[Fic] "Whilst You and I Keep Ourselves Warm" -- Chronicles of Narnia

[edenfalling]

Summary: These tunnels didn't carry the icy cold of winter, but even the mild chill and damp of a dreary autumn twilight could leech a body's grip on life, given enough time. Susan wasn't certain, but she thought she and Lucy had been down here at least three days -- perhaps as many as five. (1,636 words)

Note: Written for violsva, in response to the prompt: Hurt/comfort, anyone in Narnia (including OCs), cold/hypothermia/frostbite, please! It is also a fill for the ladiesbingo square hurt/comfort.

In early 2015, I made passing mention of the time Susan and Lucy fell down a well and spent a fortnight wandering an abandoned mine infested with Cruels and Boggles and the People of the Toadstools. Today I finally present a small portion of that story. :)

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Whilst You and I Keep Ourselves Warm
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"Do you remember the coats we had when we first met the Beavers?" Lucy said through chattering teeth. "The ones we brought from-- from the other place?"

"Spare Oom," Susan said, wrapping her arms more tightly around her little sister and trying not to think about what might be lurking in the darkness that cradled them like a second skin. "And yes, I remember. I think Edmund left his in the Beavers' lodge and the Secret Police ripped it to shreds. I'm not certain what became of the other three. Why?"

Lucy curled in against Susan's side. "They were so absurdly large. I think even now one of them might cover us both. And I remember they smelled funny, a bit musty but also sharp, somehow -- something that bit the nose, like bleach or vinegar, but not quite either of those -- and the air in these caves reminded me. I think it's the mushrooms."

"Toadstools, surely," Susan said absently. "They're called the People of the Toadstools. Which doesn't make much sense when some of them look like curls of lichen and others like those white mushrooms that grow like bookshelves on old trees, but even if they're evil we ought to be polite and use the name they prefer."

"Now I know you're just as cold as I am," Lucy said. "If you were warm, you'd keep all that rambling in your head and only say the bit about being polite."

Drat. She'd hoped Lucy hadn't realized they were both in danger.

These tunnels -- Susan was fairly sure they were tunnels rather than a natural cave, given the bits of old, rotted timber she'd tripped over as they wandered in the darkness -- didn't carry the icy cold of winter, but even the mild chill and damp of a dreary autumn twilight could leech a body's grip on life, given enough time.

She wasn't certain, but she thought they'd been down here at least three days -- perhaps as many as five. She'd tried to keep track, but Susan defied anyone to count time while fleeing desperately through the dark from Cruels and Boggles and the People of the Toadstools.

Cruels were, so far as she could tell, rather like a bundle of knives tied together with thorny vines and no clear sign of where they kept their brains (though a surfeit of teeth made their mouths impossible to miss). Boggles were like jellyfish that swam in air instead of water, and blended in with the shadows until they dropped and enveloped one's head. And the People of the Toadstools were worst of all -- they were small, true, and not nearly as fast as the other two peoples, but they were tenacious and a single brush of their skin brought fever and delirium. Extended contact killed.

"Do you suppose, if you blew your horn very quietly, help might come before we freeze or more enemies find us?" Lucy asked.

Susan shook her head, then realized that did no good in the dark. "I tried when the Cruels and Boggles were chasing us, but that only brought the People of the Toadstools tumbling out of that side passage. You probably forgot while you were fevered."

"Oh. It seems--" Lucy said, in an oddly dreamy tone. Then her teeth clacked shut as a wave of massive, bone-deep shivers wracked her body.

Susan clutched her little sister's body through the vicious shakes and tried to ignore her own, quieter shivers.

"Lu?" she asked as Lucy stilled and panted for breath. "Are you all right?"

"No, but there's nothing to do about it," Lucy said, sounding both more present and more miserable. "Let's not think about that. Let's think about something else. I was going to say that it seems awfully sad that the People of the Toadstools can't hug anyone, or be hugged. They must be very lonely."

"They're spiteful and evil and I don't much care if they feel bad," Susan said.

"But that's just the thing! Imagine if you couldn't ever touch anyone -- wouldn't that make you sad and angry? And when people are sad and angry, it's much easier for someone to come along and talk them into doing terrible things. It must be hard for the Cruels and the Boggles as well," Lucy added, voice drifting off into a sort of echoing dreaminess once more. "Imagine being made of knives! That sounds hideously uncomfortable. I wonder who in the world twisted people like that?"

"Jadis, most likely," Susan said firmly.

Lucy drew a deep breath, then stifled a sneeze in her sleeve. "That's even sadder, if they couldn't get away from the person who hurt them. Years and years and years, trapped with the Witch until they started to think she only one who would ever help them."

"I suppose that's true, but at the moment we should worry more about staying warm, staying hidden, and getting out of the tunnels," Susan said firmly.

"I do think you should try blowing your horn again," Lucy said as she sagged in Susan's grip. "Maybe it will bring a coat. I wish we had a coat -- all warm and soft like a blanket with a heated brick down by my toes, and a nice feather mattress to lie on."

"I don't think that's how it works," Susan said, but the sudden longing for her own bed, and warm sunlight pouring in through the windows of Cair Paravel, struck her like a wave against a cliff.

"I wouldn't even mind another fever," Lucy murmured. "At least that was warm."

"Come sit in my lap," Susan said, tugging on Lucy's waist. "That way I can be a bed to keep you off the stones, and you can be a blanket on top of me. Then we'll both be warmer."

Lucy crawled obediently into Susan's lap, her weight pressing the chilled fabric of their dresses down into Susan's legs. Susan stifled a shiver, but after a time (a minute, or perhaps three) an aching warmth began to tickle along her flesh.

"You're a very lumpy mattress," Lucy mumbled into Susan's neck.

"You're a very lumpy blanket," Susan said wryly. She was fairly sure some of the ache in her knees and calves was from Lucy pressing her legs into the uneven stones. But the warmth was worth some pain, and already Lucy's breath sounded a bit less ragged.

Lucy's shoulders shook in a sort of hiccupping sound halfway between laughter and tears. "I haven't any practice being a blanket. We should fix that once we find our way back to the surface."

"I'm sure plenty of folk will be pleased to help you practice," Susan said. "Now hush and try to sleep."

"Sing me a lullaby?"

"Of course."

"Oh!" Lucy jerked her head upright and patted at Susan's face with one cold hand. "You should sing into the wide end of your horn! That's quieter than blowing it, but maybe some of the magic will carry over. Sing something warm."

"I don't think--" Susan started to say.

Lucy slumped sadly against her, hand trailing down and away from Susan's face.

Susan sighed. "Yes, all right. I doubt it will help, but I suppose it's not much more dangerous than talking to each other." She fumbled at her waist for the catch of the leather case in which she carried the horn, clinging tightly to Lucy with her other hand, and carefully pulled out the small horn.

It took a minute to set the wide end near her mouth without smacking Lucy in the face or forcing her little sister into a more uncomfortable position, but they managed and Susan wracked her brain for a song that Lucy would consider warm. Perhaps a carol? There was something very warming about a song meant to be sung around a fire in winter. But then again, perhaps a song about summer might be better?

"Sing something from Spare Oom," Lucy mumbled. "The one that Mother used to sing, about kings and queens and flowers."

Ah. Yes. She could do that. Susan cleared her throat and began to sing as quietly as she could, into her sister's ear and the rim of her horn.

"Lavender's blue, dilly dilly, lavender's green,
"When I am king, dilly dilly, you shall be queen.
"Who told you so, dilly dilly, who told you so?
"'Twas mine own heart, dilly dilly, that told me so."

"Call up your folk, dilly dilly, set them to work,
"Some to the plough, dilly dilly, some to the fork,
"Some to make hay, dilly dilly, some to thresh corn,
"Whilst you and I, dilly dilly, keep ourselves warm."

Perhaps it was wishful thinking, or merely the reflection of her own breath up toward her face and Lucy's body pressed close against her own, but Susan could nearly feel the warmth of the summer sun shining golden over a field of lush green graced with blue and purple flowers. If she closed her eyes against the endless dark, she could see it, smell it, feel the bend and spring of the stems and leaves under her bare feet.

"Lavender's green, dilly dilly, lavender's blue,
"If you love me, dilly dilly, I will love you.
"Let the birds sing, dilly dilly, and the lambs play,
"We shall be safe, dilly dilly, out of harm's way."

"I love to dance, dilly dilly, I love to sing,
"When I am queen, dilly dilly, you shall be king.
"Who told me so, dilly dilly, who told me so?
"'Twas mine own heart, dilly dilly, that told me so."

In her arms, Lucy drowsed peaceful and warm.

Susan breathed in the scent of summer, and let herself sleep. They were still lost, still caught in the dark among those who meant them harm, but for now, she knew, they were safe.

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End of Fic

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November was not a great writing month for me, alas, but I triumphed in the end! ...Even when the story unexpectedly decided it wanted to be songfic, what even. *hands*

Comments

[violsva]

Oh, I love the sibling loving bickering and Lucy being very Lucy even in these conditions, and the confused memories they have of Spare Oom, and how clearly they're both struggling mentally from the cold. And they're very much themselves.

Thank you!

[edenfalling]

Thank you! It was a great prompt and I had fun with the writing (despite November being a pain).

[violsva]

My November is also being a pain. But really in general it's just been A Year.