Disclaimer: I don't own the whole world of Narnia, just this part of it.

Chapter 3: Santa Claus Is Coming to Town…

Swoosh! Snowballs flew through the air. Laughter rang as everyone chucked volleys at each other, or made snowmen and snow angels. Splat! Apparently the Pevensies and the 'offworlders' had become a little bored on their trek.

Merlin threw a huge snowball. "Oi, clotpole!"

Arthur turned just in time to get a faceful of snow. He scraped it off, wearing a scowl that boded no good for his servant.

Merlin backed up as Arthur headed towards him, grinning impishly. "You, um, you don't want to do that, Arthur, I um-"

Arthur's eyes glinted with revenge. "Of course I'm going to hammer you, idiot."

"Seriously, Arthur, you don't want to do this."

"Yes I do! Wait, why do I even get in these stupid arguments with yo-" White exploded in Arthur's face. When his eyes cleared, he saw Percival, Lancelot, and Gwaine lined up next to Merlin. All wearing identical grins.

Arthur narrowed his eyes, now glinting with murder. "Elyan! Leon! With me… for Camelot!" They rushed at each other, capes flying.

Farther into the clearing, Obi-Wan slammed 'the Chosen One' with snowballs while Padme tried to distract him. No one could see her very well because her white jumpsuit blended perfectly with the snow; so her efforts were worthless.

"Ow, Master! That hurt!"

"Of course it did, Anakin. Just consider this as one of your lessons," Obi-Wan calmly instructed, inspecting his fingernails. His face was comical to see as Luke, Han, and Chewbacca jumped on him, giving Anakin the opportunity to plow full-speed into the now-wrestling tangle of arms and legs.

Leia and Elizabeth stood to the side making snowmen with the help of R2 and C3. Elizabeth got irritated though, and kept slashing hers with her sword. She then left to join the war between Will and the Pevensie siblings. Peter could barely throw snowballs, he was laughing so hard at his sisters. Susan kept getting hit every time she paused to brush snow out of her beautiful hair, and Lucy got mouthfuls because she kept trying to say something smart. Hapless Will got knocked out by a huge snowball, thrown by who-knows-who. Jack Sparrow, well, he leaned against a tree while tenderly holding a jug of his precious rum, courtesy of the narrator. He gazed at it lovingly and took a swig.

Mr. and Mrs. Beaver, who were sitting on the sidelines, smiled at each other and sighed. The narrator was having too much fun describing the snowball fight, and it was time to move on. Mr. Beaver whistled shrilly and yelled, "Come on, everybody, let's move it! Not too much longer!"

Everybody whined and groaned. He had said that about 5 hours ago.

Poor Will, still unconscious, was draped over the shoulders of Elizabeth and Jack. Mostly Elizabeth's shoulders though, as Jack was preoccupied with his rum bottle.

Coming to a halt on a ridge, the entire group stared in awe. From their vantage point, they could see ranges of snow-capped mountains, and golden light from the sunset beyond that. An area of the land spread before them, sporting green valleys and rivers instead of the usual ice or snow. Waters in the distance, possibly an ocean, gleamed in the sunlight.

"Why is that the only part not snowing?" Padme shaded her eyes from the sun.

Peter squinted. Was that a castle near the sea? "I'm not sure."

Mr. and Mrs. Beaver pointed out that Aslan's camp was planted in the green valleys a couple miles down from their ridge. Of course, they couldn't just walk there normally; a major river was located below them. So now they had to find some way around it. They could actually see the white ribbon of it through the trees. It had been frozen solid for 100 years, thankfully, so that would make crossing easier. Despite the warming weather, with luck they would be able to cross.

Lucy looked up at her older sister. "What is it, Su?"

"It's all so huge," Susan whispered.

Mrs. Beaver looked at her, amused. "It's the world, dear. Did you expect to be small?"

Susan shared a glance with Peter and pursed her lips. "Smaller."

Edmund felt that he'd rather take the freezing floor of his cell over the dagger poking into his back. Unfortunately, he didn't have a choice at the moment. Ginarrbrik, who was the Witch's head dwarf and the smelliest one to boot, led him up into another antechamber. This room was filled with stone statues, of almost every kind of animal and Narnian. There was even some fossilized Turkish Delight! Some of the statues' expressions were peaceful, some were terrified, and others were beyond description.

Ginarrbrik stopped and pointed to one statue, forcing Edmund to look at it. Stone eyes of a goat- oh, wait, not a goat, a Faun- stared back at him. Edmund froze in horror. The statue was Mr. Tumnus.

The White Witch's soft, cold voice made him jump. "When you are ready, Son of Adam…" She motioned to her white sleigh.

When I'm ready? Yeah, right. Ginarrbrik dragged Edmund into the sleigh, pushed him down on the floorboard, and flicked his whip at the Witch's white reindeer.

"YAH!" The sleigh jerked forward, bells jingling.

Sitting miserably at the White Witch's feet, Edmund reconsidered his options. The White Witch was not meeting his expectations or keeping promises. She turned Mr. Tumnus to stone, when he was her most trusted helper. She kidnapped me- well, that's my own fault, really. But she hasn't made me a king. And she didn't even give me one piece of Turkish Delight, how selfish. Man, maybe she IS evil, like Mr. Beaver said.

Duh, you were warned.

I don't need your sarcasm right now, Narrator. He glanced at the Witch, but she returned it with a glare. Edmund put his head between his knees. Her eyes were not dark brown, like he'd thought they were at first. They were completely black- twin black pools of malice. Her veins stood out against her papery white skin like dark cobwebs.

He shivered, feeling chills as if tiny spiders were crawling on his back.

A dark patch of woods about ½ a mile away beckoned to the tired group. After traversing wide open snowfields with nothing but blank whiteness, trees were very appreciated. And also, they were starting to feel exposed. What if this White Witch had set spies?

Mr. Beaver, who was holding his wife's paw, turned around impatiently. "Come on, humans, while we're still young!"

Peter shook his head, and gave Lucy a piggyback ride. "If he tells us to hurry up one more time, I'm gonna turn him into a big, fluffy hat."

Han Solo whispered, "And I'll help you, kid. How 'bout we split his pelt, 50/50?"

Lucy rolled her eyes when Beaver called 'hurry up!' again. "He is getting a little bossy."

Peter was unable to answer because a cloud of something- snow, maybe- appeared in the distance behind them. Bells jingled, echoing in the empty wilderness.

"It's Her!" Mrs. Beaver and Susan screamed. Everybody panicked and stampeded for the nearby forest.

The Pevensies and the Beavers scrambled under a small overhang off the main path. Some of the others tried to smush themselves in. Finding it too tight, they pressed their bodies to the trees and bushes, hoping to look somewhat like bark.

The Jedi had a small chance of blending in, because of their brownish-grey cloaks. R2-D2 and Padme just laid down and tried to look like snowdrifts. Arthur and his Knights had almost no hope though, with their red cloaks, and C-3PO stuck out like a sore thumb. Elizabeth, Will, and Jack were all trying to hide behind the same tree, drawing angry looks and 'Shhhh!" from those around them. Even the narrator was tempted to remove them from the story.

The bells approached rapidly. Scraping sounds came from something sliding to a stop, and footsteps crunched the snow. A shadow crouched above the cave, making the occupants hold their breath.

They stared fearfully at the silhouette. Oh, great. We left all our footprints, now we're gonna die! Real smart, now we'll never get to Edmund, Peter thought.

"I'll go check it out," Beaver sniffed.

Peter started to get up, "No, Beaver, I'll-"

"No!" Mr. Beaver pushed him down. "You're worth nothing to Narnia dead!"

Mrs. Beaver clutched his paw worriedly. "But neither are you, Beaver!"

"Thanks, sweetheart." He gave her a quick smile and disappeared.

They waited, and waited. A quiet stillness began. Nobody spoke. Muscles tensed, hands moved to weapons.

Suddenly, a face popped into view. Susan and Lucy screamed (and Peter almost did).

"Come out, come out!" Mr. Beaver beamed. "I hope you've all been good, because there's someone here to see ya!"

Curiosity overwhelmed fear, and the sight that met their eyes was most unexpected. An elderly man with boots, maroon snowsuit, and a long white beard stood next to a sleigh. It was pulled by eight brown reindeer, and was falling over from the overabundance of sacks in the seats.

Lucy was the first to recognize him. "It's him, it's him! Merry Christmas, sir, ha ha!"

Father Christmas' eyes crinkled in delight. "It certainly is, Lucy, since you have arrived."

"Who is this old man?" King Arthur raised an eyebrow.

All heads swiveled to him in mock horror.

Leia gasped. "What, you don't know Christmas?"

"Should I?"

Will Turner nodded, "Yes! Most everyone receives a day off work, and this man brings presents to those who are good."

"Like lots o' rum!" Jack Sparrow jerked away from Gwaine, who was trying to pickpocket the rum bottle.

Leon stepped next to Arthur. "Sire, maybe he's the patron saint of this holiday they are describing?"

"Okay…" Arthur still looked disbelieving.

Susan who, not surprisingly, didn't believe that Santa was real, shook her head. "Look, I've put up with a lot since I got here, but this…"

"We, um… we thought you were the Witch!" Peter exclaimed.

Father Christmas nodded apologetically. "Yes, yes, I'm sorry about that. But in my defense, I have been driving a sleigh longer than the Witch. Ahhhhhh." He stretched out his arms, and joints popped. "Aslan's mane, I haven't been this active in a long time. Does anyone have medicine?"

"I have some healing bacta, if that would help," Obi-Wan rifled through his waist pack and produced a small squishy packet. The old man took it and rubbed it on his wrists.

"I thought there was no Christmas in Narnia," Susan pointed out logically.

"Not for a long time," Father Christmas admitted. "But the hope that you -and your friends- have brought, Your Majesties, is finally starting to weaken the Witch's power. Still, I dare say you could do with these." He lifted a huge maroon-and-brown sack out of the back of his sleigh, and attempted to smile joyfully. But the image was ruined by the sack, which spilled open and poured presents by the ton on his unlucky head.

Lucy, the off-planeters, and the narrator ran forward eagerly. "Presents!"

"Not you." The old man glared at the narrator from under the toy pile.

Ok fine. Can I get something before I leave?

"Take this and leave. Use it wisely, O dumb one. And never call me an old man again." He threw something small and yellow at the narrator. Peter heard a squawk and a yelp.

Ow! Did you just throw… a rubber ducky?! Seriously?

Father Christmas smirked and dragged his creaking body from under the pile. He ignored the narrator for the time being, concentrating on the group before him.

In the rush for presents, Princess Leia, Will, Sir Percival, and Anakin Skywalker lost their swords, guns, and lightsabers. They scrabbled through the snowdrifts, trying to find them, but to no avail. With disappointed expressions, they approached Father Christmas. "Can you help us find our weapons?"

He looked up from rummaging in his sack. "I'm afraid I can't, but I can give you replacements in a moment. Wait behind them," He motioned at Lucy, Susan, and Peter; so Will, Leia, Percival, and Anakin fell in line behind them with the rest of the group, whispering about gifts they wanted.

"Anakin, how many times have you lost your lightsaber in the past week?" Obi-Wan grumbled.

Anakin grinned sheepishly. "I lost count at twenty."

Father Christmas held up a red glass vial, and knelt in front of Lucy. "The juice of the fireflower: 1 drop will cure any injury. And though I hope you never have to use it…" He handed her a dagger.

Arthur snorted. Really, a young girl with a dagger?

No real fire, are you kidding me? Awww man. Lucy turned the blade over. "Thank you, sir. I think I could be brave enough for, well, you know..."

Father Christmas shook his head. "I'm sure you could; but battles… are ugly affairs." He turned to the pile of presents on the ground. "Susan… hmm, where is it?" Reaching into the pack, the man drew out a beautiful Narnian bow with companion arrows. It was gracefully made, with swirls and leaves embossed on the surface. "Susan. Trust in this bow, and you will not easily miss."

Susan took the offered bow and arrows, cocking her head. "What happened to 'battles are ugly affairs'?"

He laughed and gave her a white carved horn as well. "Though you don't seem to have a problem making yourself heard, blow on this. Wherever you are, help will come."

Susan looked puzzled, but smiled anyway. "Thanks."

Father Christmas turned to her older brother, presenting him with a large sword sheathed in a red scabbard, and a shield with a red lion on it. "Peter." Majestic music started playing…

Squawk-squeakity-squeak-squeak!

Father Christmas tried again. "Peter, the time to-"

Squeak-squeak-squeak!

"-use these may be-"

SQUAAAAAWK!

The old man growled and thrust the pile of weaponry into Peter's arms. "Arghhhh, just take it!"

Padmé facepalmed. "Um, Father Christmas, maybe it wasn't the wisest idea to give a rubber ducky to the narrator?"

Father Christmas paused. "Erm, maybe not…"

More squeaks from the duck faded in the background, as Peter drew out his new sword with a metallic scraping sound, examining the diamonds embedded in the lion's-head handle in wonder. "Thank you, sir."

The other men gathered around him, each carefully hefting the sword. Some ran their hands over it adoringly, only to find that the edges were sharp.

Peter was annoyed. You'd think they would know better…

Obi-Wan Kenobi studied the sword. "Very interesting. It's like a lightsaber, but the blade is metal instead of light rays."

"Ow!"

"Um, Anakin, I think you're supposed to hold it by the other end." He scolded his Jedi Apprentice, who had accidentally cut his hand while brandishing the weapon.

Prince Arthur, of course, was overjoyed to have another possible trainee, and immediately offered to teach Peter how to use the sword. Peter said he'd think about it.

Sucking poked and slit fingers, the men lined up with the rest to receive their 'presents'. Those who had lost their weapons received new swords and daggers. Will Turner, for some reason, got a bow. Gwaine and Jack Sparrow were ecstatic, given the excessive amount of rum and ale that they currently toted. Padme was hungry, so she asked for hot chocolate. Merlin got a short rapier, which he was hopeless at using. Arthur and his knights showed off their new shields and weapon supplies, and Elizabeth got herself a second sword. C3PO put a Christmas wreath on R2-D2, while Han Solo also received a new blade.

He strapped it to his side, but whispered to Luke, "Hokey religions and ancient weapons are no match for a good blaster at your side…" Han patted his blaster holster, watching Anakin struggle with his new weapon.

Anakin was trying to get his new sword thing to be balanced in his grasp. This is definitely not a lightsaber…

R2 didn't like the scratchy wreath C-3PO had put on him; he roasted it brown with his electricity. "Beep-beep-breeeeeep! Boop Weeeeeow!"

C3 shook his head and got him another one. The blue droid liked it and beeped with happiness.

Father Christmas shook his head, wondering why the narrator and Aslan had him dealing with such people. All gifts given, he looked them all in the eyes seriously. "Those weapons are tools, not toys. Bear them well and wisely."

Squeeeak!

"Yes, that definitely includes your stupid duck, Narrator." The old man spat the name like it was an insult.

He glanced into the distance. "Now, I must be off. Winter is almost over; and things do pile up when you've been gone 100 years!" He scooped the fallen presents back into the sleigh, then swung back around to face them dramatically. "Long live Aslan!"

He plopped into his sleigh and started driving away. "And Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas!" "See you next year!" "Goodbye!" "Bye!"

"Bring me more rum next year!" Jack drawled.

Everyone looked at him and his barrel of rum on his back and the barrels surrounding him on the ground.

Jack spread his hands. "What?"

The group ignored him. Lucy grinned at Susan. "Told you he was real."

Susan pressed her lips together disapprovingly, but said nothing.

Peter gazed down the trail the elderly man had gone. "He said winter… was almost over." He faced the others. "You know what that means."

Susan had a slight idea, but everybody else stared at him clueless.

I know! I know!

Shut up, Narrator. He pointed towards the river banks half a mile away. Sounds of cracking ice met their ears. "No more ice!"

Uh-oh.