Previously...

“What did he say…wait…” the sudden realization hit the girl like a ton of bricks, as if finding out that she was a girl instead of a boy wouldn’t have gotten her attention.

“By the Lion’s Mane, I am pleased to make your acquaintances and welcome you both to Narnia!”

“Thank you, kind Sir Horse,” Jill said with a smile. She looked over at Lesley and raised her eyebrow in a prompt.

“Yes….Thank you…Sir Horse!” Lesley smiled too but turned to Jill and stuck her tongue out in thought as if to question, “Is this really happening?”

“You may call me Fleetfoot, for that is my name. My father was Swiftfoot, and my grandfather was descended from the line of Fledge, the first Talking Horse in Narnia.”

He actually said Narnneeeehhhhhaaa, a habit of his that became more pronounced when he boasted of his lineage, which he did often, as is the wont of most Talking Horses.

“Come now, we have far to travel to meet up with Great Lion.” It was only a little horsey, and came out as “meeeeeeth hhaaaap.”

“Will we be able to walk all the way today?” Jill asked. “You said it was far.”

“It is a very far distance to walk, if a Daughter of Eve were to walk, but you shall not walk, but ride upon my back, Queen Jill.” Jill shrugged and blushed a bit at the mention of the word Queen. Truth be told, she didn’t feel much like a queen, and was even almost embarrassed at the mention of the word daughter, for reasons which would soon become clear.

“Excuse me, Sir Horse…” Lesley started to ask, but the horse’s soft whinny and a stomp gave her pause.

“Excuse me, Fleetfoot,” she corrected herself. “I’ve never ridden a horse before, and….” She looked down at her feet and a single tear fell to the ground.

“I’ve never worn a dress before. What shall I do?” Jill looked at the horse, wondering what his answer would be for Lesley.

“Well, first of all, riding a horse isn’t so much you over him, but him under you; I will allow you to ride me and you shall be safe as if you were in your mother’s arms.”

The horse looked at Lesley, who put her head down again as her tears flowed freer, blessing the ground with her grief and loss much like a summer shower blesses a garden. Jill waved at Fleetfoot and shook her head with a sad frown. He nodded and stomped his right hoof in acknowledgment.

“If a Daughter of Eve rides a steed such as myself, she may ride what they call, ‘side saddle,’ sitting with her skirt or dress draped properly and modesty over her legs. But seeing as I have no saddle in which to sit and seeing that you wear no dress, it will be no problem for you. Lesley raised her head and looked at Fleetfoot in puzzlement.

“No dress, Sir Horse…Fleetwood?”

She began to question but noticed that Jill had an amazed look on her face. Looking down, Lesley saw that the jumper she was wearing had been replaced with long, velvet-like tunic in what appeared to be a burgundy. Her legs were adorned with pants-like legging of the same material in a pinkish color. The tunic reached well below her knees, but was split at the sides up to her thighs. She wore soft brown boots, and a belt of silver cord girded her waist. She walked to the pond and eyed her reflection, which revealed that her black hair had grown even more, and was arranged in a braided pony tail that reached the small of her back. She wore a similar strand of silver cord banded around her head, and her neck was adorned with a silver necklace with a single silver charm of a lion’s head. She appeared older as well, nearly fourteen she guessed, and she was pretty.

“You look a dear sight, Lesley.” Jill said, but Lesley just smiled and pointed at her and the pond. Jill took her gesture to heart and walked quickly to view her own reflection.

“Oh by the Lion’s Mane!” She looked at the image reflected from the water. Her outfit was nearly a match for Lesley’s save that her tunic and leggings were shades of green and her jewelry was gold instead of silver. She too appeared older, maybe eighteen or nineteen, and she was beautiful; her face blushed red, first with embarrassment and then pride, which was followed immediately by shame.

“Come, dear ones, we must be off. Climb upon my back. You first, Queen Jill, “Fleetfoot said as he stepped over to the rock chair. Jill climbed upon his back and leaned closer to his neck, grasping his mane, since no Talking Horse is ever reined.

“And now you, Queen Lesley.” He appeared to smile a horsey smile, which to most folks would look like he was angry, but both girls seemed to know better and smiled back.

“Grab your sister’s waist and hold on. I won’t be dashing off; this isn’t a race, but neither shall I tarry, for we have a King to meet.” As Lesley grabbed Jill’s waist the horse took off in a brisk pace; not as swift as a gallop but not as slow as a trot.

“Isn’t this just marvelous?” Lesley said. Jill shrugged and looked ahead, her eyes filled with tears. She was, after all, going to meet a King.

They traveled for what seemed like an eternity, but before the hour was up, they had crested a hill and came to stand looking down at the shore of the sea, where a caravel lay at anchor. Its tall masts held brightly colored sails, and its sides were festooned with bunting, as if the ship were prepared for a celebration.

Standing on the shore just to the side of the gangplank were three figures. A knight dressed in a bright blue tabard over a knee length tunic and tights. His chest was marked with the image of a red lion. He wore no headdress other than a single gold strand with a star at the center of his fore head, and his face was decorated with a welcoming smile.

A woman stood to his side, holding his hand, but she wore no smile. Neither did she wear a frown, but her face was filled with wonder. She had on an outfit similar to the girls, but her dress was of gold thread and she wore a silver corded belt. Her hair was decorated with a garland of flowers. She looked up and saw the trio on the hilltop and her face lit with recognition as she smiled a loving, knowing smile.

And next to her stood the largest lion both girls had ever seen, either at the zoo or in pictures in magazines and books. He looked regal, which he was as King over all the land he surveyed. Lesley could have sworn he was purring.

“Come, dear children,” Fleetfoot said as he trotted quickly down the hill.

“Hail, Aslan, King of Narnia,” the horse spoke in a reverent whisper. Of course, it sounded more like

“Keeeeeng of Narrrrneeeehaaaahahahha,” but we won’t begrudge him since it was whinnied in a very respectful tone.

“Hail, Fleetfoot, faithful servant.” A deep timorous voice proclaimed, but it came, not from the knight but the lion. That it came from the lion was no surprise to either Fleetfoot or Jill, but it was to the astonishment of Lesley, who trembled in fear and joy.

“Hail, Jill and Lesley, Daughters of Eve and Queens of Narnia! Welcome!” The lion seemed to whisper and roar at the same time. Both girls looked at Fleetfoot, who nodded as they slipped off his back. Jill stood and folded her arms, as if she were hugging herself, and she lowered her head. Forgetting her fear while embracing her new-found joy, Lesley raced to the lion. She looked into his eyes and felt both shame and forgiveness; love filled her heart as she noticed the lion’s eyes were filled with tears.

“Excuse me, Sir. I don’t know how to behave; will you tell me that I may adore you?” She said as she bowed her head reverently.

“You are polite and kind and thoughtful; that is good and proper behavior for a Queen of Narnia. Lift your head, Queen Lesley and behold the very reason for your visit to this land."

Lesley raised her head and saw the knight once again, this time closer. He still wore the same smile, but his eyes were filled with tears, and they spoke of sadness and joy mixed together. He appeared familiar, as if they had met before, but she knew he just must look like someone she had met or knew. Aslan nuzzled her softly and directed her toward the woman next to the knight. She looked up into a very familiar face.

“Meet Queen Alice, Daughter of Eve.”

What should have been a joyous occasion quickly turned sad as the girl ran to the woman and embraced her; holding onto her as if to never let her go again. For Queen Alice was Alice Patterson, Lesley’s mother.

“I missed you so much, Lesley; more than I can ever say.”

The girl looked up into her mother’s loving face and wept tears of joy. She noticed a quizzical look on her face, and then looked at herself, eyeing herself up and down as if inspecting her clothing. She began to sob, and fell at her mother’s feet.

“I’m so sorry, mum…I’m so sorry.” The girl appeared to have reverted to her real age, and she cried as only a nine year old can cry. Alice raised her chin with her hand and looked at her once again, but her face was aglow with wonder and joy.

“Why so sorry, Lesley, did you do something wrong?”

“Something wrong? Mum…I’m….look at me…look at my clothes…my hair…I’m so….ashamed…” her speech descended into sobbing once again until her mother stroked her hair softly.

“My dear sweet daughter, you’ve done nothing wrong.” Alice shook her head before pulling Lesley up into a tight tearful embrace as mother and daughter hugged for the very first time.

“Why so glum and withdrawn, Queen Jill?” The lion seemed to growl and purr the words at the same
time.

“Oh, Aslan…I am so ashamed. My heart filled with pride. I should have told Lesley straight off that we had come to your kingdom. it's been so hard for her. I chose to hold back as if I were more important than her since I knew…I had been blessed with knowing you. Please forgive me.”

The girl’s face was stained with the streaks of tears that cleaned some of the dust of the ride from her face. The Lion roared once and then began to nuzzle the girl.

“That you were prideful was wrong. That you know you were prideful is very good. Come and grab my mane.”

“Oh, Aslan…it’s so hard living in my world…children and mothers and fathers die every day.” She wept, this time not from shame over herself, but from compassion for others. She looked over at the scene playing out between Lesley and her mother.

“In your world, dear heart, there will always be the threat of hate and war. But there is also there the promise of love and compassion. Let your heart be lifted if only for a while and know that you will be a part of the promise of love and compassion as I have said. Come. You and I have one more to meet; then you must set out on your mission.” The Lion seemed to purr once again as she buried her face in his mane and laughed and cried softly.

“Please forgive me, Lesley, I only did it to spare you from hurt.” Alice plead.

“Mummy…you couldn’t help it…” They both knew she meant Alice’s death, but her mother shook her head.

“No, child…I’m sorry for lying to you.” She shook her head as tears came to her eyes.

“Your dad didn’t die…he …I made the story up about him and the RAF… I just didn’t want you to feel ill will against your father. He abandoned us when the war started, and I don’t know where he is. I just wanted to spare you and help keep your innocence.”

“Oh, mum….I think I always knew…It’s alright, mummy…I forgive you.” She sounded so adult for all of her nine years. She hugged her mother once again, even as she felt a soft nudge from behind. Turning, she found herself face to face with the Lion once again.

“Come little one, it is time you learned why you are here and what lies ahead. “

“But isn’t this why I am here? To be with my mother?” Lesley asked. Alice looked at Aslan and nodded in surrender, but at peace.

“No, dear heart. There will be time again for you and your mother, but it is not this day.” He placed his muzzle next to the girls face and licked her tears with his broad tongue. It felt rough but it was also soothing. She wiped her face and looked into his eyes, gaining strength as she waited for him to speak.

“There is someone in your world that needs something that you can provide, little one. Only you can do this task for it was designed for you and you alone even before you were born.” His voice trailed off into a loud purr as she stood there feeling lost and found at the same time.

Forgetting what she had just spoken about with her mother, she looked once again at her clothing and felt ashamed and naked, even though her body was covered.

“Lord Lion? Aslan? I’m not really a girl am I?” Her eyes filled with tears as she recognized the truth of her words; the little truth she knew.

“No, dear one, you are not, at least in any way that you understand. But a girl you shall be....one day.“ Lesley began to cry harder, feeling more shame and loss than she had ever known until Aslan nuzzled her.

“You and Jill must return to your world. There is someone who needs what only you can provide, and she holds in her heart something that you need, little one.”

“How will I know who it is, Aslan?” Lesley looked back at her mother with pleading eyes, but was met with a shake of the head accompanied by tearful smile.

“You will know, child.” His breath smelled like mint and pine and berry, and it wrapped her in its warmth, giving her courage for the task ahead.

“I’ve only just gotten here, Lord Lion. I’ve barely gotten to meet you and I must go?” She began to sob again and she grabbed onto Aslan’s mane.

“I have brought you here for the task at hand. But I also live in your world, and I have other names that you will learn to know. You have met me here so that you will know me better there.” She nodded her head in understanding, even if his words were hard and sad to hear.

“And what about me, Aslan?” The words weren’t demanding at all, but soft and respectful.

“What shall my task be?” She stood there nearly weeping, realizing what Aslan was saying. He stepped close once again and rubbed his face against hers, almost purring.

“Queen Lesley will need a friend, as well as someone who will be able to help her complete her task.” She nodded, waiting for instructions.

“She will know whom she is to help, and you will help her and her charge.” Jill’s eyes widened as she began to think; logic and obedience went hand in hand with her. She nodded again as the Lion said finally,

“You shall hold their hands.”

“What became of my father?” Lesley said tearfully as she stood next to her mother.

“I can tell you no story but your own, dear child. Trust that he will come to know me before the end, but his path and yours parted long ago. “ Lesley shrugged once and bit her tongue, smiling at the thought that at least her father would find peace eventually.

“Come now, Daughters of Eve, for now is the time of your leaving.” Lesley looked up to see that her mother and the knight had boarded the caravel. She waved and blew a kiss to her. The knight waved before shouting with his hand cupped at his mouth.

“Tell her it’s in the closet in the long hall!” With that he and Lesley’s mother turned and the ship began to pull away from them. She turned to see Aslan and Jill standing before a large, multi-paned double window. Water had beaded against the glass, and it was beginning to feel cold. She could see the dimmest of light peaking between the curtains behind the window.

“Farewell, children! When next we meet, it will be at a grand celebration in honor of my father, the Emperor-Beyond-the-Sea! Farewell!” The Lion spoke and then roared the loudest roar either girl had ever heard. It was followed by a flash of bright light and then they found themselves….back in the parlor.

The BBC had moved on to Beethoven's 7th, the second movement. Jill was sitting in the reading chair once again, her copy of Phantasies in her lap. She was wearing her old clothes and the air felt cool against her arms. She got up from the chair to get some wood for the fire and stepped over……a boy reading a book whilst laid out on a rug in front of the hearth. She looked over and Mrs. Macready was still in the chair opposite her; her knitting still unstarted in her lap and her hand still clinging to the paper, but she had fallen asleep. Picking up a log from the side, she laid it over the still glowing coals and turned to Lesley, who had looked up from his book.

Both children would have sworn it had been a dream but for the same look on both of their faces; the look you seen when you meet someone and you know that they know that you know. Jill smiled before walking over to drape a blanket over Mrs. Macready. She noticed that the paper had slipped from her hand and was lying dangerously close to the hearth, where a spark threatened to light it. She brushed it off before she went to place the paper on the chair next to the sleeping woman’s side. It was only then she noticed that the woman’s face was read and puffy, and it was clear that she had been crying. Jill looked at the paper in her hand and her eyes widened in shock.

“What?” Lesley asked as he stood up and stepped toward Jill. She put her finger in front of her mouth to shush him and handed him the paper, which was very official looking. It said,

Dear Mrs. Macready: It is with deepest regret that I must inform you that your son, Lt. Angus Macready, passed away from pneumonia while imprisoned in Stalag Luft III in Silesia, Germany. By all accounts from his mates, Angus was great pilot and even better friend. I am sorry for your loss, which we all share with great sadness. Air Vice Marshall Richard Kingston, Royal Air Force.

Jill looked at Lesley, whose eyes had filled with tears, both for the sad commonality of grief he shared with the woman and the realization that everything they would undoubtedly have assumed had been a dream was true; as real as anything ever could be. It was only then she noticed two things. First, that she was crying out loud; loud enough to have woken the sleeping woman. And second? She was holding both Lesley’s and Mrs. Macready’s hands.

Finally: Two Hearts.

Symphony No. 7 in A major, Op. 92
Movement No. 2
by Ludwig van Beethoven
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4uOxOgm5jQ4