(3,344 words this chapter)

(I draw inspiration for my stories from The Chronicles of Narnia in all it's manifestations both canon and non-canon).

Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia are the intellectual property of Clive Staples Lewis and his legally recognized representatives. We just come here to play in his garden.

Warning: M rated for violence and drug use but mostly to give me some wiggle room.

pages 20-22

The Narnians

"The lion, the Witch, the Wardrobe and Beyond"

chapter6

Tomorrow

The satyr desperately clawed his way up towards the light. The vision around him fading to mist, his father's words still ringing in his ears, "Now up, now middle, now down.'

His senses returning, Fain found himself back in the inn's common room. It dawned on him he was not dead and now he wanted very much not to be dead. Laying absolutely still, barely drawing breath, Fain began mapping out his future.

First, he had to figure out a way to again gain a measure of mobility. The oldest of the venerated elders back home used crutches to get about, this gave Fain an idea. 'I could cobble together two crutches and lash on the hand grips to make them adjustable' he thought.

The next issue he needed to address concerned the lower half of his body. The wood deck plank his sled mates had lashed him to gave Fain an idea. He envisioned using two wooden spars he could strap to his legs and torso to give some support to his frame. He could, he supposed, articulate the splints with hinges of rope or possibly leather to make it easier for him to sit.

Ideas and plans racing through his head had to be put aside for now. The next question that needed to be answered was how might he best serve in the days still allotted him. The answer was obvious, if he could not take part in the defense of Narnia he could at least provide tools for those who did.

His training for entry into adulthood included among other things weapons crafting. He, like most satyrs possessed only a mediocre ability in the field of blacksmithing but in the area of bow making, fletching and leather working he was exceedingly gifted. Provided with the proper materials he could have easily turn out five or six self bows in a day and finish them up on the next. Fabricating fourteen or fifteen arrows in the same amount of time would have been a short pony soon curried. The fleece lined leather greaves he turned out back in those days had been much sought after in his village and far beyond.

Satisfied he had found some small part he could still play in Narnia's future, Fain was also satisfied at having gleaned the answer to the question he had earlier asked himself. 'What would father think of him now? Father would be pleased to know his son was no quitter.'

Fain allowing himself a small sigh was surprised by Kinoe's astonished voice.

...

Helria standing behind the bar busied herself pouring tea into a waiting cup. The common-room at the moment was empty except for the battle's survivors. The last shift at the mine and forges had yet to call it a day. The few loafers unlucky enough to have been hanging around the inn when they arrived had been dispatched by Grunram to retrieve the abandon cargo.

Across the room the blasphemous tirade issuing from Fain ended so abruptly it commanded her attention. Horrified, Helria watched her patient thrash about against his bonds, arching up before he settled back down onto the wooden plank. The long sigh he issued was taken by Helria as a sign that the life had gone out of the satyr. Her sorrow at the loss of her dear friend mixed with the knowledge that Fain was no longer suffering and he might at last know some measure of peace. Helria continuing the charade of tending to the satyr gingerly picked up the cup and started across the room to join Kinoe in his quiet lamentations.

...

Kinoe, hand pressed down on the struggling satyr's shoulder, felt emotionally detached. He had been preparing most of the afternoon for this eventuality but now as he watched Fain breathe his last, Kinoe paradoxically was filled with hope. Hope for Narnia's future as long as there where these who were willing to sacrifice everything for her.

The crate groaning, Kinoe took a seat resting elbows on his knees and fold his hands together. He pondered which of the memories of Tem and his son the minotaur cherished most. The first one without doubt had to be the first time they had met but that memory was best saved for another day. He wanted an endearing memory that exemplified his feelings towards the satyr and his father.

There was no contest here because the image that next filled his head was one he knew all so well.

A vision of him sweeping up around the Inn, usually just after sunset. The inn's main door banging open admitting a gust of wind, a few flecks of snow and a group of hooded figures. Ice burdened cloaks shrugged off, Tem and Fain would continue a passionate debate over some obscure theological point while the rest of their crew deemed it prudent to made themselves scarce. The elder of the two always seemed to be counseling patience and restraint while the headstrong youth would be demanding swift and decisive action.

These disagreements often as not ended with father and son seated across the table from each other in stony silence. The impasse was usually broken by Helria's arrival with a tray of mugs and a pitcher of stout.

Always the mediator, Helria had taken it upon herself to affectionately tussle with a gentle hand the hair on the poll of Fain's head. The laughter following this warmhearted display would be enough to start someone in the room recounting a humorous event that happened on the trail earlier that day. The friendly jostling and boisterous amusements that followed were usually enough to dispel the gloom, restoring a feeling of camaraderie to all assembled.

Propped on his imaginary broom handle, Kinoe dwelled on all the little joys and envies that had given him so much pleasure.

A measure of false envy towards Fain for the privilege he enjoyed questioning the edicts of authority. Young minotaur who dared to question the wisdom of their elders in bygone times usually faced a long and loud dressing down for their lack of experience. Under the tyrannical rule of the witch, anyone who was foolish enough to question her suffered dearly.

The small measure of joy he felt towards Fain at the freedom he enjoyed in being able to question the edicts of authority. Growing up, it had been drilled into Kinoe that the demanding ways of the minotaur had made them fiercer, stronger and braver then any of those soft, weak, lazy civilized breeds. After their rescue it had become clear to Kinoe just how fierce these supposedly soft races could be when defending their homes and families. He had come to understand while living among them that there were many kinds of strength besides the physical. Strengths that endured long after the arm grows enfeebled.

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He had been impressed most of all by the courage they exhibited when facing the unknown. Their inquisitive nature and insatiable appetite for understanding would send Aslan's followers charging into the dark uncharted cave of ignorance with just the inadequate torch of curiosity to illuminate their path. This was a level of bravery no minotaur in the service of the Witch could ever hope to equal.

These revelations in the beginning had caused Kinoe a great deal of concern. He secretly started harboring doubts that he was up to the challenge of this new life. One night in that corner of the Inn that they had made their own, Kinoe confessed his secret misgivings to Helria.

Their sleeping firs tossed aside she rolled up onto her lover's massive chest kissing him long and deep. His cheeks tenderly cupped in her hands, Helria with all her heart assured him that he had secured for her in this land the life she had always dreamed of.

The events of this day and all the days that had come before culminated in an epiphany for Kinoe. Midway village truly was his home now. This beacon of hope had guided a lost soul out of the shadows and into the warm waiting embrace of mother Narnia. All it had cost him to learn this lesson was the lives of his two dearest friends. A heavy debt indeed but one he'd gladly pay back by fighting to keep their dream alive.

Outside the inn, the storms increasingly violent winds search for an entrance. Inside, Kinoe contemplating the sizable debt levied against them this day was suddenly wrenched out of his reflections by a nearly imperceptible sigh. Joy spread over the minotaur like sunshine braking out from behind a dark cloud. Tears beginning to run down either side of the bridge of his nose, Kinoe offered up a silent prayer of thanks to the king of the forest for Fain's deliverance.

Unable to mask his enthusiasm, Kinoe asked. "Are you alright Fain?"

In a voice of utter serenity Fain answered, "Yes, I think everything's going to be fine now, thank you."

Kinoe concerned by the youth's sudden change of attitude, inquired. "Is there anything I can get you?"

Their eyes meeting Fain reassured him, "Thank you Kinoe but I don't believe there's anything I'll be needing right now."

...

The cup of tea almost slipping from her hand, Helria's heart skipped a beat at the sound of Fain's voice. A tuneless little hum on her lips, she sauntered over to the two brightest stars in her universe. She felt, approaching the pair, herself bubbling with delight over Fain's next pronouncement.

"It would appear I've spoken too soon Kinoe. For yonder comes a maid, face so fair as to illuminate my soul, bearing herbs with which to soothe my broken bones," Fain invoked with great eloquence.

Helria upon her arrival used her hip to nudge Kinoe off the seat. Reclaiming her position beside the satyr, she tossed her lover a mock look of reproach for having upset her patient so. Her mate could only don a mask of confused innocence and shrug his shoulders.

In response to Fain's lusty decree, Helria giggled, "Oh, my gallant swain", leaving some confusion as to whom she was talking about.

The teacup placed aside, Helria poked around in one of the pockets sown into the shoulder strap of her apron retrieving a small black lacquered vial. She picked up the cup and carefully measured a few drops from the tiny bottle into the analeptic.

The sight of the small orange and red banded vial sent Fain into a panic. Struggling against the ropes and the pain, Fain wheezed. "Please - please Helria take that away. I've never used that stuff. I don't need it. I don't want it. Please Helria - I know your trying to help but take it away - please!"

Confused by Fain's reaction she followed the satyrs terror filled gaze back to the bottle in her hand. Understanding spread across her face.

"Oh, Fain. I appreciate your concerns about opium but in the proper hands, a small amount can be a most excellent pain reliever. It will also help you get some sleep and right now what you need most is rest dear," she said, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

Batting her eyes, Helria donned that seraphic expression that had so endeared her to the inhabitants of Midway village almost from the beginning.

Cocking her head she continued, 'Besides, do you really believe Midway's elders would entrust such a dangerous narcotic to someone unqualified to handle it?"

Father had in the past made these important decisions for him but he was on his own now and it looked like it was about time he started acting like a grown up. Bowing to the logic of her argument, Fain let go his fears saying, "I trust you Helria, do what you think best."

Helria exhibiting that legendary minotaur strength hooked an arm under the end of the pallet and lifted, elevating Fain's head so he could more easily sip the tea. Making sure he had finished it all, she carefully set the plank back down on the barrels supporting it. Standing, she heaved a satisfied sigh and waved over Fain's worried companions.

"You should get some rest now dear but first your friends would like to visit for awhile... and don't you lot go and tire him out too much, you hear,' with little subtly she warned them.

"Helria,' Fain called out as she turned away. Reaching for the unsteady hand he offered her, she was startled when he grabbed hold of her hand with surprising speed and strength. 'I just wanted to say thanks for everything you've done."

"It was my pleasure dear," She assured him.

"No-no, not this. Not the potions nor the bandages. You'd have done as much for some injured bird or a kitten, I'm sure. I want to thank you for not giving up on me back there, when I was more then willing to give up on myself. Compared to the life you've lived, mine's been one long picnic with just a hint of danger to spice things up. Now that I'm facing my first real test of character I folded up like a hammock. I feel so ashamed it makes me want to vomit," He confessed.

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She tenderly stroked Fain's cheek with the back of her hand. "Oh, Fain, dear Fain.' She cooed. 'Can it be you really don't understand? Can it be true you don't know who you really are? First test indeed. Dear, Narnia goes to sleep at night wrapped in blankets to ward off the cold, with enough food in our bellies to see us through another day, all thanks to you and your father and all the others. All them who spend their nights freezing under the snow. Their days, backs bent, shouldering heavy loads through all manner of weather. Out there on those trails, high and low, facing avalanche and the Witch's patrols and all manner of brigand north and south of the border. First test, indeed!

"Does it give you a small measure of comfort to know we sent you our hopes and prayers each night before we'd take our rest. Parents tell their children fables of Aslan to comfort them. Nincompoops recite some vaguely worded prophecy believing they have all the answers - but we in this place know the truth. It's you and your friends who are the ones keeping alive the hope in Narnia's future," She declared.

Helria looked up, suddenly aware of the group of smugglers standing round her, a look of appreciation painted on their faces. Grunram standing to one side nodded his head in agreement with her.

Humming her meaningless little tune, she weaved her way through the small gathering. Head slightly turned she tossed a smile at Kinoe who with arms folded leaned casually against the nearby wall. His eyes followed her as she strolled off across the room to take her customary place behind the bar.

Helria's departure left behind an awkward silence that was dispelled by Grunram as he pushed his way pass the others. Standing over Fain, Grunram looked down on what he perceived to be the wreckage of once so promising a life.

"Lad, I know of no words to properly express the sorrow I be feeling right now at the passing of your Da'. He be the most selfless, most noble Narnian I ever knew. Iffin there be anythin you need, you just let me know, hear." Grunram stalwartly assured the youth.

On an impulse he leaned in and kissed the satyr on the forehead with all the affection he might have reserved for one of his own sons or daughters. "You get some rest now," he gently commanded.

"I will, thank you Elder Grunram,' Fain assured him. 'Oh, Elder Grunram? You ought to know father use to say pretty much the same thing about you. Many is the time I'd heard father say. 'Without Grunram there'd be no Midway and without Midway, there wouldn't be a Narnia today.' You deserve as much credit as the rest of us."

Squabbling among dwarves is as natural for them as agriculture is to a satyr or the arts are to a faun. Fifty winters, more or less, of mediating disputes among his own people had left him for the most part feeling bone-weary. The praise now lavished on him by these outsiders left Grunram with the feeling of a lump growing in his throat.

"Thank yea for them kind words, lad, and you can drop the elder honorific because I view you as an equal now," Grunram declared in front of the gathering.

The satyr wrapped his fingers around the wrist of the dwarfs battered arm.

" Elder Grun... - Grunram, a moment if you please, I've been thinking. I'm going to have to start getting around by myself, sooner or later. I've an idea of maybe using short lengths of wooden pole, hinged together with leather and rope to act as a body support, maybe with your help we could build something out of metal," Fain asked.

Fighting back tears, Grunram a moment before had seen only a life bereft of choice. His heart revealed to him now the truth his eyes had failed to see. A fire bed of belief in one's self, laid down over the years by Tem, being ignited by Fain's fierce determination to continue moving forward. Those first smoldering embers being fanned by his father's memory. A fire that over time would blaze forth warming the souls of those around him.

Fain's request set the old dwarf's mind wheeling. The duties of headman occupied so much of his time that the simple pleasure of working on some engineering project had almost been forgotten. Already Grunram's brain was furiously calculating formulas and fractions, at the same time sketching designs with his minds eye. Again an again he tried fitting parts together to no avail. All medium are equally honorable to a dwarf so after a few tries Grunram turned his attention back to the use of lumber. Making a few adjustments here and there, Grunram believed he had reached a workable solution.

"Well lad, as I see's it such a contraption would be highly impractical on a number of levels. Firstly is the weight of the thing. Second is its complexity, after all what if you should happen to hit a growth spurt. You'd then be needen to add all manner of superfluous adjusters just to keep up. Lastly metal has a nasty habit of rusting, you would probably be spenden more time cleaning the dang thing then wearing it.

"No, you had the right of it the first time. Wood is the most practical material for our needs, it be plentiful and easy to work with and also, I know of a couple of metal hinge designs that would fit our needs nicely. Ones with built-in stops to limit their movement. All you need do is touch them with a drop or two of fish oil or maybe some bacon fat now and then to keep them limbered up,' he paused, 'but we can talk about all this tomorrow Fain," Grunram promised.

Combing his fingers through the mane on Fain's forehead before turning away, Grunram shuffled off muttering to himself, 'Tomorrow Fain, tomorrow."