23. Give a glimpse of Narnia shortly after the Four go back to England.
There'd always been a generation gap. Three generations, actually—those born before the winter (few in number now, but they loved comparing "before" the winter and "after—these days"), those born in the winter, and those born during the Golden Age.
There were habits the middle generation had—storing an extra cache of food, just in case, and checking every road before venturing onto it, no matter how well travelled—they never lost those habits. They always checked over their shoulders when they were alone.
The loss of the Four hit them hard. They mourned as if it was the return of winter, as if freedom and hope had vanished as well. The Four had stayed there every day, and Aslan came and went as was best.
The younger generation could not understand the old generation's fears. Fall still surrounded them. There was a loss to mourn, of course; the Four had been so loved and so wonderful, and now they were gone—
But that was cause to grieve. Not to despair.
Orieus, seeing a divide grow in the wake of grief, called the Narnians together. Old and young and very old, he waited for them all to gather in the courtyard of Cair Paravel.
"Narnians," he called in his old, deep voice, and silence swept over the very large group. "All of us have lost Kings and Queens we followed, rulers we loved. We are grieving in different ways. Some of us keep ourselves busy; some of us weep; some of us sit and think. None of these ways are bad or good. But to judge the way others grieve, to try to measure their loss against our own—that will only do harm." Several Narnians looked shamefaced; others shifted uneasily. "We should grieve together. Offer others the same compassion you know you need. To help with that, I invite all who wish to come to a night of fires, singing, and storytelling of our sovereigns, three nights from now. Come with tales of how you knew the Four, and why you gave them your love. Together, let us mourn."
Three nights after, four large fires burned in the courtyard; the Dryads had brought limbs upon limbs to fuel the fires for the remembrance. The courtyard filled with Narnians, at first exchanging stories in close conversations, many with tears on their faces. But Oreius arrived as the sun set, and led the way to the dias. He spoke of watching the three walk into camp, of rescuing the scared boy tied against the tree from the White Witch, of seeing Peter become a knight, and of watching Edmund come back to life after the battle at the hand of his sister. He added stories from the first year of their reign, bowed his old and silver head, and slowly made his way down.
Mr. Tumnus came next, starting with a story of a tea with Lucy where she invited an entire family of Starlings without knowing how large such families were. He told the story of her forgiveness, his voice quavering, and of how he had never regretted the choice he made, even when he was dragged before the Witch. He spoke of comparing Lucy to the White Witch, of kindness with cruelty, of courage with rage, and how he missed—
He stepped down without finishing.
Oreius, watching from the side, saw the Narnians begin pressing closer together. Wings covered the shoulders of Fauns, large Centaur hands scooped up small Rabbits, and Dogs and Cats pressed against each other. Mourning, remembering—the divide began to heal.
And the legacy of the Four lived on.