Trufflehunter's Story

One:  The Beginning

I was born during the last spring of the reign of Caspian the Ninth.  He was a good and wise king, so I have heard my parents say, and kept the peace as a good king should.  His wife had recently given birth to a son, who was named Caspian, after his father.  I do not remember those days very well, for I was just a pup then.  I do remember little things, like reading with my mother by the fire in our little burrow.  Most of my memories of that time were images and smells, like warm oatmeal, or a crown of flowers on my mother's head.  That winter was very cold and my family was forced to spend most of the time indoors.  I remember one cold night, I had been put into bed and was between waking and sleeping when I heard a thumping on our burrow door.  Wrapping my blanket around me, I snuck to my bedroom door, from which I had a good view of our parlor.  My mother walked to the door, drying her hands with a dishtowel, for she was cleaning up that night's dinner.  She opened it and found a shivering hare on our doorstep.  Not asking any questions, she quickly led him inside, and called for my father.  She sat the hare by the fire in the green big armchair, as my father, Quinclaw, emerged from his room.  She wrapped a blanket around the near-frozen guest and began to fix some tea.  "Many thanks, Mella," the hare said.  I marveled how he knew my mother's name.  "I may not stay long for I must spread the news to others in Lantern Waste."  My mother stopped and looked at him.

"What news, Camillo?"  The hare's ears drooped, and he bowed his head.

"Our good king Caspian..."  He struggled with tears and his voice cracked, "is dead."  My father leaned against the cabinet and gazed at the floor in shock.  My mother dropped the cup of tea and stared at the hare in disbelief.

"No." she whispered.  "No, that's not true!  That can't be true!"  She looked pleadingly at the hare.  "He's just sick...or...or injured, or sleeping! He can't be dead!  Not Caspian!  He can't be dead!"  She began to cry.  I was frightened, for my mother had never cried before, in my presence, at least.  Camillo stood up and grabbed my mother's arm.

"Mella, he's dead!"  He exclaimed with tears in his eyes.  "I saw him with my own eyes."  My father reached out and drew my mother to him and she cried into his shoulder.  All the time she mumbled, "Not our Caspian...we grew up together...oh, my friend, my dear friend!"  He sat her into the vacant armchair, and Camillo brought her some tea.

When she had calmed down, my father asked, "How did it happen?"  Camillo shrugged.

"No one knows," he said.  "The Queen wondered why he hadn't come infrom his stroll in the garden.  She went to look for him, and found him under a tree, as if he were sleeping.  Indeed, she tried to wake him, but to no avail.  She called for help, and everyone came running.  They were too late, for Caspian was dead."  My mother shuddered.

"And who is the new king?"  My father asked.  "Surely, young Caspian is too young to rule."

"Yes, Quin," the hare said ruefully.  "Caspian's brother, Miraz, is proclaimed Lord Protector.  No doubt he will soon proclaim himself king!"

"Oh," my father moaned, "this is a black day for us all.  We all know how Miraz despises everything in this country.  He wants to make it more like Telmar.  I wonder what he'll do to us Talking Beasts."  I had heard enough and crept back to bed, wondering what tomorrow would bring.

News came later that the Queen had died of a broken heart, and also that Miraz had proclaimed himself king and taken a queen for himself:  the Lady Prunaprismia.  King Caspian's loyal Lords either died, or were sent on mysterious missions and never returned.  And in late spring, my worst fears had come true.  Miraz had deployed, secretly, bands of soldiers to hunt down and kill all the talking animals and dwarves and centaurs, and all the magic creatures of Narnia.  Lantern Waste, being the closest to Miraz's Castle, was the first place hit.  Our neighbors, Prickledown the hedgehog, and his family were surprised in their home and slain, and my friend Chattermonk the squirrel wa picked off by an arrow on the way to our burrow.  Many other families fled to the hills south of Lantern Waste.  There, my mother and father organized a resistance to King Miraz over the many years we hid there, made up of all the magical creatures of Narnia.  There were all sorts of Talking Beasts, dwarves, fauns, dryads, naiads, centaurs, and all sorts of other creatures.  Among them I made many good friends:  Glenstorm, a wise centaur, Trumpkin the dwarf, and a little mouse known as Reepicheep, who lived south of there.  However, Miraz learned of our plans and our hideout, and attacked.  My parents and many others were killed.  I was severely wounded, for, though I was of fighting age, I was very inexperienced in the ways of war.  I lay unconscious for many days, and as I lay wounded, I had a vision of Aslan, our King above all other Kings, who had not been seen in Narnia since the days of King Peter.  He walked to me out of the mist and seemed to glow as bright as the sun.  He breathed on me and his breath smelled of honey and springtime.  "Trufflehunter," he said, "do not give up hope!  Tell my people to go into hiding, and wait for the day when your young king is ready for his burden.  Then we shall rise up and wipe this terror from Narnia."

"Please, sire," I said, "how shall we know when young Caspian is ready?"

"Oh," Aslan said softly, "you will know."  He slowly faded away into the mists and I awoke.

I told everyone of the vision, and they agreed to do what Aslan had said.  Many, though, like my friend Trumpkin, and his friend Nikabrik, did not believe in Aslan.  "Bugs and boulders!  Trufflehunter, don't start again about Aslan," Trumpkin said.  We had always been at odds on the topic of Aslan, and King Peter and the rest.

"Why should we listen to you?" Nikabrik said.  He had recently joined our band and never fully accepted the authority af any who were not dwarves.  Nevertheless, most of the resistance agreed to go into hiding and wait.  I took up residence in a cave south of the Shuddering Wood with Trumpkin, and to my dismay, Nikabrik.  Trumpkin and he were friends, but I had disliked him from the start.  I decided, however, to give him a chance.  So we lived for several years, until one stormy night, something extraordinary tumbled onto our doorstep.

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