FicWad

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THE LION, THE CAT AND THE TURTLES
Chapter Four:
What Aslan Said



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Susan Pevensie had been twelve years old when she had first stepped through the magical wardrobe and been brought to the land of Narnia, the land of the dwarfs and fauns, the dryads and river-gods and talking beasts.

Now, Susan Palmer (formerly Pevensie) was in her late seventies, and for the first time in decades she allowed herself to remember it fully. She remembered the battles, the parties, the tournaments, the fair castle Cair Paravel. She remembered the mermaids and the centaurs, the dear old talking beavers... and she remembered how she had felt when she'd been crowned Queen of Narnia, to rule the country alongside her brothers and sister.

And above all, she remembered Aslan, the great lion, the king over all kings of Narnia; as wild and ferocious as a thunderstorm and yet as mild and gentle as the softest summer rain. He was not, as so many Narnians were fond of saying, a tame lion; he always came and went exactly as he wanted and it was often impossible to predict his next move. You never knew quite where you had him... but you knew you could always trust him.

Or so Susan had thought.

As she looked over at the odd gathering of guests in her living room, feeling the memories well up again and feeling the many unshed tears burn on her cheeks, she wondered briefly if remembering everything was worth it, when she came down to it.

For the first time in years, probably because she was suddenly having unknown visitors, Susan realized just how overcrowded, filled with things, her apartment was. It was actually fairly large, but seemed much smaller because there was so little free space anywhere. Her living room alone had more chairs and pieces of furniture than one woman could possibly need, the walls were so crammed with pictures, paintings, framed photographs and kids' drawings (the carefully conserved artwork of children and grandchildren) that it was almost impossible to tell what color the wallpaper was. Trinkets and souvenirs and "conversation pieces" filled up shelves and tables and the top of the television.

She didn't even know what she needed all those things for anymore. She had just gotten into the habit of not throwing anything away, and it showed on her apartment. Some of the things she had here were several decades old, and hadn't been looked properly at by anyone for almost as long.

The only guest clearly not concerned about knocking things over was the cat; probably because he was the only one small enough to move about with complete ease. While all the others had hurried to find chairs and sit down before an accident could happen, the cat spent some time sniffing around and examining the room with great interest. Despite the fact that the cat was completely normal-looking; the sort of housecat you could find just about anywhere, Susan found her eyes drawn to him more than any of the other, more bizarre-looking guests.

An actual, talking cat. Who had, as one of the first things he'd said, mentioned Aslan.

For a brief moment, Susan had been twelve years old again and back in Narnia.

Now, she was sitting in her own living room with what was probably the oddest bunch that had ever set foot inside that building: Three gigantic humanoid turtles wearing belts, masks and carrying strange weapons; a smaller but still huge humanoid rat wearing some kind of robe, a normal-looking tomcat that spent his time in roughly equal parts acting like a normal cat and chatting up a storm... and a young woman, in her late twenties or early thirties, who looked like as far as she was concerned, this was all completely normal.

"And now you know our story, Mrs. Palmer," said the rat -- Splinter -- who put Susan in mind of some of the older centaurs she had known in Narnia; wise, gentle and kind, but with a definite edge to him that suggested that he wasn't someone to cross. "We apologize for intruding on your home like this, but I hope you understand why we needed to."

Susan nodded, trying to pull herself together. "I... understand. It's just been so long," she muttered. "I'm sorry about that crying scene out there.... and about my reaction on the telephone earlier." (She glanced at one of the Turtles, who had identified himself as the same "Mike" who had called her earlier in the day.) "It just came so... well... for decades, I've been convincing myself that it was all just a dream, a silly childhood game..."

"Why'd you wanna do that?" said Mike, looking genuinely curious. "If it had been me who got to hang out with a talking lion in a magical land..."

"I never 'hung out' with him, as you put it," said Susan. She felt old again; old and tired and overwhelmed by everything. "He was more... I don't know. He showed up from time to time, but mostly only when we needed him. No, there were other times as well. But he never stayed for very long at a time." She sighed. "And the last time I saw him... I suppose that was when everything went wrong."




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It was at the end of Susan's second visit to Narnia -- after the crowning of Caspian the Tenth, whom Susan and her siblings had helped gain the throne that was his birthright. It was early in the morning, just after breakfast, when Aslan had asked Susan and Peter to walk with him, a little way away from everyone.

"Your time in Narnia is soon at an end," the lion said in a quiet voice, as soon as they were far enough away that they wouldn't be overheard. "You must prepare to return to your own world now."

"Already?" Susan felt the disappointment well up inside her. They'd only been in Narnia for a few days this time around, and she had been looking forward to a longer stay, now that the evil Miraz was gone and everything was coming out all right again.

"I'm afraid so," said Aslan. "Children, there are a few things I must tell you -- and I must tell them to you now. Once you have gone back to your own world, the two of you can never return to Narnia."

Susan saw Peter's eyes widen in shock. "Never?" he said.

"Never," the lion answered. His voice was as mild and gentle as ever, but his words pierced Susan's heart like sharp daggers. "Understand this: You are growing too old. As you have got to know Narnia, you now need to get to know your own world. That is where you belong."

"No!" Susan wanted to shout it out, but it had come out more like a very undignified croak. "Aslan, this is where we belong! You can't tell us to leave Narnia and never come back!" Her voice grew louder, stronger, even as tears gathered in her eyes: "We've done everything you asked, and now you're rewarding us by kicking us out of our home?! You can't --"

"Daughter of Eve...!" said Aslan, a slight roar lurking underneath his voice and threatening to emerge, and Susan knew she had gone much too far.

"Yes, Aslan. Sorry, Aslan," she said meekly. Of all the times she had been chastised in her life, this one ranked as the single worst. Aslan said nothing more, and it was over in mere seconds, but that hint of a roar directed at her felt ten times worse than an hour-long screaming session from anyone else would have.

Peter just looked at her. She could sense he wanted to say something to her, and that this something probably wasn't very nice, but that he decided against it. Instead, he turned back to Aslan. "I... think I understand," he said, somewhat hesitantly. "I suppose we've had our time, right?"

"Son of Adam," said Aslan. "Your time, and everyone else's, has always been right now. It's up to everyone to spend it wisely, whether it they live in Narnia or elsewhere." He paused, looking at both Peter and Susan, his eyes lingering slightly longer on Susan as if he wanted to make sure she was getting this. "We will all see each other again someday, but it will not be in Narnia. This land will be closed to you forever after, and there is nothing you, or I, can do to make it otherwise."

Peter nodded, as if he understood. "What about Edmund and Lucy, though?" he said. "Won't they come back to Narnia either?"

Aslan looked at him. "Only time will tell you -- and them -- that," was all he said.

To Susan, this sounded an awful lot like a confirmation that her two younger siblings would indeed get to come back to Narnia. They could still return to the land that she herself would soon be locked out of forever. She knew it was probably a bad thing to be jealous, but she couldn't help herself -- she, Queen Susan the Gentle, famed and beloved for her kindness and generosity, was feeling horribly jealous of her brother and sister.

"Be of good cheer," said Aslan, as if he had guessed what she thought. "Once a king or queen in Narnia, always a king or queen. Do what you can, with what you have, where you are, and no-one can ask anything more of you."

It was some time later when Peter and Susan returned to the others. The last part of the conversation with Aslan had mostly been about practical things about their journey home and how everything was to be arranged. Susan tried to be of good cheer, as Aslan had said, but it was terribly difficult, and she wasn't at all sure she managed to fool her brother with her fake smiles as they walked back.

"Come off it, Su," he said. "If that phony grin of yours gets any wider, your face is going to split in half. A fair sight that would be, for the Narnians, as they get their last glimpse of the beautiful Queen Susan." He chuckled, but then grew serious again. "Look, I'm sure Aslan didn't mean that you weren't allowed to be upset that we can't return to Narnia."

"But why can't we?" Susan sighed, letting go of her smile with some relief. "We're younger now than we were when -- I mean, last time we were in Narnia, we were here so long that we were all grown-ups in the end. During all those years, nobody told us we were too old. Not to mention, I'm no older now than you were when we first arrived, so I don't see how it can make any sense anyway! Why is it all right for you to visit Narnia at the age of thirteen, but when I'm thirteen, I'm suddenly too old?"

Peter shook his head. "I don't make the rules, Su," he said. "I think we just have to accept that some things have to end. Our time in Narnia was wonderful, but it's finished now. I think what Aslan was trying to say was that it's time to live in our own world, you know, succeed on our own terms. Not use Narnia to escape from our lives there. I know how you feel, but --"

"Oh, you do, do you?" Susan interrupted, speaking a little more harshly than she had intended.

"Of course I do. I just went through the exact same thing as you did, remember?!"

Susan didn't answer. For one brief, fleeting moment, she resented her brother; he was the High King, he always took everything in stride, he never did anything wrong and never felt anything that he shouldn't. How could he know anything about how she felt right now?

But the feeling vanished almost as soon as it had come. She couldn't blame Peter for this. She couldn't even blame Edmund and Lucy. None of this was their fault, not in the least. It wouldn't be right for her to spoil their last moments in Narnia together. She couldn't blame the Narnians either -- she supposed she owed it to them to part from them graciously.

She could, however, blame Aslan. He was the one who took it all away from her. He was the one she'd thought she could trust above all else, the one who would never let her down... and he had. Deep down, she knew she was being childish and silly, but... since she was being a good girl, putting on her best face and trying to take everything in stride like Peter did, and pretending that her heart didn't break at all at the thought of never returning, she thought she needed to be childish and silly and feel sorry for herself on at least some level, even if nobody but her ever knew.

When Caspian later offered her horn back, she told him to keep it -- as fit her image as the kind and generous queen, but in reality it was mostly because she didn't think she could bear having anything from Narnia with her to remind herself that she couldn't ever come back.




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"Wait, what's this horn you're talking about?" said one of the Turtles -- Donatello, if Susan remembered correctly.

"Oh, sorry," said Susan. "I kind of forgot myself when I was talking. For a moment there, I thought you were Narnian creatures."

"I'm from Manhattan," Klunk offered, having grown bored with his exploration and jumped up in Mike's lap. "Dunno exactly where I was born. Mike found me wandering around in the snow one Christmas, and decided to take me in. I've been with him ever since. But apparently, before I met Aslan, I couldn't actually talk. I always thought I could, but I guess I was wrong."

Susan held back a smile. "Well, the horn I was talking about was one of my dearest possessions back then... and one of Narnia's greatest treasures... in fact, Narnians used to call me 'Queen Susan of the Horn' because of that. It was a magical horn that I could blow in if I was in danger... help would always come when I did. That was how Caspian called us back to Narnia that second time. He blew the horn and I was pulled back to Narnia together with my siblings."

"Lemme get this straight," said the third Turtle -- Raphael -- who had been silent until now. "At first, you come into this Narnia place through a wardrobe, and then, after havin' spent several years there you came back to this world. Then, one year later, you go back to Narnia because some guy blows a magic horn, and then you're kicked out -- am I missing anything?"

"That's a very crude way of putting it," said Susan. "But yes, I suppose so. After that... well, I suppose I just wanted to forget everything. Call it a sort of petty revenge against Aslan."

"You felt betrayed and hurt," said April. There was a sense of understanding in her eyes, and for a moment, Susan wondered what this young woman had been through in her life.

She decided not to ask, just nodded in answer to April's comment. "My siblings kept wanting to talk about Narnia after that, but... I couldn't. I pretended I didn't remember. After a while, I think I managed to convince myself I didn't remember, or didn't believe. There couldn't actually have been a land with talking animals and other things you only find in fairytales. But..." and here she looked at Klunk again. "Here you are."

"And in need of your help, Mrs. Palmer," said Splinter. "Please. You are the only one who can help us find Leonardo."

Susan felt ashamed of herself. Queen Susan the Gentle, indeed -- here she was complaining about things that had happened over fifty years ago, all while these creatures were looking to her for assistance. They were probably worried sick over their lost family member. "I would very much like to help you," she said silently. "But... I don't know how to. I can't open doors between worlds. Not on my own."

"Aslan believed you could," said Splinter.

"Aslan..." Susan sighed wistfully. "I don't know what he thinks I can do. We didn't exactly part on good terms."

"I do not believe he is angry with you," said Splinter gently. "I believe he misses you. As any father would miss his children."

"But that's just it," Mrs. Palmer said. "He's not my father. He's just... just..." she searched for the right word.

"The king?" Klunk suggested.

"Yes... that's as good a name for it as any," she muttered. "Thank you."

"Noooo problem."

"Obviously, he still thinks of you as his daughter, even if you do not think of him as your father," said Splinter. "He would not have named you as such if he hadn't sincerely felt that it was so. After all, there are many different kinds of fatherhood."

Susan sighed again and shook her head.

"Can't we just find that wardrobe again?" said Mike, obviously trying to make light of the situation. "Ya know what happened to it?"

"Not in any great detail, I'm afraid. I think it was sold on an auction after its original owner lost his fortune and his house," said Susan, remembering how sad old Professor Kirke had been to see his house, with all his precious furniture, go. (He had even recruited the help of Peter to go around with a camera to take pictures of his house and most treasured belongings, so that he would at least have some photographs to remember them by. The memory was both silly and sad at the same time.) "I have no idea where it is now, or even if it still exists. If it does, it's almost certainly still in England and would be impossible to track. I'm sorry, but I have no idea how to help you."

"You must know a way, Mrs. Palmer," Splinter insisted. "Even if you might not remember it, you know it. You just need to find it."

"What Master Splinter is too polite to say;" Raphael interrupted, "is that we're not leaving until you find some way of gettin' Leo back, so start wringin' your brain."

"Raphael...!" Splinter snapped, but without very much force to it.

"Well, maybe we can find another wardrobe?" said Mike, who obviously felt that the subject of wardrobes wasn't quite out-debated yet. "Hey, yeah! If one wardrobe works, why not another?"

"Because," said Susan with a sigh, "that wardrobe was special. One of a kind. It was made out of wood from a tree that hailed from Narnia. You... couldn't..." She heard her own voice trail off as, all of a sudden, Aslan's voice came back to her -- as strong and clear as if it had been only minutes since she talked to him last and not years:

"Once a king or queen in Narnia, always a king or queen. Do what you can, with what you have, where you are, and no-one can ask anything more of you."

Could he possibly mean...?

"...Couldn't what?" said Mike, waiting for a continuation.

"I think I have an idea;" said Susan, casting a glance at the picture of herself and her siblings from so long ago. "It's absolutely absurd, but..."

The Turtles, Splinter, April and Klunk all leant closer as she paused, as if afraid that the idea would vanish if they kept too much of a distance from her.

"Please tell me that your next words are going to be 'but it just might work,'" said Donatello.

Almost despite herself, Susan felt a smile well up from inside.



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To be continued....
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Author's Notes: Man, Susan completely stole the show in this chapter, didn't she? Oh well -- sometimes you just need to go with the exposition. There'll be plenty more Turtle (and Talking Klunk) action in later chapters. And next chapter, of course, we'll be back with Leonardo in Narnia!

In case anyone's wondering: I got Susan's and the other Pevensies' ages from the "Narnian timeline" written by C. S. Lewis, which was never actually referenced in any of the Narnian books but is accepted as canonical by most "Lewis scholars." According to this timeline, Susan was born in 1928, and the first trip to Narnia was in 1940, making her twelve years old at the time (Peter is thirteen, Edmund ten and Lucy eight). She was thirteen during her second and last visit to Narnia, and twenty-one during the events of The Last Battle, which according to the timeline happened in 1949.

Her comment about the "too old" part not making any sense... well, reading through the Narnian timeline, it really doesn't make any sense. When told that they're "too old" to visit Narnia anymore, Peter is fourteen and Susan thirteen... but Peter was thirteen during his first visit to Narnia. Why is Susan too old at thirteen, when Peter wasn't? To make things even more confusing, when Edmund and Lucy have their last visit to Narnia and are told that they're too old, Edmund is twelve and Lucy is ten -- both younger than Peter was during the first visit! And then, according to the timeline, when Eustace and Jill visit Narnia for the last time, they're both sixteen! (I'll admit that the circumstances in The Last Battle are probably unique, though.) It might be tied to the random and unpredictable way time passes between Narnia and our world, though... it's quite possible that the "too old" age is meant to be similarly random.

Aslan's quote, "do what you can, with what you have, where you are," is borrowed from Theodore Roosevelt, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind.

It's an interesting challenge, writing Aslan. In the books, he's an unmistakable Christ figure, but I've toned this part of him down just a bit, presenting him more as a more neutrally god-like "king of a realm." There are several reasons for this: but the most important one is because the symbolism of the books get a bit too heavy-handed for me at times (particularly in The Last Battle ) and I didn't want what is basically a fairly straightforward, none-too-complicated crossover between two canons I enjoy to be bogged down with a lot of heavy-handed religious symbolism.

On the other hand, you can't completely ignore the Christian overtones to the character either, because they are part of what makes him who he is -- and completely going away from them would be to seriously misrepresent the character. So I'm walking a pretty thin borderline here, trying to make him as... Aslan as I can without at the same time blatantly presenting him as Jesus. (I'm more or less using the 2005 movie The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe as a guideline here; that movie, I felt, struck just about the right balance. You can take note of the parallels if you want, and you can ignore them if you want that. )

Whether I've managed or not, I'll leave up to you to decide -- but one thing was clear to me from the very start, and that was that I couldn't write a TMNT/Narnia crossover and not include Aslan. So even though he's not a major character here, he'll definitely continue to be around, whether it's in flashbacks like here, or in the story itself.