Further Up & Further In

Constellations

It was a quiet summer evening; Frank would have called it August, if they'd still been in England, but Helen said they had the freedom to call it anything they liked.

"It feels like a Sunday," Frank mused.

"It feels golden," Helen replied.

The two of them stared out over the ocean, watching everything golden turn blue as the sun set behind them. "We'll name it later," Helen breathed.

They hadn't been in Narnia long, yet in some ways it felt like they'd been there all their lives. There was still a fog of England over them - not heavy or disorienting, but comfortable. It reminded them of how things used to be - of what little they knew of government and economics and charity and faith - and it guided them as they established their reign.

Yet, in spite of their remembrances they felt compelled to freedom; a New order, a New rule; something they could, in the most human sense of the word, create. So in some ways they remained very English, and emanated an English king and queen, but in others they were wild and free and younger than they had ever been. They were Adam and Ever, as nearly as they could be. The world was new, and they were new in it. 

"Nellie," Frank whispered after many moments of comfortable silence between them. "Have you seen the stars?"

And together they noticed, somehow for the first time, how big and bright and glorious the stars were in their new world. The first few stars had appeared, closer than those in England, and clearer for the lack of other light. 

Up until then Frank and Helen had been sitting on an eastward-facing balcony, but at this new discovery they immediately retreated back inside and made their way out one of the back doors. The main doorway - the one that led to their throne room - faced east, but to the west of Cair Paravel laid a large, grassy clearing and the woods. It was in this grassy area they decided to rest.

They laid down eagerly on the soft, summer grass, and gazed with wide eyes at the ever-darkening night sky. Every minute the sky deepened, and more stars leapt out. Frank had seen them once, at the very beginning, but he'd hardly thought of them. They'd appeared all at once, then, and the moment had been both too beautiful to ever forget, and too amazing to truly remember. He remembered notes from the Lion - Aslan's - song, but never the whole thing. He remembered the suddenness of the stars, but hardly comprehended what he had been seeing. He remembered the sun rising, and the earth bubbling, and the animals springing out, but somehow all this had been a single instant in his mind, and he had never, until now, examined a piece of it.

Heavy, contented breaths filled the silence, until Frank said, "I keep looking for constellations."

Helen twisted her gaze towards him, and then turned back to the stars. "I don't suppose there are any yet. No one has named them."

"Like the months," Frank replied. 

"Yes," Helen answered.

They lay quietly for another few moments, eyes both wide and dreamish. 

"That one there looks like a ship." Frank pointed above them.  "See, those three bright stars could be a mast, and those lower four shape the boat itself." 

"Oh! I see it!" Helen exclaimed. "Do you see any others?"

Frank looked sharply around and after a while said, "Those five could be an ax."

"Yes," Helen mused. "Or a hammer."

"For building things."

"For building worlds."

"A hammer it is, then."

Their voices ceased as their eyes began searching for other stars to connect into images. The entire sky seemed nearly ablaze. 

"There," Helen said, finally. "It's a leopard."

"Where?"

"There," she replied, pointing. "Near the tree line. That rectangle, and that square, and the lines coming off the bottom."

Frank strained his eyes, and then replied, "I think I see it. But why a leopard?"

"Because I could hardly see it among all those other stars! They make it look spotted."

"All right, then. We've found a skip, a hammer, and a leopard."

"Can we find more?" Helen asked.

They stared out into the deep blue and silver of the starlit sky and searched for a few minutes more. And then, after seeing nothing, Frank said, "You know, Nellie, the constellations weren't all named in one night."

Helen searched a heartbeat longer. "No," she agreed. "I suppose they weren't."

They stopped searching for dots to connect, but remained where they lay on the cool grass. The sky stretched on and on, dotted with silver stars, and unhindered by clouds. It went on for an eternity, and for the moment they believed the night would, too. They believed their lives could. They believed the world might.

And they lay, a humble farm boy and a gentle farmer's daughter, like they'd only dreamed of since they'd moved to London, under a glorious expanse of sky, on a lush carpet of grass. Their crowns had been left in the Cair. Their responsibilities were left there, too. And so they were almost like children, but not quite like children: youthful and obedient and fresh, but older than they'd ever been.

"It feels like Sunday," Frank repeated.

"It feels like Heaven," Helen replied.

"We'll name it later," they agreed.