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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"Then let's be on our way."

He lifts her hands away from his shoulders so he can stand, then reaches to take both her rucksack and his coat. Neither Cuthbert nor Alain have made any noises about him not coming along, but he supposes he'll see soon enough if they've given it up as a bad job.

For now, he offers her his free hand with a smile.

She gives it over to him without protest, a flicker of a smile curving her mouth for a moment as she remembers how he'd taken her braiding baskets from her before.

Susan links her fingers with his, pulls the door shut behind them, and walks with him back down the hallway to the bar. She visibly braces herself before stepping into the main room, but she doesn't slow or stop.

Cuthbert and Alain are in a deep conversation at a table near the door, one that has their packs piled on it.

He feels warm pride suffusing his chest at her courage, and walks easily by her side toward the gunslingers. "Well," he says, as they draw near. "You two look all set and ready to go."

"So do you," Cuthbert says. He ducks his head a little to catch Susan's eye. "Aye?" he says, gently, looking for any hesitation, any tiny flicker of a glance or worry, anything at all. If she's feeling some obligation but would rather not have the other man there, he'll handle it, newfound understanding or no.

Her nod is immediate and certain, and answers his unasked question. "Aye," Susan says, firm. "We're ready. I'm ready. Let's just go, 'Bert, please."

Having already talked through it all with Susan, Caspian stands relaxed and easy as Cuthbert gives her that look, and he isn't surprised by Susan's firm declaration. "I agree," he says, glancing out the window. Soon enough, they'll be lighting the fire and setting up the games, and they'd all rather be well gone by then.

"Shall we?"

"Yar," says Alain, laconic, and shoulders one of the packs. Cuthbert takes the other, and Susan squeezes Caspian's hand but doesn't let go as she moves to follow the gunslingers to the door.

They all set out together: Susan on Kiseki, Caspian on Boukephalos, and the two gunslingers on the loaned Duncan and Rachat.

(Of course Caspian had mentioned the difficulty of getting all four of them out to the garden and of course Peter had immediately offered the use of the two geldings, so that was all right.)

The trail leads them quickly away from the gathering festivities and into the quiet woods, and Caspian thinks it's a relief for all of them, and not only Susan. Cuthbert chats lightly as they ride and he himself makes certain to talk, but he thinks all of their minds are already on the coming night.

The moon hasn't yet begun to rise, but it will.

Still, he can't help feeling some relief when the garden's peace comes stealing over them. They walk the horses into the grassy area and get them settled for the night, and then Caspian turns to the gunslingers. Cuthbert's seen the garden once already, but it's all new to Alain. "We ought to take a moment, first, to thank the tree-sisters for their kindness."

"Aye, that we should," Susan agrees. She'll have to remember to thank Peter as well, for his kindness and trust - she'd not even thought that Caspian would need to speak to him, much less that he'd make such a generous offer.

She shades her eyes with her hand and peers around the garden. "The birch-lady's over there, aye?"

Caspian follows her glance and nods. "Aye, I think so."

She's in a different part of the garden than when he and Cuthbert had found her earlier – this time, she's by the stream, her branches waving gently in the unseasonal warm breeze.

This place is a wonder and no mistake. Cuthbert had described it fair well before, but seeing it's something else again.

Alain walks beside Caspian and Susan as they lead the way to the treewife whose garden this is, and gives a polite bow as Susan tells her, "Lady-sai Birch, ye've met Cuthbert already this morn with Caspian, but this is my friend Alain Johns of Gilead. We've come to thank ye for yer kindness."

The birch-woman lifts her branches and Caspian feels the warmth of her attention on them. Welcome, little saplings, she murmurs, in her wistful, wandering voice. Rest yourselves. Be nourished. We will stand with you tonight, against the dark.

Tears start in her eyes; she blinks them back.

Oh, Da, if thee can hear me, help me be strong, she prays, silently. Help me to hold to myself, for their sake. Susan gives a curtsey, bowing her head a little.

"Say sorry, I do, for bringing my trouble to yer home," she says, softly. "But oh, thankee-sai, for yer help."

Caspian, looking past the birch-woman to the willow tree tucked at the stream's edge, could almost swear he saw something moving in the green shadows past the garden: a tawny flash there and gone again.

He doesn't mention it, and turns his attention back to the others. The birch-woman sways in the breeze, comforting. Once we were more, she murmurs. But it will be enough. You are safe here, little sapling. You are welcome here. Let the stream cleanse you. Let the breeze soothe you. We are accustomed to troubles.

"We'd set up camp for the night, somewhere we'll not disturb you," Cuthbert says. "Is there a place you'd prefer us to be?"

Light confusion. All places in this place are one. Ground yourself where you will.

Caspian glances over at the gunslingers. "I think we've our pick of the garden," he says. "Where would you like to set up?"

He scans the land around them, and absently notes 'Bert doing the same. Con your vantage always, even in such a peaceful place as this appears.

"There," 'Bert suggests, with a nod toward a not-too-far distant glade sheltered on two side with a few bushes curving around the base of a pine tree or two. Alain eyes the trees carefully, looking for signs they're more than trees alone, and determines they're not. "Comfortable-looking."

It is, dappled-shade and sun both, with enough space for them all and more without threatening any of the more carefully tended garden-plants, and good views of all approaches. Susan doesn't seem to have an opinion, Alain notices, but is idly watching the water in the distant stream.

"That'll do nicely," Caspian agrees, and looks to Susan, whose mind seems to be wandering. "Su, why don't you show Alain around the garden a bit? Cuthbert and I can get started setting things up."

She startles a little at the sound of her name and looks up at them in dazed confusion before her eyes clear. "Aye, of course."

She drops another curtsey to the birch-lady and beckons to Alain, who keeps pace at her side as they ramble along one of the garden paths.

Caspian makes his own bow to the tree-sister, then heads back to the horses with Cuthbert. Around them, the impossible warmth of late spring and early summer seeps into the grass, the flowers, the fruit. He shucks off the jumper and stows it in Susan's rucksack, then offers his hand for Alain's pack.

Cuthbert passes it over and busies himself with his own. Bedrolls, blankets, a pot and a can of what Susannah had called 'Sterno' - he holds the last up.

"Think this'll be enough like a lantern to do?"

Caspian frowns in it in bemusement. "I'm not sure," he says. "What is it?"

Even aside from Susan, he doesn't want to risk an open flame in the garden, but he's never seen anything quite like the can Cuthbert shows to him.

"Here--" He pulls out a pocketknife and uses the blade to pry the can open so they can both study the contents.

"Susannah says it burns blue and contained in the can. Looks and smells different from real fire, but enough to heat a pot of coffee or boil water."

He peers into the can and shakes his head. "It certainly sounds useful," he agrees. "Mayhap just warn the birch-woman about it."

Without the prospect of a fire, he'd resigned himself to the likelihood of a cold supper. Something warm would be nice, if they can manage it. He hefts Alain's pack and Susan's rucksack and starts making his way to the little glade.

"Good idea." Cuthbert leaps up as through spring-launched and heads off to do just that.

It takes a little while to explain, but it seems the treewife's trusting enough of them to not be concerned. Or rather, of Caspian and Susan - Cuthbert's not expecting that either he or Alain's well-known enough here for that.

All in all, it doesn't take too long to set up a comfortable campsite, with everything arranged neatly where needed and packs stowed.

The little glade's as homey as they can make it, comfortable with blankets and the bedrolls tucked off to the side, the can of Sterno surrounded with a makeshift firebreak of smooth stones from the brooke.

And not a moment too soon, Caspian thinks, glancing up at the sky. A veil of evening is just beginning to pull across the blue, and the sun is sinking low.

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