the_seafarer | [au] Narnia and the North

[au] Narnia and the North

There's a chill bite to the air, these days. The horses have been growing out their winter coats, and they look shaggy and plump as Caspian turns them out into the paddocks. Behind the stables, in the makeshift woodshop he'd cobbled together, the sleigh from his drawings is starting to come together.

He hopes he'll have it finished by Christmas. With a little luck, and maybe some assistance, he thinks it should be possible. The tack, he's largely left up to Susan's devices, though he'd commission Gimli the dwarf for the various buckles and other metal pieces they'll need.

Once the horses are turned out, he gets to his other morning chores with a will, whistling cheerfully as he does. The stable stays strangely quiet around him. It takes him the better part of an hour to realize the strangeness is because he's become accustomed to Susan's cheerful presence working alongside him, talking or humming or simply working in companionable silence.

Caspian pauses in his task – refilling the grain chest – and looks around. Susan's nowhere to be seen, and when he later wanders through the stables, checking each stall and outside, he can't find her there, either.

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Fog-gray eyes widen in real delight. "Ye sing?"

"Yes, of course," the Mouse tells her, "and though I don't pretend to have any real talent at it, I flatter myself my voice is not painful to the ears. Would you like a song, Daughter of Eve?"

"Aye, I would, very much," she tells him, "and to sing with ye, if ye'd allow it."

Her da' had always said her voice were gifted of her gramma, and the warmth of simple happiness spreads through her at the thought.

"My lady, I would be honored."

He thinks for a moment, then stands and sings in his sweet, chirruping voice:

O sailor, where are you bound?
I'm bound across that eastern sea.
Tell my love I'm gone to roam,
and bring her home a pearl or two.

She slips off her boots and tucks her feet up under her in the corner of the little sofa, listening with every sign of contentment. It's easy enough for her to pick up the melody, and she hums a very soft counterpoint beneath it.

The Mouse, seeing that she's in no mind to stop him, continues.

O sailor, what have you seen?
I spied a green and faroff shore.
A year and more since I've seen home,
and looked to see her smile at me.

It reminds her a little of the song Charlie Pace had taught her, months ago.

(the water is wide, I cannot cross o'er
and neither have I wings to fly
build me a boat that will carry two
and both shall row, my love and I)

Susan keeps up her soft harmony while Reepicheep sings, then offers a song of her own for him in turn.

In this way, time passes.

Having heard her woes and what she battles against – and knowing full well what his king would think of him abandoning her – Reepicheep gently but firmly rebuffs any and all attempts by her to consider his own time as anything other than well-spent. When she grows too weary to sing, he tells her stories, instead, and is even now relating the tale of the dryad who sang over his cradle and the destiny he'd always sought.

She leans against the back of the couch, head pillowed on her arm, and listens carefully, fighting to show no more weariness than that. Reepicheep is worried enough as things are.

“Caspian says they’re a bit like the tree-folken here,” she murmurs. “But not, too. I can’t explain it. How did she ken what yer ka were to be?”

Reepicheep shakes his darkly-furred head, the feather in his headband waving gently with the motion. "That, I could not begin to guess," he tells her. "I know that she must have been old, and wise, and powerful, because almost all of the other dryads of Narnia had hidden themselves away, sleeping in their trees while the Conquerors reigned."

A light step sounds in the hall, and a gentle rap at the door before it opens and Caspian steps inside. "Hullo," he says, cheerfully. He's come straight from the stables, and some bits of straw and hay-dust on his clothes confirm it. "Is Reep telling you stories, Susan? He's quite good at it, isn't he?"

“Aye, and singing,” she confirms, as she raises her head. For a moment she can’t look away from him, so great is the complicated swirl of emotion that storms through her.

“He is, say true, and has been very kind to keep me company all morning.”

"It has been my pleasure," Reepicheep tells her. "I'll happily stay, if my company can in any way assist..."

Caspian comes near to the sofa and kneels to look up at Susan, smiling at her even as his worry tugs inside of him. "You ought to let him teach you how to play chess," he tells her. "He's very good at that, too."

He glances over to the Mouse, still smiling and warm. Susan's desperate not to worry him overmuch, he knows, so he keeps his tone light. "Thank you, Reepicheep. You've proved your honor yet again today. I'll sit with Susan, here, and I'll ask that you go and have a little dinner. You must keep your strength up."

“I never were good at Castles,” she protests, but without force. Susan smiles at Reepicheep, and if it takes effort, well, that’s as may be, but her smile is warm and soft and oh, so fond.

“Thankee-sai,” she tells him.

The Mouse jumps lightly down from the arm of the sofa and comes to kiss her hand, his whiskers tickling delicately. "Be well," he bids her. "I will await your return in the morning."

He bows to his King, then strolls to the door, a jaunty figure with his glossy dark fur, long and curling tail, and the scarlet feather stuck behind his ear. When he's left, Caspian looks back to Susan. "Cuthbert and Alain are getting everything packed."

She nods, and sinks her teeth into her lower lip to keep it from trembling. “And thee spoke with Josiah?”

"Yes," he promises, and reaches for her free hand to curl his fingers comfortingly around it. "He's a discreet man; he asked no questions. And he'll do well by the stables until our return."

As he takes her hand, she gives in to her longing and shifts forward to wrap her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder.

“Good.” It’s a little muffled.

He embraces her back, then gently shifts so he can move off his knees and sit with her on the couch, coaxing her to let him hold her. "There's some time yet before we should go," he murmurs. "Rest on me, dear, if you like."

“Thee came straight here.” She plucks a piece of straw from his sleeve as she curls into his side, telling herself she’ll only do so for a moment. “Thee hasn’t even had a chance — thee are so worried, Caspian.”

She's correct, of course, and there's no use denying it. "Aye," he murmurs, keeping his arms around her. He leans back against the corner of the sofa, coaxing her along with him. "But a little worrying never hurt me, Su."

For a moment she wants to weep at the simple fact of his kindness and caring, at Reepicheep's alarm and determination to support her, at the worry she kens 'Bert and Alain and all their friends who know of her trouble are feeling.

(my grief - you are the source of it)

Tears fill the fog-gray eyes, but she shoves them back, giving into anger instead. "It's not fair. Oh, and well I kennit that naught about ka is fair, the greedy cruel thing, but it's not right that thee should be troubled so!"

"You're right," he tells her, letting her flash and flare and scold at the heartless workings of what she calls ka and what he's always known as fate, the thing even the Lion Himself could not and would not avoid. "It isn't fair, and you're right to be furious. You've never done a thing to deserve this pain, and of course I don't think your friends deserve it either."

He presses his mouth against her hair, holding her close. "But if we can't stop it, and we can't fight it, then I'm glad, very glad, that you aren't standing alone to face it."

She shakes her head slightly, sending her hair sliding over his shirt with a soft silken sound.

(oh Dave I'm sorry)

"I have, I wot." Soft and weary, but sure. "But thee haven't, and I'd not be a cause of sorrow to anyone, not again."

"Susan, no."

He shifts to look down into her face, frowning. "You were the target of cruel and vicious jealousy. There's nothing you could have done to deserve any of this."

Caspian curves one hand at her cheek and coaxes her to meet his eyes. "No great joy comes without a little sorrow; they walk hand in hand. And you give me great joy, dear. Even now. Far more than any grief."

She doesn't pull away from his touch, but there's weary resignation in her glance when she meets his gaze.

"I made my choice," she says, softly. "To stand with them, and I'd not change it. But there's blood on my hands for it, Caspian."

(this murdering bitch)

"When they were taken, the three of them taken and locked up the day before Reap - Roland had told me if anything went wrong, I were to take his guns from where they were hidden and go west, to warn his father. It were important, for someone to hear of what Farson was doing, aye, but I couldn't leave them so, not knowing what would happen to them."

Her words are still soft, but stay clear, and her gaze remains steady.

"I took his guns and went to the sheriff's instead, where they were held. Sheemie helped me, both to find a disguise and with throwing big-bangs and cracker-strings, to distract and make a noise."

Her voice shivers a little. "I tried to use the gun as a threat only, to - to make them let them go, but when they - I killed the sheriff, and mayhap that were only what he earned for what he'd done, but I killed Dave Hollis as well, and he were only doing his job. He were a good man, Caspian."

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