In the third year of Rilian's reign, a stranger came to Narnia. A shadow on the move, spied by this set of eyes or that, never in the same place, and usually miles in-between. It was human, they all said, the Bears and Hares and Hawks who had seen it. It was human, or looked like it...but there was something Wrong with it. It moved too much like an animal--not a Talking Animal, but a dumb beast, in flight from some danger, or stalking some target.
When the reports of the creature first came from eyes Rilian could be fair certain of (for in the three years since his own enchantment had been lifted, he had ridden out on the trail of more than one witch or wizard, only to learn it had been a Squirrel's flight of fancy, or a Dog's), he left his seat at Cair Paravel in search. This time, he did not ride, for such a creature as this would be far too skittish to remain in place at the sound of approaching hooves. Instead, he walked, wearing the quietest of cloth instead of armor, carrying a dagger in place of a sword--and despite the urging of his council, he went alone, forbidding any one to follow him, no matter how silent their wings or how excellent their eyes or ears. Though all asked him why, he had no answer, except that it felt right...and as all kings of Narnia have known, it is the calmest, quietest whispers in the recesses of one's mind that must be heeded above all.
Whatever had come to Narnia, it had come in neither open hostility nor sly seduction. The first true choice of Rilian's reign had been that he would presume no enemies before they had been proven. It had had to be so, for anything else would have had him slashing at shadows in the day, as he did some nights after some dark dreams; anything else would have had Narnia seemingly beset from all sides, concealing any true threat until it became a very great one.
In the first few days of his search, Rilian found little. The remains of a sleeping place here, poorly-buried leavings there. It was a very strange trail, as if it had been made by a person who knew very well how to keep another from tracking its movements, but had never quite learned how to conceal its camps--but for all that it was quite a difficult trail to follow, Rilian had known these woods intimately for two-thirds of his life, and follow it he did.
Eventually, he found what he was looking for, but in the fashion he least expected. He had come across an Elk, who claimed to have seen something strange passing that way a mere few hours before. Cheered by the thought that he might soon have an answer, Rilian followed the trail more incautiously than he might otherwise have done. He had barely realized this trail seemed much more pronounced than previously when the noose went taut around his ankle, and he was heaved into the air, and found himself hanging upside-down from the branch of a tree.
He was not left hanging long. Just as he reached for his dagger, meaning to cut himself down, someone said, "Don't do that."
Rilian would most certainly have done it anyway, had he not laid eyes on the stranger then, a wild-haired man with even wilder eyes, dressed in the strangest clothing Rilian had ever seen. His left hand glinted in the dappled midday light, and in his right he held something that also glinted. What it was, there was no telling, but the manner in which he held it made Rilian think it could be nothing but a weapon.
Only a fool draws a blade against a weapon he knows not; and so Rilian let his hand fall away from his waist, and said, "Peace, friend."
"Why are you following me?" the stranger said, and came closer, though he remained well out of range of even the most desperate lunge. "Who sent you?"
"I sent myself. I am Rilian, King of Narnia. A number of my subjects have spoken of your presence, and so I have come to meet you for myself. I intend you no harm, so long as you intend none for my subjects."
The stranger's face remained just as passive as it remained upside-down. "What's Narnia?"
"Where we are," Rilian said simply. "Narnia is everything that lies between the Western Wild and the Eastern Sea; between Archenland to the south and the River Shribble in the north; between the Underland and the skies. From which of these do you hail, that you know not your geography?"
"You're making me think I forgot more than I thought I did," the stranger said. "I really thought I was from Brooklyn."
Now, Rilian had never heard of a country by that name, and aside from wondering how many brooks such a country might boast, now he began to wonder something else, that he had not thought to wonder before. He had once met a boy and a girl from another world, just as his father before him had done. They had not remained in Narnia long after delivering him from his enchantment, but he still remembered everything they had told him about their world, including the country they had come from, and the country Eustace's cousin Susan (none other than Queen Susan the Gentle) had traveled to. And so it was that he was able to say, "Is there any chance such a country might border England? Or America, mayhaps?"
"...America," the stranger said. "I think. It's in New York, which is part of...yeah, that sounds right."
"Then you're from another world," Rilian said, and despite the blood pounding in his head, couldn't help but feel delighted.
"Another world," the stranger repeated. Though he sounded skeptical, the thing in his hand was now pointed toward the ground instead of Rilian.
"Yes. You may have come here in some strange fashion--through a painting, or a door, or for no reason other than that you were called here."
"There was a blue cube...thing. I was sent to retrieve it. Told not to touch it. I did anyway, and then I was here."
Rilian greatly wished to ask more questions...but he was beginning to grow somewhat lightheaded. He asked, "Might I cut myself down now? It would make conversing much more pleasant."
"Go ahead."
The stranger's hesitation was so slight it might have been Rilian's own flight of fancy. Still, he didn't question it; at the words, Rilian drew his dagger and strove upward, whereupon he sawed at the rope until it gave way and he fell to the ground, hitting his shoulder and then rolling over onto his back. The impact stole the breath from him, and he was a little dizzy besides, so he lay there for a minute, trusting this stranger from another world not to smite him where he lay.
"What is your name, friend?" he asked, once he had his breath back. "I have given you mine already."
This hesitation wasn't as slight as the other; it grew in the air between them until Rilian began to wonder if he had broken some great taboo of that other world.
Finally, the answer came: "Bucky. My name is Bucky Barnes. I think."
As Bucky spoke, Rilian stood, and turned to look at him. Thus did he come to learn that there were some things a person cannot see while hanging upside down from a tree. His viewpoint had been too strange, filtered by two-thirds of a lifetime seeing things exactly as they were. He had seen how fair the stranger was despite his dress and posture and lack of grooming, had even noticed some strangeness around his eyes; what he hadn't seen until now was that there was something familiar in the center of the strangeness. Rilian had worn an expression such as this himself, the morning after his father died and he was crowned in his place, when everything had slowed down enough for him to realize his captivity was truly ended, and that he would have to begin to find his way forward. They were the eyes of a man who had recently been under an enchantment; it was a look no one who ever has been can possibly mistake.
"We are well met, Bucky Barnes," Rilian said softly, and had no idea of the kindness that was in his own eyes as he said it (though he might have been able to guess how alien such kindness seemed to Bucky). "Will you come with me back to my home at Cair Paravel? We have good food, and many rooms yet sitting empty. One of them might be yours, if you wish it."
"Sure," Bucky said to the first thing, followed by: "Maybe. I don't know."
Together, they made their way back to Cair Paravel. By the time they arrived, they had learned that their stories were more alike than they could have imagined, and that they could make each other laugh; and Rilian, for his part, felt as if the load he carried was lightened for having another with him who had been through the same...and who might, one day, be able to help him bear it.