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Chapter 2, Alpaca Bag

Susan's hopes for a glass of wine to celebrate one diplomatic crisis hopefully averted were thwarted by the Eagle, Trice, winging down over the Cair Paravel towers just as the Gryphons and Crows cleared the harbour on the north and east heading to Galma.

"I found them!" Trice cried. The Eagle circled down on to the lawns "Queen Susan! I found the Llamas! I tried to get them to turn around but they wouldn't listen and are headed straight for the Giants' Teeth! If we don't stop them, they're going to get eaten!"

It was days like this when Susan wished Love was not a Hell Bitch.

But Love was a Hell Bitch which meant that Susan had to groom and tack Love herself, even though she was in a frightful rush and trying to do many things at once. She rattled off orders to the Armsmaster and Swordmaster on the Birds to scout the trail ahead and the swift company to follow behind her as everyone yammered about how Flax and Shadow did not appreciate that calling the mountains that marked part of Narnia's northern border with the Ettins the Giants' Teeth was in no way poetic license.

Love being anything but loving made it all far more complicated.

"You are a terrible burden to me, Love," Susan cooed, tightening the girth on the saddle. The mare rolled her whitened eyes to glare at a passing Dryad groom and raised her back leg in Lambert's direction.

"Oh, do stop with the theatrics." Susan nudged Love so the mare had to shift her weight and the threatening hoof dropped again to the ground.

"Thank you," Lambert said. The sound of his voice made Love pin her ears back flat.

Surely Edmund and Peter always calling the mare Hell Bitch made the poor thing even more defensive, especially of male voices.

Susan did have to be honest about the mare's appalling behavior, though. Male gender and name calling notwithstanding, everyone, save for Susan herself, was in danger of a savage bite or kick. Granted, at least if one of the Dryad grooms was bitten, he or she would simply lose a little sap and sprout a new limb. But just because a Dryad could grow another branch to replace the one that Love had savagely ripped off didn't mean that it didn't hurt when it happened.

"There is no rival for my affection, Love." Susan let the mare rub her head all up and down her front, leaving a trail of gray and white hairs. She adjusted her bow to her back, shouldered her horn across her side, and with a bounce, swung up to the saddle. Love impatiently pawed the ground, eager to be away.

"Trice! Lead the way! Let's find our wayward Llamas and bring them home!"

And tie them to a barn wall.
Would giving Flax a compass and teaching Shadow how to read it solve this problem?
Or was it just that Llama heads were so narrow, there really wasn't space up there with all the teeth and spit?

With some Beasts so very difficult, Susan did wonder at Aslan's wisdom sometimes. Perhaps, the Lion hadn't fully appreciated the repercussions to giving Kangaroos, Hummingbirds, and Otters speech? Or that in giving Llamas insatiable wanderlust, why hadn't Aslan also provided a better directional sense – or, even any sense at all?

They trotted out of the stable yard and with a light pressure Susan applied to her sides, Love broke into an eager canter. Lambert loped next to them and two other Wolves, Lyall and Daci, were fore and rear for extra guard and to provide toothy persuasion for obstinate Llamas. Susan directed Love to the North Path, one, unfortunately that the mare knew well. With the many Ettin incursions, and the yearly testing of the borders by their hostile Giant neighbors, the North Path was used far more often than was peaceable.

Deer scattered and birds took flight as they loped along the trail. There were some cheery calls of the Woodland Narnians to their Queen. Susan waved to her kindly subjects but today was not for visiting, sitting on stumps and politely nibbling the generously offered but ill-tasting fibrous bark biscuits and bitter dandelion stems.

Susan drew Love in a little; the mare was eager and they needed a calm, steady lope that could be sustained, not a hard, tiring gallop. Glancing to the side, the Wolves were following easily – Lambert was accustomed to this pace and Lyall and Daci were strong and swift.

If they'd been further east, they would have had to track the Llamas through the dense Owlwood by scent. But this path was into the open, first damp marsh, then rising to rolling hills in the north and west. Trice flew ahead, circling to mark the trail, waiting until they caught up, and then flying on again. So long as there was light, they could keep this up for hours.

At the fording of the Shribble, Susan called for a brief halt to water. Trice spiraled down and landed awkwardly on the bank. "We've almost caught up to them, Queen Susan. You might even be able to see them, white Flax leading with her black Shadow behind. They're just over the bank on the other side, and already at the foot of the Giants' Teeth."

"And still no sign of Ettins?" Susan asked. This time of year, the Giants frequently came down from the Teeth to look for Narnian game amongst the young of the herds, and never tried to distinguish between Talking and dumb.

"Not yet, Queen Susan.," Trice replied. "I've checked all the caves in the Teeth, and haven't seen anything."

"The caves that we know of," Susan corrected grimly.

"Aye," Trice agreed. A honeycomb of subterranean caverns and tunnels beneath Ettinsmoor and throughout the Teeth allowed the Giants to move about, unseen, until they were nearly to the Narnian border. The caves' complexity and engineering were beyond the ken of the Ettins who now used them – yet another unsavoury relic inherited from Narnia's prior management, as Edmund called it.

"I can see the company coming behind us, too; they aren't far."

Love lifted her head, water dripping from her muzzle, and looked about, but it was only because she had drunk her fill; she was not reacting to any threat the sensitive mare perceived. "Hopefully we will be back across the River and heading home by the time we meet them." Susan gathered the reins and Love obligingly dipped her shoulder to make it easier to mount. She settled again in the saddle.

The Wolves had trotted to the top of the rise, and had their heads up, sniffing the air. From their postures, the Wolves had scented nothing concerning and they would likely be able to sense anything approaching underground.

Empty though they seemed to be, these tense borderlands were oppressive and the Ettins watched them as carefully as Narnia did. Unless they wanted to be seen and to make a point of Narnian might, in this territory, they always moved in unprovocative, swift, discreet groups. They didn't want to goad the Giants into feeling they had to respond – for when they did, it was always violent.

Not hazarding a loud call to the Wolves, Susan waved and trotted toward them. It was time to collect their wandering Llamas before they became Ettin stew, and turn back for home.

The Sun was well into her downward descent and the air much brisker and cooler when they finally caught up with Flax and Shadow.

Though Llamas had no sense, Aslan had blessed them with surprising speed. Flax and Shadow were already, and uncomfortably, at the foot of the Giants' Teeth and skillfully beginning the climb up a rocky slope. It was worryingly noisy. Their hooves sent rocks and pebbles clicking and bouncing back down the incline and Flax kept up a loud, running commentary of every obvious step. "Watch that turn, Shadow!" "Right? Why would we go right? Left is faster!" "We'll be there in no time." "Don't tell me I'm going too slow!"

Lyall and Daci circled around and manage to get ahead of Flax and Shadow and cut off their forward climb. The Wolves planted themselves on the narrow, rocky path.

"Oi! You! Dogs! Out of my way!" Flax bared her long, yellow teeth.

Shadow was looking about and saw Susan riding up behind them. He snaked his neck about and nipped Flax on the rump.

"What?" Flax snapped and turned her head around. Her ears went even flatter against her surly skull than even Love could manage.

"Your Queen orders you to hold!" Susan called. She needed to command their attention but it wasn't wise to speak loudly. Sound carried far over this still, jagged landscape and through the caves of the Teeth.

"Oh. It's you."

"Insolence!" Daci growled. "You dare to speak to your Queen so when she comes here to save you from certain death?"

It was crowded on the path and the footing wasn't good, but Love was nimble and, by putting weight on her hind quarters, gamely pushed her way up to join the others on the slope.

"Save me?" Flax scoffed. "You told us we could go look for the Garden Lord Digory and Lady Polly found that they rode to on the Flying Llama."

Shadow grumbled.

"Yeah, I don't know how two humans rode a Flying Llama either," Flax said in an apparent response to the always silent Shadow.

"Perhaps the Lady Polly and Lord Digory succeeded because Fledge was a Horse, not a Llama?" Lambert spoke so dryly Susan had to swallow a dry guffaw.

"And you know that because you were there?" Flax retorted.

"No more than you were, Llama," Lambert said.

Both Shadow and Flax barred their teeth and pulled their head backs; the Wolves, to their credit, didn't flinch though spit was surely going to fly.

"Hold!" Susan ordered. "Shadow, Flax, truly, your Monarchs have no quarrel with your quest but you are dangerously astray and off course and we must leave here at once."

Shadow grunted and shook his head.

"Right," Flax said, responding to Shadow. "There's nothing wrong. There's nothing here."

"Except the Giants that will eat you?" Lyall had inherited the sardonic humour from his father, Lambert.

Shadow snorted.

"Yeah, what Shadow said," Flax countered, though of course Shadow had said nothing at all. "There aren't any Giants in the Western Wild. You dogs were never very smart. There's a reason why He and She Llamas were on Aslan's Council."

"Aslan chose He and She Ravens, not Llamas, for the First Great Council," Lyall countered.

Flax pinned her ears back flatter still. "How do you know? Were you there? No, you weren't."

"Well, neither were you," Daci said. Flax bared her teeth at the Wolf.

"But you were to go West," Susan put in before this devolved into a typical, fur-flying, Narnian argument. Ask three Narnians a question and you would get four answers.

She pointed to where the Sun was sliding down below the mountains. "There. The Sun is going down, in the West. It rises from Aslan's own Country, at the end of the Eastern Sea, in the East. You are not going West. You are going North, into Ettinsmoor where, if you are caught by the Giants who live here, you will surely be eaten."

Her point was punctuated by several dire things all occurring at once. Trice, still circling overhead, cried out – making a sound that would seem like that of a dumb eagle but that any Narnian recognized as a warning.

Rocks and pebbles began sliding and bouncing down the slope; the three Wolves all raised their noses and growled; beneath her Love snorted and shied.

"My Queen!"

"Yes, Lambert, I know. Easy, Love, we're leaving in a moment." She steadied the mare between her legs and loosened the rope looped on her saddle – Peter's idea she would now threaten. "You, Flax and Shadow, you have endangered Us and yourselves. Giants are coming and if you do not come with me, now, you will die, horribly. On My Authority, these Wolves may bite and chase you, all the way back to Narnia." She brandished the rope. "I shall make you suffer the indignity of rope around your necks and haul you back myself, with these Wolves driving you onward, if you do not comply. I am your Queen, sworn to protect what you are determined to throw away and I shall save you, if you are too foolish to save yourselves."

The earth began to shake and a stench of filth and rotten eggs rolled over them.

Before the Llamas could respond, Susan signaled to the Wolves. Growling and snapping, the Wolves lunged at the hapless Llamas and drove them past her and down the slope. Love spun about to go after them. Susan gave the mare her head and let her harry and nip the Llamas. Together, they galloped Shadow and the vociferously protesting Flax down and out of the Teeth, over the plain and back across the Shribble.

Only muted roars and a putrid smell chased them.

ooOOoo

"You mean you've not heard the story of how Gale the Llama killed the Dragon of the Lone Islands?" Flax sounded deeply offended.

Unable to contain herself any longer, Daci snapped, "King Gale of Narnia was not a Llama!"

"And you were there?" Flax said, for the thirteenth time.

With a slicing hand downward, Susan silently reinforced the order to her disgruntled company to continue to let Flax ramble. They had met the troop from Cair Paravel at the fording of the Shribble and so they were a fine, large, relaxed company for the return home – a company who was becoming increasingly irritable at Flax's outlandish boasts. Susan, however, was enormously entertained and had decided to pass their leisurely trip by discerning just how much folklore and history of Narnia had been appropriated by Llamas.

The downside, however, was that Flax's cracked claims and insults were severely vexing the other Narnians, save Lambert. It was not in the Narnian nature to let a slight pass unchallenged. She and Lambert had both learned greater equanimity during their long years in diplomatic endeavors.

"I believe I have heard the story," Lambert temporized, "though possibly the role of the noble Llama was omitted."

"How can you tell the story of Gale the Llama killing the Dragon and conquering the Lone Islands without talking about Gale the Llama?"

"With effort, surely," Susan said.

Shadow grunted.

"I'm getting to that," Flax said. "Llamas obviously have been slaying monsters for a long time. If you'd given us the chance, Shadow and I would've brought those Giants down."

"As Olvin the Llama did in defeating the Giant Pire to win the hand of the fair Lady Llama Liln?" Susan asked.

"I'm glad someone got the story right!" Flax crowed as Shadow chuffed his approval.

Casting a sly look that Susan knew to be wary of, Lambert blandly said, "Reports are that the sleigh of Father Christmas is drawn by magical, flying Llamas, who surely are descended of the great Llama, Fledge."

"Right you are! I've even…"

"No, it is not," Susan countered firmly. Really. I've had quite enough of this idiot's arrogance. "Large, brown reindeer draw Father Christmas' sleigh."

"And you were there?" Flax said, for the fourteenth time.

"As a matter of fact, yes, I was, as my Gifts of Horn and Bow attest" Susan said with satisfaction. "And I know for certain that you were not."

The guffaws, snorts, titters, and tail wags among the company so perturbed Love, the mare squealed and tried to kick Lyall. Susan called a halt to the prodding and the remainder of the ride home was quiet.

ooOOoo

It was late and dark when they finally entered the greater Palace proper. At this hour, Susan didn't want to foist the Llamas upon some poor innocent and she wanted to be sure they stayed put for the night.

She dismounted and walked with Lambert to consult. "I need to give them a short-term goal they can fix upon to the exclusion of all else."

"All the better if for the greater glory of Llamas," Lambert answered.

The solution came to her as they neared the pastures where the dumb herd was kept as game for the Carnivores.

"You have the important duty of protecting the dumb goats and sheep for the rest of the night, from the dumb predators only. Do you understand?"

Though she emphasized the point repeatedly, they were off to a bad start as soon as Susan turned the Llamas in with the dumb herd. Shadow promptly rushed the Wolves, growling and spitting at them and Flax chased the sheep and goats away to the far end of the pasture. "We'll keep you safe from those things with big teeth."

Guard llamas worked well in Archenland; why couldn't supposedly more intelligent ones work in Narnia? On that path surely lay a pounding headache.

"Consult Banker Morgan," Lambert suggested. "She can manage Otters. Perhaps she can be successful with Llamas."

Cheery torches and welcoming guards at the entry gate of the Palace's outer walls lightened the night and her mood. The company peeled off to find their own dens, stalls, roosts, and beds, leaving Susan, Lambert and Love to trudge onward to the stables.

As Love was the Hell Bitch, Susan couldn't yet see to her own fatigue and hunger and had to untack the mare, rub her down, and groom her. Love was weary enough that her attempts to bite and kick Lambert were very half-hearted.

"You've earned your rest, both of you," Susan said.

When Love's eyes were half-closed and her nose buried in a mound of sweet hay, Susan nudged the stall door closed with her hip and hung up the tack. "I'll clean it tomorrow. Or maybe someone will pity me and clean it before I wake up."

"Yes," Lambert said, sounding, Susan thought, a little odd. Her Guard had been very quiet as they'd come inside the Palace walls, though she had assumed it was to avoid riling Love. In the dim light of the barn, she had to step close to the Wolf to see him clearly. "Are you well, Friend?"

"I am, my Queen. You, however…"

Oh no.

"Lambert, are you drooling?"

The Wolf licked his jaws and the straw around her boots was damp. "For your sake, I fear so."

Susan went out of the barn and left behind the good, wholesome smells of straw, horse, and manure. She inhaled deeply.

And gagged.

Lambert at least had the courtesy to not seem happy about the offal smell. He managed to not wag his tail as she plodded up the path to the Palace. Her steps grew heavier as the malodour grew.

"King Edmund and Banker Morgan await you," Lambert said. How he could smell anything over the stink was a marvel of the Wolf nose.

Her brother and his wife were sitting on the grass at the base of the Palace's front steps, in a pool of lantern light, a puddle of blankets, and pillows scattered about them.

"Congratulations, sister," Edmund called, waving. "We received word from Trice. Through your auspices, our navigationally challenged Llamas are saved and our border peace preserved."

"And the Crows made it to Galma," Morgan added. "And good news from there, too. Peridan sent a Bird that The daisies are yellow."

That was Rat and Crow for "All is well, and, if it isn't, I should be able to fix it without paying a bribe so large it will bankrupt us."

"And the bad news, I can smell for myself," Susan replied, feeling glum and very grumpy.

"Well, on that front, the good news is that the stench cleared our head colds," Edmund said.

"The bad news is, we can now smell the stench, too," Morgan added. "Which is why we're camped out here for the night."

"Mr. Hoberry and Mrs. Furner left some things for you." Edmund gestured to a promising basket filled with useful, lovely, and tasty items that bore no resemblance to boiled guts and brains.

She sat on the step and Edmund rose from his nest to pour wine into a sturdy clay mug for her. Mr. Hoberry would deserve special commendation tomorrow for providing her favorite of the best Galman wines in the cellar.

She took several deep sips, feeling some of the tension leach out, and Edmund refilled her cup. As much as a wash would be nice, she wasn't going any closer to the Palace. Though, Mrs. Furner had surely anticipated her need – Susan thought that towel in the basket was wrapped around a skin of clean water. "What happened?"

"The usual." Edmund returned to his makeshift bedroll. "Tripping over a rug someone named Peter should not have been walking upon, bellowing, spilled soup, a thrown cookbook…"

"And thrown knife," Morgan injected. "Huge. Very sharp."

"Indeed," Edmund continued. "Then came more yelling and finally, tears and crying."

"I didn't know Cook could cry," Morgan mused. "The Physician and I are going to document it for a Calormene medical journal."

"And so, my gentle and sorely tested sister, we have attempted to anticipate your needs. You are welcome to join us out here for the night or you may find your own quiet place to plot revenge upon the High King of Narnia for which, short of murder, I grant you clemency. In advance."

"I told him he couldn't do that," Morgan retorted.

"A petition for appeal, my wife, I am happy to entertain…"

"And deny."

Susan rose and gathered her basket and a blanket. "Thank you for the offer, but I have an alternative, assuming assurance of your clemency."

"You do," Edmund said, far too glibly.

"I am going to spend the night with Love. Peter shall attend upon me there, in her stall, in the morning."

Edmund made a little yelping sound of pity. Morgan laughed.

"And if you renege on my promised clemency, you shall accompany him," Susan warned.

She lugged her basket and blanket back to the barn. Love was already down for the night, resting in the straw. She made no complaint when Susan settled next to her and shared the basket of bread, cheese, and cold meat with Lambert.

"It's not offal," she said, not-an-apology.

"I prefer the company here, to the food in the Palace, my Queen."

"As magnanimous as that sounds, Friend, I also know you prefer your guts raw rather than cooked."

"For which, again, I state that the company is superior recompense."

Lambert settled in the stall's doorway; his yellow eyes glowed in the dark, all the light she needed or wanted for the night. He would guard his Queen's repose.

Susan spread the blanket out in the soft straw and drew the covers about her. "Lambert, do you suppose the tale of Olvin the Llama's battle with the Giant Pire to win the hand of the fair Lady Llama Liln begins as all other Narnian tales do?"

"Surely."

In his beautiful voice, so melodic, even Love twitched a calm ear to listen, Lambert began, "Come now Gentle Beasts and Birds, come now Daughter of Eve, that might you hear of the Battle of the Giant Pire. To my pups I told this tale, as I learned it from my Dam and Sire, as they from theirs, back generation upon generation. The Gentle Beasts tell the tale in cave, nest, and den, in wood, mountain, meadow, and pond, so that we might remember it. For though Dwarfs build, and Birds fly, and Fauns dance, Naiads flow, and…"

"And Llamas get lost," Susan added. Lambert's voice would carry her to sleep.

"… for though Llamas get lost and Dryads green, the Good Beasts of Narnia remember. So, my Queen, heed my words. Stop and listen with your sensitive and gentle heart so that you may also know of the bravery of Olvin the Llama, his battle with the Giant Pire, and how Olvin won the hand… hoof, that is, of the fair Lady Llama Liln. Harken to me now."

"It begins thus…"

End

Rthstewart March 2015

I still owe a few very so grateful thank yous for the lovely comments and reviews.

The great llama escape can be seen here, Baby They Were Born To Run.  Or to the William Tell Overture.

Guard llamas are for real.

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