with the return of the army and the high king, cair paravel is a riot of color and laughter, and gwen finds herself nearly swallowed up as she wanders amidst it.
she's special here, unusual and exotic and foreign -- not just because she's from camelot, but because she's human. "what will uther say when he finds out?" she'd asked morgana once.
"i don't know and i don't care," morgana had replied, full of high spirits, her eyes on the ocean beyond the window. "i don't mean to go back to camelot."
"but my lady --" gwen had protested, but morgana rose and was gone. gwen hadn't seen her the rest of the day, or queen susan either.
cair paravel has gone from being nearly empty to being full to bursting overnight, and everywhere gwen goes she finds people laughing, talking, making love. uther's dire predictions aside -- and what will he say when arthur or morgana tells him, because they can't keep this a secret -- narnia does not seem like an evil land; it seems like one more full of life than anything gwen's ever known.
"the army will not stay here forever," a gentle voice says, and gwen drops the stack of towels she's carrying as one of narnia's creatures steps out of an alcove.
"i'm so sorry," she murmurs, bending immediately to pick them up, and the faun goes down beside her. he holds out the last towel for her.
"my name is tumnus," he says as they rise to their feet. "i am a friend of queen lucy's."
in other words, chances are very good that he more than outranks her, but she hasn't quite figured out narnia's system of rank and privilege and nobility yet. "i'm gwen," she says. "guinevere, really, but everyone calls me gwen. i'm lady morgana's maidservant, i came from camelot."
"why, then, my lady," tumnus says, catching one hand as she balances the towels in the curve of her opposite arm. he presses his lips to the air above it. "narnia is honored to have you."
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she's special here, unusual and exotic and foreign -- not just because she's from camelot, but because she's human. "what will uther say when he finds out?" she'd asked morgana once.
"i don't know and i don't care," morgana had replied, full of high spirits, her eyes on the ocean beyond the window. "i don't mean to go back to camelot."
"but my lady --" gwen had protested, but morgana rose and was gone. gwen hadn't seen her the rest of the day, or queen susan either.
cair paravel has gone from being nearly empty to being full to bursting overnight, and everywhere gwen goes she finds people laughing, talking, making love. uther's dire predictions aside -- and what will he say when arthur or morgana tells him, because they can't keep this a secret -- narnia does not seem like an evil land; it seems like one more full of life than anything gwen's ever known.
"the army will not stay here forever," a gentle voice says, and gwen drops the stack of towels she's carrying as one of narnia's creatures steps out of an alcove.
"i'm so sorry," she murmurs, bending immediately to pick them up, and the faun goes down beside her. he holds out the last towel for her.
"my name is tumnus," he says as they rise to their feet. "i am a friend of queen lucy's."
in other words, chances are very good that he more than outranks her, but she hasn't quite figured out narnia's system of rank and privilege and nobility yet. "i'm gwen," she says. "guinevere, really, but everyone calls me gwen. i'm lady morgana's maidservant, i came from camelot."
"why, then, my lady," tumnus says, catching one hand as she balances the towels in the curve of her opposite arm. he presses his lips to the air above it. "narnia is honored to have you."