Oreius Remembers

There we were, standing alone. Our enemy in force arrayed against us. We were watching them pounding toward us, toward our comrades, toward our king. That's when we made our choice, our fateful decision.

I did not know you, you did not know me. But I could see in your eyes exactly what I too was thinking. We knew we going to our deaths – we couldn't charge THAT and live – but how much more preferable was death to slavery!

We had never known any other ruler in Narnia besides Jadis, but there was one Ruler who we revered more than any. After 100 years – 100 years of tyranny and oppression and ice and snow – He had come, and so had the four, to set us free.

But He left us – rumors flying around like gryphons that He was dead – and the boy who would be king was unsure without Him. But I was resolved (as were you, I know it) to fight anyway, for never would I live in a land of perpetual winter again.

I did not see you during the fight on Beruna plain, for I was with Peter, hewing down those who would kill our next sovereign. I saw you once during the retreat, with Jadis and her minions bearing down fast and hard. Then I found you next to me as we hurried up the mountain. I don't think it had set in yet, that we were beaten, that once Jadis gained the upper hand only the Lion could tear it from her.

'Twas then I saw the younger boy. It was his face that made me halt in my tracks, his look of terror in his eyes, but not for himself. I knew there was only concern for one that would make him look that way and my heart stopped. I turned, somehow knowing what I would see. And there it was, the king's unicorn down, my king staring death in the face as shouts of triumph rang from the charging enemy.

I had to save him. I had come to love him for the boy he was, for the man he was becoming, for the king I hoped he would be. It was then that I heard you; your sounds of rage and sorrow, rage against those who would kill our new king, sorrow knowing our tormentors had won. But I heard something else; it was resolution, determination, purpose. I looked at you, you looked at me, and we both knew what we had to do.

It was then we charged.

I had a broadsword in each hand; you had your horn. We raced by Peter, ignoring his shouted plea, "STOP!" and galloped toward the enemy. We hit their line, instantly killing those who stood in our path. We cut, we hewed, and we killed them where they stood.

Then you went down, your legs cut out from under you. They quickly finished you off; I turned back to see the Black Dwarf traitors sending arrow after arrow into your prostrate body. I felt a pang in my heart, a sense of loss – a strange feeling for a comrade I had never known. But it was as if I had known you forever. The pain in my heart was strong, but brief. I turned my attention back to my enemy. They shrank from challenging me as I attempted to cut my way to Jadis.

But Otmin came – he who had relished in torturing and killing our fellow Narnians for a century – and I knew he would not let me pass by. I saw a sort of irony in it – the generals of the two opposing armies in hand-to-hand combat. He swung at me, missed, and leapt for me as I galloped by. Catching me by the sheath of my wielded sword, he continued to stab at me with his free hand that carried his blade. I parried as well as I could, and finally he gave me the opening I was waiting for. His arm withdrew, and with lightning speed I buried both of my blades into his back. I watched him release me and crash to the earth, his heart's blood gushing out as his breath left his body.

After Otmin fell, few dared to challenge me as I continued my charge through the enemy ranks. None but for HER. I saw her, watched her eyes, could see she was enjoying the spectacle before her, watching the slaughter taking place behind me as our compatriots were fighting a gallant, but failing struggle. It was that pleasure in her eyes that drove me on. She noticed me, as if for the first time, and her eyes hardened. I drew my great claymore and quickened my gallop. A few paces more, then I was upon her.

I leaped over her chariot and cried out. It was a cry of one hundred years of pain, anguish, memory, and loss. Even she could hear it for what it was, for her eyes widened briefly. As my hooves cleared her wicked head, I swung my blade.

Victory and defeat lay in the balance. In that second, as my sword made its bloody way toward the face of our tyrant, I thought of you. You and all my fellow countrymen who had fallen under her power and torment. "For them!" I thought, as my blade came down.

I failed. By her sorcery and black magic, she evaded my claymore at the last possible moment. A guttural cry erupted from my chest as my sword cut naught but air. I knew then, it was over. We were defeated. Narnia was lost forever.

When my hooves struck earth, I instantly turned, but her wand, her wicked, evil, destructive wand that had destroyed many of my fellow Narnians, struck my chest, and the world went dark.

It seemed but a moment later, when I felt His breath on me. Like the cool air coming off of the waves when one stands on the cliffs overlooking the Eastern Sea, it was a breath of renewal. Of hope. And yes, of life. I awoke out of my statue of stone to look on His wonderful face, as the smiling gaze of the Almighty Lion looked on me. "Fear not, Oreius" came His words, "for Narnia has been victorious on this day!" And I raised my head to look on the field of battle, the field of victory. Our enemies lay dead on Beruna's plain, and those who survived were fleeing and being pursued by our forces. It was finished. The Lion had returned from beyond the shadow, and the day was won.

Peter and his siblings were crowned in the great hall of Cair Paravel as those of us who survived the fight at Beruna looked on with joy and pride. The honored dead were buried, and I personally laid you into the ground, marking your gravesite with these words on the stone slab, "Let all who pass by here know that this is hallowed ground, for here lies one who gave his life for the liberty of Narnia."

...

...

...

...

And now here I stand, before your final resting place which overlooks the sight of Narnia's greatest victory. I struggle to hold my emotions in check, but I fail. Why? I wonder. I did not know him, not even his name. Yet I weep. As I stand before your grave, I wonder of your history. Perhaps you were one of the rebels who took part in the many small uprisings against Jadis, only to be crushed by the power of the wand? Were your family, wife and children, slaughtered at the hands of the ogres, orcs, wraiths, and other foul creatures that raped and pillaged our land? Did you have friends who fell fighting them? Or were you one of those who had served Jadis, and had repented and joined Aslan to atone for your past actions? Regardless your past, I cannot help but feel honored to have fought alongside you, to have defied our oppressors in one last reckless charge to save our king.

I do not know your name, but I call you Friend. And I bid you rest in peace, and pray Aslan that He will provide you a resting place in His country. Abide in the light of the Lion, brave Rhinoceros, and in this, take pleasure – you have no need to think sorrowfully on the country you left behind, for now we are free once again. As I serve the Lion and the High King, your example will forever be before me. As I carry the King's standard into battle, I will keep your standard high in my mind, and will find it great pleasure to give my life for my Narnia – OUR Narnia – as you did.

This I swear to you.

Rest in peace, Friend.

And as the sun rose over the banks of Beruna, Oreius left the gravesite and returned to Cair Paravel, where a new Narnia – a FREE Narnia - awaited his service.