Big Bang Fic: Fuel to Fire, Chapter 3
Apr. 11th, 2012 11:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
narniabb_modTitle: Fuel To Fire
Author: snitchnipped
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Part of Four of the Dichotomy Universe. Familiarity with Dichotomy, Splintered, and Hail to the Days is highly encouraged. All can be found on my ff.net directory.
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Implied Adult Situations, Violence
Author's Notes: Many, many thanks to my betaswingedflight21, lady_songsmith, and rthstewart for all the encouragement and hand-holding. My hope is that there is a little something in it for everyone. Whatever you get out of it, I want to thank you for taking the time for reading this monster. I hope you enjoy it.
Summary: “All the great things are simple, and many can be expressed in a single word: freedom, justice, honor, duty, mercy, hope.” — Winston Churchill
FUEL TO FIRE—CHAPTER THREE
“Lose not yourself in a far off time, seize the moment that is thine.” — Friedrich Schiller
::x:x:x::
The Great Hall, Cair Paravel, Narnia. Firstweek, September, 1010. Lucy, Day 13.
“Lucy? What are you doing?”
Lucy tore her gaze from the one of Great Hall’s tapestries to see her brother standing at the door of the Kings’ Study. “I’m meeting Durah here.”
Peter nodded at his steward and crossed to join her. They both gazed upon the intricate needlework, the scene depicting the construction the very castle it now hung within. Lucy was happy for the spare moment with her brother—once again, the stresses and pressures since his return had been his soul focus, and he had been spending way too much time cooped up in his study. Well, in her opinion.
How come I’ve never taken the time to appreciate this? she mildly thought, admiring the detailed craftsmanship before her. A slow roll of thunder and the rain drumming on the glass roof above was all the reminder she needed. Normally she would be outside at this hour of the late morning, visiting with the various nymphs or observing the soldiers run their drills on the lawns, all of which she had yet to show her Elephant friend. The weather, though, had thwarted her plans for the day. It was still considered a summer storm, though. The real weather system would be there in a few weeks, but the rains served as a reminder—that it was time to reap the remaining crops from fields, time for the dryads to start gathering wood for the cold of winter. And the cooling rain was welcome, for the last huzzah of summer heat had plagued Cair Paravel the past few weeks.
“So, what will you two be doing today?” Peter asked.
“We haven’t decided,” she shrugged. “I thought about showing her the kitchens, but I don’t think she would make it through the doorway. Besides,” she said, “that may not be the best idea anyway. She eats so much, Peter, which is nothing compared to how much she drinks!”
Peter’s eyebrows perked up in surprise. “You didn’t take her down to the wine cellar, did you?”
Lucy gave him an incredulous tsk! “Water, Peter.” She shook her head and lifted her eyes to the roof. “Honestly,” she muttered.
Peter grinned. He playfully stepped behind her and gave her shoulders a shake. “Whatever you do, stay out of trouble, all right?” He planted a kiss on the crown of her head and walked towards the exit.
“That goes for you, too!” she called after him.
The guards opened the doors as he approached. Peter, his head down deep in thought, nearly ran straight into Durah as she simultaneously started to enter the Great Hall. “My apologies, my lady!” he said, holding his hands out to catch his balance.
“Quite all right!” she said and walked past him without another word. Peter turned, shook his head in wonder, and exited.
Lucy’s mouth tightened. “Durah…”
“Yes, your Majesty?”
The Elephant looked so innocent and hopeful. Lucy just could not admonish her for the slight against Peter, even if he was the High King. “Never mind. Come, look at this!”
Durah slowly sauntered up to stand next to her. Lucy noticed that she had the lucky vantage of seeing the uppermost details of the tapestry. “Why, this is the construction of Cair Paravel, from over a hundred years ago!”
“Quite right,” Lucy said. “It’s a wonder how they managed it. Can you imagine?”
The Elephant nodded, and lifted her trunk to trace the floral border. “The Elephants helped, you know, until they had to leave. We learned all about the days before the Tree died in stories and songs. I can share some if you like!”
“Really?” Lucy breathlessly asked.
Durah nodded. “Such wonderful memories, too. Our Elders found it important that we should never forget where we came from.”
Lucy pursed her lips. “Sometimes I wish I could remember where I came from.”
The Elephant’s trunk dropped down. “You don’t at all, your Majesty?”
“No,” Lucy said, turning and slowly walking towards the thrones. Durah followed, taking a step for every three of Lucy’s. “We came here when I was very young,” Lucy explained. “Well, we all were. Susan remembers though…for some reason. I don’t quite understand. Peter just says she has a memory of—”
“The memory of an elephant?”
Lucy stopped and laughed, and she reached up to run her hand down the edge of Durah’s ear. “The memory of an elephant, yes, of course!” Lucy sobered, and leaned forward. “Is it true? Do you have fantastic memories?”
“We do, we remember everything that our mothers told us, and our mothers’ mothers, and so on,” Durah added with pride. Up above, the rain thrummed against the glass as the storm grew stronger. “We know all about our creation, and the previous Kings and Queens, the beginning of the build of Cair Paravel, the rise of the False Queen, and the journey with our Narnians…we learned it all!”
Oh, right. Lucy had wanted to ask Durah about that ever since she first mentioned it when they met her. “You said ‘our Narnians’. What do you mean by that, Durah?”
“You know, our Narnians,” Durah said, turning to look at the thrones on the dais. “Our Narnian families that accompanied us on our exile to Archenland. We helped the humans who were fleeing the False Queen, for she was hunting down the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve. The lesser herd of elephants came with us, too. Grandmare says that they are thriving more in Archenland than they ever did in Narnia,” she added.
This was the most forthcoming Durah had been about anything since Lucy met her, and it was proving to be quiet the history lesson.
Lucy looped her arm around Durah’s trunk and started leading her towards the thrones. “Tell me more,” she urged, already formulating the letter she planned to write Edmund and Susan.
::x:x:x::
“There is not any creature so capable of understanding as an Elephant. They are apt to learne, remember, meditate, and conceive of such things as a man can hardly perform.” — Edward Topsell
::x:x:x:x:x:x:x::
Lord Darrin’s Estate in Mittelward, Darrinden, Archenland. Secondweek, September, 1010. Susan, Day 16.
“Pray, tell me, my Lord Dar. How is the weather in the winter months? Is it generally as mild as it is now?”
“The winters are fair, yes. You could say that.”
Susan was annoyed, a sensation amplified by monthly moon cramps and a quickly forming bruise on her foot from when she tripped over the footstool to her bed the previous night. The horse lent to her while her Narnian mount rested was the most skittish one she ever had the privilege of riding. And to top it all off, she had the beginnings of a headache forming in her temple. It was one of those days in which nothing seemed to go right, and the frustration only fed into more things going wrong. She was sure of it.
As it turned out, Susan did not have to be there in Darrinden. At all. Despite his sordid behavior at the dinner, Susan had agreed to ride with Lord Tran to his estate in Emmerfald, Tranden. But of course, not too long after Susan and her Narnian Company had set out with Tran did she grow disgusted with his temperament. And it was an easy decision to part ways with him, too, for not a half-day’s journey on the main out of Anvard did she learn what he knew of the Elephants. Apparently, he had never seen any elephants that far east in Tranden. His knowledge of them was that they were primarily spotted in Nelden and Darrinden. And he was not shy in boasting of his intelligence.
The next morning, not an hour after they had left their first camp outside of Anvard, they fortuitously came to a three-pronged fork in the road, right at the border of Nelden. She had three choices, the first being to go right and continue on to Emmerfald with Tran. She was able to eliminate that choice right away. Susan somehow had begged off a visit to Emmerfald, claiming that it would not be fair if her trip was cut short due to something as unpredictable as, say, the weather without a chance of visiting the other esteemed Lords of the land. Surprisingly, he agreed. She had learned a lot—and she meant, a lot—about Lord Tran the few days of being around him. But she also learned that he was a fair man, too, as he let her off.
The second choice was to head straight into Nelden and visit the Lord Nel in Talstan. Edmund had quite early on in their trip voiced his doubts on the possibility of the Elephants being there, saying something about “the environment perhaps being a bit too hostile” for them. Susan believed that he must have had visited Nelden at some point to to know that, so she trusted his opinion on the matter. She knew she may have to visit him, eventually, for her own personal mission, but it was not a priority.
The third was to go left, to the north and towards Mittelward, where Edmund and his Company first headed towards. This choice led to rather out of the way and it would require backtracking. Of course, this defeated the purpose of covering twice as much ground, but she had already dismissed the first option, and the second one did not seem very promising either. But Susan was pleased that her own list was getting smaller and smaller. We may accomplish our mission sooner than we think, she had thought as she eyed the left-most road.
So, she had chosen the latter option. Unfortunately.
“This is my brother Darrin’s land,” Dar needlessly said to her, sounding just as bored as she felt. “I’m looking after things while he’s on to Anvard.”
Of course, Susan knew this already, though again, the news was slightly too late. It wasn’t until upon waking this morning that she learned that Darrin was not even in residence in Mittelward. Not that it would have made all that much of a difference, but such news would have been appreciated on her late arrival the evening prior. Had she not first travelled with Tran, she probably would have come across Darrin on his way to Anvard just as she left. If Darrin is anything like his brother, then thank Aslan that I was spared.
But still, as a matter of principle, Susan was annoyed of all this miscommunication. Time was wasting away, and she was getting no further with the Elephants than she was with the the Lords, despite the shorter lists. And this afternoon ride that Dar had suggested was a considerable waste of her time. The pounding behind her right temple seemed to swell with her frustration and she took a breath to relax herself.
“And this is where your father’s original estate was, Lord Dar?”
“No, but it is close.”
Susan waited, but no further details came forth. “How close, if I may ask?”
Dar shrugged. “Oh…I don’t know. A couple of miles east? Five, I’d say.”
The groom riding alongside them cleared his throat. “Er, thirty miles, my lord,” he interjected. He turned to Susan. “Just south of the village of Esting, your Majesty, in Darden. A little over half day’s ride from here,” he exclaimed, an uneasy smile gracing his young features.
“Yes, twenty miles,” Dar nodded in agreement and drifted his attention elsewhere. His groomsman didn’t bother correcting him again, his head bowed in what Susan interpreted as embarrassment. She definitely pitied him.
They continued riding, and Susan took a moment to study her host—who didn’t seem to notice. Lord Dar was a fairly nondescript man, with a slouch in his saddle and hair clipped disproportionately short for his head. He did not share the typical coloring of those of Eastern Archenland, she noticed, but perhaps she was wrong.
She had taken it on Ferrin’s word quite a while back that the population of where he was from looked like “a byproduct from a beautiful pale Westerner drunkenly tumbling around with a solid, strong Calormene amongst the orchards.” Susan, in turn, had asked which one he was referring to as his mother and which was his father. That had naturally set Edmund’s friend off, and she smiled in the memory of him trying to bite back insults in retort to his Queen. I do concede that there are benefits to my position, she had thought at the time.
And there were times that were not very beneficial. Such as this one. “I have never been to Esting before. I dare say it’s as nice as Mittelward, correct?”
The chaperone nervously looked from Dar to Susan and back to Dar again before answering. “My Lord rarely ventures into town, your Majesty, finding it preferable to stay in his own estates,” he said, his eyes not wavering, still trained on the Lord. Dar apparently didn’t hear. Or, more likely, just wasn’t paying any attention.
“A rather hands-off approach, think you not?”
“I have no opinion, your Majesty. But I do know that Lord Dar has all the faith and confidence in his Lord Mayors.”
“Hmm,” Susan hummed, her mind at work. If Dar did not venture into Esting, then chances are that the people of Esting had no idea what Dar was up to at any given moment. His absence would not be general knowledge were I to go there to pay him a visit.
At last Dove before departing Anvard, Edmund had stated they were in Mittelward to gather intelligence. But of course, being the way things have been working so far on this mission, she had already been too late to meet up with him. After she had already decided to head towards his direction and call upon Darrin, she had received word upon her arrival last night that they had already departed south to Esting—her Doves had reported that they had checked out of a local cider house the previous morning. She had wished she had a good excuse to follow them to Esting, but considering the Lord Dar was here and not there in Darden, she had no idea how to justify traveling there. But now Dar himself may have just given her an alibi.
She decided to give Dar one more chance in a civilized conversation, and to be direct about it, believing that there was little harm in it. The man, in short, was daft. “King Lune mentioned something about there being elephants in your territory. Is that true?”
“I think I’ve heard that. I’ve only seen them in Anvard, myself.”
“Have you? They sound to be such wondrous beasts, and I would love to know if tales from Lune are true about how truly magnificent they are.” She knew she was laying it on thick, but Susan was quickly learning that with Dar, you had to give a mile to gain an inch.
“Yes, they’re large, aren’t they?” he said, and Susan could not tell whether he was either unimpressed or uninterested.
Probably both.
They continued riding for quite some time, but for how long, Susan did not know. It felt like hours regardless. Conversation was kept to a minimum. She was getting nothing of use from Dar, and it seemed he got nothing from her, for he may as well have been ignoring her the entire ride. The groom chaperoning them, however, turned to be more of chatty fellow, and tried asking her questions about the Narnian horses and Horses and her opinions of them. She was not very forthcoming with answers, though, not being in the mood to talk about anything but Elephants and the eligibility of Archenlander Lords. And even those topics she had very little interest in addressing that afternoon.
The groom, however, grew bolder and bolder as he grew more and more smitten with her, talking about his plans making Head Groomsman at Anvard. Susan tried to be polite in her responses, but eventually, her replies got more clipped as her headache grew, and, she was ashamed to admit, probably more rude. The groom did not seem to take slight, though, even if he did eventually get the hint that she was not in the mood to talk.
Susan looked up to the north and was troubled to see how dark it was—she imagined that it was indeed raining up in Narnia, and the full onslaught of the autumn rains were knocking at the Cair’s door already. Perhaps Narnian summer ended earlier this year. Time seemed to be breathing down her neck, yet Susan knew she had only just begun her part of the mission. A particularly strong cramp seemed to roil up in her abdomen in protest to the unfortunate delay. Susan winced, but kept her mouth shut, even though she very much wanted to complain aloud about the unnecessary jerky motion of her mount. The poor groom had already put up with enough of her, she knew.
They eventually arrived back at the stable, much to Susan’s relief. To her surprise, though, Dar stopped all of their horses with a click! of his mouth. He slowly turned in his saddle towards her and looked at her directly. She noted that it was the first time he had since she her arrival in Darrinden the previous night.
What now….
“Thank you, your Majesty. I had a splendid time. Would you care to grace my company again tomorrow?” He had the audacity to look somewhat hopeful.
Susan blinked. “No, I think not, my lord. I’m afraid I’m not cut out for such excitement two days in a row.”
Dar nodded in understanding, and rode his horse into the stable, cutting Susan and her mount off. Susan bit her tongue, and patiently waited as they slowly walked through the doors, leaping off her horse as soon as the stablehand took the reins from her. Dar didn’t even notice her quickly turn to exit as he was too preoccupied tugging each finger of his glove off his hands, slowly, methodically. She pretended not to notice the apologetic look the groom was gracing her.
“It really is a shame you missed the Lord Darrin, your Majesty,” he said before she could fully escape. “Your temperaments would make a much better match.”
Susan’s heart and mind bristled while she covered with a gentle smile. “Perhaps another time, then?” she said, giving her mount a final pat on its flank. The horse, apparently, was startled by this and unexpectedly bumped into her, causing Susan take a step back to regain her footing—on her bruised foot.
Ouch.
Enough was enough. She had thought them strange before, but she now understood Lord Cole and King Lune’s reactions to the brothers Dar and Darrin. Susan was now able to cross both of them off her potential suitor list—without even having to meet with Lord Darrin. With that knowledge, she was perfectly content in joining Edmund and his Company in Esting tomorrow, propriety be damned. She, Baris, and the rest of the Narnian party were to leave at noon the next day. With no questions asked, she told herself, though she doubted anyone around here would even bother.
::x:x:x::
“Experience is not what happens to you; it’s what you do with what happens to you.” — Aldous Huxley
::x:x:x:x:x:x:x::
The Orange Thorn Inn in Esting, Darden, Archenland. Secondweek, September, 1010. Edmund, Day 17.
“—and that’s how I ended up here at the Thorn, which I am oh so grateful for. My mam always said I was too free of a spirit to be tied down to the orchards—”
The girl had not stopped talking for the last ten minutes. It didn’t matter that Edmund never once encouraged, let alone acknowledged that he was remotely interested in engaging in a discussion regarding her extensive, yet dull, family upbringing, her numerous siblings, nor the history of the family’s orange orchards.
“—but then he scolded, ‘If you’re going to carry on like that while you are here, young lady, then you may as well—’”
There was one thing that Edmund was thankful for, and that was that days like these were becoming few and far between. Well, save for the one incident the week prior, but he had no idea that his body could not tolerate both the cider and the blue lasaia. And, of course, the incident before that, the morning after they parted ways with Susan and the rest of the Narnians after the altercation by the border.
Maybe I need to be a bit more careful. That being said, this morning was one of the most particularly bad ones in recent memory, even if the prior evening’s events did not warrant is as much as the other instances. This was starting to get old. Edmund cracked his left eye open—the crust in his other eye was thick enough to keep it closed.
“—but I should say, it wasn’t as bad as I was expecting, wouldn’t you agree, sir?”
“No, it wasn’t. I do agree.” Edmund had no idea what he was agreeing to, but if it got her to shut up, he was willing to agree with her if she said the earth revolved around the sun.
He heard the girl give a contented sigh. “That is oh so good to hear, sir.” His bed jostled and her voice got louder as she leaned over him. “And what about you? Where are you from?”
Edmund turned his head, opening his tacky right eye to look straight up to a pretty, dimpled face framed by fuzzy hair. She looked like a smiling cloud. She was a smiling cloud personified. “I can honestly say I don’t remember,” he groaned.
“You can’t at all, sir?”
He rubbed the stickiness out of his eyes. “Tarna, I don’t even remember much of last night.”
Tarna gave a few gleeful claps. “But you remember enough to remember my name!” The girl sat back on the mattress with a pleased smile, a strap of her gown falling off a shoulder.
Something tells me that’s not going to be last thing I’m going to remember this fine, fine morning. Edmund tilted his head to look at the light streaming through the window, dust particles floating softly within the beam. Not as late in the morning as he feared, but he was definitely going to be the last one downstairs to breakfast after an evening of unjustified debauchery. He hoped Peridan and Ferrin both felt twice as worse as he did. Knowing them, though, they probably also had twice the fun that he vaguely remembered having once they parted ways to their respective rooms—and company—at the inn.
They ended up staying an extra day in Mittelward, longer than intended, for yet another unintended day of recovery. Edmund and his truncated Company also took their time on the road, hoping to pass by other travelers who may have heard rumor of Elephants, if not seen them. But they had no luck in such, and they had rode into Esting separately the afternoon before, arriving in intervals, and only convening in the tavern downstairs. They had made sure to put on a grand show of much back slapping and warm greetings. It had only been somewhat rehearsed, expressing the usual bits of information they hoped any eavesdroppers, both intentional and unintentional, would pick up on.
But after many days of limited luck, the winds had finally changed and their mock reunion worked. One man—an actual Telmarine, no less, but at least this man admitted to being so in his strange, foreign accent—was quick to offer his story of an encounter with these huge, great beasts who he observed grazing in a meadow he wished to build. The three of them quickly picked up on this, expressing their desires of building in the same areas and expressing the necessary concerns one would expect to have of potential pests of an unusual size. Edmund was proud that at least their improvisational skills were improving on this trip, even if they hadn’t gotten as far into the mission as he would have liked.
And of course, the distractions, didn’t help.
Sweet, sweet Tarna. The previous night’s activities made his knee faintly throb. That’s still taking some time to get used to.
Half-way through the raucous evening of story-swapping, drinking, and barmaid flirting, Edmund had stepped outside to relieve himself. He hadn’t quite finished fastening his breeches before one of Susan’s Doves had landed on the fence post before him with news.
Edmund had not heard from his sister since the Dove sent from Anvard, and that was only to say that she had arrived safely. And her latest message give him no further details—the Bird only said that Susan would fill him in on what she learned in Anvard and Mittelward when she joined them the next evening upon her arrival. And that she did have news that would help them.
Which had meant that she was coming here, to the Orange Thorn Inn. But not until later the next evening. But she had news, probably more news than what they had to offer in return. So, that gave them the evening to relax and let loose a little after a long day’s travel. Or, so Ferrin had surreptitiously suggested once their friend had left get them more drinks and Edmund had filled him in on what he had learned. Of course, it didn’t help that Edmund already had a strong buzz going, and he didn’t even catch on that Susan was in Mittelward, of all places, where they had just left.
No, that thought didn’t come to him until his dazed awakening just a half hour prior. At least he had the foresight the night before to send the messenger Dove a heads up to the Lord Mayor of Esting on the Queen of Narnia’s arrival, and to pass on a task to the Pigeons to carry out, as well. He just now realized how annoyed he was at Susan’s decision to join them—it completely defeated their purpose of dividing and conquering Archenland, after all.
Edmund sat up, fully expecting the sickly feeling in his stomach and the throbbing in his temple, welcoming it even as punishment. He decided it was best to gather as much of his things as possible and leave before too many questions were raised. Edmund was torn between wishing Turvalin was present to assist in gathering his belongings and being thankful he wasn’t. He was not in the mood for the satyr’s silent looks of judgement.
First things first, Edmund thought. He accepted the rumpled linen shirt that the girl pulled off the bed post before leaning down to collect the discarded breeches from the floor.
“Would you like some breakfast, sir? ‘Tis midweek, and Gref always makes handcakes on this day. ‘Twice as much, half way through,’ he always says, ‘It’s the only way a man can—’”
But Edmund had once again tuned her out as he searched his surroundings. He pulled the main cover off, checking between it and the thin sheet underneath, before bending down and checking under the bed. Nothing. It would not have been the first time he had misplaced it, but it was usually within arm’s reach. Edmund stood too fast, ignoring the thud, thud, thud in his head. His heart started to pound just as hard and fast as he, on a whim, reached into the shafts of both of his boots and came up empty. Well, that was unlikely anyway.
“—and the marmalade they make here is oh so sweet, sweeter than anything you can ever find in Calormen, made from the oranges from my family’s very own orchard, and it goes well with…sir? Can I help you find what you’re looking for?”
He stumbled over to the other side of the bed and frantically checked under the portion of the blankets the girl had just shifted from. But it was nowhere to be found. “I can’t find it.”
“Find what, sir?”
Edmund took mental stock of his situation, even going as far to reach into breeches he had just donned. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no no…. Edmund clutched at his hair, desperately trying to remember the previous night, but all he could recall was the tossing of blankets, the tumbling of sweaty bodies. He crossed over to his saddlebag on the corner chair and started digging in the side pockets. No, no, NO, I couldn’t have forgotten. Granted, he could count on one hand the occurrences in which it had been employed, but still, he was always extremely careful, having heard of too many stories from around the Patrol. And his brother.
“What are you looking for, sir?” she repeated. “Perhaps I could find it! My mam always says I have a keen eye for—”
“The skin! The bloody skin!” Edmund didn’t mean to shout at the poor girl, but he refused to believe he could have been so careless. He was not Peter in that regard. He abandoned the side pockets and ran his hand along the bottom of the main compartment.
“What skin, sir?”
And there it was. The small leather satchel was deep down in the corner of his bag. It remained untouched, unbuttoned, the precious sheepsgut safely tucked inside. He timidly reached for it, opened it, stared dumbly at its contents before pulling it out. After a moment, he reversed his actions, slowly returning the skin back into the satchel, and letting it drop back into the bag. Shit.
“Ohhhh,” Tarna breathlessly said, finally catching on. The girl even had the audacity to blush as she nervously started combing through her fluffed hair with her fingers. “Oh, you needn’t worry, sir. My mam says it’s too soon to worry about that, anyhow.”
Edmund turned and looked dumbly at the girl. “What?” he said in a disbelieving tone.
“She says it’s too soon. At least, that was how it was for her after every time. She was unable to have another babe for nearly a full year after each and every one of us, which is why my brothers and sisters are born so far apart. And I only had my Arberd just two months—”
Edmund blinked. “You have a child?”
The girl smiled broadly and readjusted to sit on her knees, the strap threatening to fall off of her other shoulder. “Oh yes, and he’s the most beautiful—”
“But—but what are you doing here?” he interrupted, mouth falling agape. “In…in bed?” he dumbly added.
“Oh he’s fine, my mam just had her last earlier this year, so she is able to nurse him while I am here at the Thorn. Though I suppose I should really—”
Edmund stopped listening, his attention drawn to the top of her voluptuous bosom peeking over the top of the gown’s neckline—the sights of which first got him into this mess. He gulped. Oranges, indeed. As the girl idly braided her hair and babbled on about the virtues of her “oh most perfect little boy!”, the other strap started to slip off, causing Edmund’s eyes to shift farther down the front her gown. Her very damp gown.
And that’s when it all made sense. The sweetness of her skin, the tumble and roll of sweatier than normal bodies.…
His crusty eye.
Horrified, Edmund clamped a hand over his mouth and quickly turned away. He started digging frantically in his bag and pulled out a second leather pouch, pulled a few things out of it, and threw the pouch back in the saddlebag. “Here,” he said, cramming coins into her hands and pulling the straps of her gown up where they belonged. “Thank you for everything, Tarna,” he rushed, giving her shoulders a quick squeeze. “You have been most hospitable. Go home, take care of yourself, your son, all of your siblings. And do say hello to your mam for me,” he hastily added before reaching for his boots under the bed.
“Oh!” The girl clutched at the two golden lions and bronze crescent in her hand and looked up, her smile as sunny as the morning. The gesture had obviously rendered her momentarily speechless. It didn’t last long. “Oh, thank you sir, my mam will be most pleased! Well, not with what happened last night, she said that I really should be more careful about—” She stopped herself and swung her bare legs around to sit on the edge of the bed. “What is your name, sir? I’m sure my mam would like to know the name to thank during our supper’s blessing tonight.”
Edmund finished tugging on his last boot. “It’s Ferrin.” And without a backward glance, he grabbed his bag and was out the door.
::x:x:x::
“Ah, women. They make the highs higher and the lows more frequent.” — Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche
::x:x:x:x:x:x:x::
The Orange Thorn Inn in Esting, Darden, Archenland. Secondweek, September, 1010. Edmund, Day 17, Cont.
Edmund pointed a finger at Ferrin, not five inches from the end his friend’s nose. “Not a word,” he said through gritted teeth and pulled out a chair to take a seat, dropping his bag by his feet.
Ferrin’s grin was too wide to be even remotely sympathetic as he grabbed for a table knife. “Rough night? Mine was too, in the best way possible. Here, have some of this,” he said, finishing a smear of marmalade on a handcake and pushing the jar in his direction. “This should sober you up—it’s the good stuff. This area is really quite renown for their oranges. Sweeter than the ones in Tashbaan, that’s for sure.”
Edmund scrubbed at his face with both hands. “I’ve heard,” he groaned into his palms.
Ferrin crammed half of the cake in his mouth. “Go ahead, you should really taste it,” he said mid-chew.
“Oh, I’ve tasted.” A chair scraped against the floor next to him and Edmund glanced up to see Peridan looking just as worse for wear as he felt. Good.
“What’s with all the commotion?” Peridan croaked as he sat down heavily.
Realizing that he was unnaturally amiss of his surroundings, Edmund made a quick scan of the room. There definitely was a more frantic energy in the room, with an older woman sweeping by the doorway and several of the other workers going in and out of the kitchen. The sound of an inarticulate, booming voice fluctuated as the door swung open and shut. The amount of clientele was also higher than it was the previous morning, the people all abuzz with animated chatter.
A burly man bumped into the back of Edmund’s head as he moved to the table directly behind them. “Pardon me,” the man said in a thick accent…one that Edmund was quickly getting familiar with.
What is it with these lone Telmarines wandering all over the countryside?
Ferrin looked passed Edmund’s shoulder at the man, and tapped the top of his mug. “The proprietors just got a message from the Lord Mayor. Apparently, an actual talking bird came to him to say the Queen of Narnia herself is on her way and is to stop by this very establishment for luncheon,” Ferrin said.
She was earlier than planned. Typical. Of all days. Edmund looked over Ferrin’s shoulder and saw the mottled Dove perched on the windowsill. “Which queen? Aren’t there two of them?” Edmund reached for a cake, and took a bite. Being a bit dry, he reached for the marmalade, decided against it, and went for the butter instead.
Peridan’s eyes squinted slightly. “Queen Lucia, is it?”
“No, the frigid one,” Ferrin said a little too earnestly, his loud voice carrying over the din of the room. “The Queen Susan.”
Edmund stretched out his legs from under the table, kicking a foot out and meeting its target. Hard.
“Or, so I hear,” Ferrin added, reaching under the table with a wince.
A young lad came by just then with a pot of hot water and a steaming plate of handcakes, plopping them down on the table and clearing their empty platter and pot away. “Thank you, cousin,” Peridan politely said, reaching for a cake, but the boy had already quickly rushed off back to the kitchens.
The locals were certainly putting up a fuss for his sister. “I wonder what she’s doing here, of all places,” Edmund mused aloud. He hoped to get the answer he was expecting. Otherwise, a lot of Birds were going to have to prepare themselves for reassignment.
The Birds were definitely useful when it worked—in crowded places that were worn around the edges, such as this one, seeing a bird in the rafters was a rather common occurrence. The only time they were noticed was if they made a nuisance, such as fighting or courting—resulting in feathers flying everywhere—or just plain making a mess. He at least had the confidence that no Narnian Bird would ever defecate in such a place.
Because they were often ignored, their voices tended to blend in with the usual roar of a crowd. If Edmund wanted a rumor to be spread, it only took one loud sentence uttered from a Pigeon and the word would be thoroughly spread by day’s end through the natural gossiping of the townsfolk. The official word of Susan’s arrival had apparently been successfully delivered to the Lord Mayor of Esting via her Dove. The rumor of the reason why was due to the Pigeons, and ideally would have spread throughout town before the Dove’s arrival.
“Excuse me, milady,” Edmund said, with a tug to the sleeve of a passing servant girl. “What’s the word about the Queen?”
The girl blew disheveled strands of hair out of her face to talk. “She’s lookin’ to meet with Lord Dar, sir. They say she’s lookin’ to marry, sir. Some say to the Lord Mayor. Do you need anything, sir?”
The Birds had done their job, despite the bastardization of the rumor. Close enough. “Yes, do you have any cream for my tea?”
The frazzled servant girl gave him an odd look, but dipped into a shallow curtsy and retreated to the kitchen.
“I’ve seen the Lord Mayor,” Ferrin stated, reaching for another handcake. “Her Royal Majesty, the Wondrous Queen of Narnia is going to regret that rumor.”
Peridan laughed, while Edmund looked towards the window. The Dove was too busy preening to notice him and most likely didn’t hear their conversation. In his periphery, he noticed a couple of small children running around a table, causing Edmund to inwardly flinch, his mind going to his prior evening’s companion’s many, many younger siblings. He imagined them all with the fuzzy hair that she had. One of the little boys tripped on a chair leg, and he caught himself with his hands. He quickly stood up, smoothed the hair out of his face—Edmund noticed it was definitely fuzzy—and continued to chase another boy around the table.
“This is a morning of nothing but regrets, I’ve found,” he replied.
Behind him, the Telmarine called loudly to a servant across the room, and Edmund looked over his shoulder at the man. A weird feeling settled about him and something niggled at his memory. Why does he seem so familiar?
“So, where did our new friend recommend we look?” Ferrin asked. “I was a bit, ah, preoccupied to catch all that he said.”
“Preoccupied,” Peridan snidely said, taking a drink of water. “That’s a new one for you.”
Ferrin leaned back in his seat with a wistful grin. “She certainly was a handful. How was yours, Peridan?”
“None of your business,” Peridan clipped back with a stern glare. “Back to the matter at hand, if you don’t mind. Our friend said there was decent land to the south to build. Plenty of room, he said."
But Edmund wasn’t fully listening to their all-too-familiar, all-too-boring ruse, for he was too bothered by the niggling memory of his brain. The man seated behind him may be Telmarine, but he was definitely not like the man they met last night. And he wasn’t Bazner either, who, for all he knew, was wandering the wilds of Western Narnia. Actually, no, he’s due for his initial colonization check-in with Peter.
Edmund definitely would not be able to pick out any of the Telmarines he battled with a few years prior, even if his life depended on it. Plus, having never spoken to the stranger, his voice when he had called out did not seem familiar in the slightest.
How would I know him?
“How far south? We wouldn’t want to run into any of those great beasts we heard about in Mittelward,” Ferrin smartly added and finished the last of his handcake in one giant bite.
Edmund’s head popped up. Mittelward. That was it—the man sitting behind him was the same man he made eye contact with at the cider house. Edmund may have been a bit out of it at the time, but there was no mistaking the memory.
“You know, that man last night reminded me of someone I met back in Mittelward,” he said, with a jerk of his head back to the table behind him. They full well knew that Edmund had not talked to anyone outside of themselves during the remainder of their stay at the cider house, so he hoped they got the message.
Ferrin coughed once in acknowledgement. Peridan quickly gave a glance past Edmund, and popped his hand quickly over his water glass in confirmation. So he is listening in, Edmund realized.
“That’s quite curious,” Peridan said. “I wonder if we could find him again today. Perhaps he knows someone who knows more about these elephants. Isn’t that what he called them?”
Ferrin eyed the diminishing plate of handcakes. “No one else seems to care much or know much,” he said. He gave in and reached for the second to last handcake. “I just don’t want to build anywhere that may be a threat from such beasts.”
Peridan nodded. “They must be terrible!”
“And wild,” Edmund added. He decided to risk it. “Though I sure would like to see them. They may be of some use to us.”
Both Peridan and Ferrin look at him in surprise at his suggestion. Of all their talk with all the people they had come across thus far, they never once had expressed an interest in taming the beasts. The silent moment was interrupted by the plopping down of a small pitcher.
“Cream, sir,” the girl said and quickly swept back towards the kitchens.
This was no coincidence, Edmund thought. This man had taken an interest in them after Ferrin’s musical espionage in Mittelward, and Peridan had just now confirmed that he started paying closer attention as soon as they brought up the Elephants.
Edmund swirled his cup, deciding where to take their conversation next to rope the man in. Once the tea leaves settled to the bottom, he filled the remainder almost to the brim with cream.
Ferrin scowled. “Must you murder your tea?”
“I’m not murdering,” Edmund said. “I’m honoring it.” He took a sip and nearly choked in shock. He set the glass down and reached for the cup of water in Peridan’s hands.
“What’s wrong with you?” Peridan asked, wiping his hands on his trousers from the splashing water.
After a gulp, Edmund’s face scrounged up in distaste. “Must everything be orange flavored around here?”
“Pardon me. Sirs?” The thickly accented voice came from above Edmund’s head.
Edmund cleared the remainder of his tea from his throat and looked up over his shoulder. Above him towered the Telmarine. Got him. “Yes?”
“Good morning, to you. My name is Rovaper. I couldn’t help but overhearing—”
“Welcome, Rovaper!” Ferrin interrupted, standing up and pulling out the empty chair next to him. “Please join us, we are always up for meeting new people.”
Peridan gestured towards the remainder of their breakfast. “Would you care for anything to eat? We ordered plenty.”
“No, thank you, I’ve had my fill already,” Rovaper said, sitting down in the proffered chair.
Edmund quickly tried to think of something to say, wanting to keep the conversation going to avoid any introductions on their part. There’s no use avoiding it… “Were you not at Mittelward? I thought you looked awfully familiar.”
“I was, yes, I was taking care of business there, though I’m usually found here in Esting.” …
Ferrin gestured to the three of them. “We’re heading south, ourselves. We’re scouting for good land to farm on, perhaps put in a couple of orchards.”
“Unfortunately, we’re getting a rather late start, so we may not get settled before winter,” Peridan added. “But if things go well, we would like to get a few homes built for our families.”
“Are you from the West?” Rovaper asked. “There’s been quite the influx of settlers coming from there.”
“I am, these two aren’t,” Peridan said, completely unfazed. “Originally out of Coleden. The part that is still Coleden, that is, before the split,” was all he clarified, to which Edmund was grateful for. Perhaps Edmund could, as Susan had said, pull off the Southern Archenland coloring that Ferrin had, even if he couldn’t the accent….
Rovaper nodded and swirled the contest of his tea. “Coleden. I passed through there a few years ago. It’s beautiful there, can’t imagine why anyone would leave.”
Peridan smiled faintly. “It was time to move on,” he simply said. “And my friends and I are looking for some adjacent lands for our families to settle in.”
“The idea of establishing a new village is rather appealing,” Ferrin eagerly added, to which Edmund shot him a glare. Ferrin had a habit of letting things get carried away. “For me, at least,” Ferrin amended.
“You’ve come to the right place. The Lord Dar doesn’t seem to care who settles where, so you may have some luck here. Or back in Darrinden.”
Edmund sighed softly. He was tired of the idle chatter and wanted to get to the meat of the matter, already. “So, you were there in the cider house and heard us. We’ve been hearing rumors of such for some time, before we even got to Mittelward, and were just now discussing it. So it is true, then?” Edmund furtively asked. “Such things exist, these elephants?”
“Yes, have you seen any?” Peridan also asked. “And is it true they’re bigger than two horses put together?”
The Telmarine nodded. “I have, actually, and yes, they’re bigger than four horses put together.” Rovaper leaned in, his eyes wide. “They say that one alone a capable of moving a stone several ton in weight!”
Ferrin let out low whistle. “That would be a help. Perhaps we could use them to them to help move building materials from town? I know my wife and I sure could use the assistance,” he said, causing Peridan to cough into his water glass and start choking.
The Telmarine frowned slightly. “Are you all right?”
Peridan nodded and swallowed heavily. “Went down the wrong way,” he managed to get out.
“Don’t mind him,” Ferrin said, refilling his tea and offering more to Rovaper who nodded and pushed his cup closer. “Some of us are luckier at landing a wife, and others are jealous of that fact.”
The Telmarine raised his cup, a sly smile crossing his stubbled face. “And some of us are happily free of the burden of the weaker sex!”
Edmund had to keep his eyes from narrowing and forced a laugh of agreement, to which the rest managed to join in on. Once the laughter died, though, Edmund was eager to get back to the point at hand. He reached into his sack for his journal and bit of lead. “So, where exactly do you think we could find such beasts? And more importantly, would be able to tame them to help us with the build?”
Rovaper took another slow drink from his tea before answering. “Last I saw them was to the southwest of Darrinden, close to the Nelden border. Which is what you heard, yes? Pardon me for overhearing that earlier,” he added. “I just have a particular fondness of them and couldn’t help but come over.”
Edmund waved his apology off, and wrote down “close to Nelden,” hoping desperately not to have to cross into that province.
“And regarding approaching them, well….” the Telmarine stalled, his dark eyes scanning the room. Edmund looked around, too. No one was remotely interested in their conversation, but he leaned in, regardless. “I’ve never tried taming the beasts, nor would I want to.”
Peridan sat back in his seat. “How come?”
Rovaper shook his head, a grimace tightening his mouth. “Just wait until you see them. They truly are majestic. Beautiful to look at from afar, and quite peaceful,” the Telmarine said softly, and frowned. “But if people are able to tame them for their own use, I suppose they have every right to. I just have never been interested in it. Personally,” he hastily added, his eyebrows raised.
Edmund thought back on Durah. Majestic and beautiful were definitely two fitting words for her, and he could only imagine what a whole herd of them must look like in the wild. “Then perhaps we best not,” he said. “But it would be good to know where they are. I still would like to lay my eyes on them, and perhaps avoid building near their habitat.”
“Southwest of here, you say?” Peridan asked. “How far exactly again?”
“I’d say a half day’s ride, maybe twenty miles. There’s a hidden valley that stretches into Southern Darrinden that most people bypass. The area just before the valley itself would be ideal for a homestead,” he added. “There’s a few streams that eventually lead into the lake where the elephants sometimes graze around in their valley. They would be a good water source for potential orange orchards. Good airflow, too, with dry, rocky soil if you want to put in a vineyard.”
“A vineyard, now there’s an idea!” Ferrin said, giving a hopeful glance to Peridan and making a grab for his unused napkin.
Edmund added to his notes and started sketching out a map of Eastern Archenland from his memory. This Rovaper obviously knew what he was talking about, and was providing the exact information they needed. A half a day’s ride wasn’t so bad, and perhaps it was better that they did not set up camp that far south anyway.
“I’m actually heading in that direction now,” Rovaper continued. “I’m meeting some friends to get some late season fishing down on the Winding Arrow.” The Telmarine scooted his chair back. “I wish the best of luck to you all. It’s beautiful country down there, so I’m sure you’ll find yourself plenty of options for your home,” he said. He paused and looked down before continuing. “If you could do me a favor, though….”
“Yes, what do you need, friend?” Ferrin asked.
Rovaper smiled, and looked to each of them in turn. “Make sure no one follows you. They’re safe where they are and I wouldn’t want them driven away or anything.” He sheepishly shrugged. “I just like knowing where they are so I can keep an eye on them from time to time,” he admitted. “But just as a word of warning, I’ve seen some undesirable characters around these parts.”
Edmund smiled warmly, and was rather sad that he could not reassure Rovaper that they had no intentions of interfering with the elephants nor the Elephants. Their whole mission was to drive the Elephants away, back to their true home in Narnia. Still, it was good to know that even though they have managed for the past hundred years of keeping relatively safe and away from prying eyes, that at least a few people—Lune, for one, and now from the sounds of it, Rovaper—were looking out for the Elephants’ well-being. “I assure you, we will keep their best interests in mind.”
Rovaper seemed to accept that with a nod and drained his cup, scooting towards the front of his seat to stand up.
Not yet, friend, there’s more we need from you. “One more thing…what sort of ‘undesirable characters’ are we talking about?” Edmund said, concern edging into his voice, just enough.
Once again, Rovaper glanced about the room with slight turns in his head. He then leaned forward and mouthed, “Calormenes.”
“What, here?” Peridan convincingly hissed, eyes wide in panic. Sometimes Edmund was envious of his friends’ acting abilities. Prejudiced was one thing Peridan was not, but even Edmund was fooled at his reaction.
Rovaper shrugged slightly. “I’ve seen them, across town, staying at the other inn. They’ve been dropping hints, occasionally meeting with people.”
So far on their journey, Edmund had heard nothing of the sort, but he briefly wondered if Susan had any news on that angle. “And are you sure they’re talking about…the beasts?”
The Telmarine nodded. “They seem to have ideas of their own, though most people aren’t interested, having never seen them before.” Rovaper stood and pulled out a folded up wool cap tucked in the back of his breeches. “I must get going while it’s still early. Fish wait for no man, after all. Thank you, sirs, for the conversation. You have held my curiosity since your songs in Mittelward, and I’m glad to have gotten a chance to meet you,” he said, tugging the hat over the dark hair on his head.
“And you, sir,” Ferrin stated, obviously pleased in finding a compliment of his singing in that. “A safe journey to you!”
The Telmarine slowly made his way through the crowded room and exited through the front door, not noticing the Dove that watched his every movement from the sill. Edmund sat in companionable silence with his friends as they each seemed to mull over the exchange.
“Well,” Ferrin finally said, slapping his napkin against the table. “He turned out to be an invaluable source, I must say. And trustworthy. After that, this should be easy.”
“We best be careful, regardless. I mean, is anyone completely trustworthy?” Peridan hesitantly asked, his brow furrowed in concern. “I did not like what he said about Ferrin’s wife. And she doesn’t even exist.”
“Yet, Peridan. Yet,” Ferrin insisted. “I’m actually liking this idea of a vineyard….”
Edmund ignored Ferrin, and thought about what Peridan said. His friend had a good point. What Rovaper had said earlier about women disturbed him slightly. Though, really, it wasn’t all that strange that the man had a soft spot for the elephants more than he did “the weaker sex.” Edmund had seen many men treat their dogs better than their wives. But, it was always better to be safe than sorry. Edmund whistled a casual couple of notes, and he saw the Dove fly up and in circles above their table.
“I think we can trust our new acquaintance with what he said, and it certainly will help us,” Edmund said, slightly louder than that of his normal speaking voice. “But he’s definitely not someone I would introduce to someone like my sister, if you catch my drift.”
It proved to be enough. The Dove quickly took flight and flew out the door that had fortuitously just opened with the entry of another customer. Edmund trusted that the Bird would make sure Susan and the Telmarine did not cross paths. It helped that the Orange Thorn Inn was already on the south side of Esting, and since she was coming from the northwest, it was unlikely that they would encounter each other. But Edmund didn’t want to take any chances—it was best to keep their resources separate from Susan, especially those who had a low opinion on women, be they a queen or not.
“And let’s not forget, you two. What about our potential neighbors to the south?” Peridan asked.
Of course, the Calormenes. I almost forgot. Edmund rubbed at his temple and took a drink of his tea, disgusting or not. “I’m not sure. We’ve neither seen nor heard anything about them since my sister’s last letter from Anvard. The rest we only know from Durah.” I can say her name, right? Well, too late now. “Of course, we might learn more from cousin Durah’s family,” he said. “It would be convenient if our cousins decided to take up residence where we plan on building.”
Both Peridan and Ferrin nodded in agreement, the latter eyeing the last handcake on the plate.
A flutter of wings caught Edmund’s attention in the corner of his eye, and he looked up to see that the Dove had already returned and was once again casually preening himself in the window. A dumb pigeon joined him and made several cooing noises, sidling up to the Bird in a quick succession of hops. The Dove paid it no mind, instead watching Edmund intently, awaiting further orders.
“Well, the sooner we get this done, the sooner we can start building and have homes ready by wintertime,” Peridan stated.
Edmund kept himself from sighing. He was really getting tired of both reciting and hearing their same bland stock phrases over and over again while on the road. “Exactly. It would be rather nice to see my sister again, and tell her the news, wouldn’t it?” Edmund asked.
Ferrin snorted and tossed his napkin onto the table. “Speak for yourself.”
Edmund turned towards the Dove on the windowsill and gave it the slightest of nods. With a bob of its head, it flapped its wings, flew slightly in the room before turning and flying out the window.
“Are you seriously going to take the last one?” Peridan said. “You’ve been hoarding the handcakes all morning.”
“Then order some more. I’ve got a tab going.”
Edmund tuned them out and started doodling in his book. He had left Narnia well over two weeks ago, and he had promised both Lucy and Susan—and Peter, when they first notified him of their desire to leave—that they would have this wrapped up by the end of the month. Their time had been half spent, to which Edmund was not pleased about. And of course, it didn’t help that he felt guilty for getting sidetracked with distractions. Both pleasant and unpleasant. Edmund knew he had to be more careful, especially with Susan now joining them. What am I going to tell her….
“Yet you always seem to conveniently disappear when it’s time to pay up,” Peridan said.
“But I always make it up to you!” Ferrin said exasperatedly.
“How exactly?”
“Last night? The brunette? I didn’t hear you complain then. I told you the women have great tits in these parts.”
Edmund’s attention was brought back when Peridan loudly cursed in response, and he expected another lecture about propriety and respect towards women from his friend. But then Edmund became aware to what he was drawing. He hastily scribbled over the lewd, circular shapes in hard, dark strokes. “Don’t worry about it, Peridan, order what you want,” he interrupted his friend mid-rant, hoping that no one noticed saw what he had been drawing, nor the hotness that he felt spread from his chest to his cheeks.
“You’re welcome, by the way,” Ferrin sarcastically threw back at Peridan.
A sudden hush fell across the entire room and everyone’s attentions turned towards the entrance. Even the children in the corner stopped their raucous playing and stilled, their eyes wide open in anticipation. The door swung open, and in the entryway stood Baris the faun donned in his court-wear, the Lion embroidered in gold on the front of his scarlet surcoat. The children’s mouths all dropped open at the sight of the Narnian.
“All hail her Majesty, Queen Susan The Gentle of Narnia!” Baris proudly called. Those who were not already standing started to rise out of their seats. Peridan and Ferrin likewise stood, though Ferrin did not remove his headpiece as others in the room did. Peridan swiped Ferrin’s cap off of his head, and slapped him across the shoulder with it.
Grumbling low enough for no one else to hear, Edmund snapped his book shut, dropped it into his bag and slowly got to his feet. Now, he had his sister to answer to, as she him for going against their initial plans, even if it all did seem to come together this morning. Still…it was not likely going to be pleasant.
::x:x:x::
“It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson
::x:x:x:x:x:x:x::
Map | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6
Author: snitchnipped
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Part of Four of the Dichotomy Universe. Familiarity with Dichotomy, Splintered, and Hail to the Days is highly encouraged. All can be found on my ff.net directory.
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Implied Adult Situations, Violence
Author's Notes: Many, many thanks to my betas
wingedflight21, lady_songsmith, and rthstewart for all the encouragement and hand-holding. My hope is that there is a little something in it for everyone. Whatever you get out of it, I want to thank you for taking the time for reading this monster. I hope you enjoy it.Summary: “All the great things are simple, and many can be expressed in a single word: freedom, justice, honor, duty, mercy, hope.” — Winston Churchill
FUEL TO FIRE—CHAPTER THREE
“Lose not yourself in a far off time, seize the moment that is thine.” — Friedrich Schiller
The Great Hall, Cair Paravel, Narnia. Firstweek, September, 1010. Lucy, Day 13.
“Lucy? What are you doing?”
Lucy tore her gaze from the one of Great Hall’s tapestries to see her brother standing at the door of the Kings’ Study. “I’m meeting Durah here.”
Peter nodded at his steward and crossed to join her. They both gazed upon the intricate needlework, the scene depicting the construction the very castle it now hung within. Lucy was happy for the spare moment with her brother—once again, the stresses and pressures since his return had been his soul focus, and he had been spending way too much time cooped up in his study. Well, in her opinion.
How come I’ve never taken the time to appreciate this? she mildly thought, admiring the detailed craftsmanship before her. A slow roll of thunder and the rain drumming on the glass roof above was all the reminder she needed. Normally she would be outside at this hour of the late morning, visiting with the various nymphs or observing the soldiers run their drills on the lawns, all of which she had yet to show her Elephant friend. The weather, though, had thwarted her plans for the day. It was still considered a summer storm, though. The real weather system would be there in a few weeks, but the rains served as a reminder—that it was time to reap the remaining crops from fields, time for the dryads to start gathering wood for the cold of winter. And the cooling rain was welcome, for the last huzzah of summer heat had plagued Cair Paravel the past few weeks.
“So, what will you two be doing today?” Peter asked.
“We haven’t decided,” she shrugged. “I thought about showing her the kitchens, but I don’t think she would make it through the doorway. Besides,” she said, “that may not be the best idea anyway. She eats so much, Peter, which is nothing compared to how much she drinks!”
Peter’s eyebrows perked up in surprise. “You didn’t take her down to the wine cellar, did you?”
Lucy gave him an incredulous tsk! “Water, Peter.” She shook her head and lifted her eyes to the roof. “Honestly,” she muttered.
Peter grinned. He playfully stepped behind her and gave her shoulders a shake. “Whatever you do, stay out of trouble, all right?” He planted a kiss on the crown of her head and walked towards the exit.
“That goes for you, too!” she called after him.
The guards opened the doors as he approached. Peter, his head down deep in thought, nearly ran straight into Durah as she simultaneously started to enter the Great Hall. “My apologies, my lady!” he said, holding his hands out to catch his balance.
“Quite all right!” she said and walked past him without another word. Peter turned, shook his head in wonder, and exited.
Lucy’s mouth tightened. “Durah…”
“Yes, your Majesty?”
The Elephant looked so innocent and hopeful. Lucy just could not admonish her for the slight against Peter, even if he was the High King. “Never mind. Come, look at this!”
Durah slowly sauntered up to stand next to her. Lucy noticed that she had the lucky vantage of seeing the uppermost details of the tapestry. “Why, this is the construction of Cair Paravel, from over a hundred years ago!”
“Quite right,” Lucy said. “It’s a wonder how they managed it. Can you imagine?”
The Elephant nodded, and lifted her trunk to trace the floral border. “The Elephants helped, you know, until they had to leave. We learned all about the days before the Tree died in stories and songs. I can share some if you like!”
“Really?” Lucy breathlessly asked.
Durah nodded. “Such wonderful memories, too. Our Elders found it important that we should never forget where we came from.”
Lucy pursed her lips. “Sometimes I wish I could remember where I came from.”
The Elephant’s trunk dropped down. “You don’t at all, your Majesty?”
“No,” Lucy said, turning and slowly walking towards the thrones. Durah followed, taking a step for every three of Lucy’s. “We came here when I was very young,” Lucy explained. “Well, we all were. Susan remembers though…for some reason. I don’t quite understand. Peter just says she has a memory of—”
“The memory of an elephant?”
Lucy stopped and laughed, and she reached up to run her hand down the edge of Durah’s ear. “The memory of an elephant, yes, of course!” Lucy sobered, and leaned forward. “Is it true? Do you have fantastic memories?”
“We do, we remember everything that our mothers told us, and our mothers’ mothers, and so on,” Durah added with pride. Up above, the rain thrummed against the glass as the storm grew stronger. “We know all about our creation, and the previous Kings and Queens, the beginning of the build of Cair Paravel, the rise of the False Queen, and the journey with our Narnians…we learned it all!”
Oh, right. Lucy had wanted to ask Durah about that ever since she first mentioned it when they met her. “You said ‘our Narnians’. What do you mean by that, Durah?”
“You know, our Narnians,” Durah said, turning to look at the thrones on the dais. “Our Narnian families that accompanied us on our exile to Archenland. We helped the humans who were fleeing the False Queen, for she was hunting down the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve. The lesser herd of elephants came with us, too. Grandmare says that they are thriving more in Archenland than they ever did in Narnia,” she added.
This was the most forthcoming Durah had been about anything since Lucy met her, and it was proving to be quiet the history lesson.
Lucy looped her arm around Durah’s trunk and started leading her towards the thrones. “Tell me more,” she urged, already formulating the letter she planned to write Edmund and Susan.
“There is not any creature so capable of understanding as an Elephant. They are apt to learne, remember, meditate, and conceive of such things as a man can hardly perform.” — Edward Topsell
Lord Darrin’s Estate in Mittelward, Darrinden, Archenland. Secondweek, September, 1010. Susan, Day 16.
“Pray, tell me, my Lord Dar. How is the weather in the winter months? Is it generally as mild as it is now?”
“The winters are fair, yes. You could say that.”
Susan was annoyed, a sensation amplified by monthly moon cramps and a quickly forming bruise on her foot from when she tripped over the footstool to her bed the previous night. The horse lent to her while her Narnian mount rested was the most skittish one she ever had the privilege of riding. And to top it all off, she had the beginnings of a headache forming in her temple. It was one of those days in which nothing seemed to go right, and the frustration only fed into more things going wrong. She was sure of it.
As it turned out, Susan did not have to be there in Darrinden. At all. Despite his sordid behavior at the dinner, Susan had agreed to ride with Lord Tran to his estate in Emmerfald, Tranden. But of course, not too long after Susan and her Narnian Company had set out with Tran did she grow disgusted with his temperament. And it was an easy decision to part ways with him, too, for not a half-day’s journey on the main out of Anvard did she learn what he knew of the Elephants. Apparently, he had never seen any elephants that far east in Tranden. His knowledge of them was that they were primarily spotted in Nelden and Darrinden. And he was not shy in boasting of his intelligence.
The next morning, not an hour after they had left their first camp outside of Anvard, they fortuitously came to a three-pronged fork in the road, right at the border of Nelden. She had three choices, the first being to go right and continue on to Emmerfald with Tran. She was able to eliminate that choice right away. Susan somehow had begged off a visit to Emmerfald, claiming that it would not be fair if her trip was cut short due to something as unpredictable as, say, the weather without a chance of visiting the other esteemed Lords of the land. Surprisingly, he agreed. She had learned a lot—and she meant, a lot—about Lord Tran the few days of being around him. But she also learned that he was a fair man, too, as he let her off.
The second choice was to head straight into Nelden and visit the Lord Nel in Talstan. Edmund had quite early on in their trip voiced his doubts on the possibility of the Elephants being there, saying something about “the environment perhaps being a bit too hostile” for them. Susan believed that he must have had visited Nelden at some point to to know that, so she trusted his opinion on the matter. She knew she may have to visit him, eventually, for her own personal mission, but it was not a priority.
The third was to go left, to the north and towards Mittelward, where Edmund and his Company first headed towards. This choice led to rather out of the way and it would require backtracking. Of course, this defeated the purpose of covering twice as much ground, but she had already dismissed the first option, and the second one did not seem very promising either. But Susan was pleased that her own list was getting smaller and smaller. We may accomplish our mission sooner than we think, she had thought as she eyed the left-most road.
So, she had chosen the latter option. Unfortunately.
“This is my brother Darrin’s land,” Dar needlessly said to her, sounding just as bored as she felt. “I’m looking after things while he’s on to Anvard.”
Of course, Susan knew this already, though again, the news was slightly too late. It wasn’t until upon waking this morning that she learned that Darrin was not even in residence in Mittelward. Not that it would have made all that much of a difference, but such news would have been appreciated on her late arrival the evening prior. Had she not first travelled with Tran, she probably would have come across Darrin on his way to Anvard just as she left. If Darrin is anything like his brother, then thank Aslan that I was spared.
But still, as a matter of principle, Susan was annoyed of all this miscommunication. Time was wasting away, and she was getting no further with the Elephants than she was with the the Lords, despite the shorter lists. And this afternoon ride that Dar had suggested was a considerable waste of her time. The pounding behind her right temple seemed to swell with her frustration and she took a breath to relax herself.
“And this is where your father’s original estate was, Lord Dar?”
“No, but it is close.”
Susan waited, but no further details came forth. “How close, if I may ask?”
Dar shrugged. “Oh…I don’t know. A couple of miles east? Five, I’d say.”
The groom riding alongside them cleared his throat. “Er, thirty miles, my lord,” he interjected. He turned to Susan. “Just south of the village of Esting, your Majesty, in Darden. A little over half day’s ride from here,” he exclaimed, an uneasy smile gracing his young features.
“Yes, twenty miles,” Dar nodded in agreement and drifted his attention elsewhere. His groomsman didn’t bother correcting him again, his head bowed in what Susan interpreted as embarrassment. She definitely pitied him.
They continued riding, and Susan took a moment to study her host—who didn’t seem to notice. Lord Dar was a fairly nondescript man, with a slouch in his saddle and hair clipped disproportionately short for his head. He did not share the typical coloring of those of Eastern Archenland, she noticed, but perhaps she was wrong.
She had taken it on Ferrin’s word quite a while back that the population of where he was from looked like “a byproduct from a beautiful pale Westerner drunkenly tumbling around with a solid, strong Calormene amongst the orchards.” Susan, in turn, had asked which one he was referring to as his mother and which was his father. That had naturally set Edmund’s friend off, and she smiled in the memory of him trying to bite back insults in retort to his Queen. I do concede that there are benefits to my position, she had thought at the time.
And there were times that were not very beneficial. Such as this one. “I have never been to Esting before. I dare say it’s as nice as Mittelward, correct?”
The chaperone nervously looked from Dar to Susan and back to Dar again before answering. “My Lord rarely ventures into town, your Majesty, finding it preferable to stay in his own estates,” he said, his eyes not wavering, still trained on the Lord. Dar apparently didn’t hear. Or, more likely, just wasn’t paying any attention.
“A rather hands-off approach, think you not?”
“I have no opinion, your Majesty. But I do know that Lord Dar has all the faith and confidence in his Lord Mayors.”
“Hmm,” Susan hummed, her mind at work. If Dar did not venture into Esting, then chances are that the people of Esting had no idea what Dar was up to at any given moment. His absence would not be general knowledge were I to go there to pay him a visit.
At last Dove before departing Anvard, Edmund had stated they were in Mittelward to gather intelligence. But of course, being the way things have been working so far on this mission, she had already been too late to meet up with him. After she had already decided to head towards his direction and call upon Darrin, she had received word upon her arrival last night that they had already departed south to Esting—her Doves had reported that they had checked out of a local cider house the previous morning. She had wished she had a good excuse to follow them to Esting, but considering the Lord Dar was here and not there in Darden, she had no idea how to justify traveling there. But now Dar himself may have just given her an alibi.
She decided to give Dar one more chance in a civilized conversation, and to be direct about it, believing that there was little harm in it. The man, in short, was daft. “King Lune mentioned something about there being elephants in your territory. Is that true?”
“I think I’ve heard that. I’ve only seen them in Anvard, myself.”
“Have you? They sound to be such wondrous beasts, and I would love to know if tales from Lune are true about how truly magnificent they are.” She knew she was laying it on thick, but Susan was quickly learning that with Dar, you had to give a mile to gain an inch.
“Yes, they’re large, aren’t they?” he said, and Susan could not tell whether he was either unimpressed or uninterested.
Probably both.
They continued riding for quite some time, but for how long, Susan did not know. It felt like hours regardless. Conversation was kept to a minimum. She was getting nothing of use from Dar, and it seemed he got nothing from her, for he may as well have been ignoring her the entire ride. The groom chaperoning them, however, turned to be more of chatty fellow, and tried asking her questions about the Narnian horses and Horses and her opinions of them. She was not very forthcoming with answers, though, not being in the mood to talk about anything but Elephants and the eligibility of Archenlander Lords. And even those topics she had very little interest in addressing that afternoon.
The groom, however, grew bolder and bolder as he grew more and more smitten with her, talking about his plans making Head Groomsman at Anvard. Susan tried to be polite in her responses, but eventually, her replies got more clipped as her headache grew, and, she was ashamed to admit, probably more rude. The groom did not seem to take slight, though, even if he did eventually get the hint that she was not in the mood to talk.
Susan looked up to the north and was troubled to see how dark it was—she imagined that it was indeed raining up in Narnia, and the full onslaught of the autumn rains were knocking at the Cair’s door already. Perhaps Narnian summer ended earlier this year. Time seemed to be breathing down her neck, yet Susan knew she had only just begun her part of the mission. A particularly strong cramp seemed to roil up in her abdomen in protest to the unfortunate delay. Susan winced, but kept her mouth shut, even though she very much wanted to complain aloud about the unnecessary jerky motion of her mount. The poor groom had already put up with enough of her, she knew.
They eventually arrived back at the stable, much to Susan’s relief. To her surprise, though, Dar stopped all of their horses with a click! of his mouth. He slowly turned in his saddle towards her and looked at her directly. She noted that it was the first time he had since she her arrival in Darrinden the previous night.
What now….
“Thank you, your Majesty. I had a splendid time. Would you care to grace my company again tomorrow?” He had the audacity to look somewhat hopeful.
Susan blinked. “No, I think not, my lord. I’m afraid I’m not cut out for such excitement two days in a row.”
Dar nodded in understanding, and rode his horse into the stable, cutting Susan and her mount off. Susan bit her tongue, and patiently waited as they slowly walked through the doors, leaping off her horse as soon as the stablehand took the reins from her. Dar didn’t even notice her quickly turn to exit as he was too preoccupied tugging each finger of his glove off his hands, slowly, methodically. She pretended not to notice the apologetic look the groom was gracing her.
“It really is a shame you missed the Lord Darrin, your Majesty,” he said before she could fully escape. “Your temperaments would make a much better match.”
Susan’s heart and mind bristled while she covered with a gentle smile. “Perhaps another time, then?” she said, giving her mount a final pat on its flank. The horse, apparently, was startled by this and unexpectedly bumped into her, causing Susan take a step back to regain her footing—on her bruised foot.
Ouch.
Enough was enough. She had thought them strange before, but she now understood Lord Cole and King Lune’s reactions to the brothers Dar and Darrin. Susan was now able to cross both of them off her potential suitor list—without even having to meet with Lord Darrin. With that knowledge, she was perfectly content in joining Edmund and his Company in Esting tomorrow, propriety be damned. She, Baris, and the rest of the Narnian party were to leave at noon the next day. With no questions asked, she told herself, though she doubted anyone around here would even bother.
“Experience is not what happens to you; it’s what you do with what happens to you.” — Aldous Huxley
The Orange Thorn Inn in Esting, Darden, Archenland. Secondweek, September, 1010. Edmund, Day 17.
“—and that’s how I ended up here at the Thorn, which I am oh so grateful for. My mam always said I was too free of a spirit to be tied down to the orchards—”
The girl had not stopped talking for the last ten minutes. It didn’t matter that Edmund never once encouraged, let alone acknowledged that he was remotely interested in engaging in a discussion regarding her extensive, yet dull, family upbringing, her numerous siblings, nor the history of the family’s orange orchards.
“—but then he scolded, ‘If you’re going to carry on like that while you are here, young lady, then you may as well—’”
There was one thing that Edmund was thankful for, and that was that days like these were becoming few and far between. Well, save for the one incident the week prior, but he had no idea that his body could not tolerate both the cider and the blue lasaia. And, of course, the incident before that, the morning after they parted ways with Susan and the rest of the Narnians after the altercation by the border.
Maybe I need to be a bit more careful. That being said, this morning was one of the most particularly bad ones in recent memory, even if the prior evening’s events did not warrant is as much as the other instances. This was starting to get old. Edmund cracked his left eye open—the crust in his other eye was thick enough to keep it closed.
“—but I should say, it wasn’t as bad as I was expecting, wouldn’t you agree, sir?”
“No, it wasn’t. I do agree.” Edmund had no idea what he was agreeing to, but if it got her to shut up, he was willing to agree with her if she said the earth revolved around the sun.
He heard the girl give a contented sigh. “That is oh so good to hear, sir.” His bed jostled and her voice got louder as she leaned over him. “And what about you? Where are you from?”
Edmund turned his head, opening his tacky right eye to look straight up to a pretty, dimpled face framed by fuzzy hair. She looked like a smiling cloud. She was a smiling cloud personified. “I can honestly say I don’t remember,” he groaned.
“You can’t at all, sir?”
He rubbed the stickiness out of his eyes. “Tarna, I don’t even remember much of last night.”
Tarna gave a few gleeful claps. “But you remember enough to remember my name!” The girl sat back on the mattress with a pleased smile, a strap of her gown falling off a shoulder.
Something tells me that’s not going to be last thing I’m going to remember this fine, fine morning. Edmund tilted his head to look at the light streaming through the window, dust particles floating softly within the beam. Not as late in the morning as he feared, but he was definitely going to be the last one downstairs to breakfast after an evening of unjustified debauchery. He hoped Peridan and Ferrin both felt twice as worse as he did. Knowing them, though, they probably also had twice the fun that he vaguely remembered having once they parted ways to their respective rooms—and company—at the inn.
They ended up staying an extra day in Mittelward, longer than intended, for yet another unintended day of recovery. Edmund and his truncated Company also took their time on the road, hoping to pass by other travelers who may have heard rumor of Elephants, if not seen them. But they had no luck in such, and they had rode into Esting separately the afternoon before, arriving in intervals, and only convening in the tavern downstairs. They had made sure to put on a grand show of much back slapping and warm greetings. It had only been somewhat rehearsed, expressing the usual bits of information they hoped any eavesdroppers, both intentional and unintentional, would pick up on.
But after many days of limited luck, the winds had finally changed and their mock reunion worked. One man—an actual Telmarine, no less, but at least this man admitted to being so in his strange, foreign accent—was quick to offer his story of an encounter with these huge, great beasts who he observed grazing in a meadow he wished to build. The three of them quickly picked up on this, expressing their desires of building in the same areas and expressing the necessary concerns one would expect to have of potential pests of an unusual size. Edmund was proud that at least their improvisational skills were improving on this trip, even if they hadn’t gotten as far into the mission as he would have liked.
And of course, the distractions, didn’t help.
Sweet, sweet Tarna. The previous night’s activities made his knee faintly throb. That’s still taking some time to get used to.
Half-way through the raucous evening of story-swapping, drinking, and barmaid flirting, Edmund had stepped outside to relieve himself. He hadn’t quite finished fastening his breeches before one of Susan’s Doves had landed on the fence post before him with news.
Edmund had not heard from his sister since the Dove sent from Anvard, and that was only to say that she had arrived safely. And her latest message give him no further details—the Bird only said that Susan would fill him in on what she learned in Anvard and Mittelward when she joined them the next evening upon her arrival. And that she did have news that would help them.
Which had meant that she was coming here, to the Orange Thorn Inn. But not until later the next evening. But she had news, probably more news than what they had to offer in return. So, that gave them the evening to relax and let loose a little after a long day’s travel. Or, so Ferrin had surreptitiously suggested once their friend had left get them more drinks and Edmund had filled him in on what he had learned. Of course, it didn’t help that Edmund already had a strong buzz going, and he didn’t even catch on that Susan was in Mittelward, of all places, where they had just left.
No, that thought didn’t come to him until his dazed awakening just a half hour prior. At least he had the foresight the night before to send the messenger Dove a heads up to the Lord Mayor of Esting on the Queen of Narnia’s arrival, and to pass on a task to the Pigeons to carry out, as well. He just now realized how annoyed he was at Susan’s decision to join them—it completely defeated their purpose of dividing and conquering Archenland, after all.
Edmund sat up, fully expecting the sickly feeling in his stomach and the throbbing in his temple, welcoming it even as punishment. He decided it was best to gather as much of his things as possible and leave before too many questions were raised. Edmund was torn between wishing Turvalin was present to assist in gathering his belongings and being thankful he wasn’t. He was not in the mood for the satyr’s silent looks of judgement.
First things first, Edmund thought. He accepted the rumpled linen shirt that the girl pulled off the bed post before leaning down to collect the discarded breeches from the floor.
“Would you like some breakfast, sir? ‘Tis midweek, and Gref always makes handcakes on this day. ‘Twice as much, half way through,’ he always says, ‘It’s the only way a man can—’”
But Edmund had once again tuned her out as he searched his surroundings. He pulled the main cover off, checking between it and the thin sheet underneath, before bending down and checking under the bed. Nothing. It would not have been the first time he had misplaced it, but it was usually within arm’s reach. Edmund stood too fast, ignoring the thud, thud, thud in his head. His heart started to pound just as hard and fast as he, on a whim, reached into the shafts of both of his boots and came up empty. Well, that was unlikely anyway.
“—and the marmalade they make here is oh so sweet, sweeter than anything you can ever find in Calormen, made from the oranges from my family’s very own orchard, and it goes well with…sir? Can I help you find what you’re looking for?”
He stumbled over to the other side of the bed and frantically checked under the portion of the blankets the girl had just shifted from. But it was nowhere to be found. “I can’t find it.”
“Find what, sir?”
Edmund took mental stock of his situation, even going as far to reach into breeches he had just donned. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no no…. Edmund clutched at his hair, desperately trying to remember the previous night, but all he could recall was the tossing of blankets, the tumbling of sweaty bodies. He crossed over to his saddlebag on the corner chair and started digging in the side pockets. No, no, NO, I couldn’t have forgotten. Granted, he could count on one hand the occurrences in which it had been employed, but still, he was always extremely careful, having heard of too many stories from around the Patrol. And his brother.
“What are you looking for, sir?” she repeated. “Perhaps I could find it! My mam always says I have a keen eye for—”
“The skin! The bloody skin!” Edmund didn’t mean to shout at the poor girl, but he refused to believe he could have been so careless. He was not Peter in that regard. He abandoned the side pockets and ran his hand along the bottom of the main compartment.
“What skin, sir?”
And there it was. The small leather satchel was deep down in the corner of his bag. It remained untouched, unbuttoned, the precious sheepsgut safely tucked inside. He timidly reached for it, opened it, stared dumbly at its contents before pulling it out. After a moment, he reversed his actions, slowly returning the skin back into the satchel, and letting it drop back into the bag. Shit.
“Ohhhh,” Tarna breathlessly said, finally catching on. The girl even had the audacity to blush as she nervously started combing through her fluffed hair with her fingers. “Oh, you needn’t worry, sir. My mam says it’s too soon to worry about that, anyhow.”
Edmund turned and looked dumbly at the girl. “What?” he said in a disbelieving tone.
“She says it’s too soon. At least, that was how it was for her after every time. She was unable to have another babe for nearly a full year after each and every one of us, which is why my brothers and sisters are born so far apart. And I only had my Arberd just two months—”
Edmund blinked. “You have a child?”
The girl smiled broadly and readjusted to sit on her knees, the strap threatening to fall off of her other shoulder. “Oh yes, and he’s the most beautiful—”
“But—but what are you doing here?” he interrupted, mouth falling agape. “In…in bed?” he dumbly added.
“Oh he’s fine, my mam just had her last earlier this year, so she is able to nurse him while I am here at the Thorn. Though I suppose I should really—”
Edmund stopped listening, his attention drawn to the top of her voluptuous bosom peeking over the top of the gown’s neckline—the sights of which first got him into this mess. He gulped. Oranges, indeed. As the girl idly braided her hair and babbled on about the virtues of her “oh most perfect little boy!”, the other strap started to slip off, causing Edmund’s eyes to shift farther down the front her gown. Her very damp gown.
And that’s when it all made sense. The sweetness of her skin, the tumble and roll of sweatier than normal bodies.…
His crusty eye.
Horrified, Edmund clamped a hand over his mouth and quickly turned away. He started digging frantically in his bag and pulled out a second leather pouch, pulled a few things out of it, and threw the pouch back in the saddlebag. “Here,” he said, cramming coins into her hands and pulling the straps of her gown up where they belonged. “Thank you for everything, Tarna,” he rushed, giving her shoulders a quick squeeze. “You have been most hospitable. Go home, take care of yourself, your son, all of your siblings. And do say hello to your mam for me,” he hastily added before reaching for his boots under the bed.
“Oh!” The girl clutched at the two golden lions and bronze crescent in her hand and looked up, her smile as sunny as the morning. The gesture had obviously rendered her momentarily speechless. It didn’t last long. “Oh, thank you sir, my mam will be most pleased! Well, not with what happened last night, she said that I really should be more careful about—” She stopped herself and swung her bare legs around to sit on the edge of the bed. “What is your name, sir? I’m sure my mam would like to know the name to thank during our supper’s blessing tonight.”
Edmund finished tugging on his last boot. “It’s Ferrin.” And without a backward glance, he grabbed his bag and was out the door.
“Ah, women. They make the highs higher and the lows more frequent.” — Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche
The Orange Thorn Inn in Esting, Darden, Archenland. Secondweek, September, 1010. Edmund, Day 17, Cont.
Edmund pointed a finger at Ferrin, not five inches from the end his friend’s nose. “Not a word,” he said through gritted teeth and pulled out a chair to take a seat, dropping his bag by his feet.
Ferrin’s grin was too wide to be even remotely sympathetic as he grabbed for a table knife. “Rough night? Mine was too, in the best way possible. Here, have some of this,” he said, finishing a smear of marmalade on a handcake and pushing the jar in his direction. “This should sober you up—it’s the good stuff. This area is really quite renown for their oranges. Sweeter than the ones in Tashbaan, that’s for sure.”
Edmund scrubbed at his face with both hands. “I’ve heard,” he groaned into his palms.
Ferrin crammed half of the cake in his mouth. “Go ahead, you should really taste it,” he said mid-chew.
“Oh, I’ve tasted.” A chair scraped against the floor next to him and Edmund glanced up to see Peridan looking just as worse for wear as he felt. Good.
“What’s with all the commotion?” Peridan croaked as he sat down heavily.
Realizing that he was unnaturally amiss of his surroundings, Edmund made a quick scan of the room. There definitely was a more frantic energy in the room, with an older woman sweeping by the doorway and several of the other workers going in and out of the kitchen. The sound of an inarticulate, booming voice fluctuated as the door swung open and shut. The amount of clientele was also higher than it was the previous morning, the people all abuzz with animated chatter.
A burly man bumped into the back of Edmund’s head as he moved to the table directly behind them. “Pardon me,” the man said in a thick accent…one that Edmund was quickly getting familiar with.
What is it with these lone Telmarines wandering all over the countryside?
Ferrin looked passed Edmund’s shoulder at the man, and tapped the top of his mug. “The proprietors just got a message from the Lord Mayor. Apparently, an actual talking bird came to him to say the Queen of Narnia herself is on her way and is to stop by this very establishment for luncheon,” Ferrin said.
She was earlier than planned. Typical. Of all days. Edmund looked over Ferrin’s shoulder and saw the mottled Dove perched on the windowsill. “Which queen? Aren’t there two of them?” Edmund reached for a cake, and took a bite. Being a bit dry, he reached for the marmalade, decided against it, and went for the butter instead.
Peridan’s eyes squinted slightly. “Queen Lucia, is it?”
“No, the frigid one,” Ferrin said a little too earnestly, his loud voice carrying over the din of the room. “The Queen Susan.”
Edmund stretched out his legs from under the table, kicking a foot out and meeting its target. Hard.
“Or, so I hear,” Ferrin added, reaching under the table with a wince.
A young lad came by just then with a pot of hot water and a steaming plate of handcakes, plopping them down on the table and clearing their empty platter and pot away. “Thank you, cousin,” Peridan politely said, reaching for a cake, but the boy had already quickly rushed off back to the kitchens.
The locals were certainly putting up a fuss for his sister. “I wonder what she’s doing here, of all places,” Edmund mused aloud. He hoped to get the answer he was expecting. Otherwise, a lot of Birds were going to have to prepare themselves for reassignment.
The Birds were definitely useful when it worked—in crowded places that were worn around the edges, such as this one, seeing a bird in the rafters was a rather common occurrence. The only time they were noticed was if they made a nuisance, such as fighting or courting—resulting in feathers flying everywhere—or just plain making a mess. He at least had the confidence that no Narnian Bird would ever defecate in such a place.
Because they were often ignored, their voices tended to blend in with the usual roar of a crowd. If Edmund wanted a rumor to be spread, it only took one loud sentence uttered from a Pigeon and the word would be thoroughly spread by day’s end through the natural gossiping of the townsfolk. The official word of Susan’s arrival had apparently been successfully delivered to the Lord Mayor of Esting via her Dove. The rumor of the reason why was due to the Pigeons, and ideally would have spread throughout town before the Dove’s arrival.
“Excuse me, milady,” Edmund said, with a tug to the sleeve of a passing servant girl. “What’s the word about the Queen?”
The girl blew disheveled strands of hair out of her face to talk. “She’s lookin’ to meet with Lord Dar, sir. They say she’s lookin’ to marry, sir. Some say to the Lord Mayor. Do you need anything, sir?”
The Birds had done their job, despite the bastardization of the rumor. Close enough. “Yes, do you have any cream for my tea?”
The frazzled servant girl gave him an odd look, but dipped into a shallow curtsy and retreated to the kitchen.
“I’ve seen the Lord Mayor,” Ferrin stated, reaching for another handcake. “Her Royal Majesty, the Wondrous Queen of Narnia is going to regret that rumor.”
Peridan laughed, while Edmund looked towards the window. The Dove was too busy preening to notice him and most likely didn’t hear their conversation. In his periphery, he noticed a couple of small children running around a table, causing Edmund to inwardly flinch, his mind going to his prior evening’s companion’s many, many younger siblings. He imagined them all with the fuzzy hair that she had. One of the little boys tripped on a chair leg, and he caught himself with his hands. He quickly stood up, smoothed the hair out of his face—Edmund noticed it was definitely fuzzy—and continued to chase another boy around the table.
“This is a morning of nothing but regrets, I’ve found,” he replied.
Behind him, the Telmarine called loudly to a servant across the room, and Edmund looked over his shoulder at the man. A weird feeling settled about him and something niggled at his memory. Why does he seem so familiar?
“So, where did our new friend recommend we look?” Ferrin asked. “I was a bit, ah, preoccupied to catch all that he said.”
“Preoccupied,” Peridan snidely said, taking a drink of water. “That’s a new one for you.”
Ferrin leaned back in his seat with a wistful grin. “She certainly was a handful. How was yours, Peridan?”
“None of your business,” Peridan clipped back with a stern glare. “Back to the matter at hand, if you don’t mind. Our friend said there was decent land to the south to build. Plenty of room, he said."
But Edmund wasn’t fully listening to their all-too-familiar, all-too-boring ruse, for he was too bothered by the niggling memory of his brain. The man seated behind him may be Telmarine, but he was definitely not like the man they met last night. And he wasn’t Bazner either, who, for all he knew, was wandering the wilds of Western Narnia. Actually, no, he’s due for his initial colonization check-in with Peter.
Edmund definitely would not be able to pick out any of the Telmarines he battled with a few years prior, even if his life depended on it. Plus, having never spoken to the stranger, his voice when he had called out did not seem familiar in the slightest.
How would I know him?
“How far south? We wouldn’t want to run into any of those great beasts we heard about in Mittelward,” Ferrin smartly added and finished the last of his handcake in one giant bite.
Edmund’s head popped up. Mittelward. That was it—the man sitting behind him was the same man he made eye contact with at the cider house. Edmund may have been a bit out of it at the time, but there was no mistaking the memory.
“You know, that man last night reminded me of someone I met back in Mittelward,” he said, with a jerk of his head back to the table behind him. They full well knew that Edmund had not talked to anyone outside of themselves during the remainder of their stay at the cider house, so he hoped they got the message.
Ferrin coughed once in acknowledgement. Peridan quickly gave a glance past Edmund, and popped his hand quickly over his water glass in confirmation. So he is listening in, Edmund realized.
“That’s quite curious,” Peridan said. “I wonder if we could find him again today. Perhaps he knows someone who knows more about these elephants. Isn’t that what he called them?”
Ferrin eyed the diminishing plate of handcakes. “No one else seems to care much or know much,” he said. He gave in and reached for the second to last handcake. “I just don’t want to build anywhere that may be a threat from such beasts.”
Peridan nodded. “They must be terrible!”
“And wild,” Edmund added. He decided to risk it. “Though I sure would like to see them. They may be of some use to us.”
Both Peridan and Ferrin look at him in surprise at his suggestion. Of all their talk with all the people they had come across thus far, they never once had expressed an interest in taming the beasts. The silent moment was interrupted by the plopping down of a small pitcher.
“Cream, sir,” the girl said and quickly swept back towards the kitchens.
This was no coincidence, Edmund thought. This man had taken an interest in them after Ferrin’s musical espionage in Mittelward, and Peridan had just now confirmed that he started paying closer attention as soon as they brought up the Elephants.
Edmund swirled his cup, deciding where to take their conversation next to rope the man in. Once the tea leaves settled to the bottom, he filled the remainder almost to the brim with cream.
Ferrin scowled. “Must you murder your tea?”
“I’m not murdering,” Edmund said. “I’m honoring it.” He took a sip and nearly choked in shock. He set the glass down and reached for the cup of water in Peridan’s hands.
“What’s wrong with you?” Peridan asked, wiping his hands on his trousers from the splashing water.
After a gulp, Edmund’s face scrounged up in distaste. “Must everything be orange flavored around here?”
“Pardon me. Sirs?” The thickly accented voice came from above Edmund’s head.
Edmund cleared the remainder of his tea from his throat and looked up over his shoulder. Above him towered the Telmarine. Got him. “Yes?”
“Good morning, to you. My name is Rovaper. I couldn’t help but overhearing—”
“Welcome, Rovaper!” Ferrin interrupted, standing up and pulling out the empty chair next to him. “Please join us, we are always up for meeting new people.”
Peridan gestured towards the remainder of their breakfast. “Would you care for anything to eat? We ordered plenty.”
“No, thank you, I’ve had my fill already,” Rovaper said, sitting down in the proffered chair.
Edmund quickly tried to think of something to say, wanting to keep the conversation going to avoid any introductions on their part. There’s no use avoiding it… “Were you not at Mittelward? I thought you looked awfully familiar.”
“I was, yes, I was taking care of business there, though I’m usually found here in Esting.” …
Ferrin gestured to the three of them. “We’re heading south, ourselves. We’re scouting for good land to farm on, perhaps put in a couple of orchards.”
“Unfortunately, we’re getting a rather late start, so we may not get settled before winter,” Peridan added. “But if things go well, we would like to get a few homes built for our families.”
“Are you from the West?” Rovaper asked. “There’s been quite the influx of settlers coming from there.”
“I am, these two aren’t,” Peridan said, completely unfazed. “Originally out of Coleden. The part that is still Coleden, that is, before the split,” was all he clarified, to which Edmund was grateful for. Perhaps Edmund could, as Susan had said, pull off the Southern Archenland coloring that Ferrin had, even if he couldn’t the accent….
Rovaper nodded and swirled the contest of his tea. “Coleden. I passed through there a few years ago. It’s beautiful there, can’t imagine why anyone would leave.”
Peridan smiled faintly. “It was time to move on,” he simply said. “And my friends and I are looking for some adjacent lands for our families to settle in.”
“The idea of establishing a new village is rather appealing,” Ferrin eagerly added, to which Edmund shot him a glare. Ferrin had a habit of letting things get carried away. “For me, at least,” Ferrin amended.
“You’ve come to the right place. The Lord Dar doesn’t seem to care who settles where, so you may have some luck here. Or back in Darrinden.”
Edmund sighed softly. He was tired of the idle chatter and wanted to get to the meat of the matter, already. “So, you were there in the cider house and heard us. We’ve been hearing rumors of such for some time, before we even got to Mittelward, and were just now discussing it. So it is true, then?” Edmund furtively asked. “Such things exist, these elephants?”
“Yes, have you seen any?” Peridan also asked. “And is it true they’re bigger than two horses put together?”
The Telmarine nodded. “I have, actually, and yes, they’re bigger than four horses put together.” Rovaper leaned in, his eyes wide. “They say that one alone a capable of moving a stone several ton in weight!”
Ferrin let out low whistle. “That would be a help. Perhaps we could use them to them to help move building materials from town? I know my wife and I sure could use the assistance,” he said, causing Peridan to cough into his water glass and start choking.
The Telmarine frowned slightly. “Are you all right?”
Peridan nodded and swallowed heavily. “Went down the wrong way,” he managed to get out.
“Don’t mind him,” Ferrin said, refilling his tea and offering more to Rovaper who nodded and pushed his cup closer. “Some of us are luckier at landing a wife, and others are jealous of that fact.”
The Telmarine raised his cup, a sly smile crossing his stubbled face. “And some of us are happily free of the burden of the weaker sex!”
Edmund had to keep his eyes from narrowing and forced a laugh of agreement, to which the rest managed to join in on. Once the laughter died, though, Edmund was eager to get back to the point at hand. He reached into his sack for his journal and bit of lead. “So, where exactly do you think we could find such beasts? And more importantly, would be able to tame them to help us with the build?”
Rovaper took another slow drink from his tea before answering. “Last I saw them was to the southwest of Darrinden, close to the Nelden border. Which is what you heard, yes? Pardon me for overhearing that earlier,” he added. “I just have a particular fondness of them and couldn’t help but come over.”
Edmund waved his apology off, and wrote down “close to Nelden,” hoping desperately not to have to cross into that province.
“And regarding approaching them, well….” the Telmarine stalled, his dark eyes scanning the room. Edmund looked around, too. No one was remotely interested in their conversation, but he leaned in, regardless. “I’ve never tried taming the beasts, nor would I want to.”
Peridan sat back in his seat. “How come?”
Rovaper shook his head, a grimace tightening his mouth. “Just wait until you see them. They truly are majestic. Beautiful to look at from afar, and quite peaceful,” the Telmarine said softly, and frowned. “But if people are able to tame them for their own use, I suppose they have every right to. I just have never been interested in it. Personally,” he hastily added, his eyebrows raised.
Edmund thought back on Durah. Majestic and beautiful were definitely two fitting words for her, and he could only imagine what a whole herd of them must look like in the wild. “Then perhaps we best not,” he said. “But it would be good to know where they are. I still would like to lay my eyes on them, and perhaps avoid building near their habitat.”
“Southwest of here, you say?” Peridan asked. “How far exactly again?”
“I’d say a half day’s ride, maybe twenty miles. There’s a hidden valley that stretches into Southern Darrinden that most people bypass. The area just before the valley itself would be ideal for a homestead,” he added. “There’s a few streams that eventually lead into the lake where the elephants sometimes graze around in their valley. They would be a good water source for potential orange orchards. Good airflow, too, with dry, rocky soil if you want to put in a vineyard.”
“A vineyard, now there’s an idea!” Ferrin said, giving a hopeful glance to Peridan and making a grab for his unused napkin.
Edmund added to his notes and started sketching out a map of Eastern Archenland from his memory. This Rovaper obviously knew what he was talking about, and was providing the exact information they needed. A half a day’s ride wasn’t so bad, and perhaps it was better that they did not set up camp that far south anyway.
“I’m actually heading in that direction now,” Rovaper continued. “I’m meeting some friends to get some late season fishing down on the Winding Arrow.” The Telmarine scooted his chair back. “I wish the best of luck to you all. It’s beautiful country down there, so I’m sure you’ll find yourself plenty of options for your home,” he said. He paused and looked down before continuing. “If you could do me a favor, though….”
“Yes, what do you need, friend?” Ferrin asked.
Rovaper smiled, and looked to each of them in turn. “Make sure no one follows you. They’re safe where they are and I wouldn’t want them driven away or anything.” He sheepishly shrugged. “I just like knowing where they are so I can keep an eye on them from time to time,” he admitted. “But just as a word of warning, I’ve seen some undesirable characters around these parts.”
Edmund smiled warmly, and was rather sad that he could not reassure Rovaper that they had no intentions of interfering with the elephants nor the Elephants. Their whole mission was to drive the Elephants away, back to their true home in Narnia. Still, it was good to know that even though they have managed for the past hundred years of keeping relatively safe and away from prying eyes, that at least a few people—Lune, for one, and now from the sounds of it, Rovaper—were looking out for the Elephants’ well-being. “I assure you, we will keep their best interests in mind.”
Rovaper seemed to accept that with a nod and drained his cup, scooting towards the front of his seat to stand up.
Not yet, friend, there’s more we need from you. “One more thing…what sort of ‘undesirable characters’ are we talking about?” Edmund said, concern edging into his voice, just enough.
Once again, Rovaper glanced about the room with slight turns in his head. He then leaned forward and mouthed, “Calormenes.”
“What, here?” Peridan convincingly hissed, eyes wide in panic. Sometimes Edmund was envious of his friends’ acting abilities. Prejudiced was one thing Peridan was not, but even Edmund was fooled at his reaction.
Rovaper shrugged slightly. “I’ve seen them, across town, staying at the other inn. They’ve been dropping hints, occasionally meeting with people.”
So far on their journey, Edmund had heard nothing of the sort, but he briefly wondered if Susan had any news on that angle. “And are you sure they’re talking about…the beasts?”
The Telmarine nodded. “They seem to have ideas of their own, though most people aren’t interested, having never seen them before.” Rovaper stood and pulled out a folded up wool cap tucked in the back of his breeches. “I must get going while it’s still early. Fish wait for no man, after all. Thank you, sirs, for the conversation. You have held my curiosity since your songs in Mittelward, and I’m glad to have gotten a chance to meet you,” he said, tugging the hat over the dark hair on his head.
“And you, sir,” Ferrin stated, obviously pleased in finding a compliment of his singing in that. “A safe journey to you!”
The Telmarine slowly made his way through the crowded room and exited through the front door, not noticing the Dove that watched his every movement from the sill. Edmund sat in companionable silence with his friends as they each seemed to mull over the exchange.
“Well,” Ferrin finally said, slapping his napkin against the table. “He turned out to be an invaluable source, I must say. And trustworthy. After that, this should be easy.”
“We best be careful, regardless. I mean, is anyone completely trustworthy?” Peridan hesitantly asked, his brow furrowed in concern. “I did not like what he said about Ferrin’s wife. And she doesn’t even exist.”
“Yet, Peridan. Yet,” Ferrin insisted. “I’m actually liking this idea of a vineyard….”
Edmund ignored Ferrin, and thought about what Peridan said. His friend had a good point. What Rovaper had said earlier about women disturbed him slightly. Though, really, it wasn’t all that strange that the man had a soft spot for the elephants more than he did “the weaker sex.” Edmund had seen many men treat their dogs better than their wives. But, it was always better to be safe than sorry. Edmund whistled a casual couple of notes, and he saw the Dove fly up and in circles above their table.
“I think we can trust our new acquaintance with what he said, and it certainly will help us,” Edmund said, slightly louder than that of his normal speaking voice. “But he’s definitely not someone I would introduce to someone like my sister, if you catch my drift.”
It proved to be enough. The Dove quickly took flight and flew out the door that had fortuitously just opened with the entry of another customer. Edmund trusted that the Bird would make sure Susan and the Telmarine did not cross paths. It helped that the Orange Thorn Inn was already on the south side of Esting, and since she was coming from the northwest, it was unlikely that they would encounter each other. But Edmund didn’t want to take any chances—it was best to keep their resources separate from Susan, especially those who had a low opinion on women, be they a queen or not.
“And let’s not forget, you two. What about our potential neighbors to the south?” Peridan asked.
Of course, the Calormenes. I almost forgot. Edmund rubbed at his temple and took a drink of his tea, disgusting or not. “I’m not sure. We’ve neither seen nor heard anything about them since my sister’s last letter from Anvard. The rest we only know from Durah.” I can say her name, right? Well, too late now. “Of course, we might learn more from cousin Durah’s family,” he said. “It would be convenient if our cousins decided to take up residence where we plan on building.”
Both Peridan and Ferrin nodded in agreement, the latter eyeing the last handcake on the plate.
A flutter of wings caught Edmund’s attention in the corner of his eye, and he looked up to see that the Dove had already returned and was once again casually preening himself in the window. A dumb pigeon joined him and made several cooing noises, sidling up to the Bird in a quick succession of hops. The Dove paid it no mind, instead watching Edmund intently, awaiting further orders.
“Well, the sooner we get this done, the sooner we can start building and have homes ready by wintertime,” Peridan stated.
Edmund kept himself from sighing. He was really getting tired of both reciting and hearing their same bland stock phrases over and over again while on the road. “Exactly. It would be rather nice to see my sister again, and tell her the news, wouldn’t it?” Edmund asked.
Ferrin snorted and tossed his napkin onto the table. “Speak for yourself.”
Edmund turned towards the Dove on the windowsill and gave it the slightest of nods. With a bob of its head, it flapped its wings, flew slightly in the room before turning and flying out the window.
“Are you seriously going to take the last one?” Peridan said. “You’ve been hoarding the handcakes all morning.”
“Then order some more. I’ve got a tab going.”
Edmund tuned them out and started doodling in his book. He had left Narnia well over two weeks ago, and he had promised both Lucy and Susan—and Peter, when they first notified him of their desire to leave—that they would have this wrapped up by the end of the month. Their time had been half spent, to which Edmund was not pleased about. And of course, it didn’t help that he felt guilty for getting sidetracked with distractions. Both pleasant and unpleasant. Edmund knew he had to be more careful, especially with Susan now joining them. What am I going to tell her….
“Yet you always seem to conveniently disappear when it’s time to pay up,” Peridan said.
“But I always make it up to you!” Ferrin said exasperatedly.
“How exactly?”
“Last night? The brunette? I didn’t hear you complain then. I told you the women have great tits in these parts.”
Edmund’s attention was brought back when Peridan loudly cursed in response, and he expected another lecture about propriety and respect towards women from his friend. But then Edmund became aware to what he was drawing. He hastily scribbled over the lewd, circular shapes in hard, dark strokes. “Don’t worry about it, Peridan, order what you want,” he interrupted his friend mid-rant, hoping that no one noticed saw what he had been drawing, nor the hotness that he felt spread from his chest to his cheeks.
“You’re welcome, by the way,” Ferrin sarcastically threw back at Peridan.
A sudden hush fell across the entire room and everyone’s attentions turned towards the entrance. Even the children in the corner stopped their raucous playing and stilled, their eyes wide open in anticipation. The door swung open, and in the entryway stood Baris the faun donned in his court-wear, the Lion embroidered in gold on the front of his scarlet surcoat. The children’s mouths all dropped open at the sight of the Narnian.
“All hail her Majesty, Queen Susan The Gentle of Narnia!” Baris proudly called. Those who were not already standing started to rise out of their seats. Peridan and Ferrin likewise stood, though Ferrin did not remove his headpiece as others in the room did. Peridan swiped Ferrin’s cap off of his head, and slapped him across the shoulder with it.
Grumbling low enough for no one else to hear, Edmund snapped his book shut, dropped it into his bag and slowly got to his feet. Now, he had his sister to answer to, as she him for going against their initial plans, even if it all did seem to come together this morning. Still…it was not likely going to be pleasant.
“It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson
Map | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6
no subject
Date: 2012-04-15 07:36 pm (UTC)LOVED the whole episode in the morning -- he was not Peter! ROTFL. The whole of it is just great with a terrific sense of place and consistent with the time.. the missing skin, the young mother, and so on. And orange in and around EVERYTHING. Oh Ed.
Worth special mention is the superb use of the birds -- how it's become shorthand "From the Dove," Send the Dove, and how the birds spread rumors. It's just brilliant. Again the worldbuilding here is so wonderfully well done.
I've so enjoyed this story.
no subject
Date: 2012-04-16 07:07 am (UTC)Ed. Ed, Ed, Ed. I'll say no more. We've discussed that scene in length already months ago with the first draft!
The Doves and other Birds were tricky. It would be so easy to make them Harry Potterish, or to make assign a bird to each monarch in a symbolic gesture (which almost happened). But that would've been way to "neat." So it was a conscious decision...Ed's Bird—which IS rather symbolic—was going to be a Crow or a Raven, but that didn't seem right. For one thing, you've nailed the Crows and Ravens perfectly and I wouldn't want to touch that with a ten foot pole!
And then came the idea of the Jackdaw, and the significance in MN. And I decided to flesh Milletpeck out a lot. She's not just a mascot or a messenger, nor is she directly in his service... she's one of Edmund's closest friends. They help each other.
So the others? I researched other birds according to their personalities. A hawk seemed fitting for Peter... and that IS a conscious, symbolic choice on HIS part. Early on, I changed a Raven to a Hawk in Dichotomy to reflect that. Susan got her Doves. I tried other birds, but the Doves just fit. Surely the have names. Who knows how many there are.
And Lucy... well, she loves ALL birds, doesn't she? She could never just pick one!
no subject
Date: 2012-04-15 07:45 pm (UTC)Oh yes, it's about time we learn what "Our Narnians" mean. I've been wondering about that since the first chapter.
"...he was willing to agree with her if she said the earth revolved around the sun." Oh Edmund. Forgot that bit about your own world's history, did you? And that Telmarine seems pretty trustworthy, though appearances can be deceiving. I'm glad that they have the Doves to be able to keep an eye on things and pass messages between the siblings.
And now with Susan's arrival, I'm sure Edmund will remain a bit more... sober and focused on this mission now. :-)
no subject
Date: 2012-04-16 07:10 am (UTC)Oh good! I'm glad you picked up on the "Our Narnians" bit! Just another nugget seeded in early on to be fleshed out later...
And yes. The two siblings unite. Surely they both can keep each other in check!