Something to Believe In ➳ Edmund Pevensie

| five. the trees don't dance

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            Soon after Trumpkin had finished telling his tale, the six of them had somehow managed to pile into the boat Edmund had brought to shore. He and Lydia were sitting next to each other at one end, Susan and Lucy at the other end across from Trumpkin, and Peter was in the middle, rowing the boat.

            The Great River Delta to the mainland, where the rest of the country of Narnia stood, was lined with trees on either side. The water was clear as glass and calm, as was the wind. It appeared as though something out of a painting, and Lydia was watching the scenery pass by them with wonder in her eyes. The four Pevensies weren't looking at the scenery with the admiration that Lydia was; instead, they were looking around at their surroundings with wary and despondent eyes.

            "They're so still," Lucy spoke finally, focused on the trees.

            "They're trees," replied Trumpkin bluntly. "What'd you expect?"

            "They used to dance."

            Lydia looked back at the trees, wondering what she meant by that. They were only trees, and the only way she could imagine them dancing was the wind rolling through their leaves and branches. Although, Lydia did remember her grandmother mentioning dryads and naiads briefly when the Great Lion Aslan sung a song to bring his land to life.

            Trumpkin paused, looking across the rock formations that had eroded over the years. "Wasn't long after you left that the Telmarines invaded. Those who survived retreated to the woods. And the trees... they retreated so deep into themselves that they haven't been heard from since."

            "I don't understand," said Lucy as Lydia looked to her folded hands. "How could Aslan have let this happen?"

            "Aslan?" Trumpkin repeated. "Thought he abandoned us when you lot did."

            Peter stopped rowing for a moment to look back at him, and he and his siblings had the same expressions on their faces—heartbroken and melancholic. Then he continued, turning his head around as he spoke. "We didn't mean to leave, you know."

            "Makes no difference now, does it?"

            "But they're here now," Lydia said, directly addressing the dwarf for the first time. "They're trying to help. Shouldn't that count for something?" She was speaking clearer and with more confidence than she had before.

            "Their help was needed three hundred years ago," Trumpkin said, his voice was low and dejected. "When we were still alive."

            Lydia became silent, pressing her lips together and looking at her lap.

            "Get us to the Narnians," Peter said to Trumpkin, "and it will make a difference."

            The rest of the boat ride to shore went without another word spoken between the six. The shore was paved with stones and another patch of wood wasn't far from where they stood. As Trumpkin began to tie the boat down and the three oldest Pevensies helped pull it further onto the shore, Lucy wandered off. Lydia hesitated before following.

            "Lucy," said she once she caught up with the young queen, "what do you mean 'the trees used to dance'?"

            Lucy smiled sadly, looking at the vivid green leaves. "The dryads. They came out of the trees and danced in circles around fires, and fauns would play a song on their pan flutes. It's a beautiful sound. I wish you can hear it someday."

            "Yes, I wish it, as well," Lydia responded. "What part of Narnia are we in?"

            "Well," started Lucy, "we've just rowed down Glasswater River... those are the Black Woods over there." She pointed in the east and furrowed her eyebrows, trying to remember. "I'm sorry—some of its faded in the past year. But if I remember correctly, the River Rush goes straight through the Black Woods."

            "River Rush," Lydia repeated. "That's where Peter says is the quickest way to the Shuddering Woods, where Trumpkin said he last saw this Prince Caspian, didn't he?"

            "Yes," Lucy confirmed. "I can't remember the way as well as I used to. I hope we don't become lost."

            "Becoming lost would be terrible."

            Lucy nodded, smiling. Then she looked back to their surroundings, to the other side of the stone shore. There was a black bear drinking water from the river, and Lucy treated it as though it was the most normal sight in the world.

            "Hello, there!" she greeted excitedly, grinning from ear to ear. The bear stopped and stood on its hind legs. "It's all right. We're friends."

            "Lucy," Lydia said quietly, trying to grab her arm to stop her from going further, "I don't think we should—"

            Trumpkin unintentionally cut her off, calling warningly to the pair, "Don't move, Your Majesty and Miss Lydia."

            Lydia grabbed a hold of Lucy's arm as the bear began to charge at them. She pulled Lucy along as she ran, and Lucy, after seeing the bear running at them, began to run faster than her. Susan aimed an arrow, shouting to the bear, "Stay away from them!"

            Lucy tripped, and Lydia fell to the ground with her. The bear reached them and growled, standing on its hind legs again, but before it could pounce on the two girls, an arrow pierced its heart and it fell to the ground.

            Susan was still holding her arrow in her bow; she hadn't let go. It was Trumpkin who had fired the fatal shot and struck the bear.

            "Why wouldn't he stop?" Susan asked, lowering her bow.

            "I suspect he was hungry," Trumpkin said, beginning to walk toward the dead bear and the two petrified girls still on the ground.

            Peter helped Lucy stand and she wrapped her arms around her brother's torso. Edmund had a tougher time getting Lydia to stand but managed to pull her up before Susan reached them. Lydia, however, now had a death grip on his arm and was staring at the bear with wide eyes.

            Trumpkin poked the bear with his bow, confirming its death. Lucy meekly thanked him, and Trumpkin glanced at her.

            "He was wild," Edmund stated, looking briefly at Lydia before back to the bear.

            "I don't think he could talk at all," Peter added.

            Were Lydia not in a state of shock at that moment, she might've asked, 'Bears can talk?'. But she remained silent, and that was that.

            "Get treated like a dumb animal long enough," said Trumpkin, "that's what you become." He brought out his dagger and knelt beside the bear. "You may find Narnia a more savage place than you remember."