𝙸𝚁𝚁𝙸𝚃𝙰𝙱𝙻𝙴. ➪ 𝙴. 𝙿𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚎

𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗

They'd spotted Edmund walking into the White Witch's palace and as Lucy screamed his name, Mr. Beaver told them it was no use. And then, in a sudden turn of events, they all had to quickly evacuate the dam as the White Witch's secret police had arrived. They had escaped through a secret tunnel, but stumbled across the stone remains of Mr. Beaver's friends. Then, they ran into a friendly fox, who selflessly steered the pack of wolves in the wrong direction.
And so, they were trekking across the icy cold geography of Narnia. The beavers leading the way. "Now, Aslan's camp is near the Stone Table, just across the frozen river," Mr. Beaver said.
"River?" Elmer repeated, hugging his shivering sister close.
"The river's been frozen solid for a hundred years," Mrs. Beaver explained.
"It's so far," Peter breathed.
"It's the world, dear," she chuckled. "Did you expect it to be small?"
"Smaller," Susan said, glancing at Peter.
The walk across the lake seemed to go on for infinity. Elmer and Susan walked up ahead, conversing quietly between themselves. Phillis walked alongside Peter, observing her older brother and the girl he'd fallen in love with, whilst Lucy lagged behind. "Come on, humans, while we're still young!" Mr. Beaver yelled back at the five.
"If he tells us to hurry one more time," Peter sighed, bending down to lift Lucy onto his back, "I'm gonna turn him into a big, fluffy hat."
"Hurry up, come on!" Beaver screamed.
"He is getting a little bossy," Lucy giggled.
"No, behind you! It's her!" Mrs. Beaver cried.
Peter put Lucy back down as they all began sprinting as fast as they could. Elmer grabbed onto Phillis' hand as he pulled her along. She couldn't feel her bare legs anymore. She was wearing a little green dress, dotted with intricate daisy detailing and some short socks. Combined with the freezing cold and the continuous walking, all she felt was numbness. Her cheeks were pale and her nose had a red tint, which would of been considered cute if it wasn't under the current circumstances. They entered the forest again and dove behind a small sort of cave. The way Mrs. Beaver hushed them reminded her of her mother ushering them into the shelter back in Finchley as she rocked her two children to sleep. It made Phillis want to cry as she realised just how much she missed her mother and her father. Before they left, the two hadn't heard a peep from their father since he got deployed and they were beginning to worry. Phillis cuddled into Elmer's chest as he held a hand over her mouth to keep her from gasping when a shadow loomed over the group.

And then there was silence.

"Maybe she's gone?" Lucy suggested quietly.
"I suppose I'll go look," Peter said.
"No! You're worth nothing to Narnia dead," Mr. Beaver whispered.
"Well, neither are you, Beaver," Mrs. Beaver said.
"Thanks, sweetheart," he grinned, before disappearing.
It was only a matter of seconds before his head popped back. "Come out, come out! I hope you've all been good 'cause there's someone here to see you!" Mr. Beaver exclaimed.
Slowly, they all crept out from behind their hiding spot. And, sure enough, Father Christmas stood in front of his sleigh, a huge grin on his face. "Merry Christmas, sir," Lucy smiled, walking towards the man, whom Phillis had always thought to be a lie told by her parents.
"It certainly is, Lucy, since you've arrived," he said cheerfully, his hands resting firmly on his hips.
"Look," Susan began, turning to Elmer, who smiled down at her, "I've put up with a lot since I've got here, but this..."
"Are you saying the hardest thing to believe out of everything that's happened is that Father Christmas is real?" Elmer raised a brow at the beautiful Susan Pevensie, a small smirk on his face.
"We thought you were the Witch," Phillis explained.
"Yes, yes. I'm sorry about that but, in my defence, I have been driving one of these longer than the Witch."
"I thought there was no Christmas in Narnia," Susan said, shuffling forward slightly.
"No, not for a long time. But the hope that you brought, Your Majesties, is finally starting to weaken the Witch's power. Still, I dare say you could do with these," Father Christmas, said pulling a sack from the back of his grand sleigh.
"Presents!" Lucy exclaimed.
Father Christmas bent down in front of Lucy, holding out a cordial of some sort.
"The juice of the fire-flower. One drop will cure any injury. And though I hope you never have to use it," he said, handing her a small dagger.
"Thank you, sir, but I think I could be brave enough," Lucy smiled.
Phillis grinned fondly down at the young girl, as she knew for a fact that the youngest Pevensie would be brave enough. "I'm sure you could," Father Christmas smiled. "But battles are ugly affairs. Susan."
The man pulled out a bow and a quiver of arrows, as Susan looked at it with a mix of both confusion and awe. "Trust in this bow, and it will not easily miss."
"What happened to 'battles are ugly affairs'?" Susan asked.
Father Christmas chuckled.
"Though you don't seem to have a problem making yourself heard," he handed her a magnificent little horn, which had the most gorgeous design, "blow on this and wherever you are, help will come."
"Thanks," she breathed.
"Young Phillis," Father Christmas said, rummaging through his sack. "I gift you these."
He pulled out two sheaths, which enclosed two swords. He placed them gently into Phillis' shaking hands. She stared down at them in awe before looking back up at Father Christmas. "Use these, the Swords of North and South, together and you can slay even the fiercest of giants."
"Thank you, sir, but I don't want to hurt anybody," Phillis whispered, her eyes flickering up to him.
"I thought you might say that," he laughed. "Perhaps the most selfless person to ever grace Narnia. So, I give you this."
It was a weird-looking device. It seemed to be some sort of flute, but it was covered with engravings of Narnian folk and nature. "It might not look like much, but play even the most simplest of tunes, and you can send even the lightest sleeper into the deepest slumber they will have for a minute or so."
"Why, thank you so much, sir," she smiled up at him.
"Elmer. I give you this sword for when you ride into battle as I know you are perfectly capable of putting up a fight."
Father Christmas handed a sheathed sword to Elmer, who was slightly star struck. The weapon was slightly longer than Phillis' but she didn't mind, she thought hers were particularly intriguing. "And this," Father Christmas handed a dagger, slightly larger than Lucy's, "for a tricky situation."
"Sir, thank you," Elmer bowed his head at the friendly man.
Elmer stood next to his sister, giving her an intrigued smile. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
"Peter," Father Christmas said, turning to the oldest of all of the children. "The time to use these may be near at hand."
And into the clutch of Peter, fell a shiny sword and a matching shield. The Pevensie boy unsheathed it to examine the weapon further, "Thank you, sir."
"These are tools, not toys," Father Christmas said. "Bare them well and wisely. Now, I must be off. Winter is almost over and things do pile up when you've been gone a hundred years. Long live Aslan and merry Christmas!"
And with that, he rode off into the distance.
"Told you he was real," Lucy said to Susan and Elmer, referring to the Christmas the year before when Susan and Elmer got into a heated debate with Lucy about whether or not Father Christmas was real. They'd done it at the dinner table, much to the dismay of Helen, yet Virginia merely chuckled at the antics of the children. "He said winter was almost over," Phillis said, turning to Peter. "You know what that means? No more ice."