A Dream is Just a Dream...or is it? Chapter Seven (a Narnian fan fiction)
A/N: Every true "Narnian" will know which lines are adapted from C.S. Lewis’ book. I didn’t really re-read the book’s chapters I am covering today until after I wrote about them So, I just want to let you know that I wrote most of it from memory. (I imagined the hiding spot for the Beaver’s location.)
“Oh, I should hope not,” Mrs. Beaver exclaimed, responding to Peter’s words. “You were not brought here without a reason; keep that in mind. Aslan always has a plan for each and every one of us.” She glanced at all of us slowly.
“Oh no,” Susan said quickly. “We are leaving here the moment we get our brother back.” She spoke faster with each word.
“Oh?” the he-Beaver said nodding his head and folding his arms sarcastically.
“Yes!” Susan’s eyes flashed as she dared, “You’ll see!”
Wisely, no one said anything at the moment.
Mrs. Beaver agreed with me, “Hurry, do you want the Witch to find us? We should get moving quickly!”
By this time, it began to snow--but not the light and peaceful type of snow; it began to snow the furious type of snow. Also, a harsh and tempestuous wind was howling.
“Let’s go!” we all ran, following the Beavers.
Peter was running and grabbing Lucy’s hand--practically dragging poor Lucy. Susan and I were running beside each other with all our might.
“Where are we going?” Lucy shouted in order to be heard above the wind.
The Beaver turned his head and shouted back, “Don’t talk! You’ll need all your strength to run--don’t waste it on your breath!”
We continued to run for our lives for about an hour. It was exhausting even though the air in Narnia was much more strengthening and fresher than in our world.
Finally, we started to run more slowly. We were all panting and gasping.
“Here we are!” the he-Beaver said triumphantly.
We all looked with bewilderment at our surroundings. To the left was a clump of trees and bushes. And to our right, all we saw was a mound of snow.
“Where is it?” all of us asked in one voice.
“He he he!” the Beaver chuckled. “Can’t find it, huh? Well, you’ll never find it. It’s a top secret hiding spot for beavers in bad times. Come, follow me.”
We followed him with wonder to the “mound of snow”. There was a little hole that was hardly visible and we crawled into it.
“It’s dark!” I said in surprise, blinking my eyes.
“I can’t see anything!” exclaimed Susan.
Lucy said fearfully, “Could someone please put on some light? I’m terribly afraid I’ll trip over something.”
“Wow,” Peter implied. “What a contrast compared to the outside world!”
Click. All of sudden, it was bright. We saw Mr. Beaver holding up a lantern and grinning.
In the light, we saw that this hideout was actually impressively large.
“Did you build this hideout?” Peter inquired with awe.
The Beaver laughed,”No, no, no! But,” he paused. “My great-great grandfather’s great-great grandfather built this. It’s a lasting tradition that when a Beaver reached the age of five, he or she would be brought here and be made to promise to keep this hideout a secret.”
“Why couldn’t anybody know?” wondered Lucy.
“For such a time as this,” the Beaver said solemnly.
“Are you sure no one else knows?” asked the worried Susan.
“Of course not!” the he-Beaver said without doubt.
I reasoned,” If someone else that is not on our side knows about this hideout, they would have caught us by now, right?”
“I guess so,” Susan sighed.
“Come now, you must be hungry,” said Mrs. Beaver as she threw a tablecloth over a large flat stone in the center of the hideout.
We all nodded happily and headed for the table.
When we had all sat down, Susan wondered, “I wonder how Ed is coping.”
“Not very well, I’m afraid,” remarked Mr. Beaver shaking his head.
“It was his own choice to betray us,” Peter said without any sympathy for his brother.
“He didn’t think before he did it, Peter,” I reproved. “He didn’t know it would turn out this way. You must forgive, Peter,” I said.
“You just don’t understand, Anne. It’s too hard!” he said.
Lucy sobbed, “I feel like it’s my fault. I led you here in the first place!”
“Now, now,” soothed Mrs. Beaver. “You must not blame yourself. As Peter said, it was Edmund’s own choice to do what he did.”
“Yes,” nodded the Mr. Beaver. “We shouldn’t blame ourselves for other people’s decision. Now, just stop your worrying and don’t lose your appetite.”
Lucy gasped, “Stop our worrying!”
Susan said angrily, “It seems as if you don’t even care for him. He’s our brother! And we are not going to lose him no matter what!”
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean it that way!” the Beaver said hastily. “I meant--that—we’ll get him back definitely! But there’s no use trying to rewrite the past.”
The fire from Susan’s eyes died down as she said empathically, “Of course we’ll get him back! Peter?”
At this moment, Peter was in his own world. “What did you say?” he said confused. “Oh yes, of course!”
We ate our fill when Mrs. Beaver implied, “We must rest now, for we have a long journey on our way.”
“Where will we go?” Lucy addressed this question to Mr. Beaver.
“To the Stone Table. Aslan is waiting for us there.”
Silence filled the room.
“Wait a moment,” Peter said abruptly breaking into the silence. “Let’s spend this time getting to know each other more. Anne, why don’t you tell us more about yourself?”
“Well, what’s there to say?” I asked.
Lucy said eagerly. “Anything!”
Susan asked with interest, “What is different from the 1940s and 21st Century?”
I laughed, “Lots of things! I’m warning you, this will be lengthy. Let me see…what are some things that are different? Ah, I’ve got it! There are stoves that you can cook things in without any fire, speedy cars, escalators--those are stairs that move so you don’t have to walk up the stairs, computers, phones, radios, so many things! I can’t even name them all or describe the other inventions. But there are a couple things I will try to describe- there is something called a Kindle.
“What is that?” Peter asked, emphasizing on the word ‘what’.
“It is this flat thing that has a screen on it so you can read books. You can go on their store and just buy the books for like a dollar, and then you get it in a few minutes.”
“What?” they all said incredulously.
“I don’t like it but it’s true!”
“Why don’t you like it?”
“It’s just so…I don’t know, I’m not used to pressing a button to go on the next page. And you can’t really tell which page you are up to. It just tells you what percentage. I like reading books much better. But there are so many new inventions that it is overwhelming. By the time I grow up--” I muttered, “if I do grow up,” and then continuing, “I won’t be surprised if books would be considered old fashioned!” I said in disgust.
“That’s simply ridiculous!” agreed Susan.
I shook my head.
“Wait, a while ago, did you say that you own a computer?” Peter asked in awe. “They’re really heavy, expensive, and it’s rare! You must be rich,” he said with envy.
“No, no. Now, it is extremely common and it is not heavy at all. New technology, you know. Oh, you don’t know what technology is.”
“No, we don’t,” said Lucy. “but why don’t you tell us more about your family?”
“Oh yes, please do,” urged Susan.
“Well, I have ten other siblings besides me and my brother, who is the oldest, is getting married soon. You know that I live in England. It is really nice to have a big family with your siblings your best friends.” I said.
“Isn’t it very rowdy and noisy in your home some times?” asked Susan doubtfully.
I admitted, “Yes, sometimes, but it’s really nice some ways. We children never had a moment in our home that we were bored. There were always things to do.”
“Hmm…” Susan mused. “Say, what’s your favorite book?”
I was startled. “Wha-oh, yes, um, my favorite book! Hm…let me see, my favorite book is called, the Chronicles of Na-no,” I corrected myself. “I mean, it’s called, ‘the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe’.” I said hastily.
Lucy remarked, “That sounds sort of familiar to--“
I cut in, hoping I didn’t sound rude. “What’s your favorite book, Susan?”
“My favorite book?” she said. “Let me see, I love to read and have read many books in my day… I simply can’t choose which book is my favorite! Ah yes, I know now! My favorite book is the ‘Anne of Green Gables’ series.”
I exclaimed, “Why, that is one of my other favorite books besides Nar--I mean, the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe!”
“Really!” Susan said delightedly.
“Is L.M. Montgomery still alive?” I wondered.
“Yes, she is very famous for her work,” said Susan.
Mrs. Beaver interrupted us, “I’m sorry to disturb your conversation, girls, but we have to rest for we have long journey to overcome tomorrow. Get your bedrolls now and sleep well.”
“Alright,” we all said.
We took the bedrolls, unrolled them, and then laid down. I turned my body facing the wall. The light began to grow dimmer as Mr. Beaver slowly blew out the flame.
My head was whirling with thoughts-
It has been such a long, long, day! How could I have gotten here? Magic is not real-there’s no such thing! I wonder how much time has gone by back home or if any time has gone by at all! Will I stay here as long as the Pevensies will? Why was I brought here? I’m not even part of the prophecy. How will I cope? How can I bear growing up here in Narnia, and then going back home and then growing up again!
A tear slid down my cheek.
Why am I crying? This is a dream come true!
Sleep overcame my thoughts before I could think any longer.
I jerked awake suddenly to hear Mrs. Beaver say, “Wake up! Wake up! We have to eat our breakfast quickly and then we need to head over to the Stone Table.”
We sleepily walked over to the “table” to eat our breakfast.
I said to Peter, “Ah, jam and toast!” I now felt much better than last night to tease Peter.
He smiled sheepishly, “I guess we don’t have to worry to wonder if the Witch has toast.”
“I told you we didn’t have to!” I said.
“Mm,” Lucy smacked her lips. “This bread and jam sure tastes good!”
“Yes,” said Susan. “It sure tastes much better than back at home!”
“Oh really?” Mrs. Beaver said with interest.
After we were done eating, we started to tidy up things we had brought with us from the Beaver’s dam into a bag.
I was just putting back the rest of the uneaten jam and bread when we heard a jingling of bells.
“What’s that?” Lucy whispered fearfully.
Peter shook his head motioning Lucy to remain quiet.
I saw Mr. Beaver start to walk toward to the opening of the hole leading to the outdoors.
He’s really brave to go out like that!
Peter also headed for the hole when Mrs. Beaver grabbed him by the leg and said, “You must not go out! We need all four thrones in Cair Paveral not three!”
Peter opened his mouth to say something when we all froze. We heard voices!
“Oh no!” Lucy cried. “He’s-he’s-“
Susan finished, “He’s been seen!”
They both stared at each other with terror in their eyes.
We heard Mr. Beaver shout, “It’s all right! Come out, Son and Daughters of Adam. It’s all right! It isn’t her!
We rushed out of the cave to see Father Christmas standing beside Mr. Beaver.
Mr. Beaver said, “I hope you've been good, because there is someone here to see you.”
Lucy said cheerfully, “Merry Christmas, Sir!”
Father Christmas replied, “It certainly is, Lucy. Thanks to you.”
“I thought there was no Christmas in Narnia.” Susan said confused.
Father Christmas said jubilantly, “It hasn't been for a hundred years. But now the Witch's power is crumbling,” He added, “It hasn't been for a hundred years. But now the Witch's power is crumbling.”
“Presents!” Lucy exclaimed as she watched him throw a sack on the melting snow.
“This is for you,” Father Christmas said as he handed to Mrs. Beaver a new sewing machine.
“Why, thank you,” Mrs. Beaver didn’t have the words to express her gratitude.
“This is a much sturdier than your old one that you had to leave behind,” informed Father Christmas. “I’ll drop it off at your dam when I pass by.”
“Oh, our dam is locked,” said Mrs. Beaver.
“Bots and locks don’t stop me. I have my own ways of doing things.”
Lucy teased, “You mean through the chimney?”
Father Christmas smiling, patted her head, “Not in this world, my dear.” Turning to Mr. Beaver he said, “When you get home, you will find that your dam will be all finished and mended.”
I turned to look at Mr. Beaver, remembering that it was mentioned in the book that Mr. Beaver looked speechless. And yes--he was! How cute!
Father Christmas turned to Lucy, “Lucy, Eve's Daughter. These are for you. The juice of the fire flower. If you, one of your friends are wounded, one drop of this cordial will restore them.” He handed her a small dagger. “And though I do not expect you to use it, this.”
Lucy said timidly, “Well, I think I could be brave enough.”
He said, “I’m sure you could. But battles are ugly affairs,” he turned to Susan. “Eve's Daughter, Susan. Trust in this bow, for it does not easily miss.”
Susan said mischievously, “What happened to, 'battles are ugly affairs?”
Father Christmas ignored the question and continued, “And, though you don't seem to have trouble making yourself heard, this. When you put this horn to your lips and blow it, wherever you are, help will come.”
“Thanks,” Susan said graciously.
Father Christmas turned to Peter,”And, Peter. These are tools, not toys. The time to use them may be soon at hand.”
I expected Father Christmas to turn and then leave. But no, he didn’t. Instead, he turned to me, “And for the last person, you Anne.”
I said in shock, “Me? Why me? I’m not even supposed to be here!”
“No one is brought here without a reason, Anne. But nevertheless, you seem to know a lot about your future. That is your tale to tell them when the time comes,” he glanced back at the Pevensie’s puzzled glance. “This is a silver watch made from the finest materials. With it, you may see Narnia’s time and your world’s time from any place--whether it is from your world or this world. Keep it in good hands, daughter of Eve.”
My eyes filled with tears. I whispered not trusting my voice, “Why, thank you.”
Father Christmas nodded and then said, “Bare them well! I best be off, winter is almost over and things do pile up when you've been gone a thousand years. Long live Aslan!”
“Yes, Long Live Aslan!” I cheered.
We all said, “Bye and… Merry Christmas!”
I repeated again louder than last time, “Yes, Merry Christmas!”
Lucy said reproachfully to Peter as we watched Father Christmas leave, “I told you he was real!”