"We shouldn't have come, Ragnar is too strong," murmured Susan, for what was probably the millionth time. Maugrim's throat seemed to have closed up on him; at any rate, he wasn't speaking much or making noises of any kind, not even so much as a half-whimper or a doggish whine.

Lucy rolled her eyes. Of course Susan was frightened, but her saying that so frequently wasn't helping her or Edmund's nerves, either.

Edmund had to clench his fists and remind himself his sister was doing the best she could and that it wouldn't have been kind or just to reach over and slap her. And, besides, Ragnar probably would have bitten his hand off if he attempted it. He preferred to keep his hands attached to his wrists if he had the option.

The sun beat down on the glaring snow, and after a while, Edmund, feeling, despite the cold, a bit suffocated under his hood, wondered if he could safely pull it back.

No one was watching him. Everyone's eyes seemed to be focused on four things and four things only; Ragnar, emerging in his glittering silver armour with three big diamonds the size of a child's fist on the perfectly polished helmet…Susan covered in several dozen gold chains and rings and large gems-mostly rubies and crystals-that Ragnar had given her which the real alethiometrist had explained she mustn't refuse…Lucy in simpler, but just as grand, finery-a silver chain with a white gold snowflake, a warm black cape with a golden clasp and no hood, and a velvet green dress lined with white wolf fur…and, lastly, the path Iorek was sure to come bounding up at any given moment.

Under his cloak, the alethiometrist wore shoulder armour and carried a sword. Was it possible that if he stood off to the side for a bit no one would even notice him, much less recognize him?

A wind that was sharper than it was cold, per say, blew a dusting of snow up Edmund's nose. He couldn't rid himself of it without lifting the hood, which he was longing to do anyhow.

Slowly, blinking from the intense increase of light, Ella's head twisting from side to side to be sure that no one was paying attention, Edmund pulled back the hood and inhaled deeply.

Maugrim gave him a sharp expression that showcased Susan's fear and displeasure over his actions, and Lucy's eyes, though they didn't dare linger, were drawn to him, widening.

He mouthed, but wasn't sure if she saw, "It's all right, don't worry."

And, indeed, it appeared to be; Edmund might just as well have been invisible as standing there with his hood pulled back, cleaning the snow drippings out of his nose with the back of his hand very unappealingly.

Iorek appeared on the path and Ragnar rose to his hind legs. Maugrim felt himself whimper involuntarily, much as he tried to repress it. Ella flapped her wings. In his bag Reepicheep, Lucy sensed-and felt at her side-did a little summersault.

Anxious, Lucy found herself edging closer to Edmund. In the one moment it was safe for them to be close enough to speak, before he had to put his hood back on and edge away from her before Ragnar tore his eyes from Iorek-and then Susan-to look proudly at his future 'dæmon', the alethiometrist softly said, "Keep smiling."

Swallowing hard and blinking away her tears, Lucy nodded and forced a small smile. He was right, Ragnar might not understand all human emotions, but he might know what some of them meant, and he mustn't figure out that she was afraid for her panserbjørne friend, that she wanted Iorek to win and not him.

It was easy for her to smile at Edmund at least, and she wondered if that was the trick of it; to look at Ragnar and the open plain and Iorek, and feel fear curl up in her stomach, but to always, always, always think, not of that, but of her beloved alethiometrist and his owl dæmon. Lucy could keep his face in her mind most of the time, even when she wasn't looking at him and his hood was over his head, and things were easier to endure. Troubles were easier to smile at.

"Bears!" roared Iorek unexpectedly, when he was in ear-shot. "Hear me! Your so-called king has ruined this court, he has cursed you. Gold and diamonds are not bear materials, steel and sky-iron are. How readily he forgets, forsakes his own soul for dreams that can never come true! Will you also go down with him? If I win, the first thing I do will be to tear down the false improvements; I will make you all bears again. You are beasts, not humans, and-by my kingship-you will remember that!"

Ragnar growled, then roared in returned, "When I kill this cub and my throne is secure, I will have none of you ever speak his name again on pain of death! To even think of him will be an offence worthy of imprisonment. Prince? Fah! I see no prince! Only a foolish, trouble-making cub I sent for to deal with once and for all."

The two bears went at it hard. There was shoving and biting, horrid blows to faces and noses with paws, and deep cuts with claws; and twice Iorek looked done for.

Lucy held her breath, watching in disbelief. Iorek, brave, swift bear that he was, had managed to draw first blood, but soon after he bled more than his opponent had. Ragnar got a tear in his pretty chain-mail, only it didn't seem to hurt him, only amuse him; for he looked down at it, glanced at Iorek, and chuckled lightly before going on.

He's going to lose, Susan thought, nearly beside herself with grief and disappointment. They would lose a friend for ever, and when the bear king realized he had be deceived they might lose their lives, too. It was all too horrible for words, even for explainable emotions.

"Susan, wait," whispered Maugrim to his human, "don't panic yet. Doesn't the way Iorek's limping on that paw of his-the one that appears injured-remind you of anything?"

She thought hard. Maugrim was right, it was familiar. But from where? Then it hit her; it wasn't over yet. Iorek looked almost exactly like Peter had when he was fighting Miraz. There was a chance, it appeared, that Iorek was exaggerating his actual pain. The clever bear was using what he'd learned from Edmund before; that bears could be tricked now; Ragnar could be tricked now. And he was.

A few minutes longer and it was all over. Ragnar was struck by a heavy blow he wasn't expecting, his whole skull flew out of his open red-now bloody-mouth, landing on the far end of the next hill.

Susan put her hand to her mouth to avoid throwing up; Maugrim panted heavily, his expression gone rather sickly. Lucy gasped; Reepicheep jumped in his bag. Edmund pulled back his hood, knowing he was safe now, daring the guards to lay one hand on him in front of Iorek the new king of Svalbard; Ella rubbed herself against the snow to free her feathers of her disguise.

"Bears, who is your king?" Iorek screamed, roaring as though he would never stop.

His subjects cheered and many of them threw off their ornaments. Those who had 'sucked up' to Ragnar by getting dolls and pretending to have dæmons tossed these toys aside for good. A real bear was in charge now, a real bear was once again lord over them, they did not have to act like humans any longer.

"We did it!" Lucy ran to Edmund and threw her arms around his waist. "We actually did it!"

Peter came rushing over from where he'd been on their sledge and lifted Susan up off her feet, spinning her around. "How's that for a blow to the Ruling Powers?"

Maugrim grunted contentedly, trying to take in everything at once, while his human kissed her husband and grinned from ear to ear. He noticed Doe looking at his tail again and bared his teeth at her.

It was a moment of pure happiness for all. But it was just that, unfortunately. A mere moment. For in the next, something horrible and unexpected happened.

The thick clouds over-head seemed to sort of burst, covering up the whole sky with gray…then white, as snow started to fall at an alarming speed. The wind picked up, swirling around them madly. It was a blizzard unlike any of them had ever seen before in their lives; even the ice bears were utterly stunned by it.

"To the castle!" ordered Iorek, urging all of the other bears forward.

The she-bears and cubs were allowed to pass first, before the male bears, because-strong as they were-they were more likely to be harmed in a massive storm than a full-grown male was.

If Edmund had had time to ponder over what he was seeing he would have wondered which-if any-of these female bears was Iseult Saoirse. However, he didn't have so much as a half second for curious wondering, for he realized he could not see Lucy through the whirling flakes and immediately felt a panic rising within him. She had let go of him not even a full minute before the storm began and now he couldn't even tell if she was near or far.

There was a hand, a hand too thick to belong to Lucy, reaching out and pulling him somewhere. Then, blinking to clear his vision as best he could, Ella sensing no dæmon, he realized it must be Peter.

A scream echoed from only a few feet away, and they both whipped their heads round to see who it was.

It was Susan; a strong wind had knocked her down into a small snow-bank. Maugrim appeared to be limping, giving away that his mistress had something wrong with one of her legs-likely a bruised knee or a cut ankle, nothing worse. Still, she wouldn't be able to reach the ice bears' palace in time-not without help.

Far to Susan's right, Lucy struggled, weighed down by Reep's bag which had caught on a boulder of some kind.

When he looked at his brother-in-law's face, quick glance though it was, Edmund thought he had never before known what real pain within a person's expression looked like. Peter didn't know what to do with himself. He could rush forward and save his wife, help her to her feet and carry her to safety. But if he did that, he wouldn't be able to get to Lucy, who was now trying to tear the strap off the bag (not that it would have done her any good if she wasn't able to get Reepicheep out of it) and free herself.

"It's all right," Edmund shouted, pulling away from Peter's grip. "Help Susan! I'll get Lucy!"

There was no time to argue, Peter rushed over to Susan and, pulling her and Maugrim along, attempted to make it back to safety.

Edmund reached Lucy, managing to tear the bag's strap off of the boulder. Only, before he could get Reepicheep out, Ella let out a caw of dismay as a great wind and a swarm of bee-like snowflakes over took them, knocking them down into a snow-bank which turned out to be a hill covered in sleet and ice.

The last thing either of them heard was Peter and Susan-and another voice that sounded like Iorek-screaming their names.

Afterwards, Lucy always swore she remembered grabbing onto Edmund's hand as they laid sprawled out, frozen and weak, unable to get up, yet everyone told her that her memory must have been incorrect on that matter. It would appear that they landed on opposite sides of a fallen pine tree because when someone came and took Edmund away from one side, they didn't have so much as a glimpse of Lucy. As her dæmon was still in the bag containing the cedar-shavings, they had no knowledge of her being there at all to begin with, their dæmons unable to sense Reepicheep's presence.

She woke hours later and found herself wandering aimlessly. There was no way of getting back to Iorek and the others, the fresh snow everywhere left no path and aside from the notion that it was somewhere above-since she and Edmund had fallen down in the storm-there was no way of guessing which direction she ought to go in. Reepicheep's guess was no better, for he was every bit as dazed, confused, and cold as his mistress. Besides, even if Lucy could have found the way back, she would have wanted to find Edmund first.

It had been alarming, to say the least, when she woke up, remembering everything, and finding her alethiometrist boyfriend no where in sight. She called his name hoarsely a few times, but there was no answer.

Perhaps if Lucy had stayed where she was, Peter, who was out looking for her and Edmund, would have crossed her path and taken care of her; but she couldn't will herself to remain still. Without even knowing why she was doing it, she found herself marching as quickly as she could through the frozen hills and valleys and rows of flat plains.

How long this went on is uncertain. After a while her head spun and she dry heaved helplessly, having nothing in her stomach to throw up. Soon she didn't even know what she was doing; by that point she could think of nothing but how hungry and sore she felt, how very red her hands were. There was some snow that had seeped into a hole in one of her boots and she could feel it soaking right through her sock.

The sound of sleigh bells jingled and Lucy blinked in surprise.

The man driving and the passenger looked very alike, their features plain and their parkas close to matching. Neither looked particularly friendly, but they stopped when they saw her anyway, and the kinder of the two did remark, "I say, she doesn't look well; perhaps she's mortal hungry. Give the girl some bread-I suppose we can take her along."

At first, Lucy tried to protest, but a slight jab in the rips from Reepicheep reminded her that she had no choice. If she declined going with them, she might freeze or starve (likely both) to death on her own in the middle of Svalbard-if it even was Svalbard she was currently in…She thought she might have wandered out of it by mistake after all this time.

So in the end she rested in the back of their sleigh and ate the bread and cheese they offered her, as well as a little jerky. To drink, there was warm milk from an insulated mug.

"What's your name?" one of them more or less demanded.

"Lucy," she told them truthfully.

"Your dæmon…is…settled?"

It was an odd question and she couldn't see why it would matter, but she answered yes anyway.

They looked sort of disappointed, whispering between themselves. The gruffer of the two looked sullen. Their dæmons, both foxes, one red and the other white, yawned and shook a few newly fallen snowflakes out of their glossy yet weather-beaten fur.

"We'll take you to the nearest settlement."

"Where's that?" Lucy asked.

"You'll see," was the only answer they would give her.

She tried to persuade them to take her to King Iorek in Svalbard, only they seemed afraid of the armoured bears and kept insisting they didn't want to go there and 'bother' the beasts they ought to 'show respect' for.

Reepicheep thought they were just cowards making excuses; Lucy urged him to keep that to himself.

The rest of the journey was quiet; now that they had fed her and learned that her dæmon could no longer change shape, they seemed to have lost all interest in talking to the girl they had rescued.

The sleigh came to a stop in front of a great building that made Lucy's heart skip a beat in terror. Reepicheep hissed wordlessly.

It was different than how she remembered it, even the last time she'd seen it; they'd rebuilt it differently-darker with less glass and half of the glowing dome and more than half of the roof was covered with plaster and stucco.

Lucy held Reepicheep as tightly as he would let her. "Bolvangar," she whispered falteringly to herself, shaking all over, her cheeks draining of any remaining colour.

"Come on," said the man with the red fox dæmon. "Get out of the sleigh. This is your stop."

Losing her head in a panic, remembering everything, unable to wrap her mind around the fact that Bolvangar was, however shabbily, back, returning like a ghost from the ancient past to haunt and torment her, she screamed, "No! Don't touch me! I won't go in there! I won't! Let me go back to Svalbard!"

"Calm down, calm down!" The one who had grabbed her arm, meaning to help her out of the sleigh, to which she had shouted for not to touch her, gave her a rough shake. "Some gratitude! Now get down and stop this maddening row."

A thin man with tired eyes, a cat dæmon, and a black woolen coat over a white smock came to the door and asked what on earth was going on.

"We found this girl…thought it was a child at first, but she's settled, it turns out. Only we couldn't just leave her, and we hadn't the foggiest notion of where else to bring her."

He sighed; the cat-dæmon rolled her eyes. "Well, I suppose she'll have to stay the night."

"Her name's Lucy," they told him. "Had a bit of a fit a few seconds ago, but-that put aside-she seems normal enough. Lost, I suppose."

"I'll not pay you," he reminded them, a bit harshly, "a grown up isn't as much use to us; we've got enough of those. But she can stay, at least for now."

"No…" Lucy shook her head.

"Hmm, maybe I should get someone closer to her own age to speak with her." He appeared to be speaking to his cat-dæmon rather than to Lucy or the two men, still present. "Might relax her a bit."

"She seemed fine until we pulled up," the man with the white fox grumped. "Don't know what got into her."

"Well, she can't be much younger than Coulter…I'll see if he'll come and speak to her, or at least get her to come indoors." To Lucy, "I really don't know what you're so scared of."

"Stay away from me," she murmured, her lower lip trembling.

"Lucy," Reepicheep said suddenly, in a low voice, "did he just say 'Coulter'?"

She blinked, startled at the realization. "Yes, I think he did."

"There aren't any left, are there?"

"A cousin?" guessed Lucy, this new idea taking her mind off her phobia of Bolvangar for a moment.

Just as the men who had brought her there were leaving in their sleigh, someone else appeared in the doorway. The man with the cat-dæmon whispered something to this person and they nodded. He and his cat trotted away, leaving the other person alone with Lucy.

Stepping forward, reluctantly, Lucy saw that it was a young man only a little older than herself. A second later, she recognized him; he had a very familiar face, dark hair, and a snowy-owl dæmon.

"Edmund!" she exclaimed under her breath, wondering if this was some sort of plan she'd been unaware of.

But when she looked into his eyes, as if for some kind of explanation, or at the very least a glimmer of a wink to let her know everything was fine, she saw nothing. His eyes were completely blank, as if he had no clue who she was, and Ella, while present, didn't seem quite right. The owl's movements no longer seemed connected to her human and his thoughts; she appeared uninterested in everything around her and sort of, well, pet-like.

"Edmund?" she said, more clearly this time, not sure if she should take a step forward or a step back.

"How did you know my name?" he asked, seeming genuinely surprised though not actually all that curious as to her answer.

"Edmund, it's me, Lucy."

His brow crinkled slightly and he blinked. All she could see in him was that same dull expression, he seemed unable to rid himself of it. Worse of all was seeing that when he was puzzled, Ella did not appear so. The owl's expression remained unchanged.

AN: And with that cliff hanger I endth the chapter...pleaseth to leaveth reviews.