Chapter Fifteen: There's A Place For Us
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~ England ~
The blonde young man walked up the hill, coat over one arm and two suitcases in the other. Looking around, he stopped, smiling slightly, before lowering his burden and looking - truly looking - around him. He had never realized when he had been younger just how beautiful it had been out here. It was so quiet; it reminded him of Narnia in a way. Soon though, he resumed his solitary walk up the hill, arriving at the top in an area shaded by tall, ancient oak and poplar trees. The grass that spread away beneath his feet to the large Tudor styled house was overgrown and grew wildly along the gravel path leading to the front door.
For a long while, Peter stared at it, remembering playing with his siblings on the lawn, and the game of cricket that ended in an adventure to Narnia. Thinking about their story now, he shook his head with a bemused smile. If anyone heard that story they would surely think him insane, going on about knights, kings, queens and a talking lion. But he wasn't, and as long as he knew it, that was enough. He followed the path that led away from the house, and slightly down the hill, near the lake.
Under three old willow trees was a faded white cottage. The pale blue front door was open and an old man with a shock of white hair sat on the stoop, smoking a pipe.
"Well, Peter Pevensie!" The man cried gaily, setting his pipe on a small table nearby as he stood and walked down the two steps leading to the sandstone path, leaning slightly on a wooden cane. Peter dropped all his things and gave the old man a warm hug.
"I remember when you were barely up to my shoulder, and loved to take my Persian cutlasses off the wall and battle Edmund on the lawn! Has it truly been five years?" Kirke asked, standing back and surveying Peter with a cursory glance.
"Yes, I'm afraid it has Digory," Peter said softly, as he remembered those days too.
"Well, never you mind, we'll talk and go over olden days together, I don't get as many visitors as I'd like. Of course Jack and Warie have come down a time or two, but they're mighty busy these days, and don't have the time to indulge in an old man's fancies." Digory took Peter's coat and walked beside him back up the path as he spoke.
"How's Polly?" Peter asked suddenly, after a pause in the conversation.
"Oh, you know Polly; she handles it like a Plummer. I still can't believe Freddie's gone, just gone like that; I never thought he'd be the first to go. And now, what with the children moving away, and Franny and Jim sailing for America, she's feeling rather lonely. I told her she could come out here for a stay, and we would reminisce. She wants to meet you three again though. I told her we should all have dinner once more at her place in Lichfield sometime this fall, and make it a yearly occasion. She said she'd think about it, and most likely send out invitations to all of you in a few months," the retired professor replied.
"Digory, I must confess something, before things go too far. I did not come out here just to study with you; I did more than enough at my cousin's house. I came out here to talk, to talk about never going back, and to find life again. I'm trying to stumble out of the dark and I need your help." Peter said quietly, as Digory showed him his room.
"And what is so wrong with that? Peter, I'm not like most friends, I understand you, I know that you were a king, and I too know what it feels like to be lost. When you wrote me, telling of the changes in your life, I knew you were coming out here on more than a social call, more than as a student." Digory admitted.
"Thank you Digory," Peter said, smiling slightly.
"Come on, I'm sure you're hungry, it's long past lunch." The old man left the room to the kitchen, Peter joining him not long after.
~|x\/x|~
"Here's a glass of lemonade, not much like Polly's but it'll do." Digory said, handing Peter a tall glass filled with the yellow liquid, before easing himself into a nearby chair with a sigh. Both men looked out across the lake, watching the wind dance over the surface of the water, willow branches rippling in the shallows. They had moved from the kitchen after lunch to the back porch, almost like a stone terrace that didn't fit with the small cottage, yet it did, in an odd way.
"Whenever I stare at those willows, I expect Aaralyn or Ilse to come running up," Peter declared absently, motioning to the cluster of trees not far down the shore.
"I used to stare at Louise's mare, Gertie, and will her to speak, much like you with those willows. Remember Gertie? I miss that old mare. She was the closest thing to a Talking Horse in this world I'd ever come to."
"You mean Mrs. Macready's mare?" Peter asked hesitantly, never having heard the housekeeper's first name before.
"Yes, sorry, I forgot you wouldn't know," Digory replied, sipping his lemonade slowly. Peter nodded. "I assume you saw the house," Digory remarked casually.
"Yes, it looks haunting, and more deserted than I had believed. I thought you were exaggerating in your letter, now I know you weren't." Peter replied.
"I know. Pity it's just too hard to keep up since the war and all. I had to let everyone go, especially after Louise simply could not tend to the housework anymore. Even though she fought me on leaving, I knew she was relieved to go and live with her grandson in Surrey... It's still there you know, I never got rid of it." Digory commented after a pause, glancing across to see Peter's reaction.
"What's still there?" Peter asked, confused.
"You know, the wardrobe, and the coats. I never sold it, never sold most of the furniture in fact, just the extra things I really didn't need." Digory elaborated. Peter jerked forward sharply, spilling lemonade on the patio as he leaned closer to get a good look at his companion's face.
"Truly? I don't think I can see it. I don't know if I could bear it," Peter whispered after the professor nodded, a dark expression coming over the young man's features as he set the glass near his feet and stood, shoving his hands in his pockets and staring intently at the water.
"Perhaps another time Peter, I did not mean you must go now, or tomorrow, just, perhaps. If you ever want to, you know that you can." Digory did his best to calm the troubled young man down, but he could tell that his efforts were wasted.
"I have dreamt countless nights of that wardrobe, I have shouted for peace until I hadn't the energy to stand. I have begged and pleaded for one more hour with her, one more day, just so I could tell her I did not abandon her and if I could have done it again, I would not have followed Lucy. I am plagued by her, and she does not leave me, I will never be free of her I feel sometimes. Yes Digory, I long to be free from her, to forget her." Peter said, pain filling his voice.
"You mean Amalia?" Digory inquired, unsure if Peter was talking of Narnia or his wife.
"Who else?" He replied bitterly. "There are times when I feel like Aslan is easing my pain, and then there are times when I feel so burdened and haunted that I want to end everything!" He continued, causing Digory to come to his feet quickly and walk over to him with concern.
"Peter, I do not want to hear you say such things. Aslan will help, the question I have for you is, are you truly letting it go, truly giving it to him? Because if you are, you do not act like it." Digory declared. Peter looked at him, his blonde hair falling over his forehead.
"Come on, I think we should talk," Digory picked up the glasses and led the way back into the house a reluctant Peter trailing him.
~|x\/x|~
Peter and Digory sat in the parlor, bibles in hand. Digory had just finished explaining and walking Peter through several things, showing him what it meant to give everything to God, or, in Peter's case, Aslan. He knew Peter had been shown all these things, told all these things, but from his experience, he knew that it took more than a few times to learn. It took constant reminders, and telling the person over and over before they finally understood. He knew that Peter finally understood.
"I think it's time we were getting to bed, mornings come early around here." Digory spoke finally, placing his bible on a side table and standing. Peter nodded mutely, an unreadable expression on his face.
"Come on son," Digory said, patting him comfortingly on the shoulder before going to his room.
Over the next few days, Peter and Digory talked, discussed and occasionally reminisced over Narnia. He made sure the young man spent his mornings seeking God first, and then in the evenings they talked, many times long into the night over biblical things and scriptures. Digory also gave Peter advice on his coming exams. The days passed easily and comfortably for the two.
They walked the paths surrounding the manor and cottage, but Peter still refused to see the wardrobe. One morning, not long after they'd entered the kitchen and sat down to breakfast, Digory reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a golden key, which he slid gently across the table and left next to Peter's plate. The young man stared down at the object, and then looked at the old man in curiosity.
"What's that for?" He questioned, touching the key with light fingers.
"The manor. Peter, you've been here for quite awhile, I think it's time you buried the dead and set the ghosts to rest for the last time. Go look at it. I think you need to finish this. I miss that boy I used to know who was not so troubled. Keep your memories, don't bother telling me, but do not continue to have this attitude about life." Digory said, turning Peter's hand palm up, placing the key in it and closing the young man's fingers over the object.
Peter stared down at his closed hand, and then looked up at Digory. He stood quickly, grabbed his coat from the rack and dashed out the door. Digory stood and slowly walked to the doorway, Peter having forgotten to close it on his way out. He smiled as he watched the boy run up the hill through the tall grass. He took a sip of his coffee, shook his head, and turned back to the kitchen, closing the door behind him.
~|x\/x|~
Everything he'd said, everything he'd sworn he wouldn't do, flew out the window when Digory placed that key in his palm. Unable to control his anxiety and excitement, he ran from the house, through the grass and over the hill, the blue sky of late spring reminding him of Narnia. Arriving at the manor, he suddenly stopped, heart pounding from his mad dash up the hill, and his fear of what he'd find.
The house loomed out of the trees and overgrowth, chimneys rising higher than some of the pines. He held his hand out, staring down at the key as he tried to catch his breath. Slowly, ever so slowly, he walked through the weeds to the house. He hesitated as he walked up the steps and just before he turned the key in its lock, 'to do this or not?' 'Yes' he finally decided, he must, he needed to.
The door still opened silently, he mused, even after all these years. When he turned around from closing the door, memories filled him, of a summer he would never forget, because in that summer, he had lived a lifetime.
After that, he'd lived a thousand years and come back.
For the last time
Peter lightly brushed his hand over the bannister as he walked up the stairs. He turned down hallways and up a few flights of stairs, before arriving at The Door. He just stood and stared at the latch for several seconds, palms sweating, before he plucked up the courage to reach out, pull it down and push in, allowing it to fall open.
"I still cannot believe you kept it after all these years," Peter whispered to himself. He quietly allowed the memories to sweep him away to another time, a better one, a peaceful one, but also one riddled with danger as he stared at a dark colored wardrobe standing at the far end of the room.
"You've got to be kidding!"
"Come on!"
"Stop shoving!"
"I'm not on your toes!"
"I suppose, saying "I'm sorry" won't really help?"
"No, but that might!"
"But that's a girl's coat!"
"I know."
"They come, in numbers and weapons far greater than our own!"
"Numbers do not win a battle."
"No, but I bet they help."
"To the Radiant Southern Sun, I give you Queen Susan, the Gentle."
"To the Great Western Wood, I give you King Edmund, the Just."
"To the Glistening Eastern Sea, I give you Queen Lucy, the Valiant."
"And to the Clear Northern Sky, I give you High King Peter, the Magnificent!"
"Do you know for certain when you shall be returning?"
"No Amalia, but until I do, remember how much I love you."
"Wait! Before you go, I-I, I want you to have this, to remember me, until your return, My King."
"Come on Peter, just one drop, you know you can't do this alone."
"It's not what I thought it would be, but it's all right, one day you'll see too, come on."
~|x\/x|~
Peter thought about what he'd told Lucy the last time he'd ever been in Narnia. He had lied, it was far from all right, but he was trying to cope. He stepped over to the wardrobe and touched the handle, the carvings, everything. "To love is to never forget, but for a time it will bring pain," He whispered Aslan's words to himself in the empty room.
"I'm not sure I understand Aslan, but I'm trying." He whispered, falling to his knees in front of the open wardrobe, his head in his hands.
"Forgive me Son of Adam; I know that I caused you pain, but many have to taste that bitter thing to know true love and true sacrifice." Peter turned sharply as he heard Aslan speak. The golden lion stood behind him. For the first time in a long while, Peter looked his old self again.
"Oh Aslan, what have I done?" He whispered, standing unsteadily and walking over to the lion, burying his hands and face in the lion's tawny, golden mane.
"It is not something you have done; it was a choice you made. You are your siblings' leader, and you chose leadership and guidance over selfish desires. You made the choice to stay and protect your siblings when they walked past the lamppost. You did what was right, though it cost you a great pain."
"Aslan, is there nothing, no relief you might give me? Am I to go forever with this guilt and anguish?" Peter cried, looking into Aslan's majestic face.
"Peter, you have been told how to find peace. I have shown you the way, I have gone before you, now you must trust in me, and truly give me your burden to carry, you cannot carry it alone." The lion growled, causing Peter to start, as those words were hauntingly familiar to the ones Jadis had spoken to him in the How.
"Yes Aslan, I have been told, but I cannot seem to do it." Peter answered desperately.
"Have I not given you hope? Have I not promised to come to you in this world?" The lion roared. "Oh Son of Adam, for such a great king, your little faith surprises me. I am the Beginning and the End, I am peace, I am justice I am all these things and more, if only you would learn how to turn to me in the darkness, I would give you my light. Find me, Peter, and you will find forgiveness. You have committed no great sin, you should not be afraid of me." Aslan said knowingly.
"Truly you know my heart," Peter whispered. Aslan smiled in a way only the lion could.
"Give me your burden Peter, I ask it," Aslan purred, his voice barely discernable and yet seeming to fill the room.
Peter ran his fingers through his hair, head bowed, as he spoke in a hushed tone. "I left, I abandoned her, and I turned my back on my people, my subjects and my country. I allowed my anguish to cloud my judgment when I returned. I was foolish, I was stupid, and I ask forgiveness Aslan, I ask release. I cannot bear this alone, I need you, I need you." As the realization dawned, he finally felt able to look up and meet the lion's penetrative stare once more.
"Do not forget to share your burden with the One who can bear it. I am always here, I will always listen, but it must be you who calls to me." Aslan said, roaring fiercely, before melting into the sunlight filtering through the windows.
With his realization came a sudden freedom Peter had not expected. He knew the pain would never go, but now he finally felt free, he was truly better, not like all those halfhearted attempts at returning to his old self he'd tried to do in school. Now, with the knowledge that he must rely on Aslan solely, he knew he would recover. He must work hard though, and seek after Aslan fiercely; He was not a tame lion after all.
As Peter thought those words, suddenly he smiled. Not a tame lion. Now he understood them. Aslan was not a tame thing, giving you a tame religion. He would not get you out of difficulty and expect nothing in return. He wanted love, He wanted faith, and He wanted hope. He demanded it; He demanded the actions that came with being a true follower. You could not walk half the time with Him and half the time in your own world. Peter knew that now, and he finally felt ready.
~|x\/x|~
It was some time later when Digory noticed Peter walking slowly back down the hill. Though this time, he looked different than the day he'd first arrived here. That time, his shoulders had been hunched and his head had been bent slightly, now, he seemed free of whatever he had been carrying, he no longer looked confused, yet, he seemed a little shocked.
"Digory, I've seen Aslan, he was there, in the room, and he told me something I won't forget." Peter murmured, awe filling his voice. Digory merely smiled, like the day when he'd entered the spare room and asked them what they had been doing in the wardrobe.
"Come inside, tell me everything over dinner," The professor said, walking side by side with the blonde young man back up the walk, his pipe in his hand. There was a place for all Aslan believers and Narnians in this world - they just had to find it - Peter finally found it.
A/N: Chapter fifteen! You know this story now has just as many chapters as Star~Crossed? (chapter 16 doesn't count because it's an A/N) and there are still so many more left! I know I interrupted the carryover from chapter fourteen, but I wanted Peter's chapter to be put in not much later than this, or else it wouldn't fit as well.
Consider this a bonus for me not having updated in like, 20 days. I will resume updating after this on Fridays and Saturdays, which means perhaps another chapter on Friday/Saturday, perhaps not, it really depends on how well I am inspired over the next three (2?) days.
Now on to explanations:
Jadis tells Peter in Prince Caspian: "Come on, just one drop [of blood], you know you can't do this alone." Which is rather a rough imitation of Aslan (rather like Satan, who tries to resemble God in a way).
I know I kind of keep going over Peter's depression, one moment I make him seem like he's getting better and the next moment he's not. But the truth of the matter is, depression is really like that. One moment you feel as if you're actually getting better, and you think you're over the worst, but the next you're back where you started.
Change is hard for Peter, he's never been good at it, never really done it, truth be told. So, for him, a king who keeps most of his questions to himself and faces most (if not all) of his life problems alone, relying on Aslan is rather hard to do. Aslan is willing to carry the burden however, as God is. Aslan wants to help him, because he knows Peter can not carry on under his own power. (As he has been)
Finally Peter has grasped the idea everyone has been telling him. Finally he sees the path Aslan has pointed him at, now he's got to climb it. It will be rough, but he's finally able to do it. He's whole once more. Aslan has forgiven him his stubbornness (which was what his depression really was) so now he's recovering.
A human can love and lose, and learn to love again. Just because they've lost someone doesn't mean they have to lose their life too. I have resolved Peter finally, I shan't go into him again. You can muse over him, and comment when he has small cameos, but other than that, I am finished. His story is done, he must live what he has promised, and that is something which is a story unto itself, as Jack would say.
**I cannot remember why I called this chapter 'There's A Place For Us', sorry. I'll remember later and post it in my next A/N when I do.
**Freddie was Polly Plummer's husband, and Franny is her daughter, Jim is her son-in-law. (Together Freddie and Polly had seven children, an AU of mine which I can go into if asked)
**Yes, Digory does mention C.S. and Warren Lewis in passing there at the beginning.
ILoveFanfiction:
I read your reviews and mended those errors! I'll be going back over this quintet after I finish with a fine-toothed comb to weed out the remaining mistakes. I'm really glad you like BTB I didn't really like writing it at first, but it's growing on me, much like lotr.
Thanks for the compliment in your review, but I am not amazing (I loved that though, and I can't get over how sweet that was!), I just believe that if your going to write a fanfic for a book(s) by someone as great as Lewis, you should give it your best, that's what I've done, I've made sure to spend time giving this my all.
I had a much better personal A/N than this, but my silly computer was acting up and deleted this entire chapter and the A/Ns (don't ask me how!) so this one is not as good. By the way, I was meaning for Reep to come out as the pirate, since we already know for sure Arran is one, and Reep did give a bit of history after that, but I think I messed up terribly. ~ W.H.
Again, if there is anything I missed, {explanations, punctuations, grammar, misspellings, plot-that-doesn't-make-sense, something that I failed to clarify on, etc...} Please tell me so I can fix/tell you about it in a PM/Author's Note. (though I tried to get most, emphasis on tried)
Happy reading, ~ W.H