Post by darkaus on Jun 9, 2008 0:59:55 GMT -8
(This is just a short Narnia fic focussing on Aslan and Peter. I do it because I love the characters. (love, not own. I own nothing... 
)
Snow was falling.
Already the ground was coated in white, disturbed only by a set of massive pawprints.
A lonely wind whistled across the overhang, past rock, over steps, and against fur of tawny gold.
There would be no stars tonight.
The Great Lion lay on the cracked slabs of the stone table. His paws hung over its sides, claws extended to grip the edges. His tail was curled in close to his body, tucked to his feet. The snowflakes falling from above covered all else but they did not rest on the lion. No cold seemed to reach him, and his breath, sweet and warm, rose in puffs of steam from his lowered muzzle.
Peter paused. He stood, silent, unwilling to disturb the Lion but also unable to swallow his curiosity at this sight. It seemed... so wrong, that Aslan would return to this place. These steps he had been bound on, with no care for the pain it would cause to be pulled up them. The platform upon which he had been shaved, his mane cut, like wild game brought in to be skinned or a sheep to be sheared. And the table itself... But there he lay, posture indicating that Aslan remembered all too well what had befallen him here.
The Lion rose and stood on the slabs of stone, bent his head to look up at the grey skies above fast darkening with the coming of night. With a heavy sigh he lifted his paws, slid gracefully to the ground. Then the noble head turned, amber eyes met Peter's own. He had been spotted long ago. Aslan padded to him.
"Son of Adam, King of Narnia, why are you so far from Cair Paravel with night so close?"
Peter looked away, somewhat embarrassed to have been caught stairing. "I was hunting, Aslan. When it began to snow I lost my way and found myself here..."
Aslan bent his head, "Walk with me Peter, we will return you to your loved ones as we speak. You may warm your hands in my fur."
Peter placed his hands upon Aslan's mane. He could smell spring suddenly, blossoms and warm breezes. Somewhat overcome he closed his arms about the lions neck, breathing deeply, twining long golden strands in his fists. Aslan sat; one paw rose and lay upon Peter's shoulder.
"... Son of Adam, you are troubled indeed."
Peter shook his head, not pulling it up. "I'm so sorry Aslan, I mean no disrespect..."
The Lion purred, it was soft thunder. "You do no harm; even wild lions will welcome a hug in the snow." He remained still, waiting for Peter to pull away which eventually he did. "There is never shame or wrongdoing in love if it is done for loves own sake."
Peter looked back to the table, felt the lion follow his gaze. "Aslan... perhaps I should not ask, but if I may, why were you here tonight? Why were you... there, tonight?"
The golden eyes shut, and the great head dropped several inches. "I almost feared you would ask me this, though I know that age when you hesitate or turn aside from simple curiosity is not yet upon you. I am here because it is snowing tonight."
Peter's confusion deepened. "But why, Aslan? It is snowing all over Narnia."
The Lion's eyes opened, they were distant, sad. "I know that well. This is the first natural winter Narnia has known in a hundred years." He stood, indicated with the flicking of his tail that he would not linger here further. Peter put his hand back into the Lion's mane to steady himself as he walked beside him. "Peter, I have always believed, and do so still, that life is a gift. Within it there will be struggles, strife, fear, but also joy, family, hope." The great paws left broad prints in their wake. "Life is meant to be lived, and yet every day I see friends dear to my heart who close their eyes to what surrounds them. They fear the pain, and so they do not rise for the promise. They waste the gift by overburdening time with worry, wisdom with bitterness, love with distrust. They remind me of her."
The snow was blowing against their sides, Peter shivered as flakes snuck into the warmth of his cloak, melting against his neck. "Her?"
The Lion looked to him. "The White Witch. Surely you have not forgotten her so soon?"
Peter looked ahead. "No, and I think I never will. She left a stain on everything and Lucy, Edmund, Susan and I must scrub at it daily. I have ridden by the ruins of her castle, and the hairs rise on the back of my neck if I'm there for even moments."
Aslan too looked forward. "She is not there, though the memory of her occupation will outlive her in those stones by the years. She wrote her fate into the very ice from which she carved her throne. Too many follow in her footsteps. Too many, as she did, refuse to heed wise council when it is offered. I feel their weight on nights such as this one, and her weight most of all."
Peter frowned as he ran these statements through his head, "I don't understand. Their weight? Her weight?"
"Yes Peter, her weight." The wind changed its course, the flurries danced suspended for a few moments as they sought to follow it. "I have born her weight upon me from time before time, and the weight of all who dance to her destructive song with her. They dance upon my heart. I am heavy with their ignorance, I carry their confusion, their discontent, and hardest to bear, their cruelty."
Peter looked back the way they had come, but their snowy trail disappeared mere feet behind them in the dark. His throat was strangely dry, and his chest felt tight. (It is the cold air,) he told himself, (burning my throat and filling my lungs.) The golden form beside him continued to advance fluidly, seeing what lay before them through the last embers of the sunset. Peter's fingers tightened in Aslan's fur. The Great Lion leaned into his touch, a pressure barely noticeable; the boy rubbed his fingertips gently against the neck he could just brush through the strands. He had no words for the emotion in his heart, but his hand spoke for him.
They walked in silence.
Night fell, the world was swallowed without the moon or stars overhead. The snow continued to fall. It seemed the drifts were getting taller, wider. No sooner did that thought cross Peter's mind then he felt the underlayed snow shift, and he fell up to his hips in the icy white. He struggled to regain his stride but his legs had stuck fast. A particularly sharp gust knocked him onto his knees and he found himself catching himself with Aslan's mane. "I'm sorry Aslan, it's getting deeper."
"Indeed." Some humor colored Aslan's tone, he stood uncomplaining as Peter continued to pull on his mane and struggle in the drifts. "By morning the waterfalls will be frozen to a trickle, I would not be surprised to see the merfolk cutting air holes in the sea."
Peter paused. "Will they need help?"
Aslan chuckled, lay down in the drift so Peter could get a better grip. "They are well practiced, it is how you will cope with this weather that I wonder after." Peter's fists filled with golden strands, and feeling his grip was sure Aslan stood again, pulling Peter up with him. "Perhaps you should remain in Cair Paravel until the thaw."
The young king of Narnia grinned, freed his feet; "That may prevent a rescue mission or two."
Again the Lion chuckled, resumed his steady forward press through the snow.
They walked again in silence... for a time. Peter's hand remained in the thick fur of Aslan's mane. He felt out of place. "...Aslan... why do you carry it? This weight you speak of, you could be rid of it, couldn't you?"
The Great Lion stopped. His eyes shut again, as though against something Peter could not see. "Son of Adam..." The mighty head turned, the bright amber eyes opened. "Climb upon my back."
Peter hesitated. "...On your back?"
Aslan nodded. When Peter still did not stir he stretched out a paw, pushing the boy to his side. Peter looked at the Lion, still he hesitated. "Aslan... I feel I shouldn't. You don't need my weight, the snows deep... and we still have a way to go, don't we?"
"Further than you know, Peter." Aslan looked back at him. "Climb upon my back."
Peter would not refuse him twice, despite how awkward this seemed. Still... Aslan was no horse, it seemed wrong to ride him. It still felt somewhat wrong to ride the horses of Narnia themselves, after all, they spoke. He pulled himself onto the soft fur, settled himself astride a strong spine, took ahold of his mane. Beneath him Aslan chuckled. There came the odd shifting of muscles as the Lion resumed his steady pace.
The strangest of feelings was steeling over Peters hands and feet, spreading down his arms, up his legs until it covered him completely. The lion was so warm... so soft, when was the last time Peter had felt this safe? It was almost like when he was a boy still, a boy in his mind at least, and he had tolerated his mother fussing over him and tucking him in at night. The light in her eyes as she read to him, and the light of the sun warming his skin... He could smell spring again, and faint but present still behind it all... something foreign and wonderfully familiar. "Oh Aslan..." Peter lay his cheek against the Lions neck.
A purr reverberated through the form below him; somehow, the snow seemed distant now. The chill was faded entirely. "Tell me Peter, are you happy?"
Peter could see the lions eyes before his own, though they were not looking at each other face to face. "I've been happy Aslan, I know how that feels. I don't know what I feel now, but... I think so."
The eyes seemed to hold a smile, the wind tugged at them distantly. "Would you have me set you down now, Peter? Cease to carry your weight? I could be rid of it and my road might be lighter for it. You have said yourself, you do not want me to carry you. The snow is deep, you do not need my help." The great lion sighed, feeling the boy upon his back tighten his grip. "Son of Adam, There are many of my family who need me to hold their weight, many more than this fear to ask. And even more, like you Peter, who hesitate. They are still close to me, I love them. I will never let them seek in vain while I still live."
The muscles stretched beneath him, the snow crackled beneath the lions paws. "I have felt the temptation to set that weight away, and I have known despair. I too, am living. I too, will experience all that life places at my feet, and with that will come trials, and with those will come sorrow. But Peter," His voice was soft, and yet stronger then the boy king had ever heard it before. "I have faith in them, and I hold faith with them, even those who will scorn it. Those I carry upon my back tonight may find the strength to walk with their hand on my mane tomorrow. It is my fondest wish."
And Peter buried his head in Aslan's mane, and wept, as he had not wept since Edmund rose healed after being brought low by the Witch herself. "...I understand Aslan," His hands eased their grip. "...I think I understand now."
The Great Lion rumbled beneath him. "I believe you do."
Peter dried his tears, sat up and leaned to the side so that he might see the side of Aslan's face."Aslan, just until we reach Cair Paravel... may I stay here? Unless my weight bothers you."
The Lion's eyes pinched at the corners, his voice came soft, and warm. "Son of Adam, your weight is no burden."
)Snow was falling.
Already the ground was coated in white, disturbed only by a set of massive pawprints.
A lonely wind whistled across the overhang, past rock, over steps, and against fur of tawny gold.
There would be no stars tonight.
The Great Lion lay on the cracked slabs of the stone table. His paws hung over its sides, claws extended to grip the edges. His tail was curled in close to his body, tucked to his feet. The snowflakes falling from above covered all else but they did not rest on the lion. No cold seemed to reach him, and his breath, sweet and warm, rose in puffs of steam from his lowered muzzle.
Peter paused. He stood, silent, unwilling to disturb the Lion but also unable to swallow his curiosity at this sight. It seemed... so wrong, that Aslan would return to this place. These steps he had been bound on, with no care for the pain it would cause to be pulled up them. The platform upon which he had been shaved, his mane cut, like wild game brought in to be skinned or a sheep to be sheared. And the table itself... But there he lay, posture indicating that Aslan remembered all too well what had befallen him here.
The Lion rose and stood on the slabs of stone, bent his head to look up at the grey skies above fast darkening with the coming of night. With a heavy sigh he lifted his paws, slid gracefully to the ground. Then the noble head turned, amber eyes met Peter's own. He had been spotted long ago. Aslan padded to him.
"Son of Adam, King of Narnia, why are you so far from Cair Paravel with night so close?"
Peter looked away, somewhat embarrassed to have been caught stairing. "I was hunting, Aslan. When it began to snow I lost my way and found myself here..."
Aslan bent his head, "Walk with me Peter, we will return you to your loved ones as we speak. You may warm your hands in my fur."
Peter placed his hands upon Aslan's mane. He could smell spring suddenly, blossoms and warm breezes. Somewhat overcome he closed his arms about the lions neck, breathing deeply, twining long golden strands in his fists. Aslan sat; one paw rose and lay upon Peter's shoulder.
"... Son of Adam, you are troubled indeed."
Peter shook his head, not pulling it up. "I'm so sorry Aslan, I mean no disrespect..."
The Lion purred, it was soft thunder. "You do no harm; even wild lions will welcome a hug in the snow." He remained still, waiting for Peter to pull away which eventually he did. "There is never shame or wrongdoing in love if it is done for loves own sake."
Peter looked back to the table, felt the lion follow his gaze. "Aslan... perhaps I should not ask, but if I may, why were you here tonight? Why were you... there, tonight?"
The golden eyes shut, and the great head dropped several inches. "I almost feared you would ask me this, though I know that age when you hesitate or turn aside from simple curiosity is not yet upon you. I am here because it is snowing tonight."
Peter's confusion deepened. "But why, Aslan? It is snowing all over Narnia."
The Lion's eyes opened, they were distant, sad. "I know that well. This is the first natural winter Narnia has known in a hundred years." He stood, indicated with the flicking of his tail that he would not linger here further. Peter put his hand back into the Lion's mane to steady himself as he walked beside him. "Peter, I have always believed, and do so still, that life is a gift. Within it there will be struggles, strife, fear, but also joy, family, hope." The great paws left broad prints in their wake. "Life is meant to be lived, and yet every day I see friends dear to my heart who close their eyes to what surrounds them. They fear the pain, and so they do not rise for the promise. They waste the gift by overburdening time with worry, wisdom with bitterness, love with distrust. They remind me of her."
The snow was blowing against their sides, Peter shivered as flakes snuck into the warmth of his cloak, melting against his neck. "Her?"
The Lion looked to him. "The White Witch. Surely you have not forgotten her so soon?"
Peter looked ahead. "No, and I think I never will. She left a stain on everything and Lucy, Edmund, Susan and I must scrub at it daily. I have ridden by the ruins of her castle, and the hairs rise on the back of my neck if I'm there for even moments."
Aslan too looked forward. "She is not there, though the memory of her occupation will outlive her in those stones by the years. She wrote her fate into the very ice from which she carved her throne. Too many follow in her footsteps. Too many, as she did, refuse to heed wise council when it is offered. I feel their weight on nights such as this one, and her weight most of all."
Peter frowned as he ran these statements through his head, "I don't understand. Their weight? Her weight?"
"Yes Peter, her weight." The wind changed its course, the flurries danced suspended for a few moments as they sought to follow it. "I have born her weight upon me from time before time, and the weight of all who dance to her destructive song with her. They dance upon my heart. I am heavy with their ignorance, I carry their confusion, their discontent, and hardest to bear, their cruelty."
Peter looked back the way they had come, but their snowy trail disappeared mere feet behind them in the dark. His throat was strangely dry, and his chest felt tight. (It is the cold air,) he told himself, (burning my throat and filling my lungs.) The golden form beside him continued to advance fluidly, seeing what lay before them through the last embers of the sunset. Peter's fingers tightened in Aslan's fur. The Great Lion leaned into his touch, a pressure barely noticeable; the boy rubbed his fingertips gently against the neck he could just brush through the strands. He had no words for the emotion in his heart, but his hand spoke for him.
They walked in silence.
Night fell, the world was swallowed without the moon or stars overhead. The snow continued to fall. It seemed the drifts were getting taller, wider. No sooner did that thought cross Peter's mind then he felt the underlayed snow shift, and he fell up to his hips in the icy white. He struggled to regain his stride but his legs had stuck fast. A particularly sharp gust knocked him onto his knees and he found himself catching himself with Aslan's mane. "I'm sorry Aslan, it's getting deeper."
"Indeed." Some humor colored Aslan's tone, he stood uncomplaining as Peter continued to pull on his mane and struggle in the drifts. "By morning the waterfalls will be frozen to a trickle, I would not be surprised to see the merfolk cutting air holes in the sea."
Peter paused. "Will they need help?"
Aslan chuckled, lay down in the drift so Peter could get a better grip. "They are well practiced, it is how you will cope with this weather that I wonder after." Peter's fists filled with golden strands, and feeling his grip was sure Aslan stood again, pulling Peter up with him. "Perhaps you should remain in Cair Paravel until the thaw."
The young king of Narnia grinned, freed his feet; "That may prevent a rescue mission or two."
Again the Lion chuckled, resumed his steady forward press through the snow.
They walked again in silence... for a time. Peter's hand remained in the thick fur of Aslan's mane. He felt out of place. "...Aslan... why do you carry it? This weight you speak of, you could be rid of it, couldn't you?"
The Great Lion stopped. His eyes shut again, as though against something Peter could not see. "Son of Adam..." The mighty head turned, the bright amber eyes opened. "Climb upon my back."
Peter hesitated. "...On your back?"
Aslan nodded. When Peter still did not stir he stretched out a paw, pushing the boy to his side. Peter looked at the Lion, still he hesitated. "Aslan... I feel I shouldn't. You don't need my weight, the snows deep... and we still have a way to go, don't we?"
"Further than you know, Peter." Aslan looked back at him. "Climb upon my back."
Peter would not refuse him twice, despite how awkward this seemed. Still... Aslan was no horse, it seemed wrong to ride him. It still felt somewhat wrong to ride the horses of Narnia themselves, after all, they spoke. He pulled himself onto the soft fur, settled himself astride a strong spine, took ahold of his mane. Beneath him Aslan chuckled. There came the odd shifting of muscles as the Lion resumed his steady pace.
The strangest of feelings was steeling over Peters hands and feet, spreading down his arms, up his legs until it covered him completely. The lion was so warm... so soft, when was the last time Peter had felt this safe? It was almost like when he was a boy still, a boy in his mind at least, and he had tolerated his mother fussing over him and tucking him in at night. The light in her eyes as she read to him, and the light of the sun warming his skin... He could smell spring again, and faint but present still behind it all... something foreign and wonderfully familiar. "Oh Aslan..." Peter lay his cheek against the Lions neck.
A purr reverberated through the form below him; somehow, the snow seemed distant now. The chill was faded entirely. "Tell me Peter, are you happy?"
Peter could see the lions eyes before his own, though they were not looking at each other face to face. "I've been happy Aslan, I know how that feels. I don't know what I feel now, but... I think so."
The eyes seemed to hold a smile, the wind tugged at them distantly. "Would you have me set you down now, Peter? Cease to carry your weight? I could be rid of it and my road might be lighter for it. You have said yourself, you do not want me to carry you. The snow is deep, you do not need my help." The great lion sighed, feeling the boy upon his back tighten his grip. "Son of Adam, There are many of my family who need me to hold their weight, many more than this fear to ask. And even more, like you Peter, who hesitate. They are still close to me, I love them. I will never let them seek in vain while I still live."
The muscles stretched beneath him, the snow crackled beneath the lions paws. "I have felt the temptation to set that weight away, and I have known despair. I too, am living. I too, will experience all that life places at my feet, and with that will come trials, and with those will come sorrow. But Peter," His voice was soft, and yet stronger then the boy king had ever heard it before. "I have faith in them, and I hold faith with them, even those who will scorn it. Those I carry upon my back tonight may find the strength to walk with their hand on my mane tomorrow. It is my fondest wish."
And Peter buried his head in Aslan's mane, and wept, as he had not wept since Edmund rose healed after being brought low by the Witch herself. "...I understand Aslan," His hands eased their grip. "...I think I understand now."
The Great Lion rumbled beneath him. "I believe you do."
Peter dried his tears, sat up and leaned to the side so that he might see the side of Aslan's face."Aslan, just until we reach Cair Paravel... may I stay here? Unless my weight bothers you."
The Lion's eyes pinched at the corners, his voice came soft, and warm. "Son of Adam, your weight is no burden."
