Chapter One: The ElfChild
A dark-haired, gray-clad girl crouched in the shelter of some snow-covered junipers, peeling away the rind of some strange fruit. She sniffed it briefly, then, apparently finding it to her satisfaction, took a bite. The fruit was sweet, with a slight tang and tasted good after the days of living off frozen roots.
A coal black horse stood nearby, watching the girl with intelligent brown eyes. The girl was young to be out alone; appearing close to fifteen or sixteen. Her hair was a wavy river of chocolate brown, tumbling freely over her shoulders and midway down her back. Her face was lovely and elegant, with large, almond-shaped eyes the color of the midnight sky; high, fine cheekbones; shapely lips that curved upward slightly at the corners; and, peeking out through her hair only rarely, elegant, pointed ears.
She was known throughout Narnia as the Elf-Child, a figure of legend and myth. She was the last of her kind, fleeing constantly from the pursuit of Jadis, the White Witch. As her entire race was massacred at the White Witch's hands, she had escaped into the hills atop her faithful mare, Darkmoon, with only her bow, her quiver, and her elven-crafted dagger. That event had occurred nearly ten years previous and she had grown from a tender elfling into a skilled, learned young woman. She was called The Elf-Child, but her true name was Rhianna: Daughter of the Wood.
A burst of clear, jingling bells shattered the stillness of the snowy wood, approaching from the southwest. Rhianna jumped, dropping her meal and diving for cover while hissing between her teeth, "Darkmoon, hide!" As the mare hastily faded into the shadows of the forest, the elf hunkered down beneath the low bush, knowing the sound of those bells all too well.
Sure enough, as she peered cautiously between the branches, a set of snow-white reindeer, drawing a white sleigh, pulled into her line of vision. Inside the sleigh, amid luxurious furs, sat the Witch, the self-proclaimed Queen of Narnia. She was paler than death, with pale yellow hair, slight build, and eyes so cold and devoid of life that they sent an unpleasant shiver up Rhianna's spine. On the floor of her sleigh, cowering at her feet, was a small faun wearing a bright red scarf. She was speaking to him, and Rhianna's keen ears picked up the words: "You helped them escape!" she hissed venomously. "You were instructed to bring any Sons of Adam or Daughters of Eve to me! You fool!"
Rhianna bristled inwardly as the faun cowered away from her. Here was yet another victim of the Witch's tyranny. How many helpless creatures had fallen prey to Jadis' fits of rage! A deep, long-buried surge of enmity flowed hot through the elf's blood as she glared coldly at her enemy. Then her mind whirred on ahead, registering at last the final words the Witch had spoken… Sons of Adam, Daughters of Eve! She felt a thrill course through her at the thought – the prophecy could be coming true! Belatedly, however, Rhianna realized that the Witch had resumed speaking.
"– your treachery, I will have them anyway. I've met one of the Sons of Adam – Edmund – who found my company…enchanting. He will bring his brother and sisters to me in good time. In the meantime, Tumnus, I have a special suite of rooms for you at my palace…" she laughed coldly as the faun called Tumnus shrank away from her. "Move out!" she barked to the dwarf at the reins. He twitched the ropes and, in a peal of jingle bells, the sled moved out of sight.
Rhianna breathed a sigh of relief and crept out of hiding. "Darkmoon?" she called quietly.
"I'm here, milady," the mare replied, approaching through the trees. She stopped before the elf and whickered softly, nosing against her shoulder. Rhianna stroked Darkmoon's forelock and blew softly into the mare's nostrils – a sign of affection among horses.
"Did you hear everything?" she asked. Darkmoon tossed her head up and down once in affirmation. "Tumnus…" Rhianna continued, musing, "he's close to the Lamp-post, isn't he? That must be where the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve will arrive – if they haven't already…" she trailed off, staring absently toward the southwest, where the Lamp-post stood, her mind running over the ancient prophecies that Aslan – the Great Lion – had taught her. One said that the four thrones in Cair Paravel would be filled by Humans from the Other World and another told of the Witch's defeat by the Children of Adam and Eve.
Darkmoon had practically raised the elf and knew her well enough to read what was going through her mind. Nudging her two-legged friend gently, she said kindly, "Aslan gave you a mission, my child. Perhaps now is the time to begin it."
Rhianna nodded in response. A few years ago, Aslan had visited her in a dream – as he had on many occasions to teach her and mentor her – and charged her with the obligation to protect the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve from the clutches of the White Witch and bring them safely to the Stone Table, where he would be waiting to prepare an army against Jadis. Now, it appeared that the time had come. She had no doubts that Aslan would already know of their arrival and now it was her duty to bring them safely before him. She smiled at Darkmoon. "Yes, now is the time," she murmured. Gathering her belongings – the very few that she possessed – she slung them over her shoulder and mounted smoothly, settling comfortably in the depression behind Darkmoon's withers. She rode bareback, as all elves had – without reins or halter – and appreciated the trait for its simplicity in preparation. Guiding with her hands, she turned Darkmoon toward the southwest and the mare broke into a swift gallop, swerving expertly through the trees.