Narnia: The Fallen Angel

05 || Strange Introductions

Miles from Crystalline's and Hunter's trekking, the four Pevensies were seated all around the kind Beavers' table in their dam. Susan sat next to Peter, and in between him and Lucy as Edmund sat by the entrance of the dam in the shadows. Mrs. Beaver was brewing comfort tea, as she likes to call it, for the shaken children. Their day wasn't the brightest, especially after seeing Tumnus' house torn apart by the Witch's wolves and having to run further into Narnia to reach the safety of the dam. None of them had much time to grasp what exactly the recent occurences meant for them, but now that they were seated around a small table in a humble abode all they could do was silently compose themselves.

The only one who managed to force out a few words was Lucy when Mrs. Beaver offered to give them tea. A little while later, the said beaver laid a plate of uncooked fish and wood in front of Lucy, who looked down at it questionably. "Fish and sticks, dear!" The female beaver said before going around the table offering the same to the others who politely declined. With a shrug Mrs. Beaver then when around and seated herself by Mr. Beaver.

The kids were still silent as mice, by earth terms since they weren't sure if Narnia had talking rodents as well, until Peter spoke up. "Is there nothing we can do about Mr. Tumnus?" He questioned quietly as he fiddled with the cup in his hands. He, along with the others were thinking the same thing, hoping that somehow they'd be able to retrieve the poor faun from the White Witch.

Mr. Beaver let out a long sigh. "Well, you know what they say--there's few that go in the Witch's castle that come out alive," Mr. Beaver grumbled mindlessly in response, he too thinking heavily on his dear friend's predicament. His smart mouth stirred Lucy's guilt, and she looked down at her lap as the feeling a sudden rush of guilt at the thought of Mr. Tumnus dying.

Mrs. Beaver took notice of this, her beady eyes glaring at her husband as she smacked the back of his head. "There's hope!" Mrs. Beaver chimed quickly, trying to discreetly cover up her husband's mindless chatter with a small smile. Mr. Beaver sputtered out his tea. "Yeah, there's a load full of hope!" He leaned in towards the children as if he was sharing such an important secret that only they could hear. "Aslan is on the move."

His voice was deep and hushed, dripping with the same excitement that twinkled in his eyes. The children felt a rush of warmth flow through their veins at the mention of his name and their eyes widening automatically to showcase the wonder and curiosity that filled them to the brim. Such a name triggered their hearts to beat faster and the words of doubt in their mind melt away with a wave of deep comfort. Yet one of them had such a curious thought, he couldn't help but say it aloud.

"Who's Aslan?" Edmund asks as he nears the table, voicing his other siblings thoughts aloud as well. Mr. Beaver bursts into fits of laughter, his deep rumbling barks startling the children into confusion. Had they missed something? "You silly little blighter!" Mr. Beaver chortles, thinking that it was merely a joke.

Mrs. Beaver looks at the disgruntled children's serious expressions and lays her hand on Mr. Beaver. He stops, looking at all of their faces before it struck him. "You don't know, do you?"

Peter takes a glance at his siblings before shrugging. "We haven't actually been here very long."

Mr. Beaver sputters yet again, slamming his paw down onto the table which startles the others. "He's only the king of the whole wood. The true king of Narnia, the top geezer! and he's waiting for you at the stone table!" He cried out as he pointed towards the children.

"Waiting for us?" Lucy questioned, looking at the beaver with uncertainty. Mr. Beaver let out a groan of irritation, grumbling madly to himself. "You got to be blooming joking!" He cried out, turning to his wife and huffing. "They haven't even heard of the prophecy!" Mr. Beaver cried out.