Title: Air of Enchantment

Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

Note: While originally an answer to challenge 30: Air, it kinda veered away from that. I'm not sure where this story came from. Amazingly, the main character is sort of an OC, though I rather like him, which is odd for me. He's more of a narrator, though, so hopefully he won't put you off reading this. And I say he's 'sort' of an OC, because this is something of a kinda crossover with another book. However, if I tell you now that might spoil some of the story, so I'll only tell you through PM if you really want to know.

Note 2: This is my penultimate story, which makes the choice of crossover rather fitting. While I may post a drabble lead-in to my last story, there's really only one last fanfic after this, which I hope to post in March, and have it finished by March 18. So enjoy this while it lasts!

Ronald was utterly lost. For some time now, he thought, blinking back unmanly tears. In truth, he had only been lost in the woods on the outskirts of Birmingham for about two hours or so. But for the past year he had been lost in a different way, alone save for Father and his little brother. After Mum's death…Ronald shook his head, the thirteen-year old stoically determined not to let tears fall. Even now it still hurt, even now as he should be more worried about the fact that he no longer knew where he was walking, though twilight had fallen.

The trees were growing thicker now, thicker than Ronald had ever seen them, and he had the most unusual feeling, as if he were no longer in Birmingham. Perhaps no longer in England. He rather thought the trees were too old, too large, too alive to be English trees. The sky had darkened and stars now began dotting the skies; stars alike and yet brighter than the ones he was used to seeing. The stars and the bright glow of the moon gave the forest a soft, silver glow as twilight faded into darkness.

Stomach growling, Ronald wished that he hadn't run out on lunch that afternoon. He wished he had not run away at all; Father would probably be angry – or worse, disappointed – and Hilary had been so upset, upset because Ronald had yelled at him for talking about Mum even though he knew Ronald didn't want to think about it. Now Ronald was lost, with no way of getting home, and his overly-vivid imagination was conjuring up the many different and gruesome ways he could die out here. Anything could happen, and no one would ever know, and he would never see Hilary again, never…Choking back a frightened sob, the young boy fingered the rosary Mum, and now Father, insisted he keep in his trouser pocket.

Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum.

An owl hooted, causing Ronald to nearly jump out of his skin. Hadn't he read that to hear an owl cry meant death was close behind?

Benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventri tui, Iesus.

A wild wind whipped through the trees, which bowed low and brushed at Ronald with their long branches. Giving a frightened shout, Ronald broke into a run, clutching the rosary to his chest.

Sancta Maria, mater Dei, ora pro nobis.

Was that a wolf howling, or just the wind? Where was he, where was home? He wanted to be home, to be back at the Oratory, back with Hilary, back with Father, even if Mum wasn't there anymore.

Ora pro nobis. ora pro nobis. What was next?

He didn't see the exposed root, tripping over it in his haste to escape the shadows. The rosary flew from his hand, and Ronald cried out in horror, scrambling to find the precious beads in the darkness of full night. After a frantic search, his hands scrapping against the earth and the sharp twigs and blades of grass, he touched cool stone and Ronald held the rosary tightly in his fist.

Ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc, et in hora mortis nostrae.

Amen.

Slowly getting to his feet, Ronald started walking again, instead of running, though his heart still pounded in fear. He continued praying three decades of beads, finishing with a Pater Noster after each, before he felt calm enough to stop moving and just sit, his back leaning against one of the great trees. Ronald knew he was now even more lost than he was before, and he wiped his wet eyes against his sleeve. "Please," he prayed aloud, not even crossing himself, "I'm scared. Help me."

It was as if the Lord was just waiting for him to ask, for almost as soon as he finished speaking, Ronald thought he heard music. It was like the bells in church, but wilder, not constrained by stone walls. Voices sang, but it sounded more like leaves rustling than any words he knew. Almost without thinking Ronald stood and started walking towards the wondrous sound. It grew in volume and in beauty even as he walked. A glint of blue starlight caught his eye, and he ducked behind a tree.

Peering around, Ronald's mouth dropped open and he automatically made the Sign of the Cross, for surely he was looking at an angel of the Lord. A woman danced alone in a round clearing, her bare feet hardly touching the ground. She wore a dress the color of the cloudless sky, golden flowers weaving in and out of the fabric. Her dark hair flowed nearly to her feet, a mantle of shadow that framed her dancing form and her pale face. She laughed as she danced to music sung by some invisible bard, and Ronald did not think he had ever heard a purer sound than that laugh, save the church bells at Eastertide.

"Or a nightingale," he whispered, but the singer must have heard him, for the music ceased and the angel faltered gracefully in her dance. Ronald stepped forward, distraught that he had disturbed such beauty and wishing to make amends, but the trees themselves seemed to move and the angel vanished from sight. "Wait, please! Don't go!" The trees rustled angrily in the wind, angry that he had disturbed this dance. "Please, I didn't mean to! I mean no harm, I'm lost, and I don't know how to get home…" Despair began to well up again, but then a lyrical voice broke through the trees.

"Aside, I beg you, my friends. See, he is just a boy in need of aid. Aslan forbid we do not give it to him." Ronald watched in utter astonishment as the trees actually moved to obey the angel, who stepped forward and smiled gently at him. "Forgive my Hamadryad friends; you startled them with your appearance, and they wished to protect me from harm."

"I would never harm you, my lady. And may God strike me down if I ever fail to protect you," he swore, the words flowing out of nowhere, and yet he meant it with every fiber of his being.

Ronald was just an English schoolboy on the verge of manhood, scraped and bruised with tear-stains on his cheeks, but she did not laugh at his oath. Instead she smiled and reached out her hand for him to take. At first he didn't know if he should hold it or kiss it, but the angelic woman just wrapped her pale hand around his. "Come, you look worn and hungry. We shall go to my home at Cair Paravel; you will be made comfortable and I am sure my royal brother will know how to find your home – for I deem you are not from near these parts, and my brother has great knowledge of the lands of this world."

Not trusting his words, Ronald nodded and let the angel lead him through the trees, who seemed to be carefully watching his steps. After a few moments of silence, he finally blurted out: "I'm Ronald."

The angel laughed, a sound still like the ringing of silver bells, but Ronald did not feel that she was laughing at him. "I am Queen Susan of Narnia." Before he could respond coherently, the woods ended and Ronald could only gape at what was before him: A sleeping town like out of the books he read, and above them, on a hill, stood a great castle of white stone, larger than any building Ronald had ever seen and more shining and beautiful than even the great castles of England. It looked liked a palace of heaven, and so he was not surprised when the Queen told him, "Here is Cair Paravel. I bid you welcome to my home."

00000

Ronald remained in a daze as they walked through the town beneath Cair Paravel. Though it was night, there was a murmur of voices in the streets, matching the shadows that slipped by them, out of sight. Occasionally, Queen Susan would stop and speak softly to the shadows that followed their path, but Ronald did not have the ability to look through the night to see who answered.

He did not have long to ponder this, for soon they reached the gates of the great castle. The doors were large, beautifully ornate. Two torches framed the doors, molded in the form of silver trees with leaves of diamond. The doors themselves glittered in the flickering torchlight, sometimes looking to be made of dark wood, sometimes gold or silver or shining steel. Ronald's eyes could hardly even focus on the images engraved on the gate, though he caught glimpses of stars and leaves and crowns.

Suddenly, the doors opened, though no one had touched it. Ronald silently followed the unfazed Queen, turning to watch as the gate shut itself behind them. They were in a courtyard now, with the castle proper towering above them. A single silver birch stood in front of them, its branches bent low over a large, ornate well.

Ronald followed as the Queen approached the tree; despite the magical air of this land, despite what had happened in the wood, he was still startled when the Queen talked to the birch. "My good lord Dryad, I apologize for interrupting your conversation with Mirrormere."

The tree moved, and Ronald's eyes widened as he realized it was not a tree, but a man. Or something like a man, but also like a tree, with arms like branches and hair like leaves, and clothes of bark. The seemingly ageless tree-man bowed low to the Queen. "Your majesty, I am honored to be at your service."

Ronald thought that he also would also do anything the Queen asked, if only to bring such a smile to her face.

"This child is called Ronald, and he will stay at the Cair until we find his home. Please see to making him comfortable in one of the western rooms; he is in need of freshening up." Ronald's cheeks burned as he recalled what a sight he must be, after running through the woods and crawling in the underbrush. Yet the Queen did not speak with disdain, only concern. "When he is ready, if you would guide him to the small banquet hall, I will have the cooks prepare him victuals." The tree-man bowed again, and Queen Susan looked down at Ronald. "Silversun will see to your needs. I shall find my brother, and I am sure he will speak with you to help uncover whence you came and how to return."

Ronald felt that it would be appropriate for him to bow, and he did so, though he felt awkward next to the graceful queen, and even the birch-man. "Thank you, your majesty," he said, before following Silversun around the side of the castle, to a simple, small doorway. He looked back once, only to see the Queen walk towards the castle, her bare feet gliding across the ground as if she were still dancing.

The Dryad, Silversun, led him through a maze of white marble hallways; Ronald tripped several times over his own feet, distracted by the tapestries that covered the walls. The ornate hangings showed scenes of queens and kings, animals and mythical creatures. As they walked, Ronald began realizing that the tapestries were telling a story – the story of this land he was in, of the monarchs who ruled through the ages. One scene, in particular, caught his eye: that of a grand room, sunlight streaming through a lace of glass as two men and two women sat on grand thrones, their heads crowned.

"Those are our beloved sovereigns."

Startled, Ronald looked up at Silversun, who spoke for the first time, his voice slow and, well, woody. "You mean Queen Susan?"

The Dryad gently brushed one, twig-like finger against the tapestry, noting each figure in turn. "Queen Susan, Queen Lucy, King Edmund, and High King Peter."

Ronald scrunched his forehead in confusion. "You have more than one Queen and King?" When Silversun nodded, Ronald's confusion did not end. Since the stylized figure of Queen Susan sat by the High King, he assumed they were married, and perhaps King Edmund and Queen Lucy as well. But why two pairs of Kings and Queens?

It seemed he had spoken aloud, as Silversun corrected him, a hint of pique in the Dryad's voice. "I see there is some confusion, and that your land must be like that of Archenland in society. For though our first King and Queen were indeed wed to one another, it is custom now in Narnia for siblings to rule together, their spouses to be but Lords and Ladies of the realm."

Ronald felt his cheeks flush at the kind reprimand. He was thankful he had not made such a mistake in front of Queen Susan. "Sorry, I didn't know."

Thankfully, Silversun did not seem to be offended, and they continued down the hallway, Silversun occasionally pointing out interesting scenes in the tapestries until Ronald's head spun from the stories. He wished had had time to write them all down, and tried desperately to seal them in his memory. Eventually, Silversun came to a graceful halt in front of a wide, oak door.

The Dryad led Ronald into the room, and the boy came to a sudden halt at the ornate trappings that surrounded him. A great bed lay in the middle of the room, the red- and gold-embroidered comforter matching the canopy that hung above it. The entire room was red with trimmings of gold, the dark furniture inlaid with gold as well. Despite never having seen one himself, Ronald rather thought that this was what a prince's room would look like.

Silversun went through another door in the room, and Ronald scrambled to follow. The door led to a room which was smaller than the bedroom, though it matched in color. What caught Ronald's attention, however, was the long, deep hole, covered in red and white ceramic tiles. Silversun had already started filling the, what Ronald could only presume was a bathtub, with hot, steaming water. The bathtub was quickly filled and Silversun stopped the water-flow before turning to Ronald. "All you require should be available here. I will leave you to your bath."

After the Dryad left the room, shutting the door behind him, Ronald lost no time in stripping off his torn, dirty clothes and nearly leaping into the water. The hot water soothed the lingering aches from his flight in the woods, and Ronald thought a bath had never felt so good. After thoroughly scrubbing the accumulated dirt off with an available soap and brush, Ronald just lay back in the bathtub, which was perfectly shaped within to support him.

Reveling in the warmth of the water, Ronald let his thoughts wander. The last few hours had been as if he had fallen into the world of Faerie, with goddesses dancing in an enchanted wood, a grand castle, and talking trees who drew steaming baths. What was this land, this wondrously strange land? How had he gotten here?

How would he get home?

Ronald frowned as that worried thought intruded on his blissful excitement. Caught in a land where the very air was heavy in enchantment, how could he worry about returning to England? Who would want to ever leave this, returning to the place where his mother had painfully wasted away before the eyes of her confused and desperate sons?

Looking around the bathing room to distract himself from that thought, Ronald marveled at the colorful mosaics, showing scenes of life and magic: mermaids dancing, river-waters rising from their banks to become smiling people who flowed through the currents. How Hilary would love all this, Ronald thought, guilt warring with delight.

Thinking of his little brother, last seen in tears from the older boy's overly-harsh words, took the rest of the joy from Ronald's bath, even as the water cooled. Leaving the bathtub, Ronald quickly dried himself with a ready towel. He was not quite willing to put back on his rather grimy clothes, so Ronald wrapped the large, warm towel around his body and peeked out into the bedroom. Silversun was not in sight, but a set of new, clean clothes were laid out on the oversized bed. Slinking towards them, Ronald frowned. They were not like his usual, English clothes, but instead seemed to be more like the tunics and leggings from the books he read about King Arthur. However, they were clean and precisely his size, so Ronald figured he should probably wear them. It would not do to eat in dirty clothes – Mum would have raised an eyebrow, and that was never a good thing.

Fairly certain he had put everything on the right way – including the leather boots that fit better than his old, worn pair – Ronald slowly opened the bedroom door and stuck his head out. Movement to the right caught his eyes, and Ronald stood to attention as Silversun approached. The Dryad smiled serenely. "If you are ready, please follow me to the breakfast room. It is not, of course, near time for breakfast, but it is smaller than the dining hall or the banquet hall, and so may be more comfortable. King Edmund will see you shortly." Ronald nodded and the two set off down the hallway, with thankfully fewer twists and turns this time.

00000

Entering the breakfast room, Ronald was again treated to a shock. Spread out on the table was a plentitude of foods: roasted meats, vegetables of the like he could not even name, fruits that were out of season back home, jars of golden honey, and mounds of toast. Ronald's mouth was opened wide and watering as Silversun gently guided him to the seat, in front of which was placed a set of fine china and good silverware. The young boy was almost afraid to touch it – what if he accidentally broke something? Silversun noticed his hesitation, and kindly began filling the plate with all sorts of delicious-looking treats.

It took everything in Ronald not to just start stuffing the food in his mouth. Only his mother's stern and devoted teachings stayed his hand. Ronald dutifully bowed his head and gave thanks to the Lord for the bountiful feast. Finishing with a heart-felt 'amen', Ronald gingerly lifted a fork and began devouring the steamed and seasoned vegetables. Not wanting to miss any of the dishes, Ronald hurriedly cut and speared a piece of chicken. It was almost in his mouth when a thought stopped him.

Pulling the piece of chicken away, Ronald looked over at Silversun, who seemed to be watching him with interest from next to the doorway. "Sir, what day is it?" For surely in traversing into a different world, the days may have changed as well.

Silversun looked puzzled. "It is Starday, the fourth of Meadowgreen."

Ronald frowned. "I'm sorry, I don't know those names."

"Starday is the third day of the week, while Meadowgreen is the month before the summer solstice – the second month in the Narnian calendar." Ronald thanked him and gratefully started eating the chicken. If it was the equivalent of Tuesday here, it would be fine for him to eat meat – Father would be upset with him if he had broken the Friday fast, even in another world.

Very little entered Ronald's thoughts as he continued eating, except the enjoyment of the savory foods before him. Everything was baked and steamed and seasoned to perfection, every bite better than the one before. Young boy that he was, Ronald had no problem devouring what Silversun placed before him, and then helping himself to more. So engrossed was he in eating that he did not notice a tall figure slip into the room, nor see Silversun bow and leave him alone with this new person.

As Ronald reached for the plate of pasta shells stuffed with goat cheese, his eyes caught a flash of silver out of the corner of his eye. His fork clattered loudly on the plate as he turned his head and was met by the sight of a man sitting to his side, at the end of the table. With shadow-dark hair crowned with a circlet of silver, this man was at one glace a contradiction. His aura was one of peace, yet there was a glint of weapon-steel at his side, hidden by a cloak the color of the twilight sky. His face was young, but his eyes held the wisdom that came with years untold. Ronald nearly shook under the sharp gaze of those deep-seeing eyes; surely the wisdom and knowledge of this king – for clearly he must be a king – was as great as the beauty and kindness of Queen Susan.

There was a long moment as the king – King Edmund? – held Ronald's wide-eyed stare, peered into his soul, laying judgment. Just as Ronald thought he would break under those eyes and run away, King Edmund blinked and a congenial smile graced his features – no longer a lord of terrible shadows, but a king of soft summer. "I apologize for my lateness, Master Ronald; yet I see my sister has all well prepared for you. Is the meal to your liking?"

Startled by the change, the lightening of the air, Ronald very nearly did not answer. Thankfully, he found his voice before the silence grew too awkward. "Yes, thank you, your majesty. Everyone here has been…very kind."

The king smiled. "It is the Narnian way to welcome all who come with peace in their hearts; my royal sister believes you to be so. I deem that she is right, and that you carry no malice towards our land and family." The sharp, deep eyes fastened on Ronald's eyes again and he held back a shiver. "Yet I also find your appearance in Narnia to be of a strange and doomed nature." It took Ronald a moment to realize that the king was using the archaic form of the word 'doom' – that his appearance in this world had a bearing on fate, though not necessarily a negative one.

He did not get a chance to ask what the king meant, as the man swiftly turned to the inquiries which Ronald had expected. "My sister tells me that you are from a land of which she has not knowledge."

"Yes, I suppose, your majesty. I'm from England. The city of Birmingham, to be more precise."

King Edmund sat back in his chair; though relaxed, he still looked as if he were upon a throne. "These names are unfamiliar to me as well; there are no lands by those names within the known reaches of Narnia. Truly, I cannot imagine that one could step into the Forest Fence from such an unknown land, though, save through magic and the leave of Aslan."

Ronald felt a warm chill run up his spine at the name of Aslan; there seemed a sacred heatheness about it that was both pleasant and terrifying. "I…I don't know any Aslan, your majesty," he felt blasphemous admitting it, "and until a few hours ago, I was sure magic didn't exist. But my mother made us study hard, including geography, and I know there isn't a place called Narnia anywhere in England, and certainly not near Birmingham. And things like Dryads and moving trees are only in myths and fairy tales. Back home, at least."

The king nodded, though the deep look had returned when Ronald had mentioned his mother – could King Edmund have seen how just talking about her still hurt? However, the man was polite and did not deem it right to inquire about such a matter at that time. "So you had no intention of entering our kingdom?"

Ronald shook his head emphatically. "No, your majesty."

"And your happening upon the Queen Susan as she danced? This was unintentional as well?"

The question gave Ronald pause; but he felt that he could not be less than perfectly honest with this king. "I think the Lord led me to the queen for help."

King Edmund's frown was startling. "What lord is this?"

"The Lord Our God," replied Ronald automatically.

The frown disappeared, replaced by a look of interest. "And which god would that be?"

Thatsurprised Ronald, though then again, this was apparently a magical land beyond the circles of the world. "The only God there is, your majesty."

There was a light silence before King Edmund spoke again. "I believe I see. You worship this one god, and he gave you aid when you were lost."

Ronald did not think it would be very wise of him to try and explain Trinitarian theology, so he simply nodded and said, "Yes, your majesty."

There was another pause; then King Edmund returned the nod and laid his forearms against the table. "I owe you and your god a debt of gratitude, then." He said this with such intense seriousness that Ronald's eyes widened. The king explained further. "Even as you were arriving at Cair Paravel, word reached us that the Forest Fence was attacked by unknown assailants. Several trees were burnt, and three died before the attackers were run off. It is well known that the Queen Susan often dances in that wood at night; and all evidence indicates that she was the intended target."

Ronald felt cold at the thought that anyone would try and hurt the queen. "I don't understand." Not why someone would attack Queen Susan, or burn living, walking trees, or why King Edmund thought he deserved thanks.

It was the last question that the king answered. "My sister will often dance into the hours of the morning. Yet your arrival gave her cause to return to the Cair early. Had your god not felt it meet to give you aid, my sister may well have been killed." A glimpse of haunted fear slipped past the king's guarded expression, a glimmer of emotion that made the other-worldly man seem nearly human.

Ronald pushed away his plate, no longer hungry. "I…I'm glad I came here, then, if only for that."

King Edmund nodded in agreement, but a light like that of the stars glinted in his eyes. "And yet, it is to my mind that this encounter, no matter its fortune, is not that doom for which you are here, but for your own fate."

The King did not spent much more time talking with Ronald, for which the boy was thankful – his stomach full, he was beginning to fall asleep sitting at the table. His mind was already a sleepy muddle when he bid good night to the king and was led by Silversun back to the bedroom. Ronald fell asleep almost as soon as the blankets covered him, the sweetest sleep he had had since his mother's death.