The High Queen II

A Changed Narnia

The journey by boat was a quiet one, only the steady rhythm of the oars breaking the silence. Peter, Edmund, and Eleanor took turns rowing, with Trumpkin regaling them with tales of Prince Caspian and the Telmarines. The gorge they passed through was beautiful, Eleanor couldn't deny that—the way the sunlight filtered through the dense trees, illuminating the stone walls, and making the water glitter as if someone had scattered a thousand diamonds across the surface. Yet, despite the beauty, something felt off. This wasn't the Narnia she remembered.

No, Narnia wasn't the same, and neither was she.

Eleanor had always been able to find beauty in everything, even in the smallest details. It was how she used to cope, used to remind herself of the good when everything else felt so hopeless. But now, the beauty here felt hollow. Even the trees, once full of life and movement, stood still. Almost as if they had given up, much like Eleanor sometimes felt herself.

"They're so still," Lucy's voice suddenly broke through the silence, pulling Eleanor from her thoughts.

"They're trees," Trumpkin grumbled, glancing back at her youngest sister. "What'd you expect?"

"They used to dance," Lucy replied softly, her wide eyes filled with sadness. "And the fauns danced with them. The dwarves played music so sweet that the mermaids would try to climb the rocks at Cair Paravel just to hear it."

Eleanor stared at the trees as Lucy spoke, her heart twisting. "Music that would make the air itself seem to sing along," she added quietly, her voice laced with an almost painful nostalgia. She used to love that feeling, the way Narnia felt alive, as if every leaf and blade of grass had a story to tell. But now? It was nothing but memories and shadows.

Trumpkin scoffed. "That was before the Telmarines came. After the invasion, those who survived retreated into hiding. The trees, they've withdrawn so far into themselves that they've never danced again."

Eleanor clenched her jaw, her grip tightening on the oar. Of course they had. Everything retreated. Everything withered. The more she heard, the more she feared what else had changed. She had spent so long dreaming of Narnia, aching to return, clinging to the memories of a place that felt more like home than anywhere else ever had. But as they neared the shore, she wondered if it had all been an illusion—if maybe, she had been wrong about everything. Maybe the real Narnia had died a long time ago, and what was left was just a broken shell. Just like her.

"I don't understand," Lucy's voice came again, softer this time. "How could Aslan let this happen?"

"Aslan?" Trumpkin looked genuinely puzzled. "Thought he abandoned us when you lot did."

"We didn't mean to leave," Peter said firmly, though there was a tightness to his voice. He carried the weight of their abrupt departure, the same guilt that hung over them all like a cloud.

"All I ever wanted was to live in a place like Narnia," Eleanor muttered under her breath. Her gaze remained fixed on the trees, hollow and lifeless, just like how she felt deep down. "And when we left, all I wanted was to come back." But now, the longing she had felt for so many years seemed misplaced. Why had she wanted to return so badly? To a place that didn't even exist anymore?

"Makes no difference now, does it?" Trumpkin grumbled.

Peter's expression hardened, determination flashing in his eyes. "Get us to the Narnians," he said, "and it will."

Eleanor glanced at her brother, wondering if he really believed that. Peter, always the leader, always hopeful. She admired it, but sometimes she found herself doubting everything they once believed in. How could they set things right when everything was so far gone?

They continued in silence for a while, rowing in turns, until finally Eleanor passed the oar to Edmund. As soon as she stopped rowing, they reached the shore, causing Edmund to scowl. "Of course," he muttered, eyeing her with a hint of sibling annoyance. "Right after you stop rowing."

Eleanor rolled her eyes. "Always such perfect timing, aren't I?" she replied dryly, though there wasn't much humor in her voice.

As they disembarked, Lucy wandered off, her curiosity leading her to a bear in the distance. "Look! It's a bear!" she exclaimed, rushing toward it with that same boundless enthusiasm she'd always had.

"Lucy, wait!" Susan called, her bow already in hand. But it was too late. The bear wasn't the friendly creature Lucy expected—it was wild. And it charged at her with a growl that sent a shiver down Eleanor's spine.

Everything happened too fast. Lucy's face transformed from delight to horror as she stumbled backwards, falling to the ground. "Shoot, Susan!" Edmund shouted, but Susan hesitated, frozen in place.

Without thinking, Eleanor sprinted forward, her axe in hand. She threw herself in front of Lucy, her heart pounding as the bear loomed over them, massive and menacing. "Get back!" she yelled, her voice sharper than she intended. Her hands shook slightly as she gripped the axe, preparing to defend her sister with her life if she had to.

But before she could strike, an arrow zipped past her. Trumpkin's arrow found its mark, sinking into the bear's chest, and with a heavy thud, the beast collapsed at her feet.

Susan lowered her bow, her face pale with shock. "Why wouldn't he stop?"

Eleanor knelt down, pulling Lucy into her arms, her heart still racing. "Are you alright?" she whispered, her voice softer now, trying to soothe her sister's trembling form. Lucy clung to her, shaking like a leaf.

Peter and Edmund rushed over, swords drawn, but Trumpkin had already approached the fallen bear. "He was hungry," Trumpkin said, as if that explained everything. He handed Eleanor her axe back, though he struggled with its weight. "Here, your majesty."

"Thanks," Eleanor muttered, taking it from him. She forced a smile but didn't feel it. Everything felt off, wrong. She hated this feeling, this uncertainty. Narnia was supposed to be their refuge, but it felt more like a graveyard now.

The others gathered around as Trumpkin examined the bear. "He was wild," Edmund said, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"I don't think he could talk at all," Peter added, frowning as he looked down at the beast.

"Get treated like a dumb animal long enough, and that's what you become," Trumpkin said grimly as he drew his knife. "Narnia's a more savage place than you remember."

Eleanor's chest tightened. She wanted to scream, wanted to cry, but she just held Lucy tighter instead. Everything had changed. The home she had longed for was gone, replaced by something dark and twisted. And as she stared at the lifeless bear, she couldn't shake the feeling that maybe this new Narnia reflected something inside of her too—something broken, something beyond repair.

Lucy cried quietly into her blouse, and Eleanor gently stroked her hair, trying to comfort her sister even though she could barely keep herself together. "We'll set it right," Peter said softly, placing a hand on her back.

Eleanor wanted to believe him, but all she could feel was the weight of loss. Narnia was gone, and maybe, so was she.