The Undercover King, Part 2 for freudiancascade

[nfe-gremlin.livejournal.com]

Title: The Undercover King
Author: aurilly
Recipient: freudiancascade
Rating: PG
Content/Warnings: none
Summary: Tirian's half-baked scheme for espionage in Calormen gets a much-needed boost when Narnian hero Jill Pole shows up. Little do they know that the fate of the world---the prevention of the apocalypse itself---rests on their success (and also on the lumber tariffs). (pre-Last Battle AU)

Part 1




"Don’t look now!" Jill said a few days later on their walk—for she now insisted upon walking everywhere, custom be damned. "That man is staying in our hotel. He checked in two days ago."

"What man?" Tirian saw only a sea of humanity.

"The tall, beautiful one with the wavy black hair who looks like a young Clark Gable," she sighed.

"Where?" Although he had no idea who Clark Gable was, Tirian knew enough to bristle at this description.

"He’s wearing a red doublet and has a scimitar with a golden hilt. At about your ten o’clock."

Tirian finally sighted the young man, about his own age, who, yes, was comely enough, in a proud, Calormene way. He had an honest face and noble bearing.

"He looks lost, and no wonder in this labyrinth."

"He’s been studying the merchants closely," Jill said. "Almost as if he were practicing. I should know, because I’ve been watching all the Tarkheenas in the same way."

"You have?" Tirian would never have known, with how focused she always was on pointing out sights of interest and peppering him with questions about the city. Being the one to relay all sorts of information to her, instead of the other way around, made for a pleasant switch.

"Yes, but it’s difficult with everyone going around veiled like this. You can’t read their expressions. And I can’t hear a word."

"I think you’ve been convincing so far, even with little exposure. You need only stand tall, look bored, and show slavish devotion to your adoring husband."

Jill shook her head. "You really are hopeless. Anyway, I think it’s got to mean something that he’s the only other guest at the hotel right now. The harbormaster made it quite clear that we were supposed to stay here; perhaps he received similar instructions."

"Perhaps the hotel staff are preparing the rooms for a large party that has not yet arrived," Tirian suggested, not particularly interested.

"That’s exactly what I mean. The kitchen maids and cleaning boys are very agitated about it. A large party of Tarkaans is coming late next week. Perhaps we’re all part of the same group, but we and this young man have arrived early."

"How do you know all this?"

"I talk to people."

"You are better suited to this entire project than I am," Tirian conceded. It seemed so long ago that he had his nose pressed against a cabin wall and thought of her as a ‘mere girl’. "And have you spoken to yonder youth as well?"

"Not yet. Though not for lack of trying. I think he’s shy, but I’ll corner him one of these days." She pushed one of the dates Tirian had bought her under her veil and into her mouth. "He seems so unhappy."

"He has nothing to be unhappy about. He is young, strong, handsome, and rich in a country where those qualities mean everything. And he has caught a lovely young Tarkheena’s eye."

"Whose?" she asked. And then, "Oh. Ha."

************************

As the days passed, the heat, which was always intense this time of year, grew overwhelming. The hot breeze drove Tirian into their darkened bedroom in the middle of the afternoon for a nap. Jill said that if he refused to be any fun, she would play with some of the children next door.

The next thing he knew, there was a knock on the door. A pageboy in extravagant livery stood on the other side. "A message for you, my lord."

The page bowed, handed Tirian a scented scroll, and then left, walking backwards in the way of all high-level Calormene servants.

Written upon the scroll was a formal request to join the Tisroc in his private council rooms, one week hence, to discuss his recent mission and receive instructions for his next.

He stepped onto the balcony to check the progress of the sun in the sky; hours had elapsed during his nap, but Jill had not yet returned. She’d promised not to leave the immediate neighborhood without waking him first, so she had to be nearby.

Eventually, he found her in a small alcove off the reception hall, drinking tea and eating biscuits with the handsome Calormene youth she had taken such an interest in. They were sitting modestly and in full view (although out of earshot) of the hotel owner. In Narnia or Archenland, such a meeting would never cause any scandal, but Calormen had stricter notions about men and women in public.

"What do you mean by this, Haydée," he scolded, only half-feigning his dismay, "taking tea with strange men in this way?"

"You do me wrong, Arsheesh, moon of my life," Jill sing-songed. "As if any man could divert my eyes from the portrait I carry of you always in my heart."

(Jill was an excellent actress, but when delivering such lines she sometimes had difficulty repressing a giggle. She usually passed it off as an aborted sneeze.)

"The lady fainted in the street, my lord," the young man said, rising only to bow almost to the floor. "I carried her inside and arranged for her to have some fortifying refreshment. I meant to stay only until she was better."

What little anger Tirian felt vanished at this news. He rushed to Jill's side and knelt beside her. "Are you well again, my dearest?" he asked, and it was no act.

"Much better now, thank you. I needed only some lemon water and snacks and a break from the heat. But I am delighted that you have awoken from your rest, oh angel of my life," Jill continued, and thankfully she was veiled so that no one could see the way Tirian was sure her lips were quirking upwards in a smile. "May I present to you my rescuer, Emeth Tarkaan, seventh son of Harpa Tarkaan of the city of Teshishbaa. It transpires that his mission is quite the same as yours. Since he, too, has arrived before the bulk of the party, and is alone in Tashbaan, I thought we could all dine together in our rooms this evening, if such a thing would please you."

Emeth made another well-practiced bow. "It is an honour to meet you, my lord, and to have rendered any service to your gracious and beautiful wife."

"You don’t even know what I look like," Jill couldn’t help but laugh under her veil, but so charmingly that Emeth did not guess it was a break in character.

"One so delightful must also be beautiful. For as the poets have said—"

Tirian gritted his teeth and pulled himself up to his most imposing height. "In gratitude for the service you provided my lady wife, you may dine with us this evening, but on one condition."

"Yes, my lord?"

"No poetry."

************************

They barely made it to the staircase before Tirian exploded.

"Jill, I cannot countenance the thought of—"

"You’re the first Tarkaan scout to return from the North with news of how well the undercover troops are infiltrating Narnia, Archenland and Galma," she breathlessly interrupted.

"What?" He’d actually been referring to her fainting fit in the street, and the attending fright such a story had brought him. If anything happened to her… The thought was too awful to bear. This sudden deluge of information was wholly unexpected.

"That’s what Emeth has heard about you," she said. "Or about the real Arsheesh, at any rate. That’s why he’s here. He’s part of the second wave of the underground invasion. They’re supposed to head out in a couple of weeks, but they’re waiting for more reports to come in before finalizing their plans. He’s terribly upset about it."

"He’s upset about it!" Tirian roared. "About an underground invasion of my country!"

"Not so loud, Tir… Arsheesh. Have you gone mad?" Jill covered Tirian’s mouth with her palm before he could launch into another outburst. She kept it there until they were safely in their room, with the door closed behind them. "He’s upset because they’re to pose as merchants, but as an invasion technique, not just as spies. And that’s a thing Tarkaans simply do not do. I’m only telling you so you know how to talk to him."

"How did you get him to reveal all this?"

"I pretended to have a fainting fit and need saving. He came almost on cue. He reminds me of you in that way---chivalrous to a fault. You’ll like him. He already looks up to you."

"He doesn’t even know me."

Jill bit her lip and looked away. "I may have been telling him about you."

"Telling him what?"

"That you’re brave and just and noble. A good leader and a dangerous warrior. And one of the kindest men I’ve ever met."

Tirian was glad of his fake tan, as Jill called it, for never in his life had he felt so inclined to blush. "I don’t sound very much like a Tarkaan."

"All that matters is that you sound like someone he should be friends with. He’s really very nice, Tirian. I think we can trust him."

"Trust him with what?" Tirian interjected before her generous mood could turn rash.

"That’s what I intend to find out tonight. At the very least, I think he can help us gain access to more information about what the Tisroc intends. And at best, he could be a partner with us."

"Your faith in everyone you meet does you credit, but I think you overreach." Tirian handed her the scroll to read. "I received an invitation today."

"The Tisroc! Oh, Tirian. This is perfect."

"Nay, dear Jill. This is the end." And only now did he confess the grave worry that had been growing in his mind ever since receiving the summons. "We may have been able to fool our fellow passengers and the people here at the hotel, but I have met the Tisroc before. He, unlike the last one, is no doddering fool. We played and sparred together when we were still only princes. He knows my face and build and manner. No simple haircut or disguise will fool him. If I meet with him, as this invitation says I must, the game will be up."

"We’ll find a way," Jill said with her usual sunny optimism. This time, however, Tirian could not share in it. Given the danger, not only to himself, but now also to Jill, he thought it wise to at least consider the possibility of an escape.

For now he saw what Jill had tried to tell him on her first day. Through rash impulse and a selfish desire for personal satisfaction, he, like his ancestor Rilian, had strayed too far from home. If he were to die here in Calormen, Narnia would be plunged into a crisis no less dire than the one Jill and Eustace had previously averted; not only would the throne be left without a successor, but the Tisroc’s armies would strike without mercy, knowing the land to be vulnerable.

All these fears he harbored in his heart, but he was loath to dampen her good cheer, so kept quiet.

Jill went down to the kitchens to order a sumptuous feast while Tirian ensured that all unnatural objects in their suite—photographs, novels, British currency—were out of sight before their guest arrived.

Emeth arrived punctually, full of bromides about the beauty of their quarters and the splendidness of the feast and his own unworthiness to bask in their company… Tirian was terribly bored and wondered what Jill had seen in the man. But after they'd gotten past such formalities, plied him with a bit of wine, and exhorted him to please stop it, the evening began to be especially pleasant. With his well-bred manners and intelligent conversation, Tirian soon found himself almost as enamored of Emeth as Jill was.

Emeth told them of life in Calormen’s western territories, where cascades of purple water fell into pools filled with frolicking seahorses and starfish, and where Tarkaans and Tarkheenas spent weeks on pleasure cruises steered only by the whims of the currents. He told tales of his youth in the high Calormene manner, which Jill had never before experienced, and wove a spell of personal endearment similar to, yet wholly different from hers.

"And despite all this, you left," Tirian said, turning the conversation back to more pressing topics.

"I was called," Emeth said. "Or rather, I volunteered. I know it is a shameful thing to desire, but long have I set my heart upon seeing these northern lands. My destiny has always seemed to lie hence. Especially Narnia, where they say the animals speak as fluidly as thou or I, and where the trees dance in the springtime."

"They dance all year round," Tirian said before he could stop himself, leaning back into his chair and missing home with all of his being. "They dance with the fauns and with Bacchus himself, wading into the river to join hands with the naiads in celebration of each season. The rivers may not run purple, but Narnia is unparalleled for beauty."

"I believe it. I envy the chance you have had to see the place at its loveliest, before it all falls."

"But why must it fall?" Jill asked.

"Even without our troops, they say that Narnia under this new king is ripe for conquest, for he distances himself from the workings of his government, choosing to spend his days in remote summer cottages and the company of his friends."

Tirian stood, forgetting himself in his anger.

"We have some delicious-looking sweetmeats for dessert," Jill quickly announced. "Sit, dearest, and let me serve them."

Tirian fell back into his seat, wishing he could cover his eyes in shame, for he knew that what Emeth said was rooted in the truth.

"My husband has been away for many weeks," Jill said while Tirian recovered himself. "What news do you have for us regarding the plans?"

Emeth told them of the troop of eight-and-twenty Tarkaans that was to arrive within the week. Together, they would meet with the Tisroc himself and receive their instructions. Their leader was a man named Rishda Tarkaan, a general known more for his ruthlessness than for his military acumen. Emeth longed to see Narnia and the northern lands, but had he known what sort of company and what sort of devilry he would be involved with, he confessed he might have politely declined the post in favor of another.

"What if you didn’t have to?" Jill asked, and from the way she squinted one eye and bit down extra hard on her cake, Tirian could tell she was working out some deeply complex thought.

Emeth somehow managed both to stiffen and slump in his chair. "I could never shirk my duty."

"I don’t mean shirking," Jill clarified. "I meant… What if you could convince the Tisroc—may-he-live-forever—to change the plan? To convince him to deal with Narnia and Archenland in some other way."

"I would jump at the opportunity. My dream is to meet these Narnians in open battle, not this skulking underhandedness. Or even to learn first-hand from their leaders; poor legislator though he may be, I have heard great tales of this new king’s military prowess. They say he has single-handedly slayed fearsome giants and fire-breathing dragons. Even if I were to fail, I would be honoured to die at the hand of such a warrior."

"Oh, well that’s a bit better," Tirian murmured.

"Dragons!" Jill said almost at the same time. She looked at Tirian questioningly. "You never told me about that."

Tirian shrugged. "It was a feat hardly worth boasting of."

"And yet Eustace hiding in a cave because he didn’t want to do any work is one of your favorite stories…"

Tirian turned to Emeth before their conversation strayed too far. "Do you mean this? You would be willing to go to Narnia under a different scheme than the noxious one you—we—are currently tasked with?"

"Of course. As long as the cause and means were noble. But how could I—only a seventh son—achieve a redirection of minds and wills so much greater than my own?"

Jill took a deep breath. "I have an idea."

"Haydée," Tirian said as a warning.

"I really think it’s all right," she told him, already dropping her Calormene mannerisms. "And I do think you ought to respect my ability to judge character. I did help release a raving lunatic who turned out to be an enchanted prince, after all."

Tirian leaned back in his chair and sighed. He did not disagree; it was plain to see that the young man beside them was every bit as desirable a friend as Jewel. Still, he sometimes enjoyed teasing Jill, so he feigned irritation when he said, "Oh, very well. Have it your way."

Emeth looked between them, confused.

"I fear your graces have left me behind in the conversation."

"You cannot even begin to imagine."

************************

It took the rest of the evening to convince Emeth that they spoke the truth about who they were and why they had come. At first, he was incensed by what he perceived as cruel and vulgar prank. Only when Jill scooped ashes from the fireplace, mixed them with oil from the breadbasket, and rubbed the paste over their faces to reveal entirely different complexions did Emeth finally begin to relent.

But even then, he simply thought her an Archenland girl—a fearless adventurer and secret lover of the Narnian king. Though the injunction against invoking the poets hampered his eloquence, he launched into earnest soliloquies about the magic and power of forbidden romance. Tirian and Jill gaped for a minute, stunned, before putting a stammering and hideously embarrassed stop to the notion.

("You needn’t deny it with such vigor," Tirian muttered once the episode was over.

"I was only following your lead," she replied, equally miffed.)

Calormene children only ever learned Calormene history and feats of valor; so, the tales of Narnia’s helpers from another world were wholly unknown to Emeth. It took a tour through Jill’s luggage to convince him, but once he believed, he sagged in his seat, his worldview shaken.

"A world of men—multiple worlds of men, if I understand this forest story correctly… And you, of all of them, chosen to visit us and help this young king." He dropped to his knees before her. "To thee, o fiery Jill, I swear my undying fealty. I shall be your sword, your faithful worshipper, your sworn protector, and if my death should come by my duty, then, by Tash and all the gods, it will be a well-met end."

"I don’t need a sworn protector," Jill quickly said, "and having a faithful worshipper sounds like more trouble than it’s worth. I’d much rather just be pals."

Some of Tirian’s initial hesitation to divulge their secrets to their new friend stemmed from an irrational fear of brooking even more disapproval. Emeth had spoken of his disgust for his assigned lower-class disguise, which led Tirian to assume that such ruses should be beneath the dignity of kings. However, in his wisdom, Emeth did not judge Tirian harshly. Calormen had begun playing this game first, he said. It was only fair of Narnia to retaliate in kind, and Tirian’s ploy, he reasoned, was one only of espionage—a task any great lord may perform without debasing himself. And, he said, it was hardly as though Tirian looked to invade Calormen by the same means.

"You strike me as a man of honour, and indeed, the friendship this lady bears you only proves it," he told Tirian. "I will help you in the scheme the lady proposes. But I must secure your solemn vow that as soon as we have convinced the Tisroc—may he live forever—to discontinue the current scheme, we will also encourage him to dispatch his generals and the whole host of his armies instead."

"That’s not really what I—" Jill tried to argue.

"Our friend’s request is an fair one, Jill. We cannot ask him to disavow his kinsmen and turn tailcoat for our whim alone. I would not wish such dishonour upon thee." Tirian gripped Emeth by the shoulder and continued, "It would be an honour to meet you on the battlefield as two honest warriors. I wager the duel would tax us both, and I cannot now guess which of us would be the victor."

Emeth raised his glass, a final confirmation that he was with them. "I look forward to the day."

Tirian raised his glass as well. "Truth be told, it is after the battle that I shall relish, when we can meet again as friends and share a bottle of wine while we recount our brave deeds."

Jill groaned. "I’m not sure how I’ll be able to stand the two of you together. It’s worse than Shakespeare."

The next few days were busier than any Tirian had ever lived. Although Emeth’s room was two floors below, the three of them lived almost out of one another’s pockets, parting only to sleep. In preparation for Jill’s plan, they took trips to the tombs and pleasure gardens and woods around Tashbaan, choreographing picture after picture according to a narrative of Jill’s invention. They purchased fantastical costume elements from the markets at Tashbaan, put her Christmas presents to use, and rented a small menagerie for their elaborate compositions. Emeth wrote speeches in the high Calormene style; he practiced with Jill until she could deliver them as well as any courtier.

Despite focusing on their preparations, they also made time to enjoy themselves. They took breaks to explore the city, took in an evening of theatre, and even were able to join in on a carnival-type party in one of the squares. At night and in briefly snatched quiet moments, Tirian continued to pore over the words of the Bard Dickens, asking Jill for explanations and builds upon all the new concepts he encountered. Emeth, who knew even less than Tirian about Jill’s strange world, simply listened, soaking up every bit of information with rapt attention.

"My friend Jewel would admire and love you, I believe," Tirian told Emeth one day.

Emeth had heard enough about Jewel to understand the compliment that was being paid him. "Perhaps one day we shall meet."

Just as Tirian’s estimation of Emeth’s worth increased daily to impossible heights, so did Emeth’s opinion of Narnia’s lackadaisical king. On the eve before their great scheme, Emeth bowed to Tirian and said, "If words could be retracted, so would I erase the hearsay I repeated of you. It was mere gossip, vulgar, uninformed, and incorrect."

"Think no more on it, my friend," Tirian replied. "For there was truth in the sentiment, and Jill had already told me something similar."

************************

"Well, here we go," Jill said through the curtains of her litter as Tirian and Emeth, veiled in the manner of the hermits of the far Western countries---but with a colourful twist---carried her through the streets of Tashbaan up to the top of the island where the Tisroc’s palace lay.

It was the evening scheduled for Tirian’s own visit, which was why they had decided upon today for the unrolling of their plan. If Tirian’s visit was to be missed, a distraction would have to take its place.

And a memorable distraction was what they had in mind.

"If this goes badly, the lady will be burnt as a witch, you will be taken as a slave, and I will hang from the battlements," Emeth whispered to Tirian during a pause in their route.

"I will break my bonds and rescue you both before that happens. I would rather jump from the tower to our deaths together, rather than see either of you meet such an end."

"Your courtesy almost causes me to regret our future battle, for it will pain me to have to fell such a noble companion."

"Then we must hope that I will be the one to deliver the killing stroke, thus sparing you the pain of having destroyed a friend."

"I still don’t see why you can’t just skip all that and be friends like normal people," Jill, who was listening, interjected. "It’s obvious you want to."

"Hush, before you are discovered," Tirian told her.

They made bold and walked right up to the front gate of the palace. Tirian and Emeth set the litter on the ground, and in great style, Jill came out.

She was dressed outlandishly, in an outfit the three of them had cobbled together from the contents of her luggage and purchases from the bazaar. Her pale skin, cleansed of the paste, looked even more foreign in this crowd, and even more dramatic with the use of dark kohl around her eyes. If Tirian had thought her a sorceress once before, the guards at the gates must have thought her the greatest witch since the one who reigned winter upon the Northern lands for a hundred years.

(She was styling herself after Marlene Dietrich as the Scarlet Empress, she’d told them, whatever that meant.)

"My name is Pole," she said, quite truthfully, in the imposing style Emeth had taught her. "I have come from beyond the world’s end to this land, with the goal of granting the Tisroc the gift of an interview with me. Now would be a convenient time. Send for him. Should he refuse, I will call down the fire of the sun and the stars and the wild beasts, for magic such as mine will not be turned away at the door."

This was the moment, Tirian thought. The first of a few in which, if this did not work, they would all be executed.

The four guards looked at one another, questioning. Finally, they nodded to fifth, who took one look at the situation and went running inside. After only a few minutes, the gates opened and the Grand Vizier himself—an old man Tirian remembered from his youth—met them inside.

Tirian reflexively pulled his hood lower when he felt the eyes of the Vizier passed over him. But disguised as he was, the man took no more notice of him than of any servant.

Jill repeated her speech, this time with even more hauteur. The poor old man looked frightened out of his wits.

(Narnians had many silly foibles and were superstitious in their own way, but Calormenes had a special fascination with and horror of witches; they were as impressionable when faced with this particular brand of mysticism as Narnians were when presented with ghost stories.)

"The Tisroc has spied you from his windows and grants you an audience, sorceress Pole."

Jill swept past them, and now more than ever, Tirian hoped she’d be able to keep a straight face. The guards were about to shut the doors behind her, but Jill raised her arm imperiously.

"My men are to wait for me nearby. An private, adjoining room would do."

The guards and Grand Vizier looked at one another again, but acquiesced, allowing Emeth and Tirian to follow at the end of the procession.

"Here you will stay until your mistress’s audience is finished," the Vizier told them.

The servants moved to relieve Jill of the large, embroidered purse she carried over one shoulder, but she stepped back, protecting it. "I give my word that no weapon is contained herein."

The door was shut, and Tirian and Emeth found themselves alone in the quickly darkening room. Tirian lit a lamp while Emeth rooted through their bag (it was made out of one of Jill’s dresses, a pattern called ‘polka dot’ that no one in any of the lands of this world had ever seen, and which would connote the otherworldly aspect they were cultivating).

One of Jill’s many possessions, the one they had with them now, was something called a ‘walkie-talkie’; she said it was normally only used in the military, but her father was something of a ‘technology hound’, always buying things long before they were ‘commercially available’.

All Emeth and Tirian understood was that this black device—just as menacing as the camera—allowed two users to communicate despite being too far away to speak. While Tirian was still most enthralled by the idea of the photographs, Emeth’s passion was for this transference of sound. And when Jill told him about telephones and radios, he’d asked for a quiet moment during which he could fully take it all in.

"Ensure that the mute button is on," Tirian said. Emeth nodded and pointed at the flashing red light.

"And now it is time for Jill to enchant the Tisroc, may he live forever," Emeth said. "Metaphorically."

As they listened in, the walking soon stopped and heavy doors creaked open. Shuffling of feet signaled the departure of the servants, leaving Jill with the Tisroc himself. ("There will be some deaf and dumb servants, too, for protection," Emeth said.)

"You say you are a sorceress from beyond the world’s end," the Tisroc said. Tirian recognized the voice, cold and proud and intelligent. He would not easily be taken in; Jill would have to be at her best for this to work. Luckily, much of this ruse depended on the truth, and as she’d told him upon disembarking from the ship weeks ago, ‘acting is always easiest when it isn’t acting at all.’

"You have heard of the Great Lion of Narnia?" she asked.

"The demon god of the North. What of it?"

"You may also have heard of the great warriors he has brought forth in that country’s defense. Kings and Queens and heroes who appear when the land is most in need. Young visitors with enough power to defeat the deepest magic from the dawn of time."

"You refer to the King Edmund and the Queen Susan, I suppose. Those stories were already fairy tales hundreds of years ago." The Tisroc already sounded bored and suspicious. "You will need to provide more compelling conversation if you are to continue with this audience instead of being drawn and quartered by my guards as an insolent imposter. You are not the first woman to prey on a Tisroc’s superstitions and curiosity. And I warn you; it does not often end well."

Tirian grasped his sword—a Lone Islands antique bought at great expense to look as foreign as possible—but Emeth’s hand on his arm stayed him.

"She only just begins, my liege. The time has not yet come to defend her. She is well-prepared."

"Fairy tales," Jill continued, as though the Tisroc had said nothing at all. "Fairy tales that never die, and who, unbeknownst to you, can return to bring your doom. Look and see how they live on, smiling, waiting."

There was a rustling ("She’s showing him the photographs of her friends," Emeth said).

"Here in this castle there exists a portrait of that beauteous barbarian queen," Jill said. "Try to deny that this is a match."

"How does she know this?" Tirian asked Emeth, this part of the script only just now impressing itself upon him. "About the portrait. I have never heard of such a thing."

"One of the cooks in the mansion next to the hotel was formerly in the employ of the palace’s curator of paintings and artworks. Jill set her son’s broken leg and received the entire tale of secret galleries."

"Night falls quickly at this hour. I cannot see what you wish me to inspect," the Tisroc said, and then gasped.

"Perhaps this will aid your eyes," she said. (Tirian guessed that Jill must have switched on the flashlight.)

There was a long pause, and Tirian could hear the soft plush of the throne sinking under the weight of the Tisroc as he leaned into it—hopefully in astonishment and dismay.

"It is a match," he said, finally sounding afraid. "A miracle. Images snatched from life, through time and reality. This woman lived over a thousand years ago… I never believed she lived at all. And yet she is here.. there… with you in this place. Immortality." This Tisroc finally stopped his rambling and collected himself; Tirian wondered if he was wiping his brow (he’d always been a bit sweaty). "Your magic has done this? You are responsible for such visions made tangible?"

"I hope this proves I am no mere Charlemagne… charlatan, I mean."

"You possess magic greater than that I have ever encountered."

Tirian and Emeth huddled even closer together, the walkie-talkie between them, hopeful for the first time.

"I have come expressly to give you a warning," Jill said next. "I know all about the plan you have in place to invade Narnia, and I am here to command you to stop."

And now Tirian’s heart flew into his mouth, and it was Emeth’s turn to grasp his sword, for the Tisroc laughed. "Showing me visions of another life and another time is one skill, but how do you propose to stop me? It would take magic greater than this to divert my plans. For Calormen is on the verge of ruin, say the prophets. They have read the tealeaves and see a great doom befalling us unless we do this. I have seen it myself, in my dreams."

"Your dreams?"

"Nightmares of lizards and shooting stars and all the land dying around me," the Tisroc whispered.

Emeth noticed Tirian shivering. "What is it, my friend?"

"I see the same thing every night. The Tisroc is driven by the same fears I am. I know not what to make of it."

"But you do not ravage other countries through trickery and low means." Something dark and disappointed hung over Emeth’s face; Tirian almost regretted having brought him into all this and destroyed his faith in his ruler.

While talking between themselves, they’d missed some of the conversation.

"I do what I do," the Tisroc’s voice continued, his disembodied words all the more meaningful when projected through this strange device, "only to protect my people, and provide for them—with lumber and coal and slaves. To build stores so that we may survive the darkness that comes."

"Why don’t you simply renegotiate the lumber tariffs? And ask for more imports of coal and other goods? I’m sure if you explained these matters and prophesies to Tirian, he would help you. This scheme of sending Tarkaan warriors as merchants and enslaving the innocent beasts and creatures may accomplish what you need, but there are easier ways about it."

The Tisroc laughed. "Your magic may be great, Sorceress Pole, but you speak of matters you do not understand. My warriors are already placed, with more on their way. The plan is in motion, and soon to succeed. Narnia naps in autumnal decadence. We will be victorious."

"You will not. And I will show you how."

Tirian nudged Emeth’s shoulder. "And now we come to the crux of it."

"I, too, have seen visions of the future," Jill continued, improvising the Tisroc’s own conversation into the plan. "I have plucked them from my mind and imprinted them into physical form."

They heard Jill pulling out another set of photographs. These were recent creations, taken all around Tashbaan over the past week—elaborate compositions set in their hotel rooms (disguised to look like other places), and in alleyways and the countryside outside the city; photographs that included Calormene children from outside the city, who’d spent an afternoon posing in front of the strange machine in exchange for servings of sherbet. Monkeys, donkeys and other animals arranged to look as large and as intelligent as the Talking Beasts of Narnia. Emeth was particularly proud of a shot including himself and Tirian lying dead and bloodied on the ground, covered in chocolate sauce, which in the colourless effect of the photographs, appeared to be blood seeping from two great Calormene warriors.

The overall effect was a haunting and evocative picture of annihilation, the absolute end of Calormen, with snow (sugar) sprinkled on terrain that had never seen winter. Imaginative and original compositions, all, which Jill said would look as good in a museum as any of the contemporary works of art she had lately seen.

"What is this?" the Tisroc asked in a trembling voice.

"This is what will occur if you continue with this plan. The King of Narnia knows all, and he would like to tell you in his own words that you cannot do this thing."

"Tirian? But he is not here. He sits in Cair Paravel."

"He does, but that does not mean he cannot speak with you now."

This was their cue. Emeth pressed the mute button again to release the transmission of Tirian’s voice so that it would sound through the cloth of Jill’s purse, where the machine’s mate lay hidden.

"This is Tirian, King of Narnia," Tirian said, trying to sound as much like himself as possible. "With a message from Cair Paravel. The ruse is over, your spies dislodged. The winter may come, but there is room for more than one to survive, else we perish together."

They heard the squeaking of an ottoman against the marble floor as the Tisroc pushed himself back in terror. "Tirian? Yes, it is indeed his voice and trick of speech. By what magic are you speaking to me now?"

"This lady is my champion, and causes my voice to carry across the desert to you. The invasion you plan will not succeed, for though we are a little country, we have mighty defenders. Reconsider your plot, Tisroc." Tirian cleared his throat. "I, too, have dreamt of ravaged lands and starless skies."

"Have you?"

"This doom, whatever it is, comes for us all. Underhanded schemes cannot avert it. Band with me and with Archenland, and perhaps we can all live."

"I will band with you," the Tisroc said. "Lest the power of this witch burn me in my slumber."

"Send ambassadors and we shall talk. Until then, farewell." Having played his part, Tirian muted the walkie-talkie again.

"That is the entirety of my visit," Jill said. "Before I take my leave, I demand your promise to leave Narnia in peace, or at the least, to declare war and come with your armies in daylight, to defeat them through honest battle."

"You have frightened and awed me, Sorceress Pole. I make you this promise."

There was no more conversation after that. Tirian and Emeth assumed Jill had dramatically swept out of the room, which meant she was on her way back to them. They packed up their machinery so that by the time the door opened to reveal her and the guards on the other side, they were innocently waiting.

Their exit from the palace went smoothly. Jill climbed into her litter and Tirian and Emeth carried it out of the courtyard. Only once they were out and had passed through multiple streets did they allow themselves to breathe or speak.

"We did it!" Jill whispered through the cloth.

"You were masterful, lady," Emeth said.

"Yes, it was very well done," Tirian agreed. "The equal of the greatest feat ever achieved by any Narnian or English visitor."

"Continue on as you have been, my liege," Emeth whispered a few minutes later. "But we are followed."

"How many?" Tirian asked. He had expected as much.

"Six of the palace guards, three mercenaries, two cavalrymen, and perhaps more," Emeth counted without turning around again. "We are flanked to our southwest, northeast and rear."

"I am known for the swiftness of my blade, and I have no doubt your arm is as strong as mine, but these might be too many for us to parry."

"Is everything all right?" Jill asked from inside the litter.

"We soon must fly, lady," Emeth said. "We have many shadows, all of them hostile. The Tisroc’s word was false."

Jill’s face poked through a slit in the curtains, paler than he had seen her in some weeks. "I didn’t plan for this. Silly of me not to think of it. And now…"

"Ah, Jill, you have done more than your part already. This is my arena. Poor spy though I may be, I do know something about anticipating an enemy’s movements and planning accordingly. Fear not, Jill and Emeth. We have only to fight those who stand in our way. There is a sailboat waiting for us nearby to take us to the far bank of the river, and then horses saddled and quenched standing by the ancient tombs. We will follow in the footsteps of King Cor and Queen Aravis and ride for Anvard before they can catch us."

"And back to Narnia!" Jill exclaimed. "Tirian, it’s brilliant and you never mentioned a word about setting all this up."

"I did not wish to alarm you, and had hoped it would be prove an unnecessary precaution."

Tirian and Emeth continued to carry the litter, holding their disguises for as long as the soldiers sent to kill them hung back.

"Emeth," Tirian said, "we must now part ways. For I would not ask you to turn your sword on your own countrymen. If you leave us now and stand aside to let me fight, I will still count you an honourable man. It pains me to leave you, but I will understand."

"Nay, my liege, I confess that after listening to the Tisroc and now seeing how he plays foul with us, the sun has become dark in my eyes and the allegiances of my existence thus far have been called into question. I am a rudderless ship looking for a wind, but I have not far to seek. My sword and my heart now lie with you. And I would fain watch the Lady Jill be slaughtered."

"I am glad to hear it. On three," Tirian said.

They dropped the litter, covered for Jill while she climbed out, and then ran headlong at the now onrushing soldiers. Emeth fought bravely and fiercely, gutting a foot soldier and disarming three palace guards, while Tirian took on four men at one time.

Successful and dangerous as they were, the foes numbered too many, and before long the trio was forced to run.

"This way!" Tirian led them down an alley and around some corners to a place where the street ran into the water. A little sailboat bobbed a few feet from where the stone pavement ended.

"We jump, and then swim for the boat," Tirian said, as the last of the soldiers rounded last corner and began to descend upon them. "On my count…"

Hand in hand in hand they jumped. They sank deep into the river, but when they kicked themselves back up to the surface, the little sailboat was nowhere to be seen. In fact, all of Tashbaan had disappeared and been replaced by an old, quiet forest bathed in a warm green light, and the great river itself had shrunk to the size of a pond.

Jill, Tirian and Emeth waded together for a moment, looking at one another in astonishment, before Emeth led the way to the grassy bank. He climbed out first and then lent a hand to assist first Jill and then Tirian.

"What a queer place," Jill said.

"Can you not guess where you are, dear one?" The deep and beautiful voice came from behind them.

Tirian turned around, but he already knew who must be there. The Great Lion himself, his heart’s desire, stood between two of the closest trees, framed by leaves that almost formed a radiant throne around him.

"Aslan!" Jill, rarely shy, even now, ran and threw her arms around his neck, deep into his mane. He licked her face, and she giggled.

"You have done well, child," Aslan told her. "And with no need for signs. Never again should you feel secondary."

"It was an awfully close call, though."

"It was enough."

Tirian drew near, his knees knocking like a schoolboy’s, and knelt. He feared a reprimand for his past errors, and decided the manly thing to do would be to own up to it straightaway.

"Jill’s help would not even have been needed had I been paying more attention," he tried to apologize, but Aslan simply breathed upon him and spread a happy warmth all over his face.

"Rise, Tirian, no longer the last King of Narnia. You, also, have done well. A lesson learned is often more powerful than one that never needs to be taught. You are ready to helm Narnia in this, the beginning of a second age. For the rhythms begin again, and times realign. The crisis is over. Your nightmares will cease. The great clock of all the worlds restarts."

"Have there been troubles in other worlds, too?" Tirian asked.

Aslan nodded at the ponds surrounding them. "Yes, and simultaneously, as the laws of time periodically dictate. But the Ring has been destroyed, the White Walkers once again slumber in their frozen depths, the boy who was Queen has been crowned, the danger for Narnia is averted, and the war in Jill’s own world is now over."

These were more lands and more tales that Tirian would never know.

"Emeth, my son," Aslan said next. "Come."

"Alas, I cannot, in good faith, accept the title you give me, oh Glorious One," Emeth said sadly with downcast eyes. "I do not deserve it. The whole of my life has been a lie, I see now. But if I am to die, I would rather it be at your doing, and at the side of these friends."

Aslan roared, but it was more like a laugh than anything else. He leaned over Emeth and whispered many words that Tirian could not hear. Minutes later, Emeth rose, and looked questioningly between Tirian and Jill.

"What is it, Emeth?" Jill asked.

"I have been given a choice. I can either accompany you to your place and experience the most wonderful adventure that ever befell anyone in the world. Or I can go to Cair Paravel with Tirian. Calormen is a land now shut to me, and I am to make my home elsewhere. For we are at a fork. A fork with infinite tines, and it is here and now that we must part ways."

"Part ways? Oh, Aslan."

"Yes, Jill. It is time for you to return home."

Jill sighed, and slipped her hand into Tirian’s. "I knew it. I’m older than Peter was when it was his last time. I only just squeaked by."

Tirian’s heart broke. Only now did he notice Jill’s trusty luggage sitting nearby, with her greatcoat and the ugly wool hat---now so familiar that it had become beautiful to him---folded on top. He looked down at his hands and saw that even without ashes and oil, he had been cleansed of the juice. Moreover, his disguise had been replaced by Narnian linens in bright, royal colours. All was ready for their respective returns.

"We will lead Jill to her exit point. And upon reentering this pond, Tirian," Aslan said, "you will find yourself back in your palace. Jill's miraculous disappearance from Tashbaan will only further convince the Tisroc of her claims. The ambassadors he promised to send will soon arrive to negotiate peace."

"Must she go, Aslan?" Tirian dared to plead. "She is better suited to what comes next than I will ever be. I confess, the dearest wish of my heart is to make her queen—"

"What?" she sputtered, turning pink. But that was not what he meant, not exactly, not today.

"—to rule with her as equals, as did her four friends so long ago. Together, through her goodness, we could create a second Golden Age, I am sure of it."

Jill looked up at him, astonished. "Do you really mean that?"

"With all my heart, my lady."

She wrapped her arms around his waist, and he rested his chin on her head.

"Your idea does you credit, Tirian," Aslan replied, "but Jill has a whole world that needs her, too, perhaps not as queen, but in ways just as important. And you have all the wisdom you need to accomplish the tasks ahead."

Tirian glanced at Emeth, who pretended not to notice Tirian’s hot tears.

"I could not vanish without first setting right that which has gone wrong in Narnia," Emeth said. "The spies still remain and the threads of the plot still require unraveling. If it please your grace, I would join you at Cair Paravel for as long as you will have me, poor consolation though I am."

"I would not have you deprive yourself of such a chance as the one given you."

"As Aslan is my Lord, so are you my King. I go where I am most needed. Though I am also loath to part with the lady, my place is by your side."

Tirian stretched out his hand and drew Emeth to him. "We shall be friends until a warrior’s death or old age separates us."

"I’m so glad you’ve decided to skip your silly battle," Jill said.

Emeth knelt before her and took her hand to kiss. "It has been an honour, fairest and wisest of all damsels, who plucked me from obscurity and saved me."

Jill flushed in embarrassment and pulled him to his feet and into a hug. "Oh stop it. I did nothing of the sort."

Instead of turning to Tirian for a final farewell, she went to her bag of tricks one last time.

"Don’t forget," she said, and handed him the envelope of photographs, the Dickens, and also a new book. "This is the one I actually wanted you to start the other night when it was too dark. It’s one of my absolute favorites."

Tirian glanced at the cover. The Scarlet Pimpernel. "What sort of tale is this?"

"It’s another French Revolution story. This time about an English nobleman who, on a lark, decides to go undercover in France on a rescue mission… and the lady who helps him. You might like it," she said with a sly smile.

"Yes, I believe I might." But he was still thinking, trying to delay her inevitable departure. As a final attempt, he turned to Aslan again. "Jill has told me how after his death, my ancestor King Caspian, traveled to her world from yours. Was that a special boon granted only to him, or may others earn the privilege?"

"Death is not a requirement, my son. To travel between worlds, one has only to be needed."

Hope blossomed. "Could I ever be needed?"

And if lions and gods could wink, Aslan did now. "Perhaps."

Jill, who was busy putting on her coat and hat, jumped with such excitement that she almost fell into a pond.

"Think of the fun we would have! Aslan, could Emeth come, too?"

"The offer, once made, could be reestablished."

Jill clasped Emeth’s and Tirian’s hands and danced around with them in a circle, albeit rather clumsily, since her winter shoes were cumbersome in the thick grass.

"I shall endeavour with every breath to deserve such a voyage, and shall spend every moment waiting for the happy day," Tirian promised Aslan.

But, as was often the case with Tirian’s finest and most earnestly felt speeches, Jill shook her head. "No, that won’t do. Visiting worlds is a bit like putting a pot to boil. It happens when you stop waiting for it and start busying yourself with something else instead."

"Well said, Jill."

It was a comparison between the greatest adventure imaginable and… menial kitchen duties. But if Tirian had learned anything these past weeks, it was that the smallest tasks and concerns were often the largest.

"But I haven’t even got the rings," she said to Aslan when she was ready and they’d walked a few minutes to the pool Aslan said led to her world.

"With me, you have no need of rings, for as Narnia is mine, so is this wood, and all the worlds, though my form changes in each one."

He led them to a nearby pond that was identical to all the rest. "Through here lies your world. You have only to take your things and enter the water."

Jill embraced them all one last time.

"I’ve had the nicest time, all thanks to you," she whispered to Tirian alone, her eyes filling with tears and challenging his own efforts at stoicism. "I can’t say goodbye."

"I find the words fail me as well, but no matter. We will meet again, sweet Jill." He cupped her face and placed a simple kiss to the tip of her nose. She hovered in front of him for a moment before returning the gesture with a quick and blushing peck on the cheek.

Jill took a deep breath and waded into the pool, dragging her heavy bag behind her. Then she was gone.

On the short walk back to their pond of origin, Tirian told himself not to mourn, for Aslan had all but promised he and Emeth would see her again; he would visit the great city of London and learn what she meant by ‘taking the Tube’. Perhaps he would have the chance to render a service to those who had rendered so many to him and his kind. And Aslan had not said Jill could never return; that was only her assumption, and Tirian now knew how little assumptions were worth. With time realigned as Aslan had said, perhaps…

And until then, he remembered, as his books weighed heavy in his hand, there was much to explore.

Tirian took Emeth’s arm and jumped.




Original Prompt that we sent you: I’m a sucker for narrative, and for the act of storytelling. How does one transform their experiences into the stuff of legend (and, at the same time, what kind of negotiation with the truth must occur in order to tell a good story?). Narnian mythology or history, perhaps? How about untold adventures, the exchange of letters, or maybe the Pevensies swapping tales to pass the time?

Alternately (or perhaps simultaneously), any adventure involving capable ladies in active roles will make me very, very happy!

Prompt words/objects/quotes/whatever:
“A Sort of a Song” - William Carlos Williams
Let the snake wait under
his weed
and the writing
be of words, slow and quick, sharp
to strike, quiet to wait,
sleepless.
-- through metaphor to reconcile
the people and the stones.
Compose. (No ideas
but in things) Invent!
Saxifrage is my flower that splits
the rocks.

Comments

[freudiancascade.livejournal.com]

(I just finished Part One and couldn’t wait to post all my squealing over it, so here you go, okay?)

Aaaah, this is everything I wanted and then some! Seriously - thank you so much, mystery writer! This is incredible!

First things first, I absolutely adore your characterization of Jill here. She is vibrant and passionate and grounded and stubborn, and she strides larger than life into Tirian’s story and transforms it effortlessly into her own, and I adore that. She even tells him off right away for going into this venture without a plan! And the line about how she played Rosalind in the school play last term - of COURSE she did! It’s the perfect part for her, and I could ramble on for ages about how much I love how you’ve got little snippets and details like that scattered throughout this. Her ability to slip in and converse with the merchants is beautiful, and I love that (for all that Tirian sees her as a girl with no experience or skills) she’s immediately more engaged and prepared for this mission than he’ll ever be.

“It’s dull but it matters.” Ah, perfect! Tirian is horrible at blending in, because he can’t stop trying to be a King; Jill is wonderful at it, because she cares. And her immediate change of plans upon reaching Tashbaan, seamlessly coming up with a new story for them on the fly - she’s just so capable and bright and quick-witted here, and I adore her to pieces!

And in terms of responding to the prompt about storytelling and legends, can I just stop and squeal a little bit more? This was 100% exactly what I was hoping for! I have to tell you that I had to read the passage where Tirian remembers growing up hearing the stories of the Pevensies twice, because the first time I got shivers and had to stop. He’s been treating them as role models and inspiration, and Jill was always the one he neglected, but as soon as Jill opens her mouth, the legends fade away right into the living, breathing, half-awake girl grumbling at him (erm, at Eustace!) to turn off the light so she can sleep....yes. YES! I also love that you’re running this idea through your characterization of Jill herself, trying to figure out how to respond to the Pevensies and the memories of their heroics, suppressing that little bit of self-doubt because there’s more important matters at hand.

AND THEN THE PHOTOGRAPHS. The Polaroid camera! The moment Tirian realizes that Susan could not live up to the fantasy he’s built of her inside his head, and Jill reprimands him for assuming that she should (and of course Tirian assumes she and Eustace returned home and lived happily ever after together, because that’s how those stories always end - and of course Jill is uncomfortable with it!). And taking a picture of him, too! “Looking at this one, you’d never know we were friends.” Ah. There is just so much beautiful stuff here, and it would take me AGES to unpack it all - thank you, mystery writer! Thank you!

Lastly, can I just squeal a little bit about the scene of them watching the stars and making up their own stories for them? Eek, that’s another trope soft spot of mine, and I loved seeing it here! As well as the detail that she’s been carrying around a copy of A Tale of Two Cities this whole time, and thinks to start reading it to him - it’s perfect. This is all perfect!

(Okay, that’s enough rambling on for now about how much I love this - I’ll have more comments when I’m able to sit down and finish reading Part Two!)

[freudiancascade.livejournal.com]

(And, on to more squealing about Part Two!)

I THOUGHT THIS FIC COULDN’T GET ANY BETTER. I THOUGHT IT SCRATCHED ALL MY TROPE SOFT SPOTS, AND HOWEVER IT WRAPPED UP I WOULD BE SATISFIED.

I WAS WRONG.

IT GOT BETTER.

I MAY ACTUALLY BE IN LOVE WITH THIS FIC. I HAVEN’T ACTUALLY STOPPED FLAILING YET. AAAAH, THANK YOU!

I don’t even know where to begin with talking about how much I love how you wrapped all of this up!

JILL. LET ME LOVE YOU, JILL POLE. Building her own myth and magic out of faded Polaroid snapshots, out of kohl, out of polka dots, out of memory, out of expressionist cinema, and (to bind it all together) out of a judicious application of the truth. Waltzing right into the Tisroc’s palace and declaring herself a maker of history and legend! The photographs they staged, and the downright brilliant usage of the walkie talkie! It’s all so perfect; I love everything about that confrontation, I really, really do!

I’ve mostly been reduced to keyboard smashing and caps lock abuse and run-on sentences, but I don’t even care. THAT’S how brilliant this was - thank you, mystery writer, for coming up with something so fantastic!

Emeth is a wonderful addition to Tirian and Jill’s party, and I love how you presented him here as a bearer of Calormen honor and culture. His running repartee with Tirian is brilliant, as is Jill’s exasperation with their insistence upon meeting again in battle.

And then Tirian finally thought ahead, and he did so to arrange them an escape route! When they finally met with Aslan and parted ways, it was bittersweet and tearful and inevitable, but full of determination to forge their own destinies and live up to the legends they’ve created out of themselves and each other - ahhh, yes. YES! The scene with them by the pools is absolutely gorgeous; you handled the goodbyes so very well, and I loved the hint of adventures still to come!

You might have been able to tell by now (ha!) that I really loved this fic! Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for writing it! It was absolutely wonderful from start to end, you filled my prompt beautifully and did things with it that I didn’t even dare to hope for, and your Jill makes my heart sing with joy. Thank you so much, writer! This is beautiful! <3

[autumnia]

Oh, this was such a wonderful, wonderful story! I enjoyed it all from beginning to end. There aren't many stories written of Tirian but this was definitely one of the best I've read. And it was a delight to see Jill and later Emeth sharing in all the grand adventures. I think one of my favorite things of this story is how we get so many random scraps of England, the Kings, Queens and Friends of Narnia, and our world sprinkled into the conversations and how useful our more advanced machinery had helped to avoid a war. I loved that Tirian was a bit rash and hot-headed (which is how I write him as well) and he grows to trust Jill and learns how to be a better King. It is much easier when it is one of your legendary heroes rebuking you than your dull, older court advisers. :-)

I'm so glad Emeth decided to join and aid their cause. He is worthy of a better liege than the Tisroc (who will not live forever). I think a follow-up story about Emeth in Narnia would be just as grand, if you decide to continue the tale.

[heliopausa.livejournal.com]

I'm breaking off at the end of Part One to say how much I'm enjoying this!! It's terrific fun! I'm loving how it plays around with the elements of The Last Battle, with the gathering hints of the plot to go disguised into Narnia, and shivering at Tirian's terrifying dream-visions of the end of Narnia. Jill is great, who'd have expected the Tale of Two Cities?... oh, and lovely to see Susan in the photo, being part of the Friends' jaunt to Brighton! There's so much to notice and enjoy in this story... but I must hurry breathlessly back for Part Two! :)

(And now having finished :) ) Oh, there was so much real fun in this! "worse than Shakespeare", Tirian trying to sound like himself! Loved it! And loved the plottiness, and the hundred incidental little gifts you threw in, like the glimpses of Calormen's western territories. And Emeth - I knew it was Emeth! And I liked very very much the politics, the importance of getting trade right, and the tart reminder that kings have more to do than enjoying rural retirement in hunting lodges, and the wonderful plunge into the Calormen river,and then rising through a pool in the Wood Between the Worlds - gorgeous! And of course the wonderful scraps of untold stories from Aslan's other worlds... oh,this was a wonderfully enjoyable, enticing, jam-packed-with-goodies contribution to NFE -- thank you!

(Editing to put in the word "have", left out in my excitement.)

[rthstewart.livejournal.com]

This is delightful and amazing. I adored Jill, Tirian and Emeth all together. Tirian is such a rash person in so many ways and he grows so much in the story.

So, how awesome is it that your recipient wrote Jill starring in Shakespeare in the NFE of a year or two ago?

Mystery author, you are a very, very clever and accomplished writer to have taken this prompt and deliver such a fabulous meditation upon truth and legend, and all through the miracle of the Polaroid camera. The way that Tirian slowly learns what is fairy tale (the way they invent stories about the stars) and what is real (Susan is not as beautiful as he imagined). You just skewer Tirian's preconceptions about his vaunted Kings and Queens engaged in trade while he's been off at the hunting lodge with his unicorn and not paying attention to tariff discussions. (by the way, be still my heart that you dealt with things like that.

The fact that the Tisroc and Tirian both share the same nightmares of the end is a brilliant stroke to explain in this AU why they act as they do and what Jill is able to acocmplish and how.

The skills that Jill brings to this adventure are all uniquely her own and I adore her for it. She is a skilled actress, skilled with people, with very high interpersonal and emotional intelligence, and alas still caring the guilt of her perceived failures. It was so gratifying to have her succeed and to be healed.

Her magic back of tricks is wonderful, camera, walkie talkie, and oh gosh, Tirian reading Scarlett Pimpernel with Marguerite as the cleverest woman in all of Europe, Narnia and Calormen!

Oh, and the line at the end, But the Ring has been destroyed [LOTR!], the White Walkers (GoT) once again slumber in their frozen depths, the boy who was Queen has been crowned, --- I am dying to know the last!!

I adored the ending of this though I would have dearly loved to see Emeth in Spare Oom and there's the delightful hint of more to come. Your characterizations are wonderful. Your little asides are wonderful, like Jill channeling Marlene Dietrich and Emeth looking like Clark Gable and Jill carrying books, cameras and equipment around. This was rich, satisfying, and very well put together story. Thank you

[snitchnipped.livejournal.com]

That last one is Oz, no? It's been a long time, but I want to say it's Ozma of Oz... a little boy in disguise as a little girl princess.

Lots of drugs with the writing of that one. LOTS of drugs.

[ruanchunxian0.livejournal.com]

OMG HOW MUCH DO I LOVE THIS STORY LET ME COUNT THE WAYS!!!

No, seriously. I always thought Tirian was a bid of an idiot :P. And yet here you’ve given him development and change and turn into a wonderful noble king worthy of his position!!! No longer the last King of Narnia! I got chills at that line from Aslan seriously!!

I’m all over the place right now, not sure where to start with how much I ADORE this story. I just want to hug it to myself and squee because it’s just beautiful and wonderful and just gets better!!

Ahem. Anyway.

Disclaimer: A lot of !!!!!!!! coming up!

Even the very beginning is perfect!! Fishermen and seagulls (Talking Seagulls would be even MORE hilarious) fighting over fish!! A lackadaisical king listen to dull Calormene merchants and doing a very bad job of spying!!! Jill appearing from thin air, whose only reply to Tirian’s rhapsody is a very unintelligent “Er????”

I love how you slowly build the image of Narnia as it is now – thousands of years away from the Golden Age, even thousands of year from that of Caspian...where legends that were proven to be true are now legends again!! It is the inevitability of time that flows and then patterns start to repeat itself!!! FLAILS!!!

I love this image of Jill who has no idea what Spare Oom is, who calls out the king for being a horrible spy! Gosh, Tirian, Edmund would be ashamed!! Then later berating stupid males who take women as objects of fantasies and not for the wonderful complex people that they are!!! The whole spiel about people from history/legends are old, dead or imaginary is just – I cannot tell you how much I adore stories that make clear the concepts that history are stories to people who hear it but oh those persons from history lived once and had lives we will never know about and they are so much more than what is remembered of them!!

I love how the saint-like image that Narnia has put up about their heroes and how Tirian grew up idolizing them like people in our world idolize celebrities and turn them into saints but in reality have no idea what they are like!! He moves from idol/hero to another as fitting his age and mind set, but never really considering them as people and then oh, the disappointment that comes that the best Edmund the Just of the Golden Age could probably aim for is being Prime Minister (!!!!). (“as disturbing to Tirian as the idea of squashing oneself into a flying metal box” - oh, what a comparison!) And Susan, pretty as she is, will never live up to the dazzling descriptions of legend which will most likely all just say something like she was the fairest of them all or that ever lived or something…

And yet I like that Tirian sees a sense of kinship with Jill who feels like an outsider, a Friend of Narnia, surely, but it has to be hard to be the last one to join the club…

Jill’s insecurities and doubts is very real and wonderfully handled. She can charm shipmen and merchants and find out their darkest secrets one moment but in another she doesn’t forget what happened last time and that’s important, even if she is too hard on herself.

[ruanchunxian0.livejournal.com]

Tirian’s hatred of Calormene poetry is hilarious! The trip to the tailor is wonderfully, packing so much details of both cultures and character in such a short passage. Tirian balking at the idea of PREMADE OMG clothes is wonderful. He should probably see Jill in her school uniform then :P

I LOVE the Arthur-Weasley-like fascination Tirian has with all things Muggle (hah!) but also there is that expected wariness and fear of sorcery that is there but can’t drown out the awe!! And then the selfie!!! I almost wish this was the age of instagram and somehow internet/wifi works across worlds because can you imagine…

The BARD DICKENS!!!! Tale of Two Cities! You just made Jill even more perfect!

The introduction of Emeth is wonderful (I feel like I need to find a thesaurus now because I keep using this word). Tirian’s continuing aversion to Calormene poetry which doesn’t even rhyme!! I think Tirian is secretly a poet himself and he’s so annoyed that he works so hard at his poems and then these Calormene dare call their effortless attempts at sounding wise and insightful in very dull ways poetry!

And Tirian matures slowly but surely, making friends with Emeth despite his misgivings. (I love the whole “I will be glad to kill you in battle” thing and Jill just doesn’t get it all. Like, can’t you just shake hands instead?? Worse than Shakespeare indeed! Somehow for a moment, I have an image of Strax from Doctor Who!)

The whole staged meeting with the Tisroc is just genius in both plot and creativity – both yours and Jill’s!

(Oh and EDMUND’S FLASHLIGHT!!! You have no idea how delighted I was to hear it mentioned. The battery’s run out and they have no idea what to do with it – that idea just tickles me.)

The whole “enchantment” of the Tisroc is beautifully done – the things used are just so simple, but so so effective in this world!

Aslan’s appearance at the end is very effective – reassuring them all that they have done well, probably purring proudly. I almost wish Jill didn’t have to go back… but Narnia lives on now. what a beautiful way to end an Age but also to open a new one!

[redsnake05.livejournal.com]

I loved so many things about this story! Your characterisation was masterly, especially since Jill, Tirian and Emeth are three of my all-time favourite characters. I thought you were spot on with Jill's insecurity, and you wrote her dialogue so well. I loved how she shaped their plan and guided Tirian, and I loved how he came to appreciate all her strengths. Emeth was the very personification of charm and honour, too.

[moriwen1.livejournal.com]

This is such an awesome story! I love your Jill, and how confident and capable she is, and Tirian is totally cute, and them getting to change the fate of Narnia, and the references to the other worlds (I got LotR and Oz, didn't recognize the other one), and the Polaroids were hilarious. And you did such a great job sketching out her relationship with the other Pevensies, and of course Tirian idolized them, and, well, just wow.

Write more please. :)

[nasimwrites.livejournal.com]

THIS is the adventure I always wanted Jill to have. I've always felt that she was kind of cheated... all the others got at least one nice, fun adventure. Jill got to go on a mission that failed nearly every step of the way, and then got to watch Narnia end. She never got to enjoy the beauties of the countries and their people. So seeing her here, on a ship (she was so proud she was like Lucy, walking barefoot on deck!!), talking to the people, dressing up in foreign clothes, walking around the Tashbaan market... it was all so perfect, and she finally got a chance to shine! I feel like the tension and despair of The Silver Chair made Jill something of a resentful, self-deprecating girl for me, and I'm glad that she was able to shine so beautifully in this story. And she got to bring things from England with her!! I always wanted someone to do that! I wonder if she got to take the pictures back and show the Pevensies? Oh God now I'm tearing up at the image of them finally being able to see Narnia again, albeit through black-and-white pictures, and see Tirian, and Calormen, and aaaa just imagine how beautiful it would be! Even Susan would be totally moved. I loved how strong and confident Jill was, and yet how vulnerable she was too, without seeming weak or full of self-pity. She was believable and she was more real than she ever was.

And Tirian! I liked that he was such a flawed character, yet genuinely motivated by love for Narnia despite everything. I admit that his hatred for Calormen made me a little angry at him (by the way, I'm SO HAPPY that NFE this year has so much Calormen in it!!!) but you made him such a King in every way... slightly snobbish though he doesn't mean to be, strong and somewhat poetic in his own way, obsessed with the old stories and full of superstition, particularly when it comes to objects from other worlds! I laughed so hard at his reaction to the camera. Poor Tirian. I liked how you exposed the fact that he was acting rashly so quickly... and how you showed Narnia through his subtle mentions of it. Oh, also, I LOVED the Pevensies' professions in England! Edmund as Prime Minister, YES! And Tirian reading books from our world! And Edmund's torch... and his own fantasy of what the Pevensies were like and how Jill kind of shook him into realizing that they were real people, and that it was unfair to everyone to think of them as anything else. And his realization of how neglectful he had been about his duties. And despite all of his faults, he's just a wonderful person!

I loved the mentions of other worlds, and the beautiful AU where nobody dies and Narnia gets another era starting with Tirian's reign... it's such a lovely idea, that it's all connected and that Aslan was giving them a chance to prevent disaster. I also loved how the Tisroc (may he live forever!) and Tirian had the same dreams foretelling the end of the world. I kind of hoped the Tisroc would prove to be good in the end, but I guess it was realistic... I still like my Calormen being good despite their sinister tones :P Speaking of which, Emeth! I didn't expect him to be involved, and it was such a pleasant surprise! I wish we had been able to learn more about him, but what we did get was so sweet. And Tirian saying that he would have made Jill his queen... now THAT is an interesting fic that I would very much enjoy reading!

The Wood between the Worlds, and them saying goodbye, and the kind-of-promise Aslan makes Tirian that they may go to Earth sometime! And Tirian hoping that he'll get to go on "The Tube" someday; oh the hilarious mental images! This was such a great, fun and sweet story, and I think you kind of fixed the depression The Silver Chair and The Last Battle created in me for Jill's character. I'm glad she finally got the adventure she deserved.

[lauraandrews.livejournal.com]

WOW. Amazing story! I kind of sort of almost ship Jill/Tirian, so I wasn't too perturbed when it seemed to be going in that direction, but on to the really good stuff :D
You've given lots of depth to both Tirian and Jill (who are two of my favorite Narnian characters). All the fun details of Tashbaan were great! I love it when people manage to make Calormen sound like a place I'd like to visit, and you've done that here. It's always amusing when someone with no knowledge of technology encounters someone with technology, and the whole scene where Jill took a picture with Tirian was hilarious. There were a lot of places I was chuckling aloud to myself.
Oh, and Emeth! Hurrah! He's amazing, but now ... a young Clark Gable? That's really classic :D I love how Tirian got all jealous when she said that.
I can't possibly begin to touch on everything I love about this, but the whole idea of one's heroes turning out to be ordinary people (and living rather common lives) was amazing. And I love how Jill sort of dismantles all his ideas about the heroes he holds dear, but she doesn't diminish their heroism at all. In fact, stripping away all the legend and myth probably makes them much more easily-related to, and more heroic in the end because they aren't angels but just ordinary people trying to do the right thing :)
Really well done story, one of the best of this NFE.

[snitchnipped.livejournal.com]

What a great romp! I was hoping to get a couple of longer narratives with this NFE, and this one fits the bill! All the characterizations are marvelous (for some reason, Aslan *really* stuck out as being perfectly Lewisian) and I really enjoyed your OC!

Quite a few sweet moments and quite a lot of funny one-liners. Loved the last bit shout-out to crossovers. But I think my favorite part, though, is Tirian and Jill taking selfies. Hhahahahahahahahaahaaha....

Well done, and thank you for the story!

[wingedflight21.livejournal.com]

Oh wowow this is amazing. Jill is one of my favourite characters so it is wonderful to see her on an adventure that isn't gloomy or doomed. And I was so delighted to see Emeth, as he's probably one of my favourite minor characters. As for Tirian, you actually redeemed him for me -- I've been so annoyed lately at how he acts in LB but you managed to take his flaws and work them into a redeemable character that is willing to accept his shortcomings and work to improve.

I can't even begin to go through all the details I love in this. The camera scene was hilarious, and I love the idea of Tirian and Emeth learning about Earth from Jill's belongings, and then using all these items to ultimately fix the situation with the Tisroc! And Emeth and Tirian's friendship was hilarious, with them always going on about looking forward to meet in battle when Jill thinks they should just hug it out. And all the bits and pieces of Tirian slowly learning that his legendary heroes are really just ordinary people -- yessss.

The end was a perfect delight as well. Now I just want more fic of Jill returning home to tell the others of her adventure, and of Emeth and Tirian falling through into England, and does this mean that more children from Spare Oom will return to help Narnia in this new age? Such a wonderful hint at adventures to come! Thank you so much for this delightful fic.

[edenfalling]

*points up* Basically what everyone else said: this is amazing! I love that Jill gets to have a solo adventure (and that it's a foreign adventure with a king on a ship, sort of like a reverse mirror of Eustace's first two journeys into the Narnian world); that elements she brought from England get to play important plot roles (and that Edmund's lost flashlight is kept, uselessly, as a sort of royal magical artifact; that's priceless); that the Tisroc's invasion of Narnia would have made his dreams a self-fulfilling prophecy if Jill hadn't derailed that train of events (oh, ha, terrible pun, sorry); that Tirian and Emeth have a beautifully absurd "honorable enemy" thing going for a while; that you remembered and made excellent use of Jill's canonical ability to charm information and favors out of people while also remembering that that's a thing she can do rather than a thing she is; that Tirian has been a bad king in several ways but Jill makes him reexamine his life and priorities; and that Jill and Tirian bond over both feeling like outsiders to the grand magical tales of Narnian history. The little glancing crossover mentions were also lovely, and I ADORE the way you twist the events of TLB so that Aslan isn't forcing the end of the world and in fact seems pleased that it was averted. So much better than "rocks fall, everyone dies."