Authoress's note: Hello everyone. I know it's been a year since I've updated, but I haven't abandoned this fic. For this chapter I'm bringing in elements of E. T. A. Hoffmann's story The Nutcracker and the Mouse King, written in 1816. I hope you enjoy the chapter and would as always love to hear what you think.

I have been walking for many days, driven by the need to escape the memories of the life I was forced to leave behind. I travel by the secret ways known only to mice, secure in the knowledge that none of my kin will ever dare to venture so far from home. Perhaps I am the first of my people to make this long journey. If only things were different, how I would have enjoyed these past few days which could have been spent in the company of friends as we explored new lands. Instead I am alone, for like everyone else they have cast me aside, not because of what I am, but because of what I have done.

Once my name was known amongst all talking mice, and I had the respect and honor which is the right of any mouse born to noble parents. As the eldest I was expected to grow up a strong and clever mouseling, so that in time I might take up the mantle of leader and adviser to the royal family. But unlike my father who had become a master of the sword, I was fashioned for quite a different destiny. Instead I was blessed with the gift of magic, a rare occurrence amongst talking mice. I was sent to study under the greatest enchanters of our people, and eventually was appointed Court Magician to the queen. How well I remember that day, and the proud smile which my mother's face wore as our queen gifted me with the traditional silver circlet. It had lain within its velvet wrappings for many years, waiting the time when another mouse was born with the gift of magic.

Ah if only I had known then, the price which such honor would demand, or that by accepting the queen's offer I would one day be exile from the kingdom I loved and had sworn to protect. And yet looking back I ought to have suspected that something was amiss when the queen summoned me, for she was a monarch whose love of cruelty was well known. She wasted no time in giving me her instructions, commanding me to seek out the infant princess of the human kingdom just beyond our borders.

"Take care that you are not seen," she warned me as I inclined my head in acceptance of her orders. "The young queen knows of my desire for vengeance, because she ordered the death of my seven sons. So my clever magician you must be cautious, for she has placed many cats and serving women about the cradle to watch for danger." It was then that she revealed to me the cruelty of the curse I was to cast, one which would doom a mortal to remain trapped in a hideous form, until a person was found who could love them in spite of their ugliness. If the victim my queen had chosen had been worthy of such a fate I would have gladly obeyed, but to bring such misery to an innocent human child was unthinkable.

And so I refused, knowing that the cost for my disobedience would be great. I heard the words which every talking mouse hopes will never pass the lips of his kin. Words which we are taught from the cradle along with all other customs of our kind, in case any dare to break our laws and defy the commands of a leader. Every talking mouse was told never to speak my name again, and I am sure that my tail would have been cut off if my mother had not intervened. Like me she too was a respected subject of our queen, and perhaps it was only her years of faithful service which kept our monarch from issuing the ultimate punishment.

I did not realize the merciless cruelty of which my queen was capable, until the moment my exile began. It was my mother who was ordered to walk with me to the entrance of the royal burrow, while the members of the queen's court hurled insults at my back. I will never forget the look of mingled pride and sorrow which my mother gave me as we warmly embraced, nor her whispered hope that I would find a new home and friends. I hadn't the heart to tell her that such wishes were futile, for there are precious few talking mice willing to accept one who has been exiled into their tribe.

With such gloomy thoughts as my companions I continue my journey, until at last I find myself exploring territory with which I am not familiar. Now I have only my magic to help guide me, and it is drawing me towards one of the ancient places of power. Curious I follow it's insistent pull, for I have often wished to linger at such magical places so that I might learn all that they have to offer. Eventually I emerge from an old burrow onto a steep hillside atop which rests a strange altar of stone. Cautiously I approach, drawn by the siren call of magic and the hope that I might find other mice blessed with the gift of speech. As I draw near, I quickly stifle a squeak of excitement, for before me stand about twenty talking mice in the midst of a whispered conference. Unwilling to interrupt I move closer, curious and yes, eager to hear the voices of these distant kin.

"We must be careful my brethren, for you know what the queen will do to us if she even suspects that we had anything to do with freeing our true king. I want no useless chatter while we are at work, and I expect you to be as swift as possible. Now in the name of Aslan, let us go forward."

I watch as the oldest mouse finishes his speech and the group scurries to obey their leader. Who is this king they go to honor? What sort of ruler welcomes even the small animals as his subjects? So absorbed am I in my thoughts, that I do not notice when one of the young mice approaches me paw outstretched in welcome.

"Brother, come and join us." It has been so long since I have heard those precious words, or even felt the warmth and comfort of offered friendship since my exile began.

I find a place at the rear of the procession next to my companion, and together we approach this strange altar of stone. One by one each mouse steppes forward, and begins to gnaw at the cords which bind the king of beasts.

My whiskers quiver in alarm, as I catch the scent of young humans mingled with the smell of death. Every instinct urges me to turn and run, for humans have ever been enemies of our kind. But before I can spring away, my companion lays a restraining paw upon my back.

"Be at ease my friend. These daughters of Eve are the chosen of great Aslan, and are prophesied to bring about the downfall of the false queen Jadis." He speaks the truth, for these mortal children possess a dignity and poise far beyond their years. The eldest sister's face is wet with tears of grief, even as she draws the smaller girl into a comforting embrace. The fair haired child is no less valiant, and possesses a purity and innocence which reminds me of the baby princess I was ordered to curse.

Soon it is my turn, and I willingly move forward to do what I can. I begin to gnaw at the cords about the lion's mouth, and immediately realize that this is no ordinary rope. Scarcely have my teeth begun their work, when the taste of dark magic begins to fill my mouth. I find myself doing something I would have never thought possible during my lonely exile, thanking the queen who cast me out of her kingdom. For it was at her insistence that I studied the darkest of magics, and can now put that knowledge to use in freeing this noble beast. I force myself to ignore the discomfort of unraveling such an evil and complex spell, determined to return the kindness of this new tribe and help the one they love so dearly. My task seems endless, for every strand I gnaw, it seems yet another is always there to take its place. Nor is this the hardest part, for woven into every fiber is the magic meant to hold this great lion's soul captive. The conditions are harsh, demanding that one who has committed no treachery be slain in a traitor's stead. I pour all of my magic into the task set before me, hoping that it will be enough to break this cruel enchantment.

No one moves to interrupt me, and I continue my work for what seems like hours. The last fiber snaps just as the dawn chorus of birds begins. Exhausted I rejoin my new friend, and together we watch in awe as the ancient magic of the table is shattered, and the lion is miraculously restored to life.

I watch as the two human children rejoice at the return of their king, and make ready to ride him to war.

As they eagerly climb onto his back, Aslan's piercing gaze finds me amidst the crowd of talking mice. Within those eyes I see an offer of true friendship, coupled with a look of measureless gratitude and love. And I hear the words which without knowing it I have longed to receive ever since my cruel exile began.

"I welcome you to Narnia, Christoph my son." Joy inexpressible fills me, for Aslan has given me a gift beyond price. A new name, one which will tell everyone that I too am now a friend and bearer of the hope which Aslan offers to all who seek his face.

Authoress's note: The name Christoph means Bearer of Christ. Instead of trying to come up with a name for my character similar to the ones which Lewis created, I decided to have Aslan give Christoph his name at the end of his story. In writing this tale, I hope to show the disgrace of having your name forgotten, is just as dishonorable for a talking mouse as having his tail cut off.

Also keep a lookout for a new story written in response to a review from Rthstewart. It's based on my chapter from Rabadash's perspective, and explores what Susan is thinking during his visit to Narnia. It will be calledBrynhildr's Choice, and I hope to post the first chapter this weekend.

Next chapter, a Maenad shares her memories of the four.