and the fallen stars do sing for edenfalling / Elizabeth Culmer
Title: and the fallen stars do sing
Author: animus_wyrmis
Recipient: edenfalling / Elizabeth Culmer
Rating: G
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: N/A
Summary: "I came directly to you, my lord," she said finally. "My sisters and I saw...oh, I can hardly say it! The kings and queens--they've--we've lost them!"
"I'm sorry," Peridan said, "I don't think I understand you. They're not lost; they've gone hunting. There's a large party, after the white stag..."
and the fallen stars do sing
The final day of the reign of the four Pevensie siblings was chilly and sunny, and Lord Peridan spent most of it in his rooms, first lounging about before breakfast, then answering correspondence, then reading through a draft of Mr. Tumnus’s memoirs, which he had promised to look over, and finally retiring to his sitting room with a mug of mulled wine. He was midway through his wine and beginning to ponder supper when a knock sounded and the door opened. The beech dryad who entered his rooms was tall and graceful, but her face was as pale as her bark. “Rho! Come in, please, sit down,” Peridan said, jumping to his feet and ushering her to a chair. “Can I get you anything? Water? Here, have some of my wine-”
Rho took a gulp of his wine, coughed, and wiped her mouth. “I came directly to you, my lord,” she said finally. “My sisters and I saw…oh, I can hardly say it! The kings and queens-they’ve-we’ve lost them!”
“I’m sorry,” Peridan said, “I don’t think I understand you. They’re not lost; they’ve gone hunting. There’s a large party, after the white stag, I was going to go myself, but it looked like rain when I woke up. I’m sorry, I’m babbling, why do you think they’ve been lost?”
Rho took a deep breath and took both of Peridan’s hands in hers. “I know they were out hunting,” she said, as if determined to start from the beginning. “They were out in Lantern Waste, and the four of them walked into our grove. They were laughing; I think they’d left the horses behind, as the grasses grow so thickly there. The four of them walked into the middle of our grove and then disappeared. My sisters and I called and searched for them but we couldn’t find them, nor anyone else. They’ve gone missing, Peridan, or been kidnapped, or-or worse!”
“All right,” Peridan said, “all right. I’ll handle this, Rho, we’ll find them.” And he made a concerted effort to smile reassuringly, although it did not seem to do much good; perhaps Rho was beyond comforting, but I find it more likely that Peridan’s attempt at a smile looked too much like a grimace. Of course he did not believe, quite, that the four kings and queens had really gone missing or been kidnapped, but he knew Rho well enough to know she would not have come this far without good reason. And, to be fair, while the likelihood of Narnia’s enemies mounting an assault in Lantern Waste were slim, the giants to the north had grown restless again, and Peridan did not find it completely beyond question that something untoward had been attempted. “You wait here,” he added, “and please don’t tell anyone why you’re here. Ring for some more wine, though, you look like you might faint. Shall I fetch you a blanket?”
“I can find one myself, I know your quarters well enough,” Rho said. “You go find our kings and queens.”
+
Peridan wanted to go in search of the four Pevensies himself, for they were not only his kings and queens but four of his closest friends as well, but he knew that in a situation like this a man was more likely to hinder than to help. So instead he sent out parties from Cair Paravel, mostly on giants so they would get to Lantern Waste faster, and paced around the balcony of the western council chamber while he gave the orders. He sent out five parties of Dogs, with bundles of clothing to match for scent, and five parties of Eagles and Hawks to search from the skies. Some of the Robins and Blue Jays went straight to the woods to ask the trees what they had seen, and a naiad was dispatched to ask any local water-nymphs or river gods if their kings and queens had passed through the water.
Once all the search parties had been sent out, Peridan could turn his attention back to the rest of the room. Rho had been summoned almost an hour ago from his rooms and was sitting with two of her sisters and Mr. Tumnus, who was twisting his handkerchief; Cloudfall and Mountainrain, centaurs and two of the court’s chief astronomers, stood like statues in the doorway to the balcony. The sun had begun to set, and Cloudfall was looking up at the sky with her mouth set.
“Has Rho told you all what she told me?” Peridan asked finally. “I don’t want to make her repeat herself again.”
“I’ve told them,” Rho said. “Now please, how long must we wait for news?”
“I don’t know,” Peridan said honestly. “But I think we might start talking about, well, contingency plans. Cloudfall, you’ve been staring at those stars for a long time now.”
“Yes,” Cloudfall said, raising a hand to trace the arc of a falling star. “And I do not like what I see. That was the last of the four stars that danced across our skies these many years as points of a compass. Those stars are what brought the loyal Narnians to the Stone Table at the end of the long winter, and they have risen in ascension as our kings and queens have risen.”
“Are you saying that they’re dead?” Mr. Tumnus asked, his voice cracking. Peridan, himself, was selfishly glad that someone else had asked the question, and spared him the task.
“No,” Cloudfall said. “No, I do not think so. The four stars fell below out of our sight, but I hear their song still, though the melody has changed. The kings and queens have gone back to their own world.”
To Peridan’s surprise, the rest of the room took this calmly; Tumnus even dried his eyes and nodded as if this made sense. “Am I the only one who finds this a little difficult to take?” he demanded. “To believe that Aslan has taken our friends in the middle of their reign, when we still need them-” He cut himself off as the door opened and Ossos, the leader of the Hounds at Cair Paravel, crept in. “What news, Ossos?”
“We lost the scent,” Ossos said, his ears drooping and his tail between his legs. “I don’t understand. It was right there, all four of them, and then suddenly-suddenly-” He rolled onto his back in front of Peridan, whining, and Peridan wiped at his face without quite realizing it was wet.
“There was nothing at all?”
“Nothing, my lord,” Ossos said without getting up. His voice was mournful, and Peridan could hear the rest of the Dogs howling outside the castle. “Nothing for miles. I don’t understand where they could be. I don’t understand why they would leave us-” And he put up his face and howled himself.
“I don’t understand it either,” said Mountainrain. “But if Cloudfall says they are gone to their home country, then they are gone, and you must make plans, my lord.”
“Me?” Peridan demanded, aghast. “I’ve taken over the search parties only because Rho came to me-”
“Rho came to you because there is no one better,” Mountainrain said. “And it must be men who do it. You know this. You know Narnia is meant to be ruled by sons of Adam and daughters of Eve.”
“Yes,” Peridan said, bowing his head. “Yes, you are right, sir. I did not think. Someone must send for Admiral Costica; I will need his advice. And Lady Rahat must come back at once. We must have the ambassadors informed; we will not be able to keep this quiet. And for the Lion’s sake, someone get me Gwendolyn!”
Tumnus, who knew Gwendolyn well, dashed out to retrieve her from the library. Rho and her sisters followed Mountainrain out of the chamber, for there was much still to do, and Ossos left off howling and went down to confer with the rest of the Dogs. But Peridan hesitated on the threshold and turned back to Cloudfall. “Did you know this was coming?” he asked.
“I knew something was coming,” she said. “I spoke of it to Her Majesty. But I did not think it would be this.”
“I wish I had known,” Peridan said quietly. “I wish I had known to say goodbye, or to insist on going with them, damn the rain.”
“We will weather this storm,” Cloudfall promised. “But we must not look back.”
“No,” Peridan said. “No, we’re looking forward. I will go write to Simon Costica myself.”
+
The next week was very busy for Peridan and the rest of the Narnians, what with searches (for they did not leave off searching, and indeed Peridan did not think he would never be done searching, no matter how far away Spare Oom was), and messages being sent and received, and serious meetings in long council chambers where everyone was very grave and very sad. During this time Peridan sent for a number of people whom he did not think he could do without. The first to arrive from far north of the borders was Lady Rahat, who was also a knight and a general; when she entered the gates of Cair Paravel at a gallop Peridan rushed down the stairs like a much younger man and reached up to help her dismount. Normally Rahat would have protested that sort of gesture vehemently, but on that day she simply threw her arms around him and held him tightly, and Peridan, who had been hoping Rahat would take over for him as she had when they were children, rested his nose in the crook of her neck, which was rather sweaty, and would have cried but for the crowd around them.
And of course after that Rahat had messages she had to send, and she had to be filled in on all the news, and then they both had to be informed of the latest search results, and if I detail all those long days you will be as tired as Peridan was, and as sad. So instead let us skip ahead a full week, to the day when Admiral Costica, head of the Narnian fleet and the last to arrive, trudged up the stairs to the largest council chamber where all the rest of the most important Narnian lords and ladies were gathered to determine what was to be done. There were men and women, and centaurs and fauns, and naiads and dryads and tree-gods and river-gods (one of whom had been sent as a representative from the sea people), and talking beasts of all sorts. Ossos sat panting next to Mr. Tumnus, and Mountainfall sat next to Gwendolyn, who had been pulled from her library stacks and looked as if she regretted it. You might have that that with such a large group it would be impossible to hear oneself speak, but instead the room was very quiet. It had the frightened, anxious silence of people who do not quite understand what is going on but know they do not like it. And every eye in the room was trained on one side of the table, where four large chairs sat, conspicuously empty.
"Well," Peridan said, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Thank you all for coming. I know everyone must be very confused. I myself am still very confused, but I will endeavor to tell the rest of you what I know. What is clear is that all of the kings and queens have vanished, and we have no trail from them. Ossos, would you please?"
Ossos looked around mournfully, his eyes drooping. "We lost the trail by the Lamppost in Lantern Waste. I've never smelled anything like it. It just went cold. And there was nothing odd on the horses, either." He let out a whine. “I had all of the best Dogs with me,” he added. “If there had been a trail, we would have found it.”
"If I might," Tumnus said, and Peridan nodded to him. They had rehearsed the order of the speakers several days before, and Peridan had been only too glad to let Tumnus make this particular announcement: "When Queen Lucy and her siblings first came into Narnia, as everyone knows, they came in by that lamppost. What not everyone knows is that Queen Lucy came in twice before King Peter and Queen Susan arrived; both times she went back to her own country of Spare Oom through a door somewhere near there. I have never been able to find it, although"--here he looked rather sheepish--"I have looked many times. Is it possible, friends, that they have in fact gone back to their own world?"
The clamor that greeted his suggestion was so loud and so horrified that Peridan was tempted to crawl under the table and not come back out.
"Why would Aslan send them back to their own world when we need them here?" demanded a holly dryad, and "And no one noticed!" from a faun, and "Isn't an attack rather more likely?" from Lady Elif.
"Please!" Peridan called, pounding his fist on the table. "Narnians, please! There are a lot of us, and we must take turns! I don't like Mr. Tumnus's suggestion any more than you do, but it is not about whether we like it. I have asked the centaurs for their advice--Mountainrain? Would you please?"
"Thank you, my lord," said Mountainrain. "I have watched the stars for decades, and my great-granddam Cloudfall has studied their dances for nearly a century. As you recall, it was she who first foretold the return of Aslan and called for the army to gather at the Stone Table for the coming battle. I tell you she has confirmed my reading of the stars."
"And what is that reading?" Peridan asked.
"The kings and queens will not return," Mountainrain said.
The tumult that Tumnus's words had caused was nothing to this. Several lords and ladies were on their feet, a Bear was growling, and several of the Dogs had started to howl again. Peridan jumped to his feet. "SILENCE!" he roared. "We cannot fight about this," he continued. "We cannot. If Mountainrain has seen it and Cloudfall has confirmed it, then we must believe it. I am not saying"--he held up a hand to quell the rising protests--"that we must call off our searches. But we have no leads. Our kings and queens are gone. We cannot put all our efforts into search parties that lead nowhere. We must not run from the possibility that they cannot be found. Mountainrain, please. Continue."
"Thank you, my lord. Friends, Narnians, Tarva stands ready to eclipse Alambil; if that happens it bodes ill for us all. These next few months are crucial if we wish to watch Lady Alambil continue her progress across the night sky. We are leaderless. We must not remain so. Let the thrones stand empty if you must, but someone must take their places."
This time there was no noise, but only the same terrible quiet that had greeted Peridan at the start of the meeting. Finally, Lady Elif murmured, "Is this your reading of events, Peridan?"
Peridan had grown up eight and a half miles from Elif; they had been scolded by the same servants and told the same stories. But she had not addressed him so informally in such a setting in years. That she did so now made it all even worse, and he could only nod.
"Then we must do as Mountainrain suggests," she said simply. "We must not let Narnia fall. Their Majesties"--and here she gave a laugh that was half a sob--"would never stand for it."
Peridan held his breath. For a moment it seemed as if it might go either way; the room might agree with Elif or it might all go to pieces. Finally, when Peridan had nearly given up hope, he began to see nods.
"Aye," said one of the fauns. "They never would stand for it. What must we do? I would not want a king appointed in place without a suitable delay."
"Or a queen," murmured Admiral Costica. Peridan shot him a quick smile; he had not had a chance to speak to the admiral before the meeting, and while Peridan desperately needed his support, he had not known until now if he could count on it.
"If I could," came a very quiet voice from the end of the table, "I have been looking through the archives, and there is precedent. I have made a list--"
"Please go on, Gwendolyn," Peridan told her, and he smiled as reassuringly as he could. "You have more knowledge of such things than anyone besides King Edmund. Friends, I am sure I do not need to introduce any of you to Gwendolyn, our court archivist."
Gwendolyn went very red in the face and spluttered, and then she paged through her notes and seemed to collect herself. "While this exact situation is new," she began, "Narnia has faced monarchs unexpectedly cut down without a clear heir. Of course our situation is complicated by the fact that our kings and queens are missing, and may come back at any time; furthermore they have no issue or other family, legitimate or not. But we do have options. In the time of King Frank IV, the succession crisis was brought about by the assassination of the king and his brother, leaving the brother's infant son, the later King Plummer, as the reigning monarch. Of course he was too young to rule, so in his stead a council of five was appointed to oversee the country until he reached his majority. This council was chosen from among the king's closest advisors. So we might appoint a council to rule in stewardship; members in such councils have historically been subject to replacement. Their positions have not been considered hereditary. Implementing this on a permanent basis," she added after a moment, "might prove difficult."
"Another alternative is to appoint a single steward and accept his or her heirs as de facto kings and queens, always remembering we might welcome back our own kings and queens. This was the solution after the King Gale was killed in battle, when Swanwhite was crowned queen and her heirs accepted; her dynasty held until the Witch.
"Thirdly, we might accept Cor or Corin of Archenland as king; they are descended directly from Frank and Helen and as such have some legitimate right to the Narnian throne. We might accept the same king as Archenland, or we might ask that Cor's second child take P--take this throne, and leave Anvard for the firstborn. This has always been suggested in times of crisis, although never yet taken up." She looked up from her notes and added, with uncharacteristic steeliness, "I do not think this is the better option."
"Nor I," Peridan admitted. "I like Prince Corin, but I would rather not see him on our throne. And I do not like the idea of a king of Archenland making Narnia a second jewel in his crown, friends though we may be."
"If I am remembering my history right," Bumblethorn the giant rumbled slowly, "Queen Swanwhite was already King Gale's heir in all but name. We do not have anyone like that, and even if we did I am not sure I want to start a new dynasty tonight. My vote is for a council, and Aslan can pick us a new queen."
"That is my vote as well," said Tumnus. "And I think we must make sure there are procedures in place for replacing council members--and not just from within the council. There must be a way to remove an entirely corrupt council."
"A council of human stewards to rule," Mountainrain said. "Narnia is best ruled by humans."
"Then we will want a larger council," said a naiad, "to advise the ruling council."
"Absolutely," Peridan said. "Does anyone speak against the two councils? Anyone for a line of stewards, or a ruler from Archenland?"
He counted eight seconds of silence before speaking again. "Then we will speak our votes. I am for a council. Rahat, yea or nay?"
"Yea,” Rahat said. The votes went down the line, one yea after another. Simon Costica cast the final affirmative vote.
“Then we are agreed,” Peridan said. “Gwendolyn, how do we proceed?”
“I will accept nominations,” she said. “I will, oh, I suppose I will stay here for the rest of the day, and all day tomorrow, and anyone who wishes to nominate a candidate for either the ruling or the advisory council must come to me and make the nomination, and then on the third day we will reconvene here for a vote. I will only consider nominations valid if two people have nominated a candidate; that was how it was done before. Is that acceptable?”
s
There were nods all around, and Peridan stood. “Then we are adjourned,” he said. “I will see you all here in two days’ time. Make your nominations wisely, for we hold the future of our country in hand.”
+
The following days were busy for everyone, for there were meetings to decide what to tell the ambassadors, and meetings to learn what the ambassadors and foreign courts had already learned, and meetings to discuss what sort of increased military presence Narnia should show, and where to put it. But everyone found time to visit Gwendolyn as she sat at the foot of the great oak table and proffer their nominations, and on the day of the voting (which was to take place in the late afternoon) the chamber was full early, and the nervous Narnians chatted together as they waited for Gwendolyn to start the voting.
Finally Gwendolyn stood, and the conversation stopped. "There are nine nominations to the primary council of stewards," Gwendolyn began, "and thirty to the secondary council to advise them. Everyone may cast seven votes for the first, and ten for the second; I will tally the votes and announce the seven highest for confirmation to the primary council, and the twenty-five with the most votes for confirmation to the secondary. In the event that this is impossible due to a tie, I will announce a second vote when the other names are announced. Is this acceptable to everyone present?"
There were nods all around; Peridan saw Gwendolyn glance around carefully before looking to him for agreement. He nodded at her and flashed his most reassuring smile, which made her blush.
"Then I have taken the liberty of preparing ballots," she continued. "Each of you has in front of her two sheets of parchment. They are marked, so that a counterfeit ballot cannot be substituted; but they are marked identically, so that even I will not know whose vote is whose. The one on top is for the primary council, and the one below that for the secondary. They are labeled. I, um, I thought we would cast our votes here, and when you are done you may place them into this box”-she indicated a box in front of her-“and I will tally them.”
“Are we all ready?” Peridan asked. Again, there were nods; he was beginning to worry about how few of his countrymen were still talking.
“Then please, begin,” Gwendolyn said, and she sat down with a quill to cast her own vote.
Peridan sucked on the end of his quill and considered his options. The votes to the stewards’ council were easy (he did not vote for himself), but the votes for the advisory council were more complicated, as there were more nominees to choose from, and he had not had the time he would have liked to think about them. But finally he was done; he folded each sheet in half and handed them into Gwendolyn, and then sat back and waited for her to determine their fate.
In half an hour (for Gwendolyn had waited for the final votes to be handed in before she began to tally them), Gwendolyn stood up again and cleared her throat. “I have the votes,” she said. “For the stewards’ council, the seven nominees with the most votes are as follows: Lord Peridan, Lady Rahat, Lady Moira, Admiral Costica, Sir Dorian, Faeloren of Avra, and, er, me. Do we confirm these seven as stewards to rule us?”
There were yeses from around the room. Peridan held up a hand and said, “All in favor?”
The ayes and yeas came from all through the room.
“All opposed? Candidates, now is your chance.”
There were none opposed, although Peridan had gotten a look at Simon Costica’s face and wondered for a moment if he might refuse the position.
“Then we are confirmed. Gwendolyn?”
“The nominations for the advisory council are: Mr. Tumnus, Farsight the eagle, Ossos, Anaen, the Lord Beaver, Bumblethorn, Cloudburst, Mountainrain, Dame Alambil, the Lady Helen, Sir Graytail, Ilex, Teak, Blackclaw, Hwin-win-win, Anat, Tallulah, Myrrha, Whitetalon, Sir Peepicheep, Susurra and her brother Susurro, Farfullo, Nemora, and the Lord Mole.”
Again, Peridan asked for yeas and nays, and again the council was confirmed unanimously.
“Then,” Peridan said, “could someone draft an announcement to codify what we have agreed to? And then perhaps we should allow the councils to retreat for their first meetings.”
This was agreed upon; but of course everyone wanted to speak to their new rulers, and with one thing and another it was several hours before Peridan and the rest of the new stewards finally made their way to Lady Moira’s sitting room (her husband, who had been away in the south when the four Pevensies had disappeared, was still not back) and collapsed in exhaustion among the cushions.
“I don’t know where to start,” Gwendolyn said. “Why on earth did anyone nominate me?”
“Well, you did come up with the solution to our leadership problem,” Faeloren pointed out. Faeloren was the one Peridan knew the least; he had grown up with Rahat, and he knew Lady Moira and Simon Costica very well. Gwendolyn had become his friend almost as soon as she arrived from Archenland. Even Sir Dorian, who was almost never in Narnia, had nearly drunk Peridan under the table one spring evening. But Faeloren, a banker and a transplant from the Lone Islands, was nearly a stranger; Peridan would have to keep an eye on him.
“We won’t give up on the searches, though, will we?” Lady Moira asked. “I know what Cloudfall said, but Sir Dorian, surely you’ve some idea where else we could look.”
Sir Dorian shrugged. “I’ve come across many strange things in my travels, true,” he said. “But nothing so strange as a door between worlds.”
“That doesn’t mean we’ll stop searching, though,” Simon Costica reassured her. “At least I don’t plan to.”
“No, nor I,” Peridan said. “No matter how sure we are it won’t be any good. But that isn’t to say we won’t rule in their stead,” he added. “We owe them, and Narnia, that much.”
“Obviously,” Rahat said, cuffing him lightly. “I did mean to suggest we come up with a new sort of knight, though. A class of knight that would go look for our missing monarchs, and unearth the sort of magic that might have done this.”
“I rather like that,” Simon said. “Open it up to the navy; there are plenty of strange creatures out east.”
“By all means,” Peridan said, and reached behind Moira to uncork a bottle of wine and pass the glasses around. “We shall need plenty of brave knights in the years to come, I think, to keep Narnia safe and prosperous.”
“Well then,” said Gwendolyn, raising her glass, “to Narnia - may we be worthy of her.”
“To Narnia!”
Original Prompt that we sent you:
What I want: To sum up, I want world-building and/or exciting adventures. If adventures, I would prefer the main characters NOT be Peter and Edmund, since they get more than their fair share of such plots. If world-building, there are nearly three thousand years of Narnian world history to play with, plus lots of places we see only in passing or never see at all. Go wild! (Heck, invent whole new worlds if you wish; the Wood canonically allows that option.)
For example:
1. Archenland during the Long Winter, or during the first years after Narnia's sudden reemergence from its magical bonds. They are sister countries, after all, and Archenland's royal family has a blood-right claim to the Narnia throne. Narnia's loss and recovery must have been wrenching changes. I'd love to see the initial reaction to the Winter, people trying to break down the magical barriers (whose existence I must assume to explain the ridiculous isolation evident in LWW), Lune and his wife meeting the Pevensies, etc.
2. What happened in Narnia in the years around the death of the Tree of Protection? Did Jadis kill it (by magic or by proxy), or did it just die of old age? How soon thereafter did she enter Narnia? Via subterfuge or via conquest? Who set up the resistance and how? (Also, who set up the black market the Beavers are clearly using, and how does it work?)
3. What led to the Telmarine invasion and conquest of Narnia? Aslan says it was a famine, but famine alone is unlikely to lead to the entirety of a settled people migrating to a new country; some must have stayed in Telmar. Was the migration a regional thing, or did families split down the middle? Was Caspian I royalty before the invasion or did he only rise to prominence in Narnia? How quickly (and why) did the Narnian Telmarines lose contact with their home country? That entire episode is crying out for exploration.
4. Susan and Lucy have an unexpected adventure, including two or more of the following elements: Ambushes! Captures! Daring escapes and rescues! Disguises, deceit, and diplomacy! Cunning plans! Expressions of love, faith, and trust in each other! Doomed last stands! Happy endings! Basically, you know those epic brotherly devotion/adventure fics? Write me one of those, but with sisters instead. Preferably in the Narnian world, but if you can find a way to play out something from that genre in England, that would be awesome too.
Please note that I am not trying to restrict you to those ideas! They are just some examples of what I mean by world-building and exciting adventures.
Prompt words/objects/quotes/whatever: "....for if you live you may yet have good fortune but all the dead are dead alike."
Swords. Knife-fights. Epic speeches before battles. Conversations about love wherein the word itself is never spoken but the sentiment is nonetheless clearly expressed and understood by both parties. Politics. Economics. Arguments. Magic.
"Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."
Author: animus_wyrmis
Recipient: edenfalling / Elizabeth Culmer
Rating: G
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: N/A
Summary: "I came directly to you, my lord," she said finally. "My sisters and I saw...oh, I can hardly say it! The kings and queens--they've--we've lost them!"
"I'm sorry," Peridan said, "I don't think I understand you. They're not lost; they've gone hunting. There's a large party, after the white stag..."
and the fallen stars do sing
The final day of the reign of the four Pevensie siblings was chilly and sunny, and Lord Peridan spent most of it in his rooms, first lounging about before breakfast, then answering correspondence, then reading through a draft of Mr. Tumnus’s memoirs, which he had promised to look over, and finally retiring to his sitting room with a mug of mulled wine. He was midway through his wine and beginning to ponder supper when a knock sounded and the door opened. The beech dryad who entered his rooms was tall and graceful, but her face was as pale as her bark. “Rho! Come in, please, sit down,” Peridan said, jumping to his feet and ushering her to a chair. “Can I get you anything? Water? Here, have some of my wine-”
Rho took a gulp of his wine, coughed, and wiped her mouth. “I came directly to you, my lord,” she said finally. “My sisters and I saw…oh, I can hardly say it! The kings and queens-they’ve-we’ve lost them!”
“I’m sorry,” Peridan said, “I don’t think I understand you. They’re not lost; they’ve gone hunting. There’s a large party, after the white stag, I was going to go myself, but it looked like rain when I woke up. I’m sorry, I’m babbling, why do you think they’ve been lost?”
Rho took a deep breath and took both of Peridan’s hands in hers. “I know they were out hunting,” she said, as if determined to start from the beginning. “They were out in Lantern Waste, and the four of them walked into our grove. They were laughing; I think they’d left the horses behind, as the grasses grow so thickly there. The four of them walked into the middle of our grove and then disappeared. My sisters and I called and searched for them but we couldn’t find them, nor anyone else. They’ve gone missing, Peridan, or been kidnapped, or-or worse!”
“All right,” Peridan said, “all right. I’ll handle this, Rho, we’ll find them.” And he made a concerted effort to smile reassuringly, although it did not seem to do much good; perhaps Rho was beyond comforting, but I find it more likely that Peridan’s attempt at a smile looked too much like a grimace. Of course he did not believe, quite, that the four kings and queens had really gone missing or been kidnapped, but he knew Rho well enough to know she would not have come this far without good reason. And, to be fair, while the likelihood of Narnia’s enemies mounting an assault in Lantern Waste were slim, the giants to the north had grown restless again, and Peridan did not find it completely beyond question that something untoward had been attempted. “You wait here,” he added, “and please don’t tell anyone why you’re here. Ring for some more wine, though, you look like you might faint. Shall I fetch you a blanket?”
“I can find one myself, I know your quarters well enough,” Rho said. “You go find our kings and queens.”
+
Peridan wanted to go in search of the four Pevensies himself, for they were not only his kings and queens but four of his closest friends as well, but he knew that in a situation like this a man was more likely to hinder than to help. So instead he sent out parties from Cair Paravel, mostly on giants so they would get to Lantern Waste faster, and paced around the balcony of the western council chamber while he gave the orders. He sent out five parties of Dogs, with bundles of clothing to match for scent, and five parties of Eagles and Hawks to search from the skies. Some of the Robins and Blue Jays went straight to the woods to ask the trees what they had seen, and a naiad was dispatched to ask any local water-nymphs or river gods if their kings and queens had passed through the water.
Once all the search parties had been sent out, Peridan could turn his attention back to the rest of the room. Rho had been summoned almost an hour ago from his rooms and was sitting with two of her sisters and Mr. Tumnus, who was twisting his handkerchief; Cloudfall and Mountainrain, centaurs and two of the court’s chief astronomers, stood like statues in the doorway to the balcony. The sun had begun to set, and Cloudfall was looking up at the sky with her mouth set.
“Has Rho told you all what she told me?” Peridan asked finally. “I don’t want to make her repeat herself again.”
“I’ve told them,” Rho said. “Now please, how long must we wait for news?”
“I don’t know,” Peridan said honestly. “But I think we might start talking about, well, contingency plans. Cloudfall, you’ve been staring at those stars for a long time now.”
“Yes,” Cloudfall said, raising a hand to trace the arc of a falling star. “And I do not like what I see. That was the last of the four stars that danced across our skies these many years as points of a compass. Those stars are what brought the loyal Narnians to the Stone Table at the end of the long winter, and they have risen in ascension as our kings and queens have risen.”
“Are you saying that they’re dead?” Mr. Tumnus asked, his voice cracking. Peridan, himself, was selfishly glad that someone else had asked the question, and spared him the task.
“No,” Cloudfall said. “No, I do not think so. The four stars fell below out of our sight, but I hear their song still, though the melody has changed. The kings and queens have gone back to their own world.”
To Peridan’s surprise, the rest of the room took this calmly; Tumnus even dried his eyes and nodded as if this made sense. “Am I the only one who finds this a little difficult to take?” he demanded. “To believe that Aslan has taken our friends in the middle of their reign, when we still need them-” He cut himself off as the door opened and Ossos, the leader of the Hounds at Cair Paravel, crept in. “What news, Ossos?”
“We lost the scent,” Ossos said, his ears drooping and his tail between his legs. “I don’t understand. It was right there, all four of them, and then suddenly-suddenly-” He rolled onto his back in front of Peridan, whining, and Peridan wiped at his face without quite realizing it was wet.
“There was nothing at all?”
“Nothing, my lord,” Ossos said without getting up. His voice was mournful, and Peridan could hear the rest of the Dogs howling outside the castle. “Nothing for miles. I don’t understand where they could be. I don’t understand why they would leave us-” And he put up his face and howled himself.
“I don’t understand it either,” said Mountainrain. “But if Cloudfall says they are gone to their home country, then they are gone, and you must make plans, my lord.”
“Me?” Peridan demanded, aghast. “I’ve taken over the search parties only because Rho came to me-”
“Rho came to you because there is no one better,” Mountainrain said. “And it must be men who do it. You know this. You know Narnia is meant to be ruled by sons of Adam and daughters of Eve.”
“Yes,” Peridan said, bowing his head. “Yes, you are right, sir. I did not think. Someone must send for Admiral Costica; I will need his advice. And Lady Rahat must come back at once. We must have the ambassadors informed; we will not be able to keep this quiet. And for the Lion’s sake, someone get me Gwendolyn!”
Tumnus, who knew Gwendolyn well, dashed out to retrieve her from the library. Rho and her sisters followed Mountainrain out of the chamber, for there was much still to do, and Ossos left off howling and went down to confer with the rest of the Dogs. But Peridan hesitated on the threshold and turned back to Cloudfall. “Did you know this was coming?” he asked.
“I knew something was coming,” she said. “I spoke of it to Her Majesty. But I did not think it would be this.”
“I wish I had known,” Peridan said quietly. “I wish I had known to say goodbye, or to insist on going with them, damn the rain.”
“We will weather this storm,” Cloudfall promised. “But we must not look back.”
“No,” Peridan said. “No, we’re looking forward. I will go write to Simon Costica myself.”
+
The next week was very busy for Peridan and the rest of the Narnians, what with searches (for they did not leave off searching, and indeed Peridan did not think he would never be done searching, no matter how far away Spare Oom was), and messages being sent and received, and serious meetings in long council chambers where everyone was very grave and very sad. During this time Peridan sent for a number of people whom he did not think he could do without. The first to arrive from far north of the borders was Lady Rahat, who was also a knight and a general; when she entered the gates of Cair Paravel at a gallop Peridan rushed down the stairs like a much younger man and reached up to help her dismount. Normally Rahat would have protested that sort of gesture vehemently, but on that day she simply threw her arms around him and held him tightly, and Peridan, who had been hoping Rahat would take over for him as she had when they were children, rested his nose in the crook of her neck, which was rather sweaty, and would have cried but for the crowd around them.
And of course after that Rahat had messages she had to send, and she had to be filled in on all the news, and then they both had to be informed of the latest search results, and if I detail all those long days you will be as tired as Peridan was, and as sad. So instead let us skip ahead a full week, to the day when Admiral Costica, head of the Narnian fleet and the last to arrive, trudged up the stairs to the largest council chamber where all the rest of the most important Narnian lords and ladies were gathered to determine what was to be done. There were men and women, and centaurs and fauns, and naiads and dryads and tree-gods and river-gods (one of whom had been sent as a representative from the sea people), and talking beasts of all sorts. Ossos sat panting next to Mr. Tumnus, and Mountainfall sat next to Gwendolyn, who had been pulled from her library stacks and looked as if she regretted it. You might have that that with such a large group it would be impossible to hear oneself speak, but instead the room was very quiet. It had the frightened, anxious silence of people who do not quite understand what is going on but know they do not like it. And every eye in the room was trained on one side of the table, where four large chairs sat, conspicuously empty.
"Well," Peridan said, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Thank you all for coming. I know everyone must be very confused. I myself am still very confused, but I will endeavor to tell the rest of you what I know. What is clear is that all of the kings and queens have vanished, and we have no trail from them. Ossos, would you please?"
Ossos looked around mournfully, his eyes drooping. "We lost the trail by the Lamppost in Lantern Waste. I've never smelled anything like it. It just went cold. And there was nothing odd on the horses, either." He let out a whine. “I had all of the best Dogs with me,” he added. “If there had been a trail, we would have found it.”
"If I might," Tumnus said, and Peridan nodded to him. They had rehearsed the order of the speakers several days before, and Peridan had been only too glad to let Tumnus make this particular announcement: "When Queen Lucy and her siblings first came into Narnia, as everyone knows, they came in by that lamppost. What not everyone knows is that Queen Lucy came in twice before King Peter and Queen Susan arrived; both times she went back to her own country of Spare Oom through a door somewhere near there. I have never been able to find it, although"--here he looked rather sheepish--"I have looked many times. Is it possible, friends, that they have in fact gone back to their own world?"
The clamor that greeted his suggestion was so loud and so horrified that Peridan was tempted to crawl under the table and not come back out.
"Why would Aslan send them back to their own world when we need them here?" demanded a holly dryad, and "And no one noticed!" from a faun, and "Isn't an attack rather more likely?" from Lady Elif.
"Please!" Peridan called, pounding his fist on the table. "Narnians, please! There are a lot of us, and we must take turns! I don't like Mr. Tumnus's suggestion any more than you do, but it is not about whether we like it. I have asked the centaurs for their advice--Mountainrain? Would you please?"
"Thank you, my lord," said Mountainrain. "I have watched the stars for decades, and my great-granddam Cloudfall has studied their dances for nearly a century. As you recall, it was she who first foretold the return of Aslan and called for the army to gather at the Stone Table for the coming battle. I tell you she has confirmed my reading of the stars."
"And what is that reading?" Peridan asked.
"The kings and queens will not return," Mountainrain said.
The tumult that Tumnus's words had caused was nothing to this. Several lords and ladies were on their feet, a Bear was growling, and several of the Dogs had started to howl again. Peridan jumped to his feet. "SILENCE!" he roared. "We cannot fight about this," he continued. "We cannot. If Mountainrain has seen it and Cloudfall has confirmed it, then we must believe it. I am not saying"--he held up a hand to quell the rising protests--"that we must call off our searches. But we have no leads. Our kings and queens are gone. We cannot put all our efforts into search parties that lead nowhere. We must not run from the possibility that they cannot be found. Mountainrain, please. Continue."
"Thank you, my lord. Friends, Narnians, Tarva stands ready to eclipse Alambil; if that happens it bodes ill for us all. These next few months are crucial if we wish to watch Lady Alambil continue her progress across the night sky. We are leaderless. We must not remain so. Let the thrones stand empty if you must, but someone must take their places."
This time there was no noise, but only the same terrible quiet that had greeted Peridan at the start of the meeting. Finally, Lady Elif murmured, "Is this your reading of events, Peridan?"
Peridan had grown up eight and a half miles from Elif; they had been scolded by the same servants and told the same stories. But she had not addressed him so informally in such a setting in years. That she did so now made it all even worse, and he could only nod.
"Then we must do as Mountainrain suggests," she said simply. "We must not let Narnia fall. Their Majesties"--and here she gave a laugh that was half a sob--"would never stand for it."
Peridan held his breath. For a moment it seemed as if it might go either way; the room might agree with Elif or it might all go to pieces. Finally, when Peridan had nearly given up hope, he began to see nods.
"Aye," said one of the fauns. "They never would stand for it. What must we do? I would not want a king appointed in place without a suitable delay."
"Or a queen," murmured Admiral Costica. Peridan shot him a quick smile; he had not had a chance to speak to the admiral before the meeting, and while Peridan desperately needed his support, he had not known until now if he could count on it.
"If I could," came a very quiet voice from the end of the table, "I have been looking through the archives, and there is precedent. I have made a list--"
"Please go on, Gwendolyn," Peridan told her, and he smiled as reassuringly as he could. "You have more knowledge of such things than anyone besides King Edmund. Friends, I am sure I do not need to introduce any of you to Gwendolyn, our court archivist."
Gwendolyn went very red in the face and spluttered, and then she paged through her notes and seemed to collect herself. "While this exact situation is new," she began, "Narnia has faced monarchs unexpectedly cut down without a clear heir. Of course our situation is complicated by the fact that our kings and queens are missing, and may come back at any time; furthermore they have no issue or other family, legitimate or not. But we do have options. In the time of King Frank IV, the succession crisis was brought about by the assassination of the king and his brother, leaving the brother's infant son, the later King Plummer, as the reigning monarch. Of course he was too young to rule, so in his stead a council of five was appointed to oversee the country until he reached his majority. This council was chosen from among the king's closest advisors. So we might appoint a council to rule in stewardship; members in such councils have historically been subject to replacement. Their positions have not been considered hereditary. Implementing this on a permanent basis," she added after a moment, "might prove difficult."
"Another alternative is to appoint a single steward and accept his or her heirs as de facto kings and queens, always remembering we might welcome back our own kings and queens. This was the solution after the King Gale was killed in battle, when Swanwhite was crowned queen and her heirs accepted; her dynasty held until the Witch.
"Thirdly, we might accept Cor or Corin of Archenland as king; they are descended directly from Frank and Helen and as such have some legitimate right to the Narnian throne. We might accept the same king as Archenland, or we might ask that Cor's second child take P--take this throne, and leave Anvard for the firstborn. This has always been suggested in times of crisis, although never yet taken up." She looked up from her notes and added, with uncharacteristic steeliness, "I do not think this is the better option."
"Nor I," Peridan admitted. "I like Prince Corin, but I would rather not see him on our throne. And I do not like the idea of a king of Archenland making Narnia a second jewel in his crown, friends though we may be."
"If I am remembering my history right," Bumblethorn the giant rumbled slowly, "Queen Swanwhite was already King Gale's heir in all but name. We do not have anyone like that, and even if we did I am not sure I want to start a new dynasty tonight. My vote is for a council, and Aslan can pick us a new queen."
"That is my vote as well," said Tumnus. "And I think we must make sure there are procedures in place for replacing council members--and not just from within the council. There must be a way to remove an entirely corrupt council."
"A council of human stewards to rule," Mountainrain said. "Narnia is best ruled by humans."
"Then we will want a larger council," said a naiad, "to advise the ruling council."
"Absolutely," Peridan said. "Does anyone speak against the two councils? Anyone for a line of stewards, or a ruler from Archenland?"
He counted eight seconds of silence before speaking again. "Then we will speak our votes. I am for a council. Rahat, yea or nay?"
"Yea,” Rahat said. The votes went down the line, one yea after another. Simon Costica cast the final affirmative vote.
“Then we are agreed,” Peridan said. “Gwendolyn, how do we proceed?”
“I will accept nominations,” she said. “I will, oh, I suppose I will stay here for the rest of the day, and all day tomorrow, and anyone who wishes to nominate a candidate for either the ruling or the advisory council must come to me and make the nomination, and then on the third day we will reconvene here for a vote. I will only consider nominations valid if two people have nominated a candidate; that was how it was done before. Is that acceptable?”
s
There were nods all around, and Peridan stood. “Then we are adjourned,” he said. “I will see you all here in two days’ time. Make your nominations wisely, for we hold the future of our country in hand.”
+
The following days were busy for everyone, for there were meetings to decide what to tell the ambassadors, and meetings to learn what the ambassadors and foreign courts had already learned, and meetings to discuss what sort of increased military presence Narnia should show, and where to put it. But everyone found time to visit Gwendolyn as she sat at the foot of the great oak table and proffer their nominations, and on the day of the voting (which was to take place in the late afternoon) the chamber was full early, and the nervous Narnians chatted together as they waited for Gwendolyn to start the voting.
Finally Gwendolyn stood, and the conversation stopped. "There are nine nominations to the primary council of stewards," Gwendolyn began, "and thirty to the secondary council to advise them. Everyone may cast seven votes for the first, and ten for the second; I will tally the votes and announce the seven highest for confirmation to the primary council, and the twenty-five with the most votes for confirmation to the secondary. In the event that this is impossible due to a tie, I will announce a second vote when the other names are announced. Is this acceptable to everyone present?"
There were nods all around; Peridan saw Gwendolyn glance around carefully before looking to him for agreement. He nodded at her and flashed his most reassuring smile, which made her blush.
"Then I have taken the liberty of preparing ballots," she continued. "Each of you has in front of her two sheets of parchment. They are marked, so that a counterfeit ballot cannot be substituted; but they are marked identically, so that even I will not know whose vote is whose. The one on top is for the primary council, and the one below that for the secondary. They are labeled. I, um, I thought we would cast our votes here, and when you are done you may place them into this box”-she indicated a box in front of her-“and I will tally them.”
“Are we all ready?” Peridan asked. Again, there were nods; he was beginning to worry about how few of his countrymen were still talking.
“Then please, begin,” Gwendolyn said, and she sat down with a quill to cast her own vote.
Peridan sucked on the end of his quill and considered his options. The votes to the stewards’ council were easy (he did not vote for himself), but the votes for the advisory council were more complicated, as there were more nominees to choose from, and he had not had the time he would have liked to think about them. But finally he was done; he folded each sheet in half and handed them into Gwendolyn, and then sat back and waited for her to determine their fate.
In half an hour (for Gwendolyn had waited for the final votes to be handed in before she began to tally them), Gwendolyn stood up again and cleared her throat. “I have the votes,” she said. “For the stewards’ council, the seven nominees with the most votes are as follows: Lord Peridan, Lady Rahat, Lady Moira, Admiral Costica, Sir Dorian, Faeloren of Avra, and, er, me. Do we confirm these seven as stewards to rule us?”
There were yeses from around the room. Peridan held up a hand and said, “All in favor?”
The ayes and yeas came from all through the room.
“All opposed? Candidates, now is your chance.”
There were none opposed, although Peridan had gotten a look at Simon Costica’s face and wondered for a moment if he might refuse the position.
“Then we are confirmed. Gwendolyn?”
“The nominations for the advisory council are: Mr. Tumnus, Farsight the eagle, Ossos, Anaen, the Lord Beaver, Bumblethorn, Cloudburst, Mountainrain, Dame Alambil, the Lady Helen, Sir Graytail, Ilex, Teak, Blackclaw, Hwin-win-win, Anat, Tallulah, Myrrha, Whitetalon, Sir Peepicheep, Susurra and her brother Susurro, Farfullo, Nemora, and the Lord Mole.”
Again, Peridan asked for yeas and nays, and again the council was confirmed unanimously.
“Then,” Peridan said, “could someone draft an announcement to codify what we have agreed to? And then perhaps we should allow the councils to retreat for their first meetings.”
This was agreed upon; but of course everyone wanted to speak to their new rulers, and with one thing and another it was several hours before Peridan and the rest of the new stewards finally made their way to Lady Moira’s sitting room (her husband, who had been away in the south when the four Pevensies had disappeared, was still not back) and collapsed in exhaustion among the cushions.
“I don’t know where to start,” Gwendolyn said. “Why on earth did anyone nominate me?”
“Well, you did come up with the solution to our leadership problem,” Faeloren pointed out. Faeloren was the one Peridan knew the least; he had grown up with Rahat, and he knew Lady Moira and Simon Costica very well. Gwendolyn had become his friend almost as soon as she arrived from Archenland. Even Sir Dorian, who was almost never in Narnia, had nearly drunk Peridan under the table one spring evening. But Faeloren, a banker and a transplant from the Lone Islands, was nearly a stranger; Peridan would have to keep an eye on him.
“We won’t give up on the searches, though, will we?” Lady Moira asked. “I know what Cloudfall said, but Sir Dorian, surely you’ve some idea where else we could look.”
Sir Dorian shrugged. “I’ve come across many strange things in my travels, true,” he said. “But nothing so strange as a door between worlds.”
“That doesn’t mean we’ll stop searching, though,” Simon Costica reassured her. “At least I don’t plan to.”
“No, nor I,” Peridan said. “No matter how sure we are it won’t be any good. But that isn’t to say we won’t rule in their stead,” he added. “We owe them, and Narnia, that much.”
“Obviously,” Rahat said, cuffing him lightly. “I did mean to suggest we come up with a new sort of knight, though. A class of knight that would go look for our missing monarchs, and unearth the sort of magic that might have done this.”
“I rather like that,” Simon said. “Open it up to the navy; there are plenty of strange creatures out east.”
“By all means,” Peridan said, and reached behind Moira to uncork a bottle of wine and pass the glasses around. “We shall need plenty of brave knights in the years to come, I think, to keep Narnia safe and prosperous.”
“Well then,” said Gwendolyn, raising her glass, “to Narnia - may we be worthy of her.”
“To Narnia!”
Original Prompt that we sent you:
What I want: To sum up, I want world-building and/or exciting adventures. If adventures, I would prefer the main characters NOT be Peter and Edmund, since they get more than their fair share of such plots. If world-building, there are nearly three thousand years of Narnian world history to play with, plus lots of places we see only in passing or never see at all. Go wild! (Heck, invent whole new worlds if you wish; the Wood canonically allows that option.)
For example:
1. Archenland during the Long Winter, or during the first years after Narnia's sudden reemergence from its magical bonds. They are sister countries, after all, and Archenland's royal family has a blood-right claim to the Narnia throne. Narnia's loss and recovery must have been wrenching changes. I'd love to see the initial reaction to the Winter, people trying to break down the magical barriers (whose existence I must assume to explain the ridiculous isolation evident in LWW), Lune and his wife meeting the Pevensies, etc.
2. What happened in Narnia in the years around the death of the Tree of Protection? Did Jadis kill it (by magic or by proxy), or did it just die of old age? How soon thereafter did she enter Narnia? Via subterfuge or via conquest? Who set up the resistance and how? (Also, who set up the black market the Beavers are clearly using, and how does it work?)
3. What led to the Telmarine invasion and conquest of Narnia? Aslan says it was a famine, but famine alone is unlikely to lead to the entirety of a settled people migrating to a new country; some must have stayed in Telmar. Was the migration a regional thing, or did families split down the middle? Was Caspian I royalty before the invasion or did he only rise to prominence in Narnia? How quickly (and why) did the Narnian Telmarines lose contact with their home country? That entire episode is crying out for exploration.
4. Susan and Lucy have an unexpected adventure, including two or more of the following elements: Ambushes! Captures! Daring escapes and rescues! Disguises, deceit, and diplomacy! Cunning plans! Expressions of love, faith, and trust in each other! Doomed last stands! Happy endings! Basically, you know those epic brotherly devotion/adventure fics? Write me one of those, but with sisters instead. Preferably in the Narnian world, but if you can find a way to play out something from that genre in England, that would be awesome too.
Please note that I am not trying to restrict you to those ideas! They are just some examples of what I mean by world-building and exciting adventures.
Prompt words/objects/quotes/whatever: "....for if you live you may yet have good fortune but all the dead are dead alike."
Swords. Knife-fights. Epic speeches before battles. Conversations about love wherein the word itself is never spoken but the sentiment is nonetheless clearly expressed and understood by both parties. Politics. Economics. Arguments. Magic.
"Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."