[au] Narnia and the North

[the_seafarer]

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.

Comments

[sai_delgado]

Susan shakes her head. "Not that one. I've heard of Eustace and the dragon," she explains, "and the not-people with the one foot who hopped until Queen Lucy freed them of the spell, and of the Dream-lord's isle, but not that."

[the_seafarer]

Drinian throws his head back and laughs heartily. "The Duffers," he agrees.

"Monopods – Dufflepuds – whatever they called themselves. Aye, that is a fine tale. I'm only glad none of them ever took a fancy to coming aboard. No, this was our first adventure after plucking King Edmund and Queen Lucy and their kinsman from the waves. I'll tell it to you, if you'd like to hear; I expect his Majesty might not tell it himself, for fear of sounding boastful."

[sai_delgado]

Susan beams at him. "Aye, an'ye would," she assents, pleased. "For ye've the right of it in that to be sure."

[the_seafarer]

He smiles back at her and leans against the railing, at ease even as the ship rolls gently beneath them.

"The first thing to understand," he tells her, "is that the Lone Islands – that is, Doorn, Felimath, and Avra – have been attached to the crown of Narnia for hundreds of years, since before the High King and his consorts. But in the Age of Conquest, when the His Majesty's forebears ruled and the sea was forbidden, no one from the court came to collect tribute and no communication with the Islands were made. So it was His Majesty's wish, when we set sail, to visit the Islands and make them aware of the happy news that the rightful king had ascended and Old Narnia thriving once more."

Drinian pauses, peering out to sea as if he could see the very islands themselves. "When we came upon them, Queen Lucy wished to walk upon Felimath – an unoccupied island, mostly used for grazing sheep. His Majesty at once had the boat row him, the King and Queen, their kinsman, and Sir Reepicheep ashore, and the Treader set sail, meaning to pick them up on the other side of the island. But hardly were they there before they were set upon by a group of cowardly slavers, who chained them all and marched them off to be sold at market."

[sai_delgado]

(all the way from Gilead itself)

Susan nods, with understanding clear in her fog-gray gaze. "It's hard, aye, when the heart of rule's far distant. There's always those who'd - who'd take advantage of it for their own foul purposes."

She's got as much reason to know as any, and more than most, after all.

Slavers. She shudders violently at the thought, at the very idea of the four of them being taken and chained and treated so, and clings to the fact that it's long past and had clearly all come right somehow.

"He'd have been furious."

[the_seafarer]

"And so they had in this case," Drinian agrees, nodding.

"Now, His Majesty, though tender in years, was aware of the danger in letting his royal self be known. For, as you correctly surmised, it was likely there might be those who'd be happy enough to rid themselves of Imperial rule through a quick act of regicide. So there they were, chained and led off to be sold, when they passed an inn and a man appeared. He liked the look of His Majesty, so he said, and so bought him off the slaver.

"When the others were gone, the man told His Majesty not to be frightened, for he'd bought him for his face, having reminded the man of his old master, King Caspian. And so His Majesty revealed himself, for the man who'd bought him was none other than Lord Bern, one of the seven lost lords whom we had set sail to find."

[sai_delgado]

"Aye, and they would have, I wot." She's a little pale, but oh, her voice is clear and steady and sure. "It's how those like that think and act. Either right out or through accident pretended, they'd have sought to end his life, I'd not doubt it at all."

No wonder Caspian had reacted so strongly before, she thinks.

(she sold you - as though you were naught but property)

But then Drinian continues, and she blinks, startled. "He - Lord Bern - he remembered him? Or - nay, he'd have remembered his father's face, then?"

[the_seafarer]

"Exactly so," the Captain tells her. "The Lord Bern had served under His Majesty's father, King Caspian, the ninth of that name. A much-beloved ruler he was, that I've always heard, and not to be blamed for his brother's evil.

"So Lord Bern pledged his fealty once more, to the son of his old king. His Majesty wanted to at once lay the Treader aside the slave-ship on which his friends were now being carried, but Lord Bern counseled otherwise, and together they struck up a plan. You see, the Governor of the Lone Islands – Gumpas was his name – was a craven, selfish fellow. He allowed the slave trade to thrive for the gold it brought to his own coffers, but he was a spineless sort, easily cowed."

Drinian laughs to remember. "And so His Majesty bade us sail down the channel between the islands, well in view of the Governor's house, while signaling for our fleet – which did not exist, I remind you – to join us at Bernstead."

[sai_delgado]

In her mind, Gumpas takes on the visage of Hart Thorin. It seems fitting. She nods, listening carefully, and then gasps aloud.

"He didn't! Oh, how clever -- and brave, too, for all of ye to stand so."

[the_seafarer]

"He did," Drinian laughs.

"And so we sailed grandly along the channel, all the men we could cram onto the deck there, bright in armor with shields glinting in the sun, signaling all the way to our imaginary friends. And when the morning came, we landed at the docks of Narrowhaven, and His Majesty caused his banner to proceed and bade all his men to draw swords, and together we marched through the town to the Governor's palace. And by the time we arrived, the whole town was cheering and calling their hurrahs for Narnia and the King. Such a spectacle they'd never seen, I think: we all of us in armor, banners waving, flowers tossed at our feet."

[sai_delgado]

Mayhap it's some magic of Aslan's Country, or mayhap it's only that Drinian's that good at storytelling, but Susan can practically see the images unfold as he describes them, even though they've not stood ka-tet nor an-tet either.

Her smile is bright and delighted. "I'd wager the Governor liked that not at all."

[the_seafarer]

"Not in the least," Drinian confirms.

"But of course he thought we'd come in strength, for he never would have imagined anyone would attempt to re-take the Lone Islands with one ship and fewer than fifty men.

"So we came to his palace, and pushed through the excuses from his sniveling porter. A few guards came upon us, but the King defused the situation by calling for them to be given wine and a holiday, before presenting themselves to him again on the morrow. And finally, we came to where the Governor sat at his desk, in a chair one might almost call a throne. Bern and I flung the table over and plucked him from the chair, so His Majesty might sit there, and so he did, cool as you like. He bade Gumpas explain the lack of tribute and the support for the slave trade, then summarily relieved him of duty and set Lord Bern in his place, as Duke of the Lone Islands."

[sai_delgado]

She can just imagine it, can see Caspian confident and stern and strong before them all as King with Drinian there beside him. "It were wise and good of him to set another there so, and to secure the people's protection and care," she observes. "But I can't say I'm surprised to hear it, or that ye'd helped so. He's spoken fondly of ye before."

[the_seafarer]

"A better Lord and friend I could not have hoped for," Drinian tells her.

"Afterwards, of course, we went to the slave-auction, where His Majesty closed the markets for good and we were reunited with our friends. And slavery never did find another hold in Narnia, thank the Lion, while he was King."

[sai_delgado]

"And they were all right? Not harmed? For I'd not wish to bring up anything they'd rather not remember," Susan tells him, concern clear in her glance.

"And I can't imagine it would ever, he'd never have stood for it, nor any of those dear to him either."

[the_seafarer]

"They were," Drinian assures her, before surprise filters into his clear blue eyes.

"You – you speak to them? King Edmund, Queen Lucy? I know His Majesty mentioned Reepicheep, but – "

[sai_delgado]

“Betimes, aye,” she says, before realization strikes.

“The - the place where I met them, all of them, it’s a waystation between worlds, do’ee ken? Like the Wood Between the Worlds, that C— that His Majesty told me of once. I’ve not met the Queen Susan, but the others, aye, including King - High King Peter,” she corrects herself, quickly.

[the_seafarer]

Drinian leans against the railing, his grip on one of the lines, and shakes his head, amazed. "I wager reaching such a place is a tale all its own," he says. "And you've – "

His jaw works, but he pushes forward. "You said – the Prince. Rilian."

The question is in his eyes and his voice, but he hardly dares ask it aloud.

[sai_delgado]

Her heart sinks within her like a stone, for it's clear as the sky above them here in this place what he wants to know.

Ever honest was Susan Delgado, in all the ways that mattered, and better far it be her than Caspian, if it's to be told, she thinks. Her da' had always told her there were three ways of going about a thing - to do it, to leave it, or to dissemble and avoid, and oh, she kens well the scorn he'd held for those who'd take that third path. And so, with a silent prayer to her own father's memory, she takes her courage into her hands and meets Drinian's gaze.

"I've seen him there, aye," she says, softly. "Once, but not to speak to. But he has the look of his father, say true."

[the_seafarer]

The struggle to ask plays out over Drinian's honest, sun-brown face. "He always had," he murmurs. "And that of his mother, too."

His father's steady temperament and golden curls, his mother's height and grace and unearthly beauty. Drinian watches her a moment, visibly hauling back on his desire to know more about the Prince he'd lost so long ago. "Have you met her, as well? The Queen?"

[sai_delgado]

"Ye were close," she says, as she had before. "I've - I ken he were lost, for ten long years. Say sorry, I do, but I don't have the knowing of all of it to share with ye. But he were restored in the end, that I can promise ye - he came home, and were reunited with his father there."

She draws a careful breath, and shakes her head in answer to his next question. "The lady of the stars." Soft, so soft, yet clear. "Nay, I've not. For all there's many who visit there, she's not been one that I've seen."

[the_seafarer]

He nods, his gaze thoughtful. "If you do," he begins, and stops, shakes his head.

"I see how His Majesty looks at you, Susan, Daughter of Eve. And my heart is glad for his happiness, after so much sorrow. I pray you will not take offense – it's only that I swore allegiance to the Queen, just as I did to him."

[sai_delgado]

She turns pale as salt, and puts out one hand to steady herself against the railing, but he's every right to say it and not wrong to do so.

(gilly-girl)

Wind whips at her golden hair, tossing it around her as she nods to him, and oh, but her fog-gray glance is clear as it meets his.

"Ye've given no offense, but only said true out of love for yer friend and his wife, and I'll not ever hold that against ye. And I'll cry yer pardon, if I've brought aught of harm or distress by my being here as I am - to ye, to others dear to him, or to the lady queen."

She's proud that her voice doesn't tremble.

"I'd never wish to do so, nor to cause him hurt of any sort. He's one of the most honorable and best men I've ever known in all my days and after, ye've my word on that, if ye'll take it."

[the_seafarer]

"The only distress I feel is at harming your feelings, miss – Susan," the older man says, in swift response to the way she pales and sways. "Please pardon an old sailor for speaking his mind without thinking. Truly, I could never think ill of my friend and king, nor of any he cares for. And it's been long years since the Queen was lost."

He grimaces, conscious of his failings of speech. "Forgive me. I spoke out of turn."

[sai_delgado]

"There's naught to forgive," she replies, swiftly. Susan keeps herself braced, but reaches out her other hand to him to try to reassure. "Ye've every right to want to protect the ones ye care for."