Fic: The Gathering
Sep. 11th, 2009 07:46 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
nfe-gremlin.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
narniaexchangeTitle: The Gathering
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
eriphi
Recipient:bedlamsbard
Rating: G
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: None
Summary: Keeping Narnia from descending into savagery during the Hundred Year Winter was a dangerous task.
AN: This was a fabulous prompt and I got a excited tingling feeling when I read it. This story jumped straight into my head and the bare bones were written in a couple of hours. Of course, it took much longer than that to fine tune the details! I hope it is what you were looking for. Thank you.
Old Mr Beaver pulled his tattered scarf closer around his neck against the chill of the wind. He knew it looked ridiculous, but he wore it because his young son found it amusing. In hard times like these, he treasured laughter even more than his self-respect, so he continued to wear it despite the holes. Mr Beaver wondered if it was the same reason that made Mr Tumnus Senior hold up that ridiculous umbrella in the worst of Witch's blizzards.
The old Faun was welcoming the arrivals to the clearing with his son. They had a warm word to say to everyone, but there was sadness in the elder creature's eyes. Years ago their number would have easily filled this space, but now there was enough room for the young animals to run around the adults' knees. Mr Beaver's youngest son was marshalling them in a game of centaurs and ogres.
The youngsters were the only ones showing any joy at the gathering. The rest of the creatures bore expressions of fear and worry.
Mr Beaver whispered to the elderly Faun, "This is dangerous. If the Witch finds out that we are meeting like this..."
"It is the risk we must take if we wish to preserve Narnia's heritage. I do not believe that anyone here would pass word to her spies."
"I have heard that some of the trees have turned to her side..."
One of the dwarves angrily interrupted their whispered conversation. "Get on with it old ones. None of us are getting any younger and we are risking our necks every second we linger here."
"I know, Ginarrbrik," Mr Tumnus Senior said. "Welcome, friends and Narnians. Thank you all for coming. I am aware that it is dangerous to gather and here share the stories and memories of our peoples. But it is the danger that makes it so important, for when the prophecies come to pass Narnia must not have descended into savagery."
"Prophecies?" the same dwarf snarled. "Who is to say that they will ever come to pass? You cling to a fool's hope, old Faun."
"A fool's hope, but hope nonetheless. I have faith that Aslan will return to us in our time of greatest need."
"Pah! And when is our greatest need but now? The tapirs have died, the swallows have flown and the bears are asleep. Narnia needs help now, and where is Aslan? Why does he not come?"
A stirring of voices ran around the clearing.
"Where is Aslan?"
"Why does he not come?"
The Faun glanced across at old Mr Beaver and they shared a worried look.
"My neighbour died not three weeks ago," another voice said.
"I haven't seen an elephant in years."
"There was only one pup in my last litter."
Finally, old Mr Tumnus said, "Peace. Peace my friends."
The voices hushed until a snow-laden silence filled the air. "We are in dire times, it is true. But it is only in such difficulties that our faith can be truly tested."
A few creatures nodded, but more frowned. Ginarrbrik scoffed aloud and did not say anything further.
Mr Beaver said, "This is not what we are here for. Discussion like this is not meant for the night sky when anything might be listening. We are here for stories. Who will be first?"
Mr Tumnus' son, a younger faun who nevertheless remembered a little of the time before the White Witch's reign offered to begin. He talked about midnight dances with Nymphs and Dryads that his father was sure he had been too young to join at the time. Next, an ancient eagle talked about hatching into warm sunshine, then a family of mice shared their great-great-grandmother's story about finding a home in a hollowed out scrape in the mud. As each creature spoke there was quiet. Those who were old enough remembered the days of summer, while the rest let the words carry them to a warmer time.
"Now it is my turn," the elderly Faun said. The young creatures snuggled close into their parents; this was the highlight of the gathering. "In the beginning of days Aslan made the world. It was bright and warm and good, and the days were as long as the nights are now. Water ran in the rivers..."
"What are rivers?" a young fox-cub asked his father.
The old Faun smiled at the youngster. "A river is a rush of water larger than you can believe if you have not seen it. It travels through the land on its way to its mistress the sea."
"What is the sea?"
"If Mr Tumnus answers all your questions, son, we shall be here until daybreak," the father fox said as he smiled fondly at his son. "Please continue."
So the Faun did. He told them of the wonder of Aslan's land, and he spoke of the coronation of the first King and Queen and of the planting of the tree to hold back the evil that was in the land even on the first day.
"Brought by a Son of Adam," Ginarrbrik muttered.
"Wasn't his fault," Mr Beaver said. "And he did what he could to make it right again."
"You are both correct," the Faun said. "For Narnia's protection the Son of Adam rode the winged horse and faced temptation. Would that all of us were wise enough to see through the Witch's lies." He looked at the dwarf as he said this, but Ginarrbrik was whittling at branch and did not see him. "On the day that the tree of protection was blown down in a wind not felt in Narnia, we knew that the time of our testing was here."
"And when Aslan was needed, he would not come," the dwarf said.
"Aslan will come," Tumnus' son said angrily.
"Pah! We have been abandoned by the cursed lion! The Witch is here to stay. And there is nothing any of us can do about it." He stood up. "This is a lost cause, Tumnus, and you know it." He stomped out of the clearing muttering darkly.
The sense of unease after his exit was palpable. Mr Beaver looked grim as he spoke everyone's thoughts aloud. "You'd better watch yourself and your son, Tumnus. He's off to the Witch's house and no mistake."
"Shouldn't we try to stop him," the Fox father said.
"There would be no point. Aslan made us with brains to think and some of us will make unfortunate choices. The dwarf must decide for himself. Come, let me finish my story. Those first years of winter were hardest. Some animals could not survive the new cold and perished through lack of food or disease. Worse, though, were those who fell into despair and turned to the enemy."
The creatures shivered and huddled closer to their families.
"Yet in these hard days we continue to look for signs of Aslan, for he has always come to our aid before. Years have passed, almost ninety since the tree of protection died, and we still keep watch. We keep faith, grow tough in spirit and survive the Witch's cold. Despite the risk, we still share stories under her eye. At one of these gatherings a rhyme was spoken. No-one knew where started it, or who said it first. Perhaps it blew on the wind from Aslan's roar itself?"
In a low voice, the Faun began to recite the words that all the Narnians knew. They filled most of those gathered with hope, but some felt only terror in the depth of their hearts.
Wrong will be right, when Aslan comes in sight,
At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more,
When he bares his teeth, winter meets its death,
And when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again."
When he finished there was deep silence. Into this, the Faun spoke the second prophecy and each creature bowed its head.
"When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone
Sits at Cair Paravel in throne,
The evil time will be over and done."
"Peace, my friends. May we be strong until Aslan comes."
Without any more words, the clearing began to empty, until finally, only Mr Beaver and the two Fauns were left.
"One would have hoped to bring our children into a happier world," the elder Faun said sadly as he put up his ridiculous umbrella.
"Never mind that," Mr Beaver said. "What are you going to do about Ginarrbrik? He's got it in for you, and you can bet your braces that he's telling that new Chief of Police all about our 'illegal' gatherings. You'd be wise to take your son and go to ground for a bit. That wolf will be sniffing about before I can shake my tail, and he takes a dim view of traitors to his Queen."
"She is no-one's Queen," the younger Tumnus said hotly.
"I know that, lad."
The old Faun sighed, "You speak the truth, Beaver, but I will not hide. Her creatures would hunt for me and if they cannot find me, they may hurt many others. I will return home and wait, but would you take my son with you, old friend?"
"No. Father, I want to stay with you. I don't want to hide."
"There are many parts to play in a story. If Maugrim comes for me, I wish you to be safe. Then, when my part of the story is over, you may find your place in the salvation of Narnia."
"But..."
"There are no arguments that will sway me."
The young Faun had tears glistening in his eyes. "If she does anything to you, I will avenge you."
"You shall do no such thing. You will survive and await the coming of the Children of Adam and Eve. Be brave, my son. Now run along and catch up with that little Beaver." But despite the light words the elderly Faun also had tears in his eyes.
The youngster shook his head, and did not move.
The elder Faun closed his umbrella and handed it to his son. "Take it, and look after it for me."
"Go to the dam," Mr Beaver said.
The younger Faun put up the umbrella again and swallowed. He seemed to make a decision. "Farewell father."
"Goodbye son."
Then he trotted into the darkness after the little Beaver.
"Take care of him," the old Faun said. "He is hot-headed at times and he puts me on a pedestal that I do not deserve. He will take my loss hard, and I fear that despair may take his heart. But he is a good Faun, and that may be the saving of us all."
Beaver shook the Faun's proffered hand. "Take care, old friend."
"Always. Look out for the Sons' of Adam and the Daughters' of Eve. Look out for them, and help them."
"I will. So will my children, and their children for as long as it takes."
"Thank you."
They went their separate ways into the snow heavy darkness.
fin
Original Prompt:
What I want: ordinary Narnians during the Long Winter
Prompt words/objects/quotes/whatever: faith, distrust, betrayal, hope
What I definitely don't want in my fic: canon characters in more than passing
Author:
eriphiRecipient:
bedlamsbardRating: G
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: None
Summary: Keeping Narnia from descending into savagery during the Hundred Year Winter was a dangerous task.
AN: This was a fabulous prompt and I got a excited tingling feeling when I read it. This story jumped straight into my head and the bare bones were written in a couple of hours. Of course, it took much longer than that to fine tune the details! I hope it is what you were looking for. Thank you.
Old Mr Beaver pulled his tattered scarf closer around his neck against the chill of the wind. He knew it looked ridiculous, but he wore it because his young son found it amusing. In hard times like these, he treasured laughter even more than his self-respect, so he continued to wear it despite the holes. Mr Beaver wondered if it was the same reason that made Mr Tumnus Senior hold up that ridiculous umbrella in the worst of Witch's blizzards.
The old Faun was welcoming the arrivals to the clearing with his son. They had a warm word to say to everyone, but there was sadness in the elder creature's eyes. Years ago their number would have easily filled this space, but now there was enough room for the young animals to run around the adults' knees. Mr Beaver's youngest son was marshalling them in a game of centaurs and ogres.
The youngsters were the only ones showing any joy at the gathering. The rest of the creatures bore expressions of fear and worry.
Mr Beaver whispered to the elderly Faun, "This is dangerous. If the Witch finds out that we are meeting like this..."
"It is the risk we must take if we wish to preserve Narnia's heritage. I do not believe that anyone here would pass word to her spies."
"I have heard that some of the trees have turned to her side..."
One of the dwarves angrily interrupted their whispered conversation. "Get on with it old ones. None of us are getting any younger and we are risking our necks every second we linger here."
"I know, Ginarrbrik," Mr Tumnus Senior said. "Welcome, friends and Narnians. Thank you all for coming. I am aware that it is dangerous to gather and here share the stories and memories of our peoples. But it is the danger that makes it so important, for when the prophecies come to pass Narnia must not have descended into savagery."
"Prophecies?" the same dwarf snarled. "Who is to say that they will ever come to pass? You cling to a fool's hope, old Faun."
"A fool's hope, but hope nonetheless. I have faith that Aslan will return to us in our time of greatest need."
"Pah! And when is our greatest need but now? The tapirs have died, the swallows have flown and the bears are asleep. Narnia needs help now, and where is Aslan? Why does he not come?"
A stirring of voices ran around the clearing.
"Where is Aslan?"
"Why does he not come?"
The Faun glanced across at old Mr Beaver and they shared a worried look.
"My neighbour died not three weeks ago," another voice said.
"I haven't seen an elephant in years."
"There was only one pup in my last litter."
Finally, old Mr Tumnus said, "Peace. Peace my friends."
The voices hushed until a snow-laden silence filled the air. "We are in dire times, it is true. But it is only in such difficulties that our faith can be truly tested."
A few creatures nodded, but more frowned. Ginarrbrik scoffed aloud and did not say anything further.
Mr Beaver said, "This is not what we are here for. Discussion like this is not meant for the night sky when anything might be listening. We are here for stories. Who will be first?"
Mr Tumnus' son, a younger faun who nevertheless remembered a little of the time before the White Witch's reign offered to begin. He talked about midnight dances with Nymphs and Dryads that his father was sure he had been too young to join at the time. Next, an ancient eagle talked about hatching into warm sunshine, then a family of mice shared their great-great-grandmother's story about finding a home in a hollowed out scrape in the mud. As each creature spoke there was quiet. Those who were old enough remembered the days of summer, while the rest let the words carry them to a warmer time.
"Now it is my turn," the elderly Faun said. The young creatures snuggled close into their parents; this was the highlight of the gathering. "In the beginning of days Aslan made the world. It was bright and warm and good, and the days were as long as the nights are now. Water ran in the rivers..."
"What are rivers?" a young fox-cub asked his father.
The old Faun smiled at the youngster. "A river is a rush of water larger than you can believe if you have not seen it. It travels through the land on its way to its mistress the sea."
"What is the sea?"
"If Mr Tumnus answers all your questions, son, we shall be here until daybreak," the father fox said as he smiled fondly at his son. "Please continue."
So the Faun did. He told them of the wonder of Aslan's land, and he spoke of the coronation of the first King and Queen and of the planting of the tree to hold back the evil that was in the land even on the first day.
"Brought by a Son of Adam," Ginarrbrik muttered.
"Wasn't his fault," Mr Beaver said. "And he did what he could to make it right again."
"You are both correct," the Faun said. "For Narnia's protection the Son of Adam rode the winged horse and faced temptation. Would that all of us were wise enough to see through the Witch's lies." He looked at the dwarf as he said this, but Ginarrbrik was whittling at branch and did not see him. "On the day that the tree of protection was blown down in a wind not felt in Narnia, we knew that the time of our testing was here."
"And when Aslan was needed, he would not come," the dwarf said.
"Aslan will come," Tumnus' son said angrily.
"Pah! We have been abandoned by the cursed lion! The Witch is here to stay. And there is nothing any of us can do about it." He stood up. "This is a lost cause, Tumnus, and you know it." He stomped out of the clearing muttering darkly.
The sense of unease after his exit was palpable. Mr Beaver looked grim as he spoke everyone's thoughts aloud. "You'd better watch yourself and your son, Tumnus. He's off to the Witch's house and no mistake."
"Shouldn't we try to stop him," the Fox father said.
"There would be no point. Aslan made us with brains to think and some of us will make unfortunate choices. The dwarf must decide for himself. Come, let me finish my story. Those first years of winter were hardest. Some animals could not survive the new cold and perished through lack of food or disease. Worse, though, were those who fell into despair and turned to the enemy."
The creatures shivered and huddled closer to their families.
"Yet in these hard days we continue to look for signs of Aslan, for he has always come to our aid before. Years have passed, almost ninety since the tree of protection died, and we still keep watch. We keep faith, grow tough in spirit and survive the Witch's cold. Despite the risk, we still share stories under her eye. At one of these gatherings a rhyme was spoken. No-one knew where started it, or who said it first. Perhaps it blew on the wind from Aslan's roar itself?"
In a low voice, the Faun began to recite the words that all the Narnians knew. They filled most of those gathered with hope, but some felt only terror in the depth of their hearts.
Wrong will be right, when Aslan comes in sight,
At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more,
When he bares his teeth, winter meets its death,
And when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again."
When he finished there was deep silence. Into this, the Faun spoke the second prophecy and each creature bowed its head.
"When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone
Sits at Cair Paravel in throne,
The evil time will be over and done."
"Peace, my friends. May we be strong until Aslan comes."
Without any more words, the clearing began to empty, until finally, only Mr Beaver and the two Fauns were left.
"One would have hoped to bring our children into a happier world," the elder Faun said sadly as he put up his ridiculous umbrella.
"Never mind that," Mr Beaver said. "What are you going to do about Ginarrbrik? He's got it in for you, and you can bet your braces that he's telling that new Chief of Police all about our 'illegal' gatherings. You'd be wise to take your son and go to ground for a bit. That wolf will be sniffing about before I can shake my tail, and he takes a dim view of traitors to his Queen."
"She is no-one's Queen," the younger Tumnus said hotly.
"I know that, lad."
The old Faun sighed, "You speak the truth, Beaver, but I will not hide. Her creatures would hunt for me and if they cannot find me, they may hurt many others. I will return home and wait, but would you take my son with you, old friend?"
"No. Father, I want to stay with you. I don't want to hide."
"There are many parts to play in a story. If Maugrim comes for me, I wish you to be safe. Then, when my part of the story is over, you may find your place in the salvation of Narnia."
"But..."
"There are no arguments that will sway me."
The young Faun had tears glistening in his eyes. "If she does anything to you, I will avenge you."
"You shall do no such thing. You will survive and await the coming of the Children of Adam and Eve. Be brave, my son. Now run along and catch up with that little Beaver." But despite the light words the elderly Faun also had tears in his eyes.
The youngster shook his head, and did not move.
The elder Faun closed his umbrella and handed it to his son. "Take it, and look after it for me."
"Go to the dam," Mr Beaver said.
The younger Faun put up the umbrella again and swallowed. He seemed to make a decision. "Farewell father."
"Goodbye son."
Then he trotted into the darkness after the little Beaver.
"Take care of him," the old Faun said. "He is hot-headed at times and he puts me on a pedestal that I do not deserve. He will take my loss hard, and I fear that despair may take his heart. But he is a good Faun, and that may be the saving of us all."
Beaver shook the Faun's proffered hand. "Take care, old friend."
"Always. Look out for the Sons' of Adam and the Daughters' of Eve. Look out for them, and help them."
"I will. So will my children, and their children for as long as it takes."
"Thank you."
They went their separate ways into the snow heavy darkness.
fin
Original Prompt:
What I want: ordinary Narnians during the Long Winter
Prompt words/objects/quotes/whatever: faith, distrust, betrayal, hope
What I definitely don't want in my fic: canon characters in more than passing
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-11 07:20 pm (UTC)I particularly liked the opening; you captured the bleakness and angst (if I may go philosophical for a second) of the Narnians without going overboard or characterizing their species too much. They seemed like real people, almost, trapped within animal bodies.
Excellent work, once again! :)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-11 07:28 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-11 09:54 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-11 11:23 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-13 11:21 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-15 02:53 am (UTC)I've always wondered about the prophesies, so it's nice to see them addressed.
Cool to see Ginarrbrik as a character, and see why some Narnians would choose Jadis' side.
I love this fic to death!