This boy, Shasta, has a tough time of it from the get-go. He didn’t know his real father or mother and had been brought up by a fisherman. He ran away when the fisherman then tried to sell him to a nobleman. He and three others who were also escaping circumstances—a girl, Aravis, and two talking horses—were “chased by lions and forced to swim for their lives.” Then they were separated and almost discovered. He had to spend the night alone among the Tombs listening to howling jackals. Once they all met up again, they faced “the heat and thirst of their desert journey, and…they were almost at their goal when another lion chased them and wounded the girl.” Then, after he has risked life and limb to warn King Lune of Archenland of the invasion, what does the king and his hunting party do but race off, leaving Shasta to keep up on a troublesome horse as best as he can. He falls behind until he is on a dark and cold mountain road seemingly traveled by no one else. Naturally, Shasta begins to cry with exhaustion, hunger, and self-pity.
What put a stop to all this [crying] was a sudden fright. Shasta discovered that someone …was walking beside him. It was pitch dark and he could see nothing. And the Thing (or Person) was going so quietly that he could hardly hear any footfalls. What he could hear was breathing. His invisible companion seemed to breathe on a very large scale, and Shasta got the impression that it was a very large creature. And he had come to notice this breathing so gradually that he had really no idea how long it had been there. It was a horrible shock.
“Who are you?” he said, scarcely above a whisper.
“One who has waited long for you to speak,” said the Thing. Its voice was not loud, but very large and deep.
The Thing asked Shasta to tell It his troubles. At the end of his story, It said, “I do not call you unfortunate.”
“Don’t you think it was bad luck to meet so many lions?” said Shasta.
“There was only one lion,” said the Voice.
“What on earth do you mean? I’ve just told you there were at least two the first night, and—”
“There was only one: but he was swift of foot.”
“How do you know?”
“I was the lion. I was the lion who forced you to join with Aravis. I was the cat who comforted you among the houses of the dead. I was the lion who drive the jackals from you while you slept. I was the lion who gave the Horses the new strength of fear for the last mile so that you should reach King Lune in time. And I was the lion you do not remember who pushed the boat in which you lay, a child near death, so that it came to shore where a man sat…to receive you.”
“Who are you?” asked Shasta.
“Myself,” said the Voice, very deep and low so that the earth shook: and again “Myself,” loud and clear and gay; and then the third time “Myself,” whispered so softly you could hardly hear it, and yet it seemed to come from all round you as if the leaves rustled with it…
The mist was turning from black to grey and from grey to white… A golden light fell on them from the left. He thought it was the sun. He turned and saw, pacing beside him, taller than the horse, a Lion…No one ever saw anything more terrible or beautiful.
After one glance at the Lion’s face he slipped out of the saddle and fell at its feet. The High King above all kings stooped towards him … It touched his forehead with its tongue. Shasta lifted his face and their eyes met.
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