(words 5,658 this chapter)
(I draw inspiration for my stories from The Chronicles of Narnia in all its 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.
pages 26-30
The Narnians
"The lion, the Witch, the Wardrobe and Beyond"
chapter 8
Daydreams and Nightmares
The screams of Ishum still echoing in the back of his mind, Fain awoke with a start. He had drifted off to sleep again but like before it was a sleep that offered no real rest. He felt as if his head was stuffed full of wool, a condition he attributed to the drugs.
The Inn's only window, its linen lined panels billowing in against the storm, illuminated the interior of the room with a feeble light. Given it's intensity Fain judged he had been sleeping at the most a few minutes.
Anger clawed at the pit of his stomach as the truth he had suppressed for so long would be denied no longer. He was in for a long convalescence and there was nothing he could do about it. His agitation grew with the thought he might be bedridden for weeks, months or maybe even longer. Months to be spent enduring the pity of those around him but he planned to pay them back for their sacrifice. He would pay them all back, somehow, this he swore.
He longed to go back to sleep, not to rest but to escape the waking world, a chance to cheat the passage of time for a few more hours. He had one last duty to perform, to quash the distant scream still echoing in the back of his head. He hesitated doing this for it would mean besmirching the good name of beaver Ishum. He viewed the act as a stain on his personal honor. A black mark he'd have to work off again but what else was there to do.
"A satyr without honor might as well be in the service of the witch," Father used to say whenever he thought his son was digressing.
'Father in the beginning had tried to dissuade the beaver from joining their ranks, had he not,' Fain thought hoping to validate the lie. 'Mountaineering was no life for A Son of the brooks and ponds Tem had tried to explain. If Ishum couldn't see that, well then he had only himself to blame for what happened, didn't he?'
The Inn's door violently swung inward admitting a snow laden gust of wind followed close behind by three cloak wrapped figures. Fain knew he was dreaming but not the kind of dream one has when deep asleep. This was one of those shallow dreams, a dream born of illness. A dream that lays just below the surface of the waking world. He knew if he wanted to he could will himself out of this nightmare but why? Pain and sorrow was all that awaited him out there, in here at least was a world of his own creation.
He watched as his father, chin held high, fumbled with the toggle button that held the cloak around his shoulders. The normally mild mannered satyr was unquestionably agitated about something and Fain knew exactly what that was.
The other figures, as Fain watched, resolved them selves into Jakk and Xavier. He hissed their names through clinched teeth. These two had robbed him of his youthful naivete, his view of the world as black and white, good and evil, Narnian versus Witch. His associating with them revealed to him an ugly truth, some Narnians were just blackguards.
Tem had retired from a life of smuggling when his son reached his eighth winter. He had planned to take personal charge of Fain's education, guiding his son over the next four years in preparation for his entrance in to satyrhood. Four seasons later, Tem satisfied with Fain's progress decided the time had come to take his son and start a new crew of smugglers. Besides Fain, there was of course a place held open for their long time family friend, badger Azron.
Tem against his better judgment had given in and agreed to give that annoying little beaver Ishum, who had managed to steal his heart, a chance to join their team. Providence seemed to be smiling on Tem with the arrival in the village of two strangers, Jakk and Xavier. Two satyrs who claimed to have traveled the length and breath of the kingdom in search of a means to strike a blow against the Witch.
Tem was at first delighted by the idea of spending time swapping tall tales with these brothers from another village. Fain for his part was enthralled by the saga these two fathers from the north told of their trek across Narnia. Their revelries proved to be short lived however. Father soon grew cold and distant towards his new crew mates.
Quizzed as to why by his son, Tem ventured, "Your training's done Fain. You'll soon be entering a world that holds many dangers. I am no longer your father but also your team leader. Your first duty from now on is to listen to and obey my every command, immediately and without question. Do this and I'll be able to keep you and our mates safe.' Tapping Fain's forehead with a stubby, keratin wrapped index finger, Tem further enlighten him. 'Trust in the good sense Aslan gave you and you'll do fine son."
Fain felt confused, this was in no way the answer he had expected to his question.
...
Fain's eyes snapped open, he had without realizing it drifted off into a deeper sleep. The smells of coal smoke merging with pipe tobacco assailed his nostrils as sounds of increased activity assaulted his ears. By the dim light filtering through the window he guessed that it must be early evening. Utensils scraping on plates mixed with muted conversations along with the occasional sound of a mug thudding on a tabletop. The additional activity made it clear to Fain the labors at the mine and forges must be over for the day. This night the subdued manner of the normally boisterous dwarves bespoke the esteem they held for their departed comrade and the concern they shared for his stricken offspring.
Visions of those two neer-do-wells, Jakk and Xavier remained lodged in his head. The way they had tried to win him over with flattery after they had lost father's trust stuck in his gizzard still.
'What a fine young satyr you are Fain. Your mother must be so proud of you. Wouldn't you agree Xavier,' Jakk might gush.
'Indeed yes, a most clever fellow and so hardy too. Why before you know it Fain, you'll be leading a party of your own,' Xavier might add.
Fain's sense of self worth had been greatly inflated by the attention accorded him by such worldly adults. Their comments and inquiries however began after awhile to make him feel uncomfortable. Prying questions about his fathers character or the relationship between his father and mother reminded Fain of the warning his father had given him in those first few days. Keep your eyes and ears open and use the good sense Aslan gave you proved to be sound advice. Fain started avoiding the two whenever possible. He also had developed a list of vague responses to help deflect their prying questions.
Fain's loss as an ally only increased the friction between Father and Jakk. After nearly a year of endless bickering the dam finally broke. Struggling north through a blizzard they reached Midway late one afternoon. The inn was fairly packed with smugglers who shared the idea of waiting out the storm in some measure of comfort. The enormous cast iron stove used to heat the common-room glowed orange around it's lower half from working so hard. A respectable gap had developed between the patrons and the contained inferno, even so its heat barely managed to touched the shadowy perimeter of the room.
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Aware this was just a dream or to be precise the same dream was being played out over and over in his head, Fain hated these delirium spawned nightmares. He never felt rested, just weary and apprehensive waiting for the dramatics to begin again.
He felt a sort of detachment, an observer watching the unfolding turmoil. As if on cue the door to the Inn yawed open admitting Tem and his two antagonist. If Fain needed more proof he was dreaming, he himself was the fourth figure to shuffle into the room. He watched with a touch of amusement his counterpart struggle against the storm whipped gales in order to force close the inn's heavy door and then to kick the old rug back against the threshold to block out the icy drafts. Fain's attention was drawn to the fact that his doppelganger looked the same age as himself, not the youngling of years ago.
Tem finally succeeded in working loose the button that held his cloak closed. Tugging the garment from his shoulders he violently shook the garment trying to dislodge the layers of caked on ice and snow.
The irritation obvious in his voice, Tem cautioned. "Jakk, I've said all I'm going to say, so just drop it!"
"I'm just saying, if we'd pushed on through the night we could have been here by day brake, that would have given us most of today and tomorrow to rest up," Jakk parried.
Like iron filings attracted to a lodestone, the loud exchange between the new arrivals perked the curiosity of the patrons seated at nearby tables.
Resisting the impulse to turn around, Tem challenged. "And how exactly would you have navigated through a snowstorm at night?" The instant he spoke these words Tem wished he could take them back.
Jakk jumped on the opening. "If it had been me, I'd have hugged the east wall of the pass all the way into Midway valley."
"And like as not have gotten us lost wandering in and out of those blind canyons that breach the walls here and there for most of it's length. Not to worry though, I'm sure some friendly wolves would have given us a decent burial after coming upon our desiccated remains, if that's any consolation," Tem taunted back.
"Jakk, this may come as a surprise to you but your not in charge here and I'm getting sick and tired of you questioning my every order. Now listen carefully, if you don't keep your mouth shut and tend to your duties I will exercise my options and kick you off the team," he threatened.
Still not turning round, Tem nodded, "And that goes for your friend too."
Fain shared with his other self a similar opinion of Xavier. He wasn't really a bad sort. He, like most satyrs was just looking for a trip to belong to. His misfortune had been to fall in with Jakk.
"I am a brother of equal to you. My life experiences demand you give my words due consideration when you make decisions," Jakk pontificated.
Tem inhaling deeply drew himself up to his full height. Fain half expected his father to turn and fall on Jakk, raining blows down on his adversary the entire time.
Tem did turn on Jakk but not in white hot fury. He instead displayed that picture of cool deliberation Fain knew so well. The captain's eyes went as cold and hard as the icicles outside hanging from the roof.
Tem released the pent-up breath in a low sigh. His next words shared with the storm winds blowing beyond the walls that feeling of soul freezing certainty as he spoke. "That's it Jakk, I'm through butting heads with you. Collect your stuff and get lost."
Tem lifted his gaze over Jakk's shoulder to where Xavier stood, in a flat voice the captain inquired, "You sticking with your mate or are you coming with us?"
Xavier dissolved into a picture of complete indecisiveness. Shifting his weight from one hoof to the other, the satyr could not bring himself to look anyone in the eye.
"I guess,' Xavier stopped and swallowed hard, 'I guess I'll be going with Jakk."
"Right then, my credit's good here, I'll arrange to have the depo manager pay you what I owe you in food and trade goods,' Tem's eye lids narrowed a bit.' But only what your owed."
Jakk was convinced Tem wouldn't carry through with his threat. The Inn was no place for someone to be looking for team replacements. The people here were already engaged and anyone thinking to hire them away at this point was likely to find themselves ostracized by the brotherhood.
Furrowing his brow, Jakk challenged. "Your bluffing, who will push your sled now, your kid? Don't make me laugh."
Tem knew he was caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place but what else was there to do. Turning from Jakk to face back into the room he took a deep breath.
"Anybody here not otherwise gainfully employed looking for work? I find myself in need of two able-bodies to help fill out my rota, anyone?... How about you dwarfs? Surely one of you has a second or third son they'd like to get out from under foot for a while. Pays fair and it will put vittles in your larder. I'll even take on a couple of wolves if you don't mind pushing, if you like I could rig up some kind of blanket harness and collars if you rather pull, ether way's fine with me."
"Haah! Wolves are no good at loading and unloading cargo, you know that,' Jakk chided. 'Now, if you'd ask pardon for your earlier display of rudeness I'm sure we can put all this unpleasantness in the past."
Planting balled up fists on his hips Tem did his best to ignore the other satyr. "Your sled mates are more then capable of making up and braking down loads. I'm mainly looking for someone to move cargo. Come on, don't you want to help out the folks back home?"
The patrons near the entrance enjoying the show suddenly found themselves drawn into the drama. The small knots of people gathered around tables quickly turned their attention back to their drinks.
Tem ready to surrendered to his growing sense of failure, a commotion on the far side of the room caught his attention. A hand appeared out of the shadows behind a group of seasoned smugglers. A second hand followed immediately after it.
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"Oh - oh! Over here Captain- over here," one hand called out.
"Oh yes captain, over here! Yes, we're looking for work captain," The other hand added.
The sound of chair legs scraping on the tile floor were followed by muffled curses and quickly offered apologies as two fauns, one rounding ether side of the table, dashed across the room. Dressed in pleated wool vests, long winter scarves colored muted shades of tan and brown trailing behind them, each carrying a trail worn duffle bag slung over a shoulder, the two skidded to a stop in front of Tem.
The smuggler captain was both vexed and amused by this new development. Fists still planted on his hips, Tam bent slightly forward forcing the two applicants to crane their necks up to meet his gaze.
"And how exactly did you two - kids - find your way up here," Tem asked, making sure he put the emphasis on the word kids.
The pair began speaking almost in unison but paused just as quickly.
The slightly more robust one continued. "It's like this, captain. My friend and me are a couple of adventures out exploring the world. Those nice folk who live in the village at the foot of the mountain told us if we're looking to broaden our horizons we ought to try this place," The faun expounded.
From deep within the room a voice boomed. "Chased you two loafers out of town. At's the way I heard it."
The room exploding into ruckus laughter annoyed the faun not in the least bit.
Tem suppressing a grin inquired, "If I'm going to hire you on, then I need to know a little something about you. Are you two of the same blood? Are you orphans and if not, do your parents know where you are? How about what part of the country you hail from or why don't we start with something simple like your names."
The first faun introduced himself. "It's Mosus, son of Mornums. I hale from the Downs of Owl wood. You can find itnorth-west of the old capital- "
Tem broke in, "I know where Owl wood is, I don't need a lion blessed geography lesson. Thank you!"
Seemingly unfazed by the interruption Mosus continued.
"Now, The Down is a pretty cosmopolitan kind of a place,' the faun elaborated. 'People of many different stripes call it home. Legends say The Downs never faced defeat at the hands of the Witch's lackeys and not from want of trying on their part, let me tell you. Tales tell of almost constant attacks against Owl Wood in those first few decades at the start of the long winter but they ceased after awhile. The prevailing wisdom was She had just lost interest in the Downs.
"Now, this here is - ouff..." Mosus was interrupted by an elbow to the ribs as the other faun stepped lightly around him.
The fellow, standing tall and straight as he could manage, offered Tem an outstretched arm. Tem was most impressed by this display of maturity on the part of the kid. He felt a growing respect for the young faun as they clasped wrists. The hand shake conveyed to Tem a strong yet callow personality that put him at ease.
"Hello, my name's Asuls, son of Hustuns, it's an honor to make your acquaintance sir, he gushed. My story? I was born in that area known as Lantern Waste but I'm sure I don't have to tell you what that means. The Witch's followers raiding all the time looking for fresh victims for her to use in her dark studies. When I was but a babe my parents packed every thing up and bundled the whole family east as far as we could get. We finally settled at Owl wood where Mosus family and mine became tight friends."
"We've stuck together like a couple of cockleburs ever since,' Mosus said as he stepped up next to Asuls. ' First it was playing at being daring warriors crushing the witch's troops. We later started fancying ourselves a couple of world renowned bards, dallying with the ladies and thrilling the crowds with our performances. We have as of late become consumed by the idea of writing The Great Narnian Novel.
It was here Asuls took up the narrative. "We kind of ran into a problem though. How exactly does one approach such a monumental undertaking with so few life experiences to fall back on. We talked it over and decided we'd just have to go out and get us some of those. About our parents, if they really wanted us back home, they would have found a way to track us down. Besides, the reduced strain on the resources of the Down is probably viewed as a blessing. I believe and I'm sure Mosus will agree with me, our folks would be comfortable with the idea of us being out in the world as long as he and I are together."
Wrapping a right arm across his chest Tem rested the elbow of his free hand on it. Using his left hand, he stroked the hairs of his chin. Taking this stance Tem hoped to mask the satisfaction he felt at the way things were turning out. These two were after all close to his sons age and Fain had worked out just fine.
Stretching out the sham a little further Tem announced, "Well-el, I don't know, it goes against my better judgment but we'll give it a try. We're heading north to Narnia anyway after the storm brakes. Younglings, mark my words well, if you two prove to be nothing more then a lot of bluff and bluster I will, I repeat, I will chase you back to Owl wood fanning your tails with the flat of my sword the entire way."
This threat only seemed to excite the two fauns all the more.
Tem heaving a sigh pointed at the ground slightly behind and to his right. "Fain, " was all he said.
The dreamer experienced again the thrill he felt on that bygone day. He watched as the other Fain launched himself off the wooden crate next to the door he had claimed as a seat and scrambled up to his father side.
"Yes Father," he eagerly asked.
"I have decided to enlist the services of these two fauns to fill the vacancy on our team,' his father announced in a businesslike manor. 'Please escort them to the warehouse manager and have them outfitted for the trail."
Satisfied that contracts had been let and conditions met, Tem strolled off to mingle with his compatriots leaving in his wake a speechless Jakk.
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Fain engaged the two fauns in ritual greetings and hand shakes that were followed by an awkward silence. Desperate to keep the conversation going, he cast about for a fresh topic.
"Mind if I ask a question. Doesn't it bother you to face the ridicule of a room full of adults or to have my father talk down too you like that," he asked.
Mosus resting a hand on Fain's shoulder assured him. "Not the least bit friend satyr, not in the least. You see these are the kinds of experiences we're looking for. As for your father, he's a treasure. We could not have dreamed up a more perfect model for the hero of our story if we'd tried for a year.
The awkward silence returning, Fain pressed on. "You said you came through the village at the foot of the mountain, that's my home. You maybe met my Ma', Yvette," He asked hopefully.
The fauns looked thoughtfully at each other.
"Um - no sorry. Nuh ah, don't recall the name," The two agreed.
Fain felt a little crestfallen but pressed on anyway.
"Perhaps' Fain inquired, 'You've met my sister, Sylvia?"
The explosion of uncontrolled belly laughter from Mosus and Asuls left Fain confused. Mosus wiping a tear from his eye slapped Fain on the shoulder.
"Oh, friend satyr if that little hellion is your sister then you have my condolences," He said between gulps of breath.
"Truly, that little she-demon seemed to take so much pleasure hounding us almost from the moment we entered the village. 'What are you doing there. How long are you staying. Put that down, that's not yours. I'm going to tell my ma. What are you two mumbling about, don't you know that's rude,' Asuls said in a fair approximation of Sylvia's voice. 'When we become famous bards that one will figure prominently as the villainess in one of our tales," he chuckled.
Fain smiled at the thought of Sylvia stalking the fauns around the village the way she did to him when they were but children. He felt a touch of melancholy at the thought his baby sister was fast approaching adulthood and these simpler times would soon enough fade into a precious memory.
Feeling his smile return, Fain realized Mosus and Asuls had in fact been truthful about their stay in the village. This fact immediately elevated the status of the two fauns far above that of Jakk and Xavier among the members of their crew.
Fain inquired further, "So, you two plan on becoming bards then?"
"Bards, thespians, authors, poets, musicians, what have you." Mosus said.
"All the little passions that define the soul of a faun," Asuls added.
"So your musicians too? I play the pipes a little, maybe we could get together in the evenings and play some," Fain asked hopefully.
Asuls seemingly out of thin air produced a diminutive pan-pipe and began limbering his fingers. Mosus raising his left hand high over head opened it. The free end of a concertina, as petite as Asuls pan-pipe, cascaded down as far as its bellows would allow. Scooping up the dangling end of the instrument in his right hand, Mosus squeezed it back together producing a long wheezing note. The compact size of the instruments the fauns wielded looked to Fain like something a traveling music instructor might carry.
The fauns broke out in a melody folks in these parts call 'The Rooster Flew Over the Roof'. Learning to play the pipes at his father's knee Tem had explained while a melody could sound the same all over Narnia, the lyrics might be totally different from place to place.
Bobbing up and down on the tips of his toes to the music's tempo a high pitched buzzing sound assailed Fain's ears. The annoyance reminded him of the mosquitoes back in Archenland that had tormented him so much. He found this difficult to fathom though because he knew even in Archenland it was too early in the season for those little bloodsuckers to have taken wing. Secondly, no insect could have survive the long frigid trip back to Midway.
...
Fain awoke basking in a warm feeling of contentment as the dream faded, unfortunately, the insistent droning sound still assailed his ears. His first thought was to check the window and to his surprise it had been closed off by a heavy wooden shutter. This plug had two metal sliding bars, one on each side to hold it in place against the winds.
The cloth embedded in the window's frame to keep out the weather had apparently succumb to the violence of the storm. The wind forcing it's way in around the shutter caused the threads and bits of shredded linen to stand out nearly horizontally and was making them vibrate like the reed of a musical instrument.
The sounds of snoring and heavy breathing coming from the weary souls sleeping on the tables and benches around him reinforced Fain's belief that it had to be near or just after midnight. The remnant of candle on the bar cast dancing shadows among the inn's roof rafters. Further proof to him Midway's denizens had gone to their beds.
Laying in the near dark his thoughts drifted back to a time he still believed some higher power was guiding their destinies. The arrival of Mosus and Asuls at that precise moment in his life could only have been an act of providence or so he thought. This event had proven to be the turning point of his life as a smuggler. Up to then his perception of life on the trail had been tainted by the unceasing grumblings of Jakk and Xavier.
The hardship of days hauling cargo through the mountains would be followed by long frustrating nights listening to father and Jakk having at each other. This all changed for the better with the fauns. The days that had previously been spent toiling at the back of the sleigh listening to the two satyrs prattling on about themselves caused him to loath them all the more. The chore now shared with Mosus and Asuls was anything but a labor.
The fauns had proven to be adequate at lugging cargo but their real contribution came in the form of good natured haranguing they aimed at everyone, including each other, helping the hours to fly by, and the nights.
Ah, the nights, the long nights huddled together in misery were now like gala affairs thanks to the fauns. Settling down for the night in some cave or crevasse father had guided them to, the fauns would regale them with all manner of song and story while the rest sat enjoying a meal.
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The depth of their abilities seemed almost bottomless to him. They could tell the same story three nights in a row and just by changing a few details here and there, the listener could almost imagine they were hearing for the first time a completely different tale.
The illusion of time swiftly passing, Mosus and Asuls might juggle snowballs by fire light. First side by side, then back and forth to each other nary missing a beat. They would sometimes slip their belt knives into the mix for an added thrill. Other nights they might offer their interpretation of heroic deeds from Narnia's past.
Bobbing up and down on their imaginary winged Pegasus, Mosus in the role of the renowned paladin Digory Kirke and Asuls as his most gracious lady Polly Plummer would streak across the skies of Narnia in a race to thwart the nefarious plans of the evil queen.
They might at other times put on a play drawing inspiration from the reign of good King Frank the first. Mosus would strut around with his tummy puffed out making him look less like a king and more like a storybook illustration of Father Christmas. Asuls, in a comically shrill female voice, would note all the wonderful pronouncements that were to guide Narnia through the centuries to come.
Tugging at heartstrings, the soul stirring dirges sung around the fire or nights recounting loves lost and good times never to come again would bring a tear to the eye. Spirited rondels performed on their instruments, the fauns would prance and twirl like fleas on a hot skillet, all for the enjoyment of their comrades.
Their comrades and anyone else fortunate enough to be in the area that evening. Tem's little group had gained quite a reputation among the brotherhood as the team to caravan with.
Crammed into some hole in the wall come night time, the enthusiasm of the audience seemed to spur Mosus and Asuls on to greater effort. He remembered his father telling him on more then one occasion that if things had turned out differently, Mosus and Asuls in all likelihood would be performing before kings and queens and heads of state by this time.
The joy of these memories all at once was smothered by a feeling of overwhelming sorrow realizing this part of his life was over, forever. He felt his heart rend in two by despair, a feeling that seemed to reach all the way to the pit of his stomach.
Not ready to yield to this malady of spirit Fain searched for memories of better times. Times when the day ahead seemed so full of promise, so full of life. That joy he felt when returning home with another consignment of aid or the chance to see the seasons change during their trips to Archenland.
Above all was the pride he held for Tem. Father seemed to exemplify The Lion's own luck sometimes. After all, had he not gathered up the living flotsam that was sometimes cast upon the shores of Midway village. Had he not from this wreckage extracted diamonds, diamonds in the form of Mosus, Asuls and Tobruk.
His heart broke again remembering the day the mountain claimed the life of beaver Ishum. Their grief would be allayed somewhat when father agreed to assume responsibility for the perplexed bear. This burden proved to be a blessing as it turned out Tobruk was a perfect match for father's little rag tag band of scalawags.
Reminiscing about those bygone days bought the smile back to his face helping to sooth the pain in his heart. He quietly chuckled remembering the spectacle they had made of themselves the first time Tobruk had tried pulling the sleigh.
The good natured laughter of onlookers filling his ears Fain tripped over his own feet planting his face in the snow, Asuls right beside him. Mosus, teetering forward tried to keep up as the sled darted away from him. Up front clinging on for dear life Azron was being dragged through the snow leaving behind him a wide furrow as he shouted repeatedly 'Stop-Tobruk-stop! Father, laughing as hard as everyone else, stretched out his arms reining in the bear.
They had faired little better on their second attempt. Bent at the waist the three of them staggered forward when the sled raced out of their reach. His tracks widely spaced in the snow Azron was struggling to keep pace with the bear.
The muted laughter this time sounded to Fain somehow forced, as if it were being issued from hearts more dark, more deceitful. Hearts seeming to take pleasure looking down on the misfortune of others. A shocking reminder to him, not all narnians wished their neighbors well.
They, far from giving up tried again. The third time would prove to be the charm, sort of. Waiting on father's command to start, he and the fauns lightly pressed their finger tips against the back of the sleigh's lode. The order having been given, the sled lurched forward forcing them to quick step in order to keep up. Striding along on the sleigh's left flank, Father had turned, giving the reinvigorated crowd a wave of appreciation.