[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]

She nods back. “The place between places, ye called it.”

Susan takes a soft breath. “It were there I were reunited with Roland, and later ‘Bert and Alain, and met Eddie and Susannah and Jake and Oy and even sai Ted. The old tet and the new. Do’ee ken a ka-tet?”

[the_seafarer]

Liliandil, the star's daughter, shakes her head. The motion sends her hair swaying against the simple white back of her gown. "The words are not those we use" she says. "But the feeling of them is. One from many."

[sai_delgado]

"One from many, aye, and together more than any alone," she confirms, whisper-soft. "And we were well-met there, lady-sai, we were, and are still, those of us who remain, I wot. But Roland--"

(my grief - you are the source of it)

Tears are standing in her eyes now, although she refuses to let them fall.

"I brought him sorrow and pain, where I'd never wanted aught but joy for him--"

(bird and bear and hare and fish - go yer course in peace, and go with my love)

"-- and I'd not do so again." Here, now, a desperate surety spins itself out beneath each word. "I'd not hurt any of them again, I'd not be used to hurt them so, nor Caspian, never."

[the_seafarer]

The star-girl shifts on her hip to face Susan, and lifts her hand to cup the other girl's cheek. Cool, soothing light spills from her palm and fingers, offering strength, offering peace.

"To be grieved is no bad thing," she murmurs. "Grief and love walk hand in hand. We all of us leave pain behind, when we go. Let me counsel you thus, Susan, Daughter of Eve: do not let yourself be beholden to the possible pain of another. Do not hold yourself apart, at the price of your own sorrow. Let them love you as they will, and love them in return."

[sai_delgado]

She closes her eyes at that gentle touch, and a few tears spill over, tracking silently down her cheek.

"I do, ye ken. Love them."

[the_seafarer]

The girl lets go Susan's hand and dabs at the tears that run over her cheeks with the soft, filmy material of her sleeve.

"Weep not," she murmurs. "For you are loved in return."

[sai_delgado]

She opens her eyes, tear-blurred but still clear, and meets the shining starlit gaze of the star's daughter.

"Ye are kind, and more than kind," Susan murmurs. "And ye've no reason to be so to me, saving only that ye are -- the kind of person ye are."

[the_seafarer]

She laughs, very softly, and smiles as she wipes away a smudge of dampness beneath Susan's eye.

"Kindness can sometimes be a difficult choice," she says. "But not now. Even if it were true that I had no reason to be."

[sai_delgado]

Susan smiles back, and reaches to catch the star-queen's hand between her own. "Will'ee not come out to the dance? And see him, and the others there?"

[the_seafarer]

The girl shakes her head, but squeezes Susan's fingers. "This time is for you," she says.

"Tell me, Daughter of Eve, have I set at ease the heart that my friend carelessly hurt before?"

[sai_delgado]

Fog-gray eyes grow wide. "How did'ee--"

But oh, that's not nearly the most important thing in this moment, say true, and Susan swiftly says, "He didn't mean it. He didn't kennit, why -- ye mustn't think poorly of him, lady-sai, please."

[the_seafarer]

"Fear not," the girl says, with gentle amusement. "I could never think ill of so loyal a friend. I knew him for a very long time, you see."

[sai_delgado]

"He loves ye dear, say true." Each word is clear and certain. "And he loves Caspian, too. He'd only ever wish joy for ye."

[the_seafarer]

"And I him."

Some old sorrow touches the girl's eyes. "He blamed himself for the loss of our son. But he has always been a true friend and loyal companion. I hope he finds peace of his own here."

[sai_delgado]

"Rilian," she murmurs. "He were lost for long, but restored in the end, lady-sai, if ye'd not known. We were able to tell Drinian that, too."

[the_seafarer]

"Lost to my sight, as well," she murmurs, and smiles, the sorrow still clear in her eyes but the curve of her lips soft and warm.

"I thank you. For both."

[sai_delgado]

She squeezes the girl's hand, trying to comfort, trying to reassure. "Ye needn't," she says, softly. "I'd do more, if I could."

Susan draws a careful breath. "I'd not ever wish to see ye hurt."

[the_seafarer]

Liliandil smiles again, more warmly.

"You have a kind and a gentle heart."

[sai_delgado]

Susan shakes her head, just a little. The star-queen's kindness is as lovely and gracious as the lady herself, say true.

"Lady-sai," she murmurs. "Lady star. Ye kennit, I wot, but I've need to say it all the same. I'd never meant to - to come between ye and Caspian, in any way improper--"

(I'm surprised you know the meaning of the word)

She flushes a little, but makes herself continue all the same. "Nor would he ever, ever do aught such, ye ken that as well. And if I've - ye've said it already, that I've caused ye no offense, but I'd... I'd wish ye to know that I'd not thought of matters so, until-- until today. But if ye see it differently, I'd have ye tell me now."

[the_seafarer]

The girl lowers their clasped hands and covers Susan's with her own. "I love the man I married," she says, in her clear voice. "Never did I have reason to believe he did not love me in return. And we lived well and happily together."

She wets her lip, thoughtful a moment. "Let me ask you this," she says. "You loved, before. Would you begrudge your love happiness with another? Or celebrate that he had found joy once again?"

[sai_delgado]

"Celebrate." There's no hesitation.

(go with my love)

"I'd wish him all the joy he could find, ever, ever, if ka would allow it."

And oh, but she understands the point the other is making, and her voice trembles for all that she tries to keep it steady.

"I kennit, I do. But I - I had to ask."

[the_seafarer]

The girl looks down at their linked hands, and a few long, rippling locks of her hair fall past her face. "If it were you," she murmurs. "There'd be a little sorrow in your celebration, like as not. The thorn of the rose, the bitterness that brings out the sweetness of wine."

When she looks back up, she smiles, as sweet as rose or wine could ever be. "But it would be such a small thing beside all the rest. Have joy, Daughter of Eve. I do not begrudge the time you have with him, as you do not begrudge the time I had. For I would have him have every good thing all the worlds have to offer."

[sai_delgado]

"Ye say true," she murmurs, thinking of Irene Tassenbaum and the time she'd spent with Roland. "And I say thankya for it, I do."

She smiles in turn, then, and impulsively leans forward to hug the slender starlit figure. "And he'll be here again with thee in time."

[the_seafarer]

The girl laughs and embraces her. "All times are soon," she says. "All places are here, in the end. I am glad, very glad, to have met you, Susan, Daughter of Eve."

[sai_delgado]

"We're well-met indeed," she agrees, as she sits back. Threads of light from the stars overhead pour down around them, causing all the world to gleam a faint silver. A breeze stirs, tugging at their hair and carrying the clean, sweet-smelling scent of grass and trees and the distant sea.