14 ♦ Blue river, it can't be found on any map that I know

[rhapsody_in]

[The blue nymph’s voice comes like the sound of water splashing, like icicles breaking. She is pale, thinner than she and any of her ilk would be in spring or summer, but she holds her head proudly above the frigid river waters that flow over her shoulders.]

Listen.

There is unrest now, stirrings among the peoples, rumors of coming strife. That Aslan is dead, that the White Queen’s strength is finally rising and the tide in Narnia is turning. The Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve, wherever they are, have prices on their heads. Some are mustering their courage and talk of taking up arms.

None of this concerns me. This river is mine, and those who live their lives on it are mine. I will not take up arms for anyone’s side but my own. I, and my dwellers, will leave all factions in peace providing the same courtesy is returned to us.

[She is aware that saying this can make her river a target. In truth, that’s of no concern to her; she’s not overflowed her banks since the winter settled over Narnia a century ago. Since then, in many places her river is frozen over but it still runs true underneath the ice. Just as she has.

Just as she’s tired of doing.

She smiles.]

May the best side win.

Comments

[to_dust]

[Riss drifts by her river, the spirit of an aspen, skin like white bark-- he has not been healthy since long before the winter. He will parch to death to spite himself.

There was another water spirit, once. He stood beside her stream through long summers. But even naiads can die.

Now he looks at the nymph, his gaze dull and cold.]

What do you gain by this? She might have forgotten you if you were more quiet in your defiance.

[rhapsody_in]

[The blue nymph welcomes Riss, would be happy to let him drink from her waters. Appreciation begets appreciation and she moves closer to the bank, not so much swimming as flowing with a slow current. The water rises, near where the dryad stands.]

I set my boundaries. It seemed the honorable thing to do.

[to_dust]

[She is not Lidah. Nobody else is either; he doesn't hold it against this nymph particularly.]

What is honour anymore, river lady? We will freeze and sleep again, or the children of Adam and Eve will chain us with bridges and fell us with axes again. I would almost welcome the winter again.

[rhapsody_in]

Nothing, if you're the sort who doesn't believe in it.

We will, and they'll do as much. But my river will remain mine, no matter what comes to pass.

[to_dust]

I have no faith we'll see the old days again. [He settles at the bank, with a rattle of dead branches.]

I am tired, blue nymph.

[rhapsody_in]

Nor do I, but I believe we might survive the new day.

Then drink, sir, and tell me your name if it please you.

[to_dust]

I am grateful for your hospitality, though I cannot accept.

I am Riss. [It is the hiss of wind through leaves and boughs.] What will we do tomorrow, when the throne is in one side's hands or another?

[rhapsody_in]

May I ask why? Forgive my saying so, sir, but you look parched.

Riss. A fine name. [She sinks lower in the water, just her neck and face above it. Her hair floats around her, blending into the water.] I expect I will still guard my river. And what of your plans?