A/N: Since I've hit a temporary hiatus with the Mungo series, I decided to let out my blocked literary urges by writing a Narnia fanfic. It will, I think, be in a more serious vein than the Mungo stuff, (or, as I call it, the Mungo Stuff) but a flexible writer is an… erm… more-intelligent-person-than-me-obviously writer, eh?

The Last Autumn

Chapter 1: Rumours of Evil

The castle of Cair Paravel shone in the early morning sun as a Stag ran through the empty courtyard. His passage was unheeded, because most of the residents were still asleep. However, early as it was, the only Son of Adam in the castle, the King of Narnia, was already awake and attending to the matters presented to him.

King Eldred was old; his once bright red hair had turned grey, and a long beard grew on his chin. He had once been a bold, energetic young man, quick with a joke and quicker with a laugh. His skill with his sword had been so refined, his friends and courtiers called his sword by the same name as their King.

He was wiser now, but his old bones ached, and his eyesight was worsening. His laughter was stilled, for he had grim business in his old age.

King Eldred was the last of the line of King Frank and Queen Helen. He had once been married, but his beloved wife had died long ago, along with their infant son. There were not many other humans left in Narnia either, mostly farmers or woodsmen who lived in isolated family homesteads. And they were becoming less and less, thanks to the ill news that came nearly weekly. Strange deaths or disappearances, sightings of hags or werewolves, even, supposedly, the emergence of giants from the North made many men feel that their families were safer in Archenland to the south.

Thus it was that King Eldred looked in weariness and sorrow upon the messenger of the latest news, Twigwithers the Stag. The young stag trotted up the stairs to the dais where King Eldred sat on his throne, and meekly bowed to the King.

"Your Majesty, I bring news from all the reaches of your kingdom, but principally from the Lantern Waste. I bring tidings from Grit the Badger and Altibrikk the Dwarf that a pack of werewolves has definitely been seen in the eaves of the forest, north of the lamp-post."

King Eldred lifted his gaze to meet the Stag's.

"When?" He asked in a hoarse voice.

"They said they saw the werewolves the night before last, Your Majesty. They had been waiting for me to come to deliver the news to you."

The King stood up out of his chair, his thin hands reaching for a richly carved oak staff. He walked over to a nearby window that looked out upon the Sea. Twigwithers trotted beside him, his dainty hooves clicking on the stone tiles.

After a long silence, the King suddenly leapt into action. He turned sharply from the window, and gestured Twigwithers to follow him.

"We have sat idle for too long! It is clear to me now. I have let this terror hang over Narnia, but I shall remove it. Twigwithers, you must go and tell Areto to gather a force of centaurs and dwarves, equipped for battle. Then you must go back to the Lantern Waste, and tell the people dwelling there to keep watch in the wood for the werewolves, and tell them we are coming with aid. We shall end this menace now, or not at all!" King Eldred growled as he strode from the throne room, his staff hitting the floor with clamorous bangs.

Twigwithers looked slightly alarmed as he said, "Yes, Your Majesty," and ran off, but King Eldred paid him no mind. He grabbed some keys from a hook next to the door to the throne room, and strode through the passageways to the Treasure Room.

Along the way, he felt exalted. His blood was racing; he had not felt this excited or invigorated for thirty years! King Eldred almost laughed, but then, like a curtain falling over his face, he remembered that he also had not fought in battle for thirty years. Thirty long, peaceful years, now becoming undone.

King Eldred halted, and almost leaned against the wall in grief. Why had war come, now in his old age? By the Lion's Mane, why?

The aged monarch steeled himself, and went on his way. He had set things in motion, and it was up to him to finish it. First in every charge, last in every retreat. But oh, how weary he was!

King Eldred reached the treasure room, and went through the keys in his hand. Some were gold and ornate; some were rusty iron and plain. Finally, King Eldred found a dwarf-made key, wrought of gold with red stones set in the wider part of the key. It was not the thought of the magnificent treasures that lay behind that made his hand shake as he put the key to the keyhole, but the thought of what he needed in there for.

The King flung the door wide open and entered. His eyes didn't stray to look at the brilliant jewels scattered carelessly helter-skelter upon the floor, nor of the gleaming mounds of gold, or the tables littered with jewelry or ornate armor. King Eldred's gaze was instead fixed upon a suit of armor at the end of the chamber.

It was a suit of dwarf-made mail, with steel wrist guards etched with trees and strange beasts, and tall steel riding boots rested by the bottom of the stand. On two tables on either side of the armor were his shield and sword. His shield was painted blue with a silver tree and a gold tree on either side of a large green tree, which symbolized the free Narnia sky, the Trees of Silver and Gold, and, of course, the Tree of Protection. King's Eldred's sword was plain, a long steel sword with black leather wrapped around the handle. The only decoration on the sword was an image of a lion etched on the blade. Though his subjects called the sword Eldred, the King gave it a secret name that he told no one. There was no helm, because, as King Eldred had boasted in his youth, "If my sword and shield cannot defend my head, I don't deserve to keep it."

King Eldred stood before the armor, remembering the last occasion he had had to wear it. It had been a dark winter, thirty years ago. Various subjects had reported it on the north that a force of wretched creatures had been gathering, and was preparing an invasion. There had also been tales of a tall, white being, beautiful but cold and deadly like a shard of ice. King Eldred had not known what they meant by this at the time, but he would soon find out.

He had gathered his forces and met the incursion in the plains between the eaves of the Lantern Waste and the Ettinsmoor Mountains. The battle had been strange, with the scent of the Tree of Protection pervading through the air like the memory of a happy spring centuries ago. The fair smell seemed to repel the invaders, and it seemed to greatly weaken the White Witch.

Oh, King Eldred had seen her. She was everything the rumours had declared: Beautiful and white as snow, but starkly terrifying, cold, and ruthless. She fought with only a knife and a long, golden wand, but she had done terrible things with it. With a wave of her wand, she could change a faun's hooves into great, clumsy horse-hooves, tripping him, or cause a warrior to break out in horrible, stinging boils. When the smell of the Tree of Protection reached her, however, she recoiled, and immediately called a retreat.

Of course, in those days, Narnia was so peaceful that the grand victory feast was remembered more than the battle. But the memory of the terror of the White Witch stayed fresh in King Eldred's mind.

King Eldred shook his head. A voice spoke up at his side, close to his knees.

"It's hard going to war again, isn't it?"

King Eldred looked down to his right, and saw a very old Dogfox. He had been King Eldred's staunch companion for years, from his youth to his old age. His fur had been redder than the King's, but now it too was silvering.

"Yes, Fenleaf. But it must be done." The King sighed. He shed his robe and set it to one side.

"But why take several dozen troops? Surely you don't need that many just for a pack of werewolves." Fenleaf said in a reasonable voice.

King Eldred didn't answer for a while as he slid the mail shirt over his tunic. But eventually, he turned to the dogfox and said,

"I think it is more than that, Fenleaf. I believe that the White Witch is involved. I believe she is trying to return to Narnia."

"Ha! The Tree has kept her out for thousands of years! What makes her think she'll get in now?" Fenleaf laughed.

"She tried in our youth, friend." King Eldred reminded Fenleaf. He slid on the wrist guards and started to tighten them.

"Oh, yes, yes." Fenleaf muttered, the memory welling up. He trotted around in a little circle, as if thinking, and asked,

"Are you sure you have enough troops, then?"

"I am sure. The Witch has very few followers, because we have done our best to keep that wretched brood out of Narnia, and, if possible, to drive them to the West. Not the North." King Eldred said. A thought struck him. "Not the North. Oh, by the Lion, please not North!"

The King's movements grew feverish as he put on his boots.

"Not the North! Not the North!" He kept muttering.

"You suspect some of them made their way North, sire?"

"Yes, blast them! I should have foreseen it; driving them out was not the right thing. We should have beaten out that malevolent, evil spark when we had the chance!" With one last tug, King Eldred pulled on his left boot and stood up.

"You are too old and too small to go with me. I ask you, as I asked you last time, to be my regent while I'm gone. You will have little to trouble you, as the trouble will follow me." King Eldred said, drawing his sword.

"I will take good care of Cair Paravel during your absence, Your Majesty." Fenleaf said, kneeling.

King Eldred touched the dogfox's shoulder with the tip of his sword, and then quickly sheathed it.

"I have much to do. Take care of the castle, and the affairs of Narnia! To the West!" The King cried as he left the Treasure Room.

As he walked through the halls in his mail, his shield strapped on his back, his boots ringing on the floor tiles, maids and servants peered through doorways after him, and a buzz of whispered conversations echoed in the corridors. King Eldred paid them no mind, except for a small, weary smile that didn't reach his eyes. The mail was heavy on his old shoulders, but not as heavy as the thought of war.

Finally, he came out onto a balcony overlooking the courtyard. He saw his general, Areto the Faun, organizing the centaurs and dwarves into traveling companies. Other fauns ran to and fro, carrying provisions, weapons, and various pieces of equipment. King Eldred stood silently, watching the proceedings. Finally, when they seemed to be fully prepared, King Eldred started speaking. From the first word, his small army paid rapt attention, watching their ancient king with respect and interest.

"Friends! Today, we march to the West to finish a deed that was left unaccomplished for thirty years. We have had thirty long years of peace, but now I must call upon you to remember the times of war. Now I must ask you to remember the strength of your arms, and the strength of steel. For today starts what may well be the series of events that decide the fate of Narnia for years, perchance centuries to come.

"For we go against one of the most treacherous and dangerous foes of our time. The White Witch has returned from the North, with what designs I can only guess. She was the first evil of this world, and will remain an evil forever unless we encounter her now, and drive her from this land, and rid this world of her wickedness! Who has the bravery to do this task with me? Who has the bravery amongst you?"

A deep-throated roar of "I!" came from the centaurs and dwarves in the courtyard below.

"Then let the Witch beware, for King Eldred rides forth with stalwart companions!" King Eldred shouted. Horns blew, and trumpets rang out as King Eldred came down from the balcony by the stairs that ran down from one side. Areto held his brown horse ready for him, and King Eldred mounted his steed, with a brief word of thanks to his general. He rode to the front of the company, by the gate, and drew his sword.

"Forward, the free Narnians!" He shouted hoarsely, and rode through the gate of Cair Paravel. His small army followed him out, banners streaming out behind.

A small group of Narnians stood on the walls of Cair Paravel, bidding the departing host farewell. Flower petals fluttered on the breeze, but the wind was coming from the west, so they floated out to the Sea.

King Eldred did not look back at the castle, but he was glad he was at the front of the column and none could see him, for his face was wracked with grief.