For Mulcahy

[treading_dawn]

There is a tang of winter in the air, the trees are bare, the lake is icy cold--and yet there is still the faintest scent of violets down by the waterline, sweet and heavy.

And should an observer be alert enough, he might catch a flash of gold out of the corner of his eye.

Comments

[cheerychaplain]

Father Mulcahy walks by the lakeside, thin army (summer) jacket drawn close around him. He likes to appreciate His wonders great and small, even when, he reflects wryly, they are cold as the dickens.

He pauses by the edge of the water and smiles. It smells like spring, even if it may still be a few months away here.

[treading_dawn]

Something is reflected in the water, a tawny-furred shape that is much larger than any lion has a right to be.

It opens its mouth, teeth sharp and white and--

Speaks.

"We are well met, Son of Adam, here at the end of all things."

[cheerychaplain]

Father Mulcahy freezes.

It is only for a second or two, though, as he stares at the wavering, rippling reflection.

("And He visits this bar, in the form of a lion.")

He turns.

Our Father, Who art in Heaven.

He removes his hat and touches his knee to the cold ground.

[treading_dawn]

"Rise, child. There need be none of that between us, here."

Warm golden eyes, bright and solemn and full of such love, never waver from the chaplain.

There is a rumbling purr deep in Aslan's chest, and he lowers his head a little to regard Mulcahy from a more comfortable height.

"Though I do have one question for you, to begin."

There is quick silence, as if all the world is waiting for the answer.

"Shall you walk with me a space?"

The day is, as it happens, far too cool for standing still to be entirely comfortable.

[cheerychaplain]

He looks up, face shining with quiet wonder, heart thumping wildly.

After a moment, he manages, "O-of course," and he gets up, brushing off his knees distractedly.

He couldn't tear his eyes from the Lion if he tried. "Where to?"

[treading_dawn]

Aslan's tail lashes at his flank for a moment, but his eyes never leave Father Mulcahy's.

"You choose the direction, dear one. I'll be right beside you."

[cheerychaplain]

He smiles, if faintly and a little shaky. "It's especially lovely by the water's edge, this time of year," he says, hat dangling from his hand.

[treading_dawn]

"So it is."

Aslan's voice is quiet but deep, and he takes one step forward, further along the bank.

"Shall we take its measure?"

[cheerychaplain]

His smile grows. "Certainly." The ground crunches under his feet; he has a momentary internal debate about his hat, but in the end, he fits it on his head.

[treading_dawn]

Aslan's side is close enough to touch as they begin picking their way around the lake. It is particularly helpful if they encounter any particularly rough going.

But aside from the soft rumble of his purring, for the moment Aslan is silent.

Waiting.

He has had a long time to practice that, after all.

[cheerychaplain]

Father Mulcahy walks quietly, glancing at the Lion once or twice, but never quite opening his mouth. He always has more than enough to say in his prayers, but -- this isn't the same. Not at all.

After a few moments, the footing does turn treacherous, ice hardened and slick despite the flowers that he almost thinks he can smell, and the priest stumbles. His hand finds purchase on the great Lion's side, buried in warm golden fur, and after a moment's hesitation, Mulcahy smiles faintly and lets his hand remain where it is. There have been, after all, plenty of times in his past when he has leaned on his faith.

Just never quite so literally.

His smile takes its time in fading, but once it has gone, Father Mulcahy is left solemn and thoughtful. Perhaps a touch weary. "Might I -- would it be terribly presumptuous of me to ask you a question?"

[treading_dawn]

"Questioning is nothing like presumption, dear one. There is little need to fear it so."

There is, however, nothing of rebuke in the Lion's voice, nor in his manner as he turns warm golden eyes to the chaplain, waiting for his questions.

"Though some questions are better answered from within, rather than without."

[cheerychaplain]

He walks quietly a moment or two.

Quiet, he says, "Does it ever end?"

[treading_dawn]

"All things end in time, child."

Aslan's whiskers brush lightly against the side of Mulcahy's face.

"But you knew that already, being here, as you are, at the end of all things."

[cheerychaplain]

"Yes," he says softly. "I suppose I did."

[treading_dawn]

"Some find that thought comforting enough, while others rail against it until their own time is done."

Aslan does not say 'which are you?'

That is because he is not the one that needs the answer.

[cheerychaplain]

He has no illusions about his own mortality, or about that of the world around him. "And war," he says, face pulled into a frown, "the people hating each other, hurting each other -- that would end, too."

The end of all things.

His frown slowly smooths out.

[treading_dawn]

Aslan inclines his head, golden eyes solemn and more than a little sad.

"So it will, and so it has, for those who enter my father's country. Though the road in is never an easy one, in the beginning."

[cheerychaplain]

He smiles faintly, even if it is more of a twitch of the lips than a full smile. "No, I would think not." His footsteps crunch quietly. He says, "Thank you."

[treading_dawn]

Aslan bends his head again, and his rough, warm, tongue rasps against Mulcahy's forehead.

His breath is sweet.

"You are always welcome, child."

Always.

And whether he keeps faith or not, he will never be alone. As, indeed, he is not alone now.

[cheerychaplain]

Father Mulcahy closes his eyes. There are no words for this, for the warmth and the light and the strange, quiet joy. He can only use what he knows.

Our Father, Who art in heaven,
Hallowed be Thy Name.
Thy Kingdom come.
Thy Will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses,
as we forgive those who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil.

He is not alone, and he never believes himself to be. It is simply a little more tangible for a short time, tonight.

Amen.