deepest_magic | the second occasion

"Well, I'm meant to take you to meet him," says Mr. Beaver. "Tomorrow, if possible, at the Stone Table. We do need you too, Daughters of Eve - there's an old rhyme about it - When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone / sits at Cair Paravel in throne / the evil time will be over and done."

"...Are you saying we're supposed to sit on thrones? Does that mean only as a - physical trigger for some kind of magic, or as a symbol that will be useful for some reason, or - the conventional reason people sit on thrones?"

"You'll want to speak to Aslan about that," says Mr. Beaver.

"And the Witch, is she not human herself?"

"She's been known to claim it," he says. "She'd like us to think it, it's how she bases her claim to the throne, but no, she's Jinn on one side, giant on the other. Not a drop of real human blood. That's why she's so wrong clear through - things that look like humans and aren't, or used to be and stopped, they're not to be trusted. There's good Dwarfs, but the ones that are the least like men, not the ones that could be mistook."

"I see," says Bella, politely dubious.

It's interesting to know such a rule exists, regardless of how true it turns out to be.

"What sorts of things are there that used to be human and stopped?" she asks.

"I've heard it said about her assassin," says Mr. Beaver. "I don't credit it, though, he's no such thing. I think he's most likely one of her own race with a lot of magic done to him on top of that."

"Some of her undead were, though. Wights and the like," says Mrs. Beaver. "To the best of my knowledge."

"What's Aslan?" Bella asks, taking notes on the variety of creatures.

"Oh, Aslan is a lion," says Mr. Beaver. "King of beasts. The lion."

"Goodness."

"Seems... appropriate, somehow," muses Elizabeth. "Who's this assassin you keep talking about?"

Mr. Beaver looks nervously out the winter again, then lowers his voice and says, "He calls himself Eternal Winter."

"We saw the note he left at Tumnus's house," she says. "He seems - frightening."

He seems like he goes out of his way to be frightening. Like it's his purpose.

"Terribly. Some people are more afraid of him than they are of her," shudders Mrs. Beaver.

"I can see how they might be."

"But anyway if you hurry to the Stone Table you will meet Aslan and - it's just the two of you? There aren't a couple of Sons of Adam about as well?" says Mrs. Beaver anxiously.

"It's just us," says Bella. "Do there need to be more?"

"Well, there are four thrones. The exact wording of the old rhymes doesn't mention a number, but there are four."

"Well, I think we're going to have to make do with two, unless more people start showing up from who knows where," says Elizabeth.

Bella nods.

"Well, you'll have to meet Aslan all the same," says Mr. Beaver. "And I should like to hurry, in case for all our caution there's been word taken to the Witch."

"All right, that's reasonable," says Bella. "Is he most likely there already waiting?"

"I imagine so, and in any event it would be much easier to stop you getting there than to stop him, so it's the best place to be," says Mr. Beaver.

"Sounds like a plan," says Elizabeth. "Is there anything else to do before we leave?"

"Well, we ought to pack some food for the journey," says Mrs. Beaver.

"We've packed some and haven't even begun to eat it yet. There's enough to share, especially if you like sugar. Are we going to take very long to get there?"

"Not too terribly, I suppose," Mrs. Beaver says. "And sugar's nice, of course."

And so out they go, bundled into coats, Bella creeping along until they're not so near a drop. The snow has stopped and the moonlight is shining. "We'll keep by the riverbank as much as we can. She couldn't bring her sledge down here," advises Mr. Beaver.

Elizabeth nods along to this explanation. It seems wise as far as she can tell.

They walk. And walk. Eventually the moon disappears behind clouds again and it starts to snow, but since they started out quite warmed up in the beavers' house and immediately moved on to trudging along the riverbank, they don't get too cold except for the ends of their noses. Enough time passes for everyone to become quite tired, and for Bella to distribute the sandwiches (she made four and offers each beaver one).

After this, Mr. Beaver scrambles up into a hidey-hole and announces that it should be safe for them to sleep there for a few hours, whereas sleeping first in their house would have made them very easily findable for anyone expecting the Daughters of Eve to be in the company of beavers in particular. It is sheltered and reasonably snug with two large beavers and two small girls all curled up together in it, although it is not particularly comfortable in any other respect.

This seems reasonable. Elizabeth curls up and goes to sleep.

So does Bella.

And there they may sleep quite peacefully, until they hear the jingling of bells.

Mr. Beaver is out of the hideaway in a flash and scrambling up the riverbank, and then voices are heard.

Elizabeth listens.

That definitely doesn't sound like the Queen. Still - that doesn't mean it's friendly. She stays put.

"It's all right!" shouts Mr. Beaver. "Come on up, it's safe, it isn't her!"

Bella sits up.

Elizabeth decides to take his word for it. Out she comes.

Bella follows, and so does Mrs. Beaver.

And when they reach Mr. Beaver, they find... a man in a red coat, with a long white beard and brilliant blue eyes, standing by a sledge to which are harnessed six large shaggy brown reindeer.

"I've come at last," he says. "She has kept me out for a long time, but I have got in at last."

Oh wow.

Santa Claus.

Only that name doesn't sound quite suitable for this personage. He's - gladdening and solid and more like the Ghost of Christmas Present than like a soft drink commercial.

"Father Christmas," she says, quite sure.

"I am," he agrees. "And now for your presents. There is a new and better sewing machine for you, Mrs. Beaver. I will leave it in your house as I pass."

"If you please, sir," says Mrs. Beaver, curtseying, "it's been locked up."

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