Author's Note: Marie here! Sorry about the long wait, but thank you for the reviews! I hope I can speed things up a little-even though this chapter's a little short. And I'll start veering from the movie a little as well. But enough of my babbling, here's chapter 8!
Chapter 8
We traveled to a hill to see our travel route to the Stone Table, where Fox said the troops-more importantly, Aslan-would be.
"It's so big," Susan breathed as we surveyed Narnia in its wintry glory. It was covered with, well, ice. But the trees seemed to carry said ice and snow like mantles of royalty, the snow making it to the ground settling there like a thick, age-old blanket.
"It's the world, dearie," Mrs. Beaver replied. "Did you expect it to be small?"
Susan looked at Peter. "Smaller."
The journey to the River was relatively uneventful. It was when we reached a large clearing that things started to get interesting.
"Come on, humans, while we're still young!" Mr. Beaver called.
Peter picked up a straggling Lucy, placing her on his back.
"If he tells us to hurry up one more time," he paused to hoist Lucy up, "I'm going to turn him into a big fluffy hat!"
"Mind if I help?" I asked. "I think he'd make two." Peter smiled, turning to Mr. Beaver, who seemed a little more eager than usual.
"Come on!" Was I imagining, or was his voice more panicked than the past few times?
"He is getting a little bossy," Susan remarked.
"No!" Mrs. Beaver cried. "Behind you! It's her! Run!"
Bugger! No need to tell us twice. We immediately took off, Peter forced to put Lucy down to run from the oncoming sleigh with jingle bells. We came to a small cave, immediately diving inside for safety. The bells came closer, then stopped. We heard crunching and held our breath as a shadow appeared. It paused then retreated. After a few more moments, Mr. Beaver started to sniff, then began to walk around to inspect things.
"Maybe…she's gone," Lucy put in.
"I'll go look," Peter volunteered. Mr. Beaver stopped him.
"No! You're no good to Narnia dead!" he hissed.
"Well, neither are you, Beaver!" Mrs. Beaver objected. Mr. Beaver took her paw in his own.
"Thanks, love," he replied, then he was gone.
We sat for what seemed like hours, not daring to say anything. When Peter finally got ready to go, Mr. Beaver stuck his head down, scaring us all.
"Hey! Come on up! I hope you've all been good, 'cause there's someone here to see ya!" We all exited our shelter to come face to face with…
Father Christmas! I saw Lucy's eyes grow wide with wonder.
"Now, I have something for you all." With that, Father Christmas pulled out a very large full sack.
"Presents!" Lucy cried, running to his side. The man laughed long and deep, then knelt, presenting Lucy with a bottle that seemed to be made of diamond and filled with a red liquid.
"The juice of the fire flower," he said softly. "One drop can cure any injury." He turned back around, pulling another thing out of his sack. "And though I hope you never have to use it…" He gave her a small dagger.
"Thank you, sir," she said softly, "but, I think I could be brave enough."
"I'm sure you would, but battles are ugly affairs." He smiled, then turned to Susan.
"Susan." She stepped forward, receiving a beautiful bow and a set of arrows, her initials painted in red on the white quiver. He held the bow in his hands, locking eyes with her.
"Trust in this bow, and it will not easily miss."
"Thank you, sir, but what happened to 'battles are ugly affairs'?" He smiled, then presented her with a horn.
"Blow on this horn in your greatest need. And, wherever you are, help will come." Having her gifts, she stepped back.
"Peter," he called next. As Peter stepped forward, Father Christmas rummaged around in his sack. "The time to us these is near." He gave Peter a sword and a shield with a red lion on it, the symbol of Narnia, I assumed. Peter looked at them with wonder and a little bit of fear as well.
"Thank you, sir," he whispered, stepping back. Father Christmas surveyed us closely, then went back to his pack.
"Isabelle Kirke?" he asked. I snapped my head up.
"Yes sir?" He smiled.
"Did you think I forgot about you?" he teased, then showed me a bow almost like Susan's, except my initials were written in blue. The bow was pure white, with the swirling scene of a small fairy flying with flowers all around her carved on it. Then he gave me a sword, believe it or not. I smiled, strapping it around my waist.
"Thank you, sir," I whispered. He smiled.
"And now, I must be off. Things do pile up when you've been gone a hundred years, and winter's almost over!" He sat in his driver's chair. "Long live Aslan. And Merry Christmas!" With that, his sled began to move, and he was gone as we shouted our goodbyes.
"Told you he was real," Lucy quipped to Susan.
"Shut up," Susan laughed.
"He said winter was almost over," Peter said slowly. "You know what that means."
I nodded. "No more ice.