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edenfallingI would like to say in advance that I am aware that this chapter is madly inconclusive. The thing is, I could not get it to work any other way (and believe me, I tried), so I have shoved most of the meta-heavy history lesson into chapter four. Also, Lune uses an oddly stylized grammar, and trying to sync the narrative to his dialogue -- not to mention writing said dialogue in the first place -- is incredibly frustrating.
*beats head against desk*
Anyway. Lune loves his sons and wishes for their happiness. Unfortunately, a king cannot put himself before his country. (1,450 words)
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Speak Softly
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A king, were he worth his throne, could not afford to be foolish, nor unobservant. Lune had expected the mare's request since the two horses had grown restive at during their formal welcome to Anvard.
"Walk with me," he said to Hwin, and nodded at Darrin to show he left the castle uncoerced.
The mare trailed a half pace behind and to his left as Lune ambled across the cleared ground before the gates. When they reached the trees, she slipped altogether behind, her hooves landing on the packed earth of the narrow forest road with a faint rhythm of distant hammers. The cool of leaf-shade was welcome in the still, summer heat, and Lune tilted his head, listening to the pattern of rustles as birds and squirrels shifted a cautious distance away from the intruders into their domain.
To-day's hunt had left at dawn, heading east and south toward the Winding Arrow. Lune turned west at the first opportunity, down a faint footpath that led to a runoff gully. The stream itself was no special sight, reduced to a damp trickle since the end of the spring thaw and rains, but that was all to the good. Young lovers sought more picturesque hideaways, and nobody drew water from mud. Lune wished for privacy, not interruptions.
"Sir? Will we reach your destination soon?" the mare asked as the road vanished behind them.
"Soon enough. You plan to speak on behalf of Aravis," Lune said, stepping over a twisted root and spreading his arms to keep his balance on an unexpectedly loose stone. "Ware the footing."
Hwin blew her breath out all at once. "Oh! You knew? I suppose that saves me thinking of how to begin."
Lune smiled, turning slightly so the mare could catch the edges of his expression. "'Tis always easiest to bargain when both parties know the subject of the meeting. Fear not, my lady. I know my ward's desires, as I know my son's. They make a good match. Were it in my power, I should wed them on the morrow."
The mare's ears flicked back in confusion. "But-- you are the king. How is anything in Archenland out of your power?"
"My lady. Consider the implication of your words. Wouldst have me make slaves of my subjects?" Lune asked, gently.
Hwin's footsteps stopped abruptly, and Lune paused as well. "I-- that is-- oh. I see," the mare said after a long moment. "It isn't that you object to Aravis. Other people do -- maybe people who don't know her?"
"And also those who do, but have other reasons for concern," Lune agreed. "But wait a space, until we reach a more private place, with a seat for me and grass for you."
The mare nodded. Lune resumed his walk, pausing only to lift a fallen branch from the forest floor and swing it before himself to break the occasional cobweb. The path twisted and turned, descending from Anvard's heights to one of Archenland's innumerable valleys. At each switchback turn, Lune waited a moment to mark the mare had kept her footing.
The path ended on a narrow strip of grass, marked out from the surrounding trees by a boundary of fist-sized stones. It overlooked a verdant gorge, perhaps three times a man's height, which sheltered a thin ribbon of muddy water. A dozen yards to the north, a notched and inclined slope of rock promised a frothing waterfall during thaws and rains. At summer's height it was simply damp and green with moss. A handful of dragonflies skimmed the famished stream, and a red squirrel scuttled up the opposite bank into the trees.
Generations ago, someone had built a makeshift seat from two low boulders and a plank of wood. The original board had long since rotted away, but Lune made a point to replace it every third year. This unassuming overlook was where he first spoke to his wife as man to woman, not prince to subject, and he held it dear for that reason alone.
Lune settled himself onto the bench and gestured to the mare, offering freedom from court formality. "We may speak freely here," he said, as she swung her head this way and that, and flared her nostrils to drink the air. "What says the lady Aravis in favor of her union with my son and heir?"
The mare's skin twitched, and her ears shifted back -- delicate nerves, Lune thought, not temper as it might be for the stallion who had claimed Cor as cousin -- but she composed herself and faced him straightly. "Aravis says, sir, that first, she knows Cor better than anyone but himself, and so she has experience smoothing over his stumbles. Second, she brings an excellent education in politics, geography, trade, and war, to supplement his own knowledge. Third, he loves her, and she wishes you to consider his happiness. Fourth -- she wouldn't say this, sir, but I think you ought to know -- she loves him. And fifth..."
The mare trailed to silence, shifting weight from fore hoof to hind. "Fifth, she says, 'I have lost my country and gained his land, and I count my loss no sorrow. I have lost my family and gained his love, and I count the exchange fair. I have lost my rank and gained true friends, and I count my wealth beyond measure. I have lost Tash's favor and gained the judgment of the Lion, and I count myself blessed to have the chance to strive for worthiness in his sight. I have changed my life so far that my own mother (on whom be the peace of the Lion) would count me a stranger, but I will change only thus far and no farther. The Lion accepted me as a daughter of Calormen; will you doubt his word?'"
Hwin looked aside, blowing air in a nervous snort. "That's what Aravis says. I agree with her."
"Prettily put, my lady," said Lune. He turned his body, gazing across the gorge into the untamed forest. Some beast crashed in the distance -- a deer, perhaps, mis-guessing its footing in the residue of leaves and twigs that carpeted the wooded hills. This would be a good day for hunting.
"If you agree, why haven't you convinced others to listen? Who are the people who dislike Aravis, and what are their reasons?" the mare asked, stepping forward one pace. "It may be foolish of me, but I can't see why anyone would want to keep Aravis and Cor apart when they want to be together."
Ah. And now the meat of the issue. "Wert born at the end of the Long Winter, my lady, if I guess true."
"In the last year before Aslan's return," Hwin agreed. "Does that matter?"
"Only in that Horses are great keepers of tales, but less diligent students of history," Lune said, holding one hand open to show friendly intent. "Once the Witch was no more, tales of her reign fell to the side, there being no need to hold the memory of free Narnia bright in winter's darkness. But history is the heart of our problem."
The mare pricked her ears forward in interest. "How so?"
Lune gazed over the damp green of the gorge, so vivid yet so fragile. "Archenland is a poor country. Small numbers can live in plenty, but only small numbers. When the Witch took Narnia, thousands fled from her army. Some took ship to the east. Some crossed the River Shribble and settled the northern coast. But most came south into Archenland." Lune sighed. "My great-grandfather welcomed them as family. But of a sudden, we had twice the mouths our land could support."
"Overgrazing," Hwin murmured in pained sympathy, her ears flicking back. "How many died?"
Lune allowed a smile. "None. But at great cost. And that cost is the reason many in Archenland will not accept Aravis as queen, no matter her suitability or her love for Cor. Wouldst hear the long and sorry tale, my lady?"
"Why are you telling me, not her?" the mare asked.
Lune laced his fingers together and rested his elbows on his thighs, still staring at the gorge. "I have told Aravis. I have told Cor. They do not grasp the problem. Perhaps you, who have also lived in Calormen, can speak across the desert that divides us." He turned to meet the mare's eyes across the length of the grassy sward. "Wilt accept that burden, Hwin of Narnia?"
Hwin swished her tail, and the set of her shoulders and ears spoke of determination. "Yes. Tell me how I can help my friend."
---------------------------------------------
Back to Which Give Value to Survival
Forward to The Law That Makes Him King
Read the final version on ff.net
---------------------------------------------
My Archenlandish (Archenlandian?) geology/topography is largely cribbed from parts of the Appalachian mountain range of North American, supplemented by details from the Finger Lakes region of New York, mostly because I live in northeastern America and I like gorges and waterfalls. Obviously there has not been anything remotely like enough time for the Narnian world to develop mountain ranges of sedimentary rock, let alone for those mountains to be worn down to the height of the ones in Archenland, but the world is flat and was created by a lion singing, so I figure Aslan could muck around with the topography and geology however he bloody well wanted to; science need not apply. (Science especially need not apply to Bism, but let's not get into that here. *grin*)
*beats head against desk*
Anyway. Lune loves his sons and wishes for their happiness. Unfortunately, a king cannot put himself before his country. (1,450 words)
---------------------------------------------
Speak Softly
---------------------------------------------
A king, were he worth his throne, could not afford to be foolish, nor unobservant. Lune had expected the mare's request since the two horses had grown restive at during their formal welcome to Anvard.
"Walk with me," he said to Hwin, and nodded at Darrin to show he left the castle uncoerced.
The mare trailed a half pace behind and to his left as Lune ambled across the cleared ground before the gates. When they reached the trees, she slipped altogether behind, her hooves landing on the packed earth of the narrow forest road with a faint rhythm of distant hammers. The cool of leaf-shade was welcome in the still, summer heat, and Lune tilted his head, listening to the pattern of rustles as birds and squirrels shifted a cautious distance away from the intruders into their domain.
To-day's hunt had left at dawn, heading east and south toward the Winding Arrow. Lune turned west at the first opportunity, down a faint footpath that led to a runoff gully. The stream itself was no special sight, reduced to a damp trickle since the end of the spring thaw and rains, but that was all to the good. Young lovers sought more picturesque hideaways, and nobody drew water from mud. Lune wished for privacy, not interruptions.
"Sir? Will we reach your destination soon?" the mare asked as the road vanished behind them.
"Soon enough. You plan to speak on behalf of Aravis," Lune said, stepping over a twisted root and spreading his arms to keep his balance on an unexpectedly loose stone. "Ware the footing."
Hwin blew her breath out all at once. "Oh! You knew? I suppose that saves me thinking of how to begin."
Lune smiled, turning slightly so the mare could catch the edges of his expression. "'Tis always easiest to bargain when both parties know the subject of the meeting. Fear not, my lady. I know my ward's desires, as I know my son's. They make a good match. Were it in my power, I should wed them on the morrow."
The mare's ears flicked back in confusion. "But-- you are the king. How is anything in Archenland out of your power?"
"My lady. Consider the implication of your words. Wouldst have me make slaves of my subjects?" Lune asked, gently.
Hwin's footsteps stopped abruptly, and Lune paused as well. "I-- that is-- oh. I see," the mare said after a long moment. "It isn't that you object to Aravis. Other people do -- maybe people who don't know her?"
"And also those who do, but have other reasons for concern," Lune agreed. "But wait a space, until we reach a more private place, with a seat for me and grass for you."
The mare nodded. Lune resumed his walk, pausing only to lift a fallen branch from the forest floor and swing it before himself to break the occasional cobweb. The path twisted and turned, descending from Anvard's heights to one of Archenland's innumerable valleys. At each switchback turn, Lune waited a moment to mark the mare had kept her footing.
The path ended on a narrow strip of grass, marked out from the surrounding trees by a boundary of fist-sized stones. It overlooked a verdant gorge, perhaps three times a man's height, which sheltered a thin ribbon of muddy water. A dozen yards to the north, a notched and inclined slope of rock promised a frothing waterfall during thaws and rains. At summer's height it was simply damp and green with moss. A handful of dragonflies skimmed the famished stream, and a red squirrel scuttled up the opposite bank into the trees.
Generations ago, someone had built a makeshift seat from two low boulders and a plank of wood. The original board had long since rotted away, but Lune made a point to replace it every third year. This unassuming overlook was where he first spoke to his wife as man to woman, not prince to subject, and he held it dear for that reason alone.
Lune settled himself onto the bench and gestured to the mare, offering freedom from court formality. "We may speak freely here," he said, as she swung her head this way and that, and flared her nostrils to drink the air. "What says the lady Aravis in favor of her union with my son and heir?"
The mare's skin twitched, and her ears shifted back -- delicate nerves, Lune thought, not temper as it might be for the stallion who had claimed Cor as cousin -- but she composed herself and faced him straightly. "Aravis says, sir, that first, she knows Cor better than anyone but himself, and so she has experience smoothing over his stumbles. Second, she brings an excellent education in politics, geography, trade, and war, to supplement his own knowledge. Third, he loves her, and she wishes you to consider his happiness. Fourth -- she wouldn't say this, sir, but I think you ought to know -- she loves him. And fifth..."
The mare trailed to silence, shifting weight from fore hoof to hind. "Fifth, she says, 'I have lost my country and gained his land, and I count my loss no sorrow. I have lost my family and gained his love, and I count the exchange fair. I have lost my rank and gained true friends, and I count my wealth beyond measure. I have lost Tash's favor and gained the judgment of the Lion, and I count myself blessed to have the chance to strive for worthiness in his sight. I have changed my life so far that my own mother (on whom be the peace of the Lion) would count me a stranger, but I will change only thus far and no farther. The Lion accepted me as a daughter of Calormen; will you doubt his word?'"
Hwin looked aside, blowing air in a nervous snort. "That's what Aravis says. I agree with her."
"Prettily put, my lady," said Lune. He turned his body, gazing across the gorge into the untamed forest. Some beast crashed in the distance -- a deer, perhaps, mis-guessing its footing in the residue of leaves and twigs that carpeted the wooded hills. This would be a good day for hunting.
"If you agree, why haven't you convinced others to listen? Who are the people who dislike Aravis, and what are their reasons?" the mare asked, stepping forward one pace. "It may be foolish of me, but I can't see why anyone would want to keep Aravis and Cor apart when they want to be together."
Ah. And now the meat of the issue. "Wert born at the end of the Long Winter, my lady, if I guess true."
"In the last year before Aslan's return," Hwin agreed. "Does that matter?"
"Only in that Horses are great keepers of tales, but less diligent students of history," Lune said, holding one hand open to show friendly intent. "Once the Witch was no more, tales of her reign fell to the side, there being no need to hold the memory of free Narnia bright in winter's darkness. But history is the heart of our problem."
The mare pricked her ears forward in interest. "How so?"
Lune gazed over the damp green of the gorge, so vivid yet so fragile. "Archenland is a poor country. Small numbers can live in plenty, but only small numbers. When the Witch took Narnia, thousands fled from her army. Some took ship to the east. Some crossed the River Shribble and settled the northern coast. But most came south into Archenland." Lune sighed. "My great-grandfather welcomed them as family. But of a sudden, we had twice the mouths our land could support."
"Overgrazing," Hwin murmured in pained sympathy, her ears flicking back. "How many died?"
Lune allowed a smile. "None. But at great cost. And that cost is the reason many in Archenland will not accept Aravis as queen, no matter her suitability or her love for Cor. Wouldst hear the long and sorry tale, my lady?"
"Why are you telling me, not her?" the mare asked.
Lune laced his fingers together and rested his elbows on his thighs, still staring at the gorge. "I have told Aravis. I have told Cor. They do not grasp the problem. Perhaps you, who have also lived in Calormen, can speak across the desert that divides us." He turned to meet the mare's eyes across the length of the grassy sward. "Wilt accept that burden, Hwin of Narnia?"
Hwin swished her tail, and the set of her shoulders and ears spoke of determination. "Yes. Tell me how I can help my friend."
---------------------------------------------
Back to Which Give Value to Survival
Forward to The Law That Makes Him King
Read the final version on ff.net
---------------------------------------------
My Archenlandish (Archenlandian?) geology/topography is largely cribbed from parts of the Appalachian mountain range of North American, supplemented by details from the Finger Lakes region of New York, mostly because I live in northeastern America and I like gorges and waterfalls. Obviously there has not been anything remotely like enough time for the Narnian world to develop mountain ranges of sedimentary rock, let alone for those mountains to be worn down to the height of the ones in Archenland, but the world is flat and was created by a lion singing, so I figure Aslan could muck around with the topography and geology however he bloody well wanted to; science need not apply. (Science especially need not apply to Bism, but let's not get into that here. *grin*)
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Thanks!
Date: 2010-03-07 04:34 am (UTC)Re: Thanks!
Date: 2010-03-07 04:50 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-07 05:09 am (UTC)I'm really glad to see some of Lune, because I was sort of despising him before, but now it's nice to get some reasoning behind it, and to see that he really does like the idea of Aravis marrying Cor. Also, I think you hit upon his style of speech really well.
And Hwin is a lovely as before - I adore the speech she and Aravis made up together. So good!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-07 07:56 am (UTC)Anything good in Aravis's speech is mostly an elaboration on the Book of Ruth. :-)
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-07 04:39 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-08 03:47 am (UTC)The history lesson is currently in Cor's POV rather than Lune's, because I am trying to show how he and Corin interpret the same facts through different basic assumptions.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-07 05:10 pm (UTC)So I am very looking forward to the socio-political reasons behind Lune's decision. Overpopulation, with thrice the mouths to feed, means Archenland must import food -- from where else but Calormen? And pay for that food... how? (Nothing debilitating, or the Tisroc wouldn't have been so distressed at being unable to conquer the "northern provinces".)
I await with eager breath this brilliant expansion on the tales of Narnia!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-08 03:51 am (UTC)Yep, food importation and debt were the... well, not the start of the problem. The problem really started when a bunch of outlaws headed south from Archenland, met some refugees who'd stumbled through a portal of the same type that later brought the Telmarines to the Narnian world, and jointly founded Calormen. But the events of the Hundred-Year Winter made things a lot worse. I am currently hashing out the details and Cor's reaction to them. Hopefully I will not wind up with anything too silly!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-07 06:46 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-08 03:52 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-07 09:36 pm (UTC)As Hwin spelled out the different points of why her friend is suited for Cor, it was the last one that really stood out for me: Aravis's list of what she had gained and lost as she accepted her new life in Archenland.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-08 03:54 am (UTC)Aravis's speech is basically an elaboration on Ruth's speech to Naomi, written in the high Calormene style and making certain points explicit rather than leaving them implicit. :-)
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-08 06:39 am (UTC)But this is Narnia, the vast majority of whose citizens are Talking Beasts. Talking Beasts don't seem to have escaped Jadis's dominion... at least, we never hear of any Beast expatriates in Archenland, or anywhere else. (Bree and Hwin describe themselves as captives, not escapees.)
The human population of Narnia would have been a fraction of Archenland's, whose entire citizenry were humans. And those humans who escaped Jadis were surely more likely to set up a "Narnian government in exile" in Narnia's island holdings of Galma, Terebinthia, and the Lone Islands. (One must assume that Jadis's magic couldn't cross the ocean. For that matter, why did the Long Winter stop at Narnia's border? Surely she was as eager to "gobble up" the surrounding countries as the Tisroc!)
Anyway, food for thought... or more likely, things you've already thought of, and will be telling us in the next chapter.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-08 07:13 am (UTC)1. We don't directly meet any, true, but we are never told that there are not Talking Beasts, fauns, centaurs, etc. in Archenland. I am sure they are a minority rather than the majority (the reverse of Narnia, if you will), but I am perfectly willing to speculate that they exist. :-) It makes sense for there not to be fantastic creatures in other lands, but since Archenland was founded by Narnians, and puts so much weight on a self-image as Narnia's sister country, it would actually strike me as odder for there not to be fantastic creatures about. (Archenland certainly had giants at one point, if the story of Olvin and Pire is to be believed, and the eagles of Stormness may count as Talking Beasts.)
2. Bree and Hwin apparently lived right along the Narnia-Archenland border, and were captured either by rogue Archenlanders or by foreign "traders" taking advantage of Narnia's sudden accessibility. As Archenland is not good terrain for horses, it is not surprising that they do not have relatives across the border. Forest-dwelling Beasts are a different kettle of fish.
2. I don't think Galma, Terebinthia, and the Seven Isles are part of Narnia. The Lone Islands only belong to Narnia because of a historical accident with a dragon, after all, so I think it is reasonable for the other islands to have remained independent. I also think that the Lone Islands were never very happy under Narnian rule (since there is such a distance between the two regions, especially without modern communications to bridge the gap), and they took Jadis's invasion as an opportunity to claim de facto independence, just as they did during the Telmarine occupation. (I would bet one of the things the Pevensies did in the first years of their reign was reestablish Narnia's authority in the Lone Islands, and I am equally sure the islanders got restive when the Pevensies vanished.)
3. My explanation for why Jadis didn't conquer the rest of the world (and it needs explaining, because she certainly could have if she'd wanted to) is that she was trying to find the secret to walking between worlds, which she thought must lie in Narnia where Aslan had sung the Deep Magic into existence. So she set up the Winter mostly to keep herself from being interrupted. (YMMV, of course!)
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-09 04:07 am (UTC)