Fic: Without Motion

[nfe-gremlin.livejournal.com]

Title: Without Motion
Author: bedlamsbard
Recipient: narniaexchange
Rating: PG
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: none
Summary: Narnia cannot survive such a blow as this.
Original Prompt that we sent you: Tumnus leading the search after the Pevensies return to england.

Shape without form, shade without colour,

Paralysed force, gesture without motion

• T.S. Eliot, “The Hollow Men”

 

“I can’t find a scent,” Sixtoe says, low and miserable, and Kaikura snarls incoherently and slams her paw into the nearest tree, her claws ripping marks into the bark. She doesn’t chide Sixtoe, though; it’s the third day, and if the dogs haven’t found a scent yet, then they’re not likely to now. Tumnus can’t keep himself from looking up at the stormclouds gathering overhead; rain will destroy any traces that remain.

 

The entirety of the Royal Guard and a good half of the standing army is spread out in a wide web across the western woods, desperately trying to find anything, anything, but there’s nothing at all, not since the rest of the hunting party had caught up with the horses and found them alone. They hadn’t been panicking, not yet; the kings and queens hadn’t been gone so very long, and they could more than take care of themselves. But when the day had turned into dusk and then into night and there was still no sign of them – and when the Royal Guard had been unable to catch a scent –

 

Three days, and there’s nothing at all to show that the kings and queens have been here at all, There’s no sign of the White Stag either; nothing but the lingering tingle of magic, fading away with every breath Tumnus takes. By this time tomorrow he thinks it will be gone utterly.

 

-

-

 

(from the diary of the Faun Tumnus, Steward of Cair Paravel)

 

The rumors are beginning to spread.

 

They have been held somewhat in check because we were not expected to return to Cair Paravel for some time yet, but a search effort such as the one we have put out cannot go unnoticed for long, and there has been no word of the High King or of his siblings for some time now. I fear what will happen when word gets out to Narnia, and worse, what will happen when it becomes widely known outside of Narnia. We have lost our rulers before, but never all at once, and we have made too many enemies in the past fifteen years to think that our weakness will go unnoticed. If they cannot be found –

 

They must be found, and quickly. I fear that Narnia cannot survive such a blow as this.

 

-

-

 

Cair Paravel is in mourning.

 

Doors that have never before been closed are shut now, and will not open no matter how often the keys are turned in the locks, or how hard they are tugged at. Stairs end abruptly in mid-air or at solid wall. Windows refuse to latch and hang open, banging futilely against the walls in the wind.

 

More than once, the sound of laughter is heard echoing through the halls – four voices, warm and familiar and loved – but when Tumnus tries to chase them down, his heart leaping for joy, he finds nothing at all but empty hallways. Sometimes a curtain or tapestry flutters when there is no wind, and once a suit of armor is knocked over, a window broken on the opposite wall and shattered glass littering the floor about it. Once, and only once, the door to the High King’s study opens beneath his hand, and Tumnus goes in, sharp with desperation, and finds the room in chaos. Every window has been broken, the glass blown outward and the curtains torn, fluttering vainly; the books have been swept off their shelves, maps scattered and torn across the floor, the weapons and armor on the racks denting the walls. Rhindon and the High King’s shield alone are untouched, hanging on the wall above the fireplace, and Tumnus takes them down carefully, shuddering a little at the sparks that reverberate up his skin when he touches them. His fingers seem to burn; he should not be touching these, but he has no choice.

 

He puts them in the little treasury beneath the castle, along with the rest of the possessions that might serve to aid the kings and queens in their most dire need, and then he closes the door of the little treasury, and then the second door, and then he spills a drop of his blood on the lock to bring the seals into sharp relief before they faded into the old stone. Magic will keep this safe until they return; no other will ever be able to breach these doors. This is for the High King and his kin alone.

 

-

-

 

Admiral Seaworth has sealed the harbor and forbade any ship from leaving or entering, but it has been three weeks now, and the ships and merchants in the Shifting Market are restless. Today three merchant galleons from Calormen sought to break the blockade; Seaworth’s ships sunk them in the harbor, and then the survivors were brought into Cair Paravel for questioning. He believes that their attempt to run is an admission of guilt.

 

There are more ships in the Strangers’ Marina than there are in the navy. If they all try to run the blockade, then we cannot hold them. Admiral Seaworth and Admiral Yricsdottir both know this, and yet they refuse to open the harbor. Every foreigner in Narnia has been captured and questioned thrice over, but Seaworth refuses to believe that they are all ignorant.

 

While normally I would agree with him – Osumare Seaworth has ever been an admirable judge of character, as indeed a man in his line of work must be – I cannot help but remember the feel of the woods in Lantern Waste, the taste of magic that still lingered in the air when we found Philip, Sebi, Sanmariel, and Echoheart, the way the great lantern shone in the darkness, and yet there were some shadows it could not breach. I wonder if any other remembers that Queen Lucy first entered Narnia from the woods in Lantern Waste.

 

I will not argue with Seaworth’s wisdom in sealing the Strangers’ Marina, but I do not think the secrets surrounding the kings’ and queens’ disappearance can be found out at sea.

 

-

-

 

The West is blamed.

 

All of Narnia has ever been a hotbed for discontent; there are those that will believe to the end of time that the White Witch was in the right, that the High King should never have sat the throne of Narnia (nor any of his siblings), that Narnia should never belong to any human. But the West has always been the worst, because just beyond its borders are half a dozen warring nations that will strike at Narnia given any opportunity and that will any take in any foes of the High King’s. The woods of the west are dark and haunted, dangerous, and there has been trouble there before, though Tumnus will swear to any who ask that the inhabitants of the wolfswood, of the rosewood, of Lantern Waste, of the High Reaches, of all the vast lands of the west, are as loyal as any other Narnian. He is from Lantern Waste himself; there are few who will accuse him of treason.

 

He is not accused. Others are.

 

A satyr is beaten to death, a family of Telmarine refugees is burned in their home, three badgers are hung, a dryad is mutilated, and the stream of a naiad runs dry without explanation. When Tumnus sends members of the Royal Guard and the army to investigate, there are no answers, only sullen anger and silence. In the night, they are attacked. Orlenda, the captain of that unit, swears that it was by Narnians, but she will not look Tumnus in the eye when she speaks, and soon afterwards she vanishes from Cair Paravel.

 

She is not the first. Others follow.

 

-

-

 

The lands of the west have called their banners, and Narnia will not be able to withstand their invasion when it comes. We are too scattered, too far gone – only a return of the kings and queens could unite Narnia now, I believe, and they have not been found.

 

By the Lion! There has been no trace of them for three months now, not a whisper on the waves, or the water, or the wind.

 

Where are they?

 

Comments

[westingturtle.livejournal.com]

This is just so very very sad. And although I know that whatever the last entry in his diary is can't be good, I hope that isn't it.

[twoskeletons.livejournal.com]

STILL LOVIN' IT OMG

[lyamainu.livejournal.com]

Oh my goodness.... I had you in my head when I submitted my request - I'm so honored that you wrote it. Thank you thank you thank you!!!!!

*goes to cry for Tumnus and Narnia in her husband's arms*

[zempasuchil.livejournal.com]

this is so sad! The whole of Narnia distressed, Tumnus hopeful but also resigned, and putting away Rhindon even physically hurts him. wonderful characterization of Narnia's whole reaction and then splintering. :(

[turkeyish.livejournal.com]

Amazing. I love the politicking, and the TS Eliot. :)

[bantha-fodder.livejournal.com]

More than once, the sound of laughter is heard echoing through the halls – four voices, warm and familiar and loved – but when Tumnus tries to chase them down, his heart leaping for joy, he finds nothing at all but empty hallways.

OH PEVENSIES

[caramelsilver.livejournal.com]

I so love the part with Tumnus sealing the treasure chamber! All of this fic is fabulous!!

[tekalynn.livejournal.com]

Oh, poor Master Tumnus. I'd never thought about how personally and politically devastating it must have been to lose them.

I wonder if he lay awake at night, pondering the glorious city of War Drobe in the land of Spare Oom, and wondering if his kings and queens really chose it over Cair Paravel and Narnia.

[ceirseach.blogspot.com (from livejournal.com)]

Hah, yes. I was thinking just yesterday 'someone should write Tumnus-fic!' And thank you for addressing the sealing of the treasury - I always had a hard time believing that it would remain unsacked for so long. Magic is the logical answer, of course, and I think Lewis mentions it with regards to the preservation, but not the security.

Also - you mention badgers getting "hung". Clothes get hung - people (and, presumably, badgers) get hanged.

[animus-wyrmis.livejournal.com]

This made me cry, no joke. :/ I loved Cair Paravel going into mourning and turning into a sort of freaky castle most of all, I think, and yay for explaining how the treasury managed not to get disturbed in, like, a thousand years SERIOUSLY LEWIS.

[thedorkygirl.livejournal.com]

Wow, the idea that the castle is in mourning is delicious. I kind of get the feel of ...what is it called? The Question song? from Anne McCaffrey's Pern books. :P But I DO really like this story. I never gave much thought to the afters of their leaving, not in this sort of way or with this detail. Thanks for writing.