"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, 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.
"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.
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.
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."
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.
"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."
"Locks and bolts make no difference to me," says Father Christmas. "And as for you, Mr. Beaver, when you get home you will find your dam finished and mended and all the leaks stopped and a new sluice-gate fitted."
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He seems like he goes out of his way to be frightening. Like it's his purpose.
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"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."
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"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.
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"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.
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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.
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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.
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That definitely doesn't sound like the Queen. Still - that doesn't mean it's friendly. She stays put.
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Bella sits up.
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"I've come at last," he says. "She has kept me out for a long time, but I have got in at last."
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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.
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