You People have No Imagination...

Truthfully, Reep found it somewhat difficult to imagine the world Queen Susan must have known. He’d always believed the tales, of course; trees dancing with fauns and satyrs, speaking across the world on the slightest breeze, but it was difficult to take those old fairy tales and push them into the present, particularly alongside the power and vengeance wrought by those trees that had joined them in battle against Miraz. 

He hadn’t had much time to talk to them since then. 

Just the memories were helping her feel more at ease again.

"It’s true they’ve been through a lot. More, perhaps, than they suffered at the hands of the Witch; Miraz would certainly like to think so.” He tried to sound as casual as possible, but it was still hard. Thinking about the sheer numbers of Narnians who had been lost was nearly impossible, it was so vast a figure. Families, species, all decimated for greed of a few soldiers.

Not that he was going to bring all that up. 

“But then, I think Miraz would be happy to be remembered for anything at all, you know. The mere fact that he made such a dramatic end of it would probably please that tyrant; I doubt old master Badger is going to forget his involvement anytime soon. Badgers with long memories will probably be telling stories about the great monster Miraz in an hundred years. Of course, by then the stories will likely be utterly ridiculous. He’ll probably have three heads and breathe fire.

Endless List of Favourite Movies: 1/?

↳Narnia: The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe

endless list of my favourite books | the chronicles of narnia by c. s. lewis

One word. All you’ve been saying is quite right, I shouldn’t wonder. I’m a chap who always liked to know the worst and then put the best face I can on it. So I won’t deny any of what you said. But there’s one more thing to be said, even so. Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things-trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that’s a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We’re just babies making up a game, if you’re right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That’s why I’m going to stand by the play world. I’m on Aslan’s side even if there isn’t any Aslan to lead it. I’m going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn’t any Narnia. So, thanking you kindly for our supper, if these two gentlemen and the young lady are ready, we’re leaving your court at once and setting out in the dark to spend our lives looking for Overland. Not that our lives will be very long, I should think; but that’s a small loss if the world’s as dull a place as you say.

Splitting up would certainly speed up their progress, even if one of them did have to double back. They were both excellent warriors, so should they find danger it wasn’t as though either of them necessarily needed protecting, as such. 

 they could take care of themselves. And it wasn’t as though they’d be straying too far from one another. Probably. 

But then, the skeptical part of his brain added, that could be exactly what the magic wants you to think. It wants you alone, wants you lost. 

Ah.

Of course, there was always the possibility that there was nothing magical at all about the paths, that they just happened to have been made in an extremely convoluted manner, but were otherwise perfectly ordinary. But if there was even the chance…

He could still see the directions but it was getting darker in the far distance. In places like this, Puss already knew there might be unexpected slopes, narrow tunnels and traps along the way.

“It’s hard to tell.” Puss finally admitted, now scratching his chin in thought, “It’s possible that the magic might be present here. It could be invisible to our eyes but there are certain creatures who can see it.”

He started down the path in front of them, stopping every few paces to look back, to see if anything had changed.

“This reminds me of an old tower I found myself in, once. Ancient thing. No one knew who built it, but they said it held the answers to a great many mysteries within it’s walls. Some enchanter or other - I never learned their name - had cursed the place, that no man who entered could ever leave. 

The torch went out suddenly, though whether from Mary dropping it or some other, fouler reason he couldn’t tell. Mist was swirling around his feet, now, moving towards Mary with alarming speed.

The figure seemed brighter, somehow; luminescent in the darkness. Small crystals on her dress and in her hair glinted with lights of their own, and the bright sapphire of her eyes had dulled, now, to two icy points.

Whiskers trembling, Reep drew his sword. It probably wouldn’t be much good here, against a painting of all things, but it was the best he had.

Even less use than that, he thought, as he tried to swing at the curling fronds of magic. It’s like moving through treacle.

Or snow, the little voice in his head prompted. He tried to ignore that thought.

With the glittering figure of Jadis barely a foot away from him, he finally roused himself enough to thrust his blade forwards into the mist. As he had suspected, it had no effect on the magic, but the Witch paused for a moment.

He smiled.

“Well then, your highness. Any last words?”

Slumped against a door that would not open, a mist seemed to form, not only in the room but in the English Princess’ mind. Every thought and memory seemed blurred and Reepicheep’s words seemed long and drawn out.

It felt like she had been sitting there for hours when her hand fell from knee to slide onto stone floor - her father’s ring rubbed against her skin and this forced a flash of clear mind tap up her spine.

But Mary ran straight through her. As though she wasn’t there.

The Witch stepped forward - no longer floating, but moving with real purpose - reaching towards him as he wavered.

Like a snow ghost, his mind whispered, and he as the Witch reached out towards him, he leapt forwards, and passed straight through her.

Beyond the ghost, the room felt lighter, less clogged with magic and rage, and Reep felt his mind begin to clear. He scampered over to where Mary lay, sheathing his blade; it wouldn’t be any use, after all.