For ScribeofHeroes, who asked for something more with the Leles-the creatures of air, as Dryads and Naiads are creatures of water and wood. The Leles were originally introduced in Greek myths, but after that I used them in my story Dance, Dream, Die. So I don't own them.

It's Peter who hears the music first, Peter, leaning on his throne, his head on one hand. It'd been a good day, but a long one, and he'd been taking a moment to rest. The music-high, soft, and lilting enough his feet begin moving-washes over him for a moment and is gone.

He doesn't remember it after the door bursts open and Edmund challenges him to a race.

Susan hears it next. She'd straightened up, pausing, at the sound of a sudden commotion-a Cat's alarmed growl, Peter and Edmund laughing and shouting apologies, and the sound of running feet. She glances down at the pile of spoons she'd been polishing, and hesitates.

The music whispers in her ear, four notes ascending high, and she drops her dishcloth and skips out the door, a smile on her face. She will go to find her brothers-to join them or to scold them, she isn't sure. But it feels good to move.

Edmund can't hear the music at first, not over the sound of his own heavy breathing. Lucy had asked him to distract Peter for just a few minutes, and Edmund hadn't seen a problem with that-at least not till now. Peter ran like he had wings on his feet, like if he jumped, he'd fly. Edmund couldn't keep up, and so he'd taken a shortcut over a bannister, much to the dismay of Sethen. The Panther didn't like it when his King took jumps that "really should be left to those with four feet and a tail for balance, Your Majesty."

Peter paused to make sure his brother was okay, and Edmund was just about to take advantage of that, he was, but he had to breathe first-

And then he heard the notes. Perfect, pure, high, ringing through the wide court and stairwell, just six short notes. They caught his heart, lifted his feet, and he knew, if he ran, he could keep up with Peter.

But both Kings paused, looking around.

"Magic?" Edmund asked, looking over at Peter warily.

"So it seems," he answered shortly, looking around. "Go get your armour."

"No need," called their youngest sister's voice. "I have a surprise."

Peter heard the music first. But the Lele came to Lucy before she sang, to the one who'd once been held captive. She blew in on the wind, landing in the Queen's tea chamber and bowing. Her voice held the same enchanting music as the other Lele, but it offered a choice, always a choice, to listen, to obey, to dance, to run-or to stay, to turn away, to say no.

Lucy listened, vailance overcoming fear. And when the Lele curtsied and asked if there was any gift she could give, any service she could render, to make up for her sister's transgression, Lucy asked if the Lele liked to dance. The Lele, Leota, smiled-the glory of the sun in a blue morning sky.

So the two had stolen to the throne room, the room where the song would echo the most, only to find Peter there, and Lucy had left to get Edmund to distract him, and Leota, waiting and watching, had offered a bit of her own strength to the tired King.

Then the King left, and Lucy and Leota had danced, the Lele beginning to sing. And strength flowed from Lucy to Leota, from Leota to Lucy, and spilled from the two of them to any who caught the sound of the magic, the song of the air mixing with the Queen's voice. And Lucy, filled with delight, had asked Leota if others might join.

So she called her brothers, her sister, her friends, all of Cair Paravel, into the throne room. And the Lele spread her arms wide, spinning round, and the wind blew all the windows open, running across over face and hair with a cold, refreshing touch, like coming awake. Then she sang, and the Narnians began to dance.

It became a tradition, as long as Lucy remained in Narnia, for Leota or one of her sisters to come once a year, just as spring was melting and the wind blew from the North. A full day of dancing, where all the strength was shared, where no one grew tired, and where everyone laughed and grew ready for spring and all its tasks. Then the Lele would blow away on the wind, back to the nests growing around a garden no human should enter, and speak to her sisters about the land blessed by Aslan, and the true hearts there that loved to dance.

The day the Four left, however, it was a wind that blew the door shut, and the Leles came no more.

At least, not till a Prince wandered and found them. But that is a different story.