XXXXXXXXXX
Chapter 2, Part 4: Two by Two
XXXXXXXXXX
Languidly, Lucy woke from the deepest sleep she had ever experienced, certain that someone – the person she liked best in the world – had been calling her name… Her eyelids still heavy from slumber, the young queen blinked up owlishly at the blanket of stars high above her. Smiling leisurely, Lucy mouthed the names of a few of the summer constellations she could see: the Hammer, the Ship, the Leopard…
"Dear old Leopard," she murmured happily to herself.
The girl was extremely comfortable; she was burrowed between two young men larger than herself: her brother Edmund, in all his soothing familiarity, and the warm, tan body of the prince they had come to put on the throne. Gazing fondly at the two in turns, Lucy observed the soft intake of breath and heard the warm release of air from the youths. With a small shiver of affection, she snuggled deeper beneath the cloaks, lightly drawing her companions nearer before laying her head down to return to sleep.
Again, the voice called her name.
Lucy furrowed her brows in bemusement. The Valiant Queen was unsure of whom the voice belonged to: her father was in England, it didn't quite sound like Peter, and both Edmund and Caspian were asleep at her side. Whose voice could it be?
Only one way to find out… her mind supplied. Unwillingly or not, Lucy was going to follow the voice.
Disentangling herself from her sleeping companions, she rose, halting momentarily to tuck the cloaks more securely around the two sleeping figures. The youths slumbered on as Lucy walked down the hill into the woods…
Entering the shelter of the trees, Lucy whispered to herself, "This is lovely…" For it was cool and fresh, and delicious smells were floating everywhere.
Ahead, it was a little lighter. Strolling along at her ease, the queen came to a place where there were fewer trees, allowing pools of moonlight to drip down onto the forest floor. Yet, the shade of the trees and the patches of moonlight seemed to mix and merge together at the borderline between them until Lucy was unsure of her path.
A breeze sifted through the mesh of trees, the barest breath of it surviving the trip to run its intangible fingers of air through the girl's soft hair. Deeply inhaling the gentle puff of air, Lucy's mind seemed to slip sideways… until the woods around her were over a thousand years younger – the land of her memories.
The trees were spaced further apart, allowing moonlight to gently bathe portions of the forest-floor. Dryads in spirit-form slid out of their trunks like a second-skin, stopping to chat with one another before the song and dance began.
The silver birch would be a slender girl, her hair blowsy in her fair, marble-white face. She would clasp Lucy in excitement, grasping the queen's hands lightly in her own as she laughed in her soft, showery voice. Lucy would reply in kind, her voice more raucous than the dulcet tones of the tree spirit, but the birch's silvery sounds and the queen's lively, golden tone complemented each other. The gilded notes twined and curled about each other as the waves of sound reverberated through the cool night air.
Both girls were early, impatient for the midnight dance to begin. In the meanwhile, the two chattered softly, allowing their eagerness to spill out through their conversation lest it boil-over within them. When a few more Dryads appear to join them, the birch girl pulled her fair-haired friend into an impromptu romping dance – more a swift combination of twirls and skips than anything else. Lucy eagerly conceded to the birch's caper, laughing brightly all the while. Only then, did the two stop to meet their friends.
The oak was a hearty old man, undeniably wrinkled and speckled with warts across his face and hands. Taking a moment to scratch at his frizzled beard, the sage smiled at her – a fond, heart-warming beam that warmed Lucy down to her toes. He was such a kind, grandfatherly old man! Giving one of her hands a tender pat, the gnarled and knotted oak rumbled out his greetings. He, too, was here for the dance. Despite the creakiness of his aged limbs, the oak spirit was looking forward to the exercise, knowing as he did that while he could not bend and twirl as the nimble birch could, he was a master of the more measured dances. Bend he could not, but neither would he break. That being the case, he secured Lucy's promise for the first country-dance.
Lucy's attention was then turned to the beech Dryad; the smooth and stately lady of the wood made to curtsy but the golden-haired queen halted the motion. Instead, she pulled the Dryad into an embrace. The beech smiled slightly, both amused by and endeared to the young queen by her un-officious behavior. As the hug ended, the Dryad nodded to the girl, letting her know that the dance would begin soon. Lucy's answer was an immediate, blinding grin. Nary a second later, the birch girl snatched the queen's hand, giving her a slight tug. The queen turned to the girl, the birch's mischievous and eager expression reflected upon Lucy's face. To the accompaniment of the oak's booming chortle and the beech's bell-like chuckle, the two girls raced toward the clearing a little ways away.
The dance was about to begin.
Prancing around the clearing, Lucy and the birch peripherally noticed the Dryads and Satyrs and Fauns approach the grassy location of the pair's gambol. The fauns' cloven hooves frolicked across the lawn, itching for the dance to truly begin. Their hair ranged in color from a rich, glossy black to a soft, white luster – with all shades of brown, ginger, and flaxen hair between. Some of the Fauns carried instruments: lyres cradled in arms, pipes loosely clutched in hands, and the occasional drum borrowed from a Dwarf. The musicians set themselves off to the side, on the fringe of the surrounding trees and dancing lawn.
The beech Dryad from earlier stood with the musicians, preparing to add the luxuriance of her voice to the music. While the musicians tuned up – several separate strains of music mixing and crossing, the dancers indulged in a frolicking warm-up dance. All of them skipped and twirled and jumped around the lawn separately, getting their blood pumping faster and stretching and loosening their chilled muscles. Only when the musicians played as one did the dancers join hands in a large circle to skip, kick, twirl, and reverse according to the tune.
The melodies and dances came and went. The Faun's circular frolic was followed by a lively country-dance. Then came a waltzing dance for partners. Later, a stately quadrille flew past. Then, a sprightly jig. A gavotte. A tarantella… And then even more circlular Faun dances.
These were not the formal minuets or cotillions that would be held for ambassadors at Cair Paravel. This was dancing in every sense of the word. Lucy abandoned her senses of everything except the feel of her moving body, the night air upon her skin, the streaming moonlight-illumed cascade of her hair, the trickle of perspiration on her back, the heat and enjoyment of the dance evidenced by the glowing flush of her cheeks.
And later, when the grays and purples of twilight crept over the sky, Lucy's dance partners and full-moon friends would depart – back to their trees, back to their caves, back to their homes. The queen would then race to the beach. With the waves lapping at her bare feet (she never wore shoes during the forest dances – except in the snowy winter), Lucy was able to see the first tendrils of sunlight as it reached out over the ocean. The blazing sun reminded her of Aslan, stretching forth his love each and every day. Thus, eyes shining from adoration and lack of sleep, Lucy would alternately glide or stumble to her bedroom, her mind in a buzzing haze signifying her need for slumber.
At long last, she would sleep until noon – and sometimes beyond. Peter would fluctuate between sending her indulgent smiles and disapproving looks over luncheon. Susan would nag (It simply was not good for her health to go out at all hours of the night to dance! …Lucy chose not to mention her bare feet, lest Susan chide her then check to see if she had caught pneumonia.). Edmund understood, though. He knew what it meant to need a release – to be independent and untamed. He knew. Just like Aslan.
…Aslan?
Lucy blinked, forcibly removing herself from the enraptured hold of her memories.
Could the voice calling her to the woods be Aslan?
Lucy, the Voice called again. This time, she was sure; it must be Aslan. It is.
At this realization, her feet moved more swiftly across the forest floor. The moon was so bright now that the landscape was nearly as clear as day – even with the closeness of the trees. Everything around Lucy appeared wilder and a strange sense of excitement permeated the air.
Ahead, she could see a glade of trees about a bow-shot away. Staring at the trees there, Lucy exclaimed, "Why, I do believe they're moving." A wide, tremulous smile grew across her face. "They're walking about," she repeated to herself, torn between a shout of joy and a sob of relief.
Her heart beating wildly, Lucy moved her suddenly unsteady limbs in that direction. Approaching, she heard the familiar noise of the shaking of trees in a high wind, though the air was now stagnant and still. The queen shook her head; these were not ordinary tree noises either. There seemed to be a tune in it.
Though Lucy could not seem to catch the tune, she was still pulled in by the lilt of it, and her feet began to step and skip in time to the whispered beat of the trees. Now, there could be no doubt; the trees really were moving. They glided in and out through one another as if in a complicated country-dance.
With a startled chortle of laughter, Lucy recalled a joke Tumnus had once told her – something to do with it being a very, very country-dance when it involved trees…
She was almost among them now.
The first tree Lucy glanced at appeared in its human form – a huge man with a shaggy beard and great bushes of hair. In the next moment, he was a tree, though still moving through the steps of the dance. Curious, she examined whether she could espy any roots, only to discover that rather than crawling upon the surface of the earth, they waded through it as a human would in water. For all the other trees, circumstances were the same: friendly, lovely giant and giantess forms one moment (which the tree-people put on when some good magic has called them into full life) and ordinary trees the next (…though it could easily be argued that none/few ordinary trees could move on their own).
Yet, gazing at their tree-forms, Lucy noticed that even as trees, they seemed strangely human, and in human-form, they, too, appeared branchy-er and leafier than a fully awakened Dryad.
"They are almost awake, not quite," she murmured over the queer lilting, rustling, cool, merry noise.
Stretching her limbs slightly, Lucy marveled at how remarkably awake she felt – as though she was more wide awake than any person usually was or had ever been. Feeling this with a keen sense of excitement rushing through her veins, Lucy moved fearlessly among them.
Recalling the moonlit dances of long ago, she danced her way through their ranks, leaping this way and that to avoid being run into by her huge partners. She had to move past them, for the Aslan was beyond – Lucy could feel it in her bones. Finally, half-wondering whether she had been using her arms to push branches aside or to take hands in a Great Chain with big dancers who stooped to reach her, the girl found herself in an open place within a ring of trees.
Away from the shifting confusion of the lovely lights and shadows amidst the dancing trees, Lucy stood in a circle of grass, smooth as a lawn. Ignoring the motion of the dark trees around the clearing, the young queen's eyes focused solely on the huge Lion. His fur shone white in the moonlight, contrasting strikingly with his huge black shadow beneath him. Though He stood still as stone, Lucy rushed to his side.
Kissing and putting her arms as far around him as she could, the girl buried her face in the rich silkiness of his mane – much as she had earlier in the day. Their meeting hours before felt like a grave matter of business, but this – this moment in the woods was all joy and laughter. The great Beast even rolled over onto his side so that Lucy fell – half sitting and half-lying between his front paws. Bending forwards, Aslan affectionately touched her nose with his tongue and his breath floated about her in a cloud of love and warmth.
"Thank you for coming, child," the Lion rumbled as the girl gazed up at his large, wise face.
Lucy smiled in reply. How could she not come when he called, her face seemed to say. A playful note in her voice, she instead remarked, "I didn't mention it before, Aslan, but you're bigger."
With a short, deep chuckle of amusement, Aslan replied, "That is because you are older, little one."
"Not because you are?" she teased, idly stroking his golden mane.
"I am not," the Lion said. "But every year you grow, you will find me bigger."
For a time, Lucy was so content and happy that she did not wish to speak. However, Aslan's resonant voice broke through the silence. "Lucy," he said, "we must not lie here for long. You have work in hand, and Peter, Susan, and Trumpkin have lost much time today."
"Mm-hm," the girl agreed mildly, still saddened by her two siblings' lack of faith in her… lack of faith in Aslan.
Sensing the change in the girl's mood, the Lion rumbled, "Do not despair, dear one. You have done well, though I do ask for assistance this night."
"You have only to ask and it is done, Aslan," the Valiant Queen stated, moving to stand before him.
"Good," the Lion purred. With his stately noise-less paces, Aslan led the way through the belt of dancing trees with Lucy at his side. The trees parted to make way for them, assuming their human shapes entirely for a full second (in which Lucy was able to glimpse the wood-gods and wood-goddesses all bowing to the Lion), before they were trees once again, still bowing.
Reaching the edge of the woods at the bottom of the hill, Aslan turned to Lucy, saying, "You walked with me in the same direction once before – at that time it was I who had to come to the top of the hill."
Lucy shivered slightly at the memory of that night. She had no desire to recall the horrid images of Aslan's sacrifice… and thankfully, the Lion spoke again before she could delve much further into unpleasant thoughts.
"This night, I ask this of you: ascend and wake Caspian and your brother. Tell Edmund that he will be needed within the How before the night ends. Tell Caspian to follow you."
"Where shall we be going, Aslan?" the girl wondered, curious.
"Peter, Susan, and the Son of Earth must arrive here tonight," he said. "And you, Lucy, are the one who must lead them."
She glanced at the Lion with a query in her eyes. The Lion understood, saying, "It is you who leads the way, dear one. Into Narnia. Out of Narnia. To Caspian. It is always you, and it is always according to my will, dear heart."
The guilt she bore for leading the way out of Narnia seemed to recede like the tides, replaced with tranquility. So, too, was there a satisfied pleasure in being given the honor of following Him: of doing His will. Nodding her head, Lucy made her way up the hill, reaching the two youths whom she had left behind not long ago.
Kneeling between them in the spot she had formerly vacated, Lucy turned first to her brother. Shaking him softly by his shoulders, Lucy pulled him from his dreams…
Edmund's eyes were dark and bleary in the moonlight. Rubbing them with the palms of his hands, he was greeted with the sight of his little sister. "You need to get up," she said softly. "I've spoken with Aslan; he says that you will be needed in the How tonight."
Fully awake now, Edmund wondered, "What about you?"
Standing and pulling her brother to his feet, she said, "Caspian and I will be bringing Peter and Susan here with Aslan…"
With a nod and a trace of a smile, Edmund took his cloak and placed it upon her, remarking, "You'll need this, then." Then, turning to walk to the entrance to the caves, Edmund halted a moment, laying a hand on his sister's shoulder for a brief second. "Stay safe," he murmured. Glancing an instant over to Caspian's sleeping form, Edmund added wryly, "Both of you."
Lucy nodded to him, and he walked away.
Now, it was time for her to waken Caspian. The girl sighed; she would have preferred to know him better before given the task of waking him. Here in Narnia, one could never be sure how people would react to being woken up – learning to fight, experiencing battles, witnessing horrific things… those sorts of things had a way of changing people. It made one more alert, more easily startled. And as a rule, awakening people had its dangers. Sometimes even ghosting a finger over a stranger's skin could cause the sleeper to startle awake, knife in hand and instantly alert.
Usually, after knowing someone for a little while (even as little as a few days) Lucy had measured their personality and character enough to know just how to wake them. Some needed shaking. Others whispers. Still others required a banging of pots and pans, or hand rubbing, or hair tousling, or any of a thousand different methods…
How should she wake Caspian?
Deciding to trust her instincts, Lucy knelt down again by the prince's side. Taking his left hand in her own, she raised her right hand (the one still warm from its contact with the Lion's mane) to his cheek. Gently, the young queen moved her hand along his jaw line, rubbing her thumb over his cheekbone. "Caspian," she murmured, never stopping the soothing motion of her fingers. "Caspian, wake up; I need you."
At last, the prince stirred. Softly mumbling, his eyes fluttered open only to grow wide within a moment.
The vision Caspian met with upon waking was that of a goddess. Light eyes soft and vibrant met his own, surrounded by the figure's smooth, glowing, white skin. Framing the young face was a curtain of waves – hair gleaming silver beneath the moon. A moon deity, the prince initially thought. Yet, barely a moment later, he realized that the girl was Lucy.
Lucy, however, no longer appeared so outlandish as she did when they first met. Upon arriving inside the How, both she and her brother had been given more suitable clothing – namely the russet-colored hunting dress she currently wore. No… the young queen now did not look unusual. However, washed as she was in moonlight, Lucy did appear otherworldly.
And why shouldn't she? he thought. She does come from another world. She is a figure of legend here in Narnia…
"Caspian?" Lucy asked softly. "Are you awake?"
Still speechless from the vision of Queen Lucy in the moonlight, the young man nodded, easing himself up with his right hand – having only now realized that the girl held his left. …Not to mention the fact that her fingers were still ghosting across his cheek. Never was the prince so grateful for the masking power of the night to conceal a blush.
Squeezing the boy's hand, Lucy asked, "Are you ready to meet Aslan?"
XXXXXXXXXXX