my hand to the lady. She smiled, then, gently took it and stood. Her hand was so warm. And mine was so cold. I realized I was shivering badly. My cape lay on the grass. I picked it up, then, attempted to put it on. And then she spoke, again.
"Here let me," she said softly.
I did not speak. I couldn't. I did not resist her either, and her warm hands gently retied my cape. Then, I took a few steps to the fountain and looked in. There was my reflection, my face looking worn and fearful. And there was my cape, tied around my shoulders with a knot that looked just like a small star.
I whirled around to face her.
"How…" I began.
She laughed again.
"That is my secret."