Expect to Find Sixpence:
A Geocaching tale for Christmas
"Come on Mike," called Liz. "We've got time for this last cache. 'An Unexpected Party'. Tolkien based perhaps?"
"What's the info on it?" asked Mike wearily, toiling up behind her and wondering how far they still had to walk back to their bicycles.
"Traditional cache, nano – contains log only. Bring your own pencil. Left by Nick'n'Robin." said Liz, reading from her smart phone. "Terrain: three, Difficulty: Phew, five. It'll be tough. Hint – just a minute, I'll decrypt it: Where you might expect to find sixpence. Last found – hey! Nobody's logged it yet. You haven't had an FTF so far, have you?"
"Not yet," replied Mike, showing renewed interest. He was fairly new to geocaching, having been introduced to it over the summer by his girlfriend. He loved Liz dearly of course, and had done since he had met her at the end of term party at the end of their first year at university, but he didn't always have her enthusiasm for traipsing round the country, pulling aside ivy or looking under rocks for old film canisters or plastic boxes filled with 'other people's tat' as he called it to himself. He was, by his own admission, slightly overweight, and after having found a dozen or so caches that day, ready to get back to civilisation for a well-deserved rest and a pint. Nevertheless, he had to admit geocaching was rather addictive, and the walk through the late autumn countryside with Liz had been worth it.
"How far?" he asked, as they reached the top of the ridge.
"Point four miles, over that way" Liz waved her GPS off to the right over the moorland. "Somewhere near that house I guess."
A little over ten minutes later, with Liz leading the way, they arrived at the cottage. It was clearly derelict. There was no door, the windows were broken and whilst the roof was intact, when they looked through the door they could see plaster from the ceiling lying forlornly by the hearth. Outside, ivy grew up the walls. Mike started pulling it aside and peering earnestly into the greenery.
"What was this one called again?" he asked.
"An Unexpected Party."
"Well, I certainly wouldn't expect to have a party here. What was the hint? Something about sixpence?"
"Where you might expect to find sixpence. Doesn't help much." She shrugged, and checked her GPS again. "I think we need to be inside."
"I hope it's safe," muttered Mike.
They went in. It was an old, single room building, with a hearth and a decrepit cooking range rusting in the far left corner. As their eyes grew accustomed to the dimness, they could see a worn-out bed in the opposite corner, with a decaying mattress on it. The only other item in the room was a large wardrobe, standing next to the bed. Liz got down on her hands and knees and started peering under the bed, whilst Mike looked around the range. "I don't see anything here," he called eventually. "Any luck there?"
"Just a lot of dust, I think. Wish we'd thought of bringing a torch." Liz got out her GPS again, turned on the internal light, and shone it under the bed "This helps a bit, but not much. No, nothing here." She looked at its display screen. "Hang on – the distance has just shot up. It's nearly six miles away according to this."
"Great – so we've broken in here for nothing," Mike grumbled. "Shall we give up? It's getting late, and it must be a couple of miles or more back to the bikes. And we haven't got lights for them, remember."
"No, I'm not giving up just yet," said Liz, standing up and brushing herself down. "It's probably just the satellite signals bouncing off the walls. The reading was clear enough outside. Try the wardrobe."
Mike opened the door and looked in. "Can't see a thing," he said. "No, wait, there's some light from somewhere." He climbed inside, leaving the door ajar. "It's, it's – Liz, you won't believe this, there's a lamp-post in the distance."
"Ho ho" replied Liz. "Yes, I've read it too. Come on, if it's not in there we'll try outside again. Maybe the co-ords are a bit out."
"Liz, I'm serious," whispered Mike in an awed tone. "There's a light, and snow, and a wood, and –" his voice faded away.
"Oh Mike, stop messing about. Mike? Mike!" Liz opened the door fully. Mike had vanished. In the gloom, it appeared that the wardrobe had no back. Puzzled, she climbed inside, and looked around her. Off to the right, there was indeed a light. She could see Mike standing underneath it, looking round in bewilderment. She soon joined him.
"Mike? What's going on? Where are we?" she whispered.
"Narnia? Like the book? But that's just a work of fiction – isn't it? Or am I dreaming?"
"If you're dreaming, then so am I. Mike? I'm – I'm scared."
"Me too," Mike admitted. Unconsciously, they joined hands, and stood beneath the lamp-post, not saying anything. Presently Mike spoke.
"This can't be Narnia – even if it was real, it was destroyed, well, came to an end in the last book."
Liz thought for a moment. "Wasn't time always different there?" she asked. "People from our world always arrived back at the same time that they left. Then they'd go back a year later, and find a thousand years had passed in Narnia. So maybe it's possible to arrive at any time in its history." She looked up. "The time of day's different anyway – it was beginning to get dark earlier, but it's broad daylight here."
Mike shivered. "It might be light, but it's too cold for just standing around. What do we do? Explore, or go back?"
"Have a look round, I suppose. If this is real, we may never get another chance, and if it's a dream, what harm can it do?" said Liz. Without thinking, she looked at her GPS. "I don't believe this – this should be impossible. I'm getting a reading!" she exclaimed.
"How? I'm sure Narnia doesn't have satellites," said Mike.
"See for yourself." Liz threw the GPS to him. He studied it carefully.
"Well it's still showing the cache, but not much else," he said at last. "The cache must be in Narnia. Six miles, roughly south-eastwards. Is your mobile working?"
Liz looked at her phone. "No, it's dead," she replied.
"Same with mine," Mike confirmed. He examined the GPS again. "Well, this is working for now anyway. But the batteries are beginning to get low. Do you have any spares with you?"
Liz shook her head. "Sorry, no."
"Well, we'll just have to hope they last. Shall we go for it?"
Liz grinned. "Why not?"
They set off through the woods. Freshly fallen snow lay underfoot, and a few flakes drifted downwards. Mike checked the GPS occasionally, checking they were still heading in the right direction. After they had been walking for a couple of hours, he suddenly swore under his breath. "The batteries – they've died," he muttered angrily. He paused then continued, "I'm an idiot – I should have turned it off, then turned it on again when we were closer. Sorry – I didn't think."
"Don't worry," Liz replied, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "I didn't think of it either. And we'd have probably ended up walking in circles anyway. Try taking the batteries out and warming them. You might get a few more minutes out of them."
"Worth a try, I suppose," said Mike doubtfully, but took them out nevertheless. As he was blowing on them, Liz nudged him.
"Look, up ahead," she whispered. "In the tree. There's a robin watching us. I wonder…"
There was indeed a robin, with a vivid red breast, casting a beady eye on them from a high branch in a nearby pine tree. Liz took a few cautious steps towards it. As she did so, the Robin flew off, and perched in another tree, still watching them intently. "Come on," Liz whispered to Mike, who was busy putting the GPS back together. "We'll follow him." Mike shrugged and did as he was told.
The Robin flew on to a third tree, then a fourth, still watching them. They followed it in this way for another half a mile or so, until they came to the edge of the wood. Here they found tracks in the snow: hoof-prints, and two grooves leading to the right, beside a frozen lake. The Robin flew low over the markings, guiding the students in the direction that the tracks led. As they crested a ridge, they saw not far ahead what had made the tracks. Eight brown reindeer stood in front of a large sleigh, their breath forming clouds of vapour in the cold air. A huge man in a fur-lined red robe with a great white beard stood beside it, unloading things from a sack and giving them to several small people, or creatures, who were standing nearby. Presently he mounted his sleigh, and the reindeer sprinted away, the sleigh disappearing into the distance. The Robin flew off after them.
With little left to direct them, Liz and Mike followed the tracks, until they were close enough to the party of creatures to see who or what they were. There was a dwarf, two creatures who looked like small men, but with a goat-like tail, ears and horns ("satyrs," whispered Liz,) a family of squirrels and a large fox. They were seated around a large wooden table, laden with food and drink. In the middle of the table stood a large plum pudding, decorated with holly. Suddenly the fox spotted them.
"Welcome, friends!" he called. "Merry Christmas! We are about to eat – please, come and join us. We have plenty of food to spare."
Both Mike and Liz immediately realised how hungry they were now feeling, so without waiting for a second invitation they joined the party. They all introduced each other, and before long they were laughing and joking like old friends. The feast was glorious; there were pies, and game, and cold tongue, and pickles, and nuts for the squirrels, and wine, and sherry, and beer, and fruit juice for the youngsters. Soon all the food was consumed (though there was plenty for everyone), and it was time to carve the plum pudding. The mother squirrel did this, cutting a slice for everyone.
"Who's got the sixpence?" asked the dwarf.
"Ooh – I want it, I want it, I want it!" shouted the youngest squirrel.
"Wait and see," scolded its mother. At that moment, Mike bit into something hard.
"I think I've got it," he said, discreetly spitting it into his hand. He looked into his palm. Instead of the coin, there was a small metal container, about half an inch long, with a screw cap. He recognised it instantly.
"Liz, I think I've found the cache," he murmured quietly. Just then the youngest squirrel let out an excited shriek.
"I've got the sixpence! I've got the sixpence!"
As the others gathered round to look, Mike grabbed Liz by the arm. "Come on, let's sign it while they're busy."
He pulled her away quickly, and they sheltered behind some bushes. Liz giggled, and gave Mike a sudden kiss. "I hope they don't think we're up to no good," she said. "We'd better be quick."
Mike unscrewed the cap, and pulled out the small scroll of paper inside. Liz produced a pencil, and they hastily signed their names. They were about to return when they saw a sight that made their hearts skip a beat. A large sledge approached, drawn by two white reindeer. It was being driven by a fat dwarf dressed in white fur. Behind him sat a pale young boy, wearing nothing but shorts and a jumper and looking extremely sorry for himself. Next to the boy sat a very tall stern-faced lady, also wearing white fur. She wore a crown on her head, and held a golden wand in her right hand. Her face was white as snow, with red lips. There was no doubt in either of the students' minds who she was – the Witch Queen who held Narnia in a state of perpetual winter.
At the moment when the sledge stopped, the Fox had just risen to its feet, holding a glass in its right paw as if it was going to say something. But when the whole party saw the sledge stopping and who was in it, all the gaiety went out of their faces. The father squirrel stopped eating with his fork half-way to his mouth and one of the satyrs stopped with his fork actually in its mouth, and the baby squirrels squeaked with terror.
"What is the meaning of this?" asked the Witch Queen. Nobody answered.
"Speak, vermin!" she said again. "Or do you want my dwarf to find you a tongue with his whip? What is the meaning of all this gluttony, this waste, this self-indulgence? Where did you get all these things?"
"Please, your Majesty," said the Fox, "we were given them. And if I might make so bold as to drink your Majesty's very good health –"
"Who gave them to you?" said the Witch.
"F-F-F-Father Christmas," stammered the Fox.
"What?" roared the Witch, springing from the sledge and taking a few strides nearer to the terrified animals. "He has not been here! He cannot have been here! How dare you – but no. Say you have been lying and you shall even now be forgiven."
At that moment the youngest squirrel lost its head completely.
"He has – he has – he has!" it squeaked, beating its little spoon on the table. Liz and Mike saw the Witch bite her lip so that a drop of blood appeared on her white cheek. Then she raised her wand. "Oh, don't, don't, please don't," shouted the boy, but even while he was shouting she had waved her wand and instantly where the merry party had been there were only statues of creatures (one with its stone fork fixed half-way to its stone mouth) seated round a stone table on which there were stone plates and a stone plum pudding.
"As for you," said the Witch, giving the boy a stunning blow on the face as she re-mounted the sledge, "let that teach you to ask favour for spies and traitors. Drive on!" And with that, the dwarf whipped the reindeer and they were soon out of sight.
Liz and Mike stepped out of the bushes together, their faces ashen grey. Neither spoke for some time.
"Can we – is there anything we can do for them?" Liz asked at last, choking back tears.
"No – there's nothing you can do," said a solemn voice behind them. "This is not your battle. But fear not. Aslan is coming, and he'll put them to rights."
The students spun round, and found themselves looking at the huge man in the red robe they had seen previously. It was undoubtedly Father Christmas. The Robin that had led them to the party flew down and landed on the ground beside him, singing merrily.
"But –" began Liz. Father Christmas interrupted her.
"Don't worry about them," he reassured them again. "I'll tell Aslan when he arrives, although I expect he already knows. Indeed, I'm certain he does. Now," he added with a twinkle, "how did you like our geocache? Congratulations on being the first to find it!"
Liz suddenly understood, and her face lit up. "You're Nick'n'Robin!" she exclaimed. Father Christmas chuckled.
"Yes, that's us. We wanted you to come here and find us. I hid the cache; the robin does all the internet stuff. Come with me." He led them a short distance away, to where his reindeer and sleigh were waiting.
"I have no presents for you at this time," he continued. "After all, it is not yet Christmas in your world. But would you like a ride on my sleigh instead? I'll show you some of Narnia."
Feeling like young children again, Liz and Mike scrambled onto the sleigh. Father Christmas cracked his whip over the heads of the reindeer, and they surged forward. Then to the students' amazement and delight, they took off, the reindeer galloping through the sky as easily as if they were on land. As they flew, Father Christmas pointed out some of the places they could see. They journeyed westwards at first, climbing up into the mountains over Cauldron Pool and thundering waterfalls. Next, the reindeer turned left, and ahead they could see over Archenland, to the great desert of Calormen beyond. Below them were signs of spring, the snow melting, and flowers appearing in the meadows. The reindeer turned again, and soon they were heading back north. Off to their right, Mike and Liz could see the sea, and islands in the distance. On a small hill by the shore stood a castle, its many turrets pointing skyward. "Cair Paravel," shouted Father Christmas. "Soon there will be true Kings and Queens of Narnia on its thrones again." They crossed the Shribble Marshes, the wigwams of the marsh-wiggles dotted on its many islands, then they travelled on northwards over the wild expanses of Ettinsmoor.
Liz and Mike could never be sure just how long they spent on the sleigh. At the time it only seemed like minutes, but when they discussed their adventures afterwards, they thought it must have been hours, or even days. Time passes differently in Narnia.
Eventually, Father Christmas pulled firmly on the left reins. The reindeer turned sharply, and they were heading back south once more. They flew low, back over the picnic site. Suddenly, out of the woods bounded a huge golden Lion, two girls clinging on to his back. The Lion paused briefly, and breathed over the statues, then sped off northwards, the girls still laughing on his back. Father Christmas guided the reindeer to land beside the party once again.
The statues were coming back to life, colour returning to them as they shook themselves and the greyness disappeared. They saw Father Christmas and the students, and rushed over to greet them. As they hugged each other, a centaur galloped past, shouting the joyful news that the Witch had been defeated, and the long years of suffering in Narnia were over at last.
"Now it's time for you to return to your own world," said Father Christmas, when their celebrations had finally come to an end." Just then the Robin flew down once more, and chirruped into his ear. He turned to Mike. "Oh yes," he said in a mock serious tone. "The Robin tells me that you've still got something of ours, young man."
Mike looked puzzled for a moment, and then realised that the geocache was still in his pocket. He gave it back to Father Christmas, and apologised.
"Don't worry," said Father Christmas. "I'll put it back. Others will be finding it soon. And now, we must be going."
Mike and Liz said their last farewells to the others, and climbed back on the sleigh. Father Christmas cracked his whip over the reindeers' heads once again, and shouted:
"Now, Sabi! Now, Sukey! Now, Konrad and Twinkle!
"On, Ipso! On, Facto! On, Vicky and Skimble!"
The reindeer leaped onwards and upwards with a burst of speed greater than they had experienced before, and soon they were enveloped in cloud. An icy wind blasted them momentarily, then they dropped below cloud level, and in the fading light below them Liz and Mike saw the ruined cottage they had explored earlier. The sleigh slowed down as it passed over the moorland, and descended, coming to rest beside their bicycles. They tumbled off the sleigh, then gasped in amazement. Their bikes were gleaming in the light of the setting sun, cleaned and looking like new. They were freshly oiled, with new tyres and each fitted with lights.
Father Christmas laughed. "I knew that you'd need lights tonight," he said, "and now I must be off. Farewell! Long live the true King!"
With a final crack of his whip, he and the reindeer took off and were gone in an instant, before Liz or Mike could say anything.
"Well, that was certainly unexpected," Mike said at last. "Come on, let's be getting back. Can't wait to log this one!"
"Bother!" said Liz. "I've left my GPS in Narnia."
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan-fiction, based on the writing of the late C. S. Lewis, to commemorate the fiftieth anniversary of his death. It was written without the knowledge or consent of his estate, who I hope will forgive me for taking this liberty. Part of the text is taken from The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, (© C. S. Lewis, 1950), with minor alterations to suit the narrative.
All characters depicted in this story are fictional (apart from Father Christmas of course), and any resemblance to any persons living or dead is purely coincidental, with the exception of the names of the reindeer, which are based on real cats.
Thanks go to Mogmother for proof-reading this story prior to publication.
("Optimist on the run", December 2013)