Day Seven!
Dec. 30th, 2010 09:19 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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nffr_partyHappy Seventh Day of NFFR Christmas! We have three more wonderful gifts today, and even more to come!
A fic for Winged Flight:
The Riddle of the Sphinx
Edmund decided he didn't like Sphinxes very much.
And it wasn't because one had bashed him over the head as they stole him and Peter and Susan away from their camp (although that didn't help his mood very much). It wasn't because one of the Sphinxes had kidnapped Lucy and taken her to this supposedly abandoned fortress hidden deep in the Shuddering Wood that the four of them had come to explore (although that was quite aggravating). It wasn't that Sphinxes were such very good shots with their bows and arrows (although that had proven to be quite the deterrent to the rescue party. Also rather puzzling, since Edmund couldn't figure out how they shot with paws). And it wasn't even that Sphinxes seemed, to Edmund at least, rather humorless.
No, what really made him not like Sphinxes were all the blasted riddles. It would have been so much easier to just lop off their heads and rescue Lucy and claim Gilexand Tower back for Narnia.
But no, once the Sphinxes had told Peter and Susan the tale of how they had been guarding this fortress since before the Hundred Year Winter, how they had kept it safe for the King of Narnia all these years, how they had convinced the trees to grow up around it, and make an impenetrable barrier to keep it hidden from the Witch, Peter had said that they couldn't kill loyal Narnians.
Of course, Edmund had had the story told to him second-hand by Susan, since he had been unconscious (thanks to the blow to head) when the Sphinxes had brought the three of them to Tower yard. He did grudgingly agree it wouldn't be right to kill loyal Narnians, even if Peter wasn't the king these Sphinxes were loyal to.
The last king the Sphinxes knew was King Davan, who had been killed by the Witch when she conquered Narnia. They had guarded Gilexand Tower for over a hundred years, waiting for word from the King that the Witch had been vanquished.
Sphinxes, Edmund had also decided, were not quite clear on the average Human lifespan. Understandable, given that they had such long lifespans themselves, but still. Annoying.
Also annoying was how one of them had come across Lucy when she wandered away from their camp and now was holding her prisoner in the very top room of the tower. And then how the rest of them came after Edmund and Peter and Susan, and dragged them all back here to bargain for Lucy's life.
"Normally, we would kill anyone who tried to approach the Tower," the Sphinx guarding the entrance said.
"But you didn't kill Lucy?" Susan asked hastily.
"Oh, no," said the Sphinx, whose name was Hyusis. "She told Jinikshahrahaterah that she was Queen of Narnia, so he thought it best to bring her back here, so we could question her."
"She told who?" Edmund muttered while Susan elbowed him, and Hyusis explained that Jinikshahrahaterah was the youngest Sphinx, born after the Hundred Year Winter started. Being so young, he didn't remember King Davan, and was very excited to come across someone claiming to be a Queen of Narnia in the woods.
Peter had explained that while the Sphinxes were busy guarding the Tower, Aslan had defeated the Witch, and crowned them all Kings and Queens of Narnia, with Susan helpfully adding bits to the story that Peter forgot (Edmund was too busy sulking and rubbing the sore spot on his head to join in). But it wasn't until Peter showed the Sphinxes his ring, which had been found in the treasury of Cair Paravel, and given to Peter on their coronation day, that the Sphinxes seemed inclined to believe their story.
"The King's Ring!" Hyusis exclaimed. "I was there at King Davan's coronation, I saw them place that ring on his finger!" He nodded at all the other Sphinxes, gathered round in the yard. "This is the true King of Narnia!"
At that, the Sphinxes all bowed, muttering respectfully, "Your majesty."
Peter nodded. "That's right. I am the High King, and my brother and sister are king and queens under me. Your allegiance is to us now. And I thank you, good Sphinxes, for holding this Tower safe for Narnia, all these long years."
Susan thanked them graciously as well, as the Sphinxes all bowed to her and Edmund, but Edmund asked, rather grumpily (but of course his head still hurt), "Can we have our sister back now?"
The Sphinxes all looked at each other and Edmund thought they seemed rather nervous.
Hyusis cleared his throat. "Well, your majesty… I'm afraid it's not that easy. Once we took her into this tower, the Sphinx's Law took effect. We spared her life, but in order to enter the Tower and claim her back, you all must answer five riddles."
"Five riddles?" Susan asked, puzzled. "Why? You know we're your monarchs. Can't we just order you to release her to us?"
All the Sphinxes were shaking their heads. "Oh, I'm afraid not, my lady," Hyusis said, and he was clearly embarrassed by this. "But it's the reason Sphinxes make such good guards. Once we're guarding something, or someone, we cannot allow anyone access, or release, until the riddles have been answered. You will have to answer a riddle from me, and from the Sphinxes guarding each floor of the Tower, until you reach the top. There you will answer a final riddle, and your sister will be released to you."
"And if we can't answer the riddles?" Peter asked.
Hyusis's face was very red. "Then I am afraid your sister's life is forfeit."
"Forfeit?! You must be joking!" Edmund exclaimed. His headache was definitely getting worse. Most likely he was concussed.
Hyusis looked puzzled by this. "No, I never joke, sire. If you fail to answer all five riddles, we must kill your sister. It's the Sphinx's Law, as I said. We cannot allow a prisoner to leave the Tower, unless the riddles have been answered."
"I see," Peter said in a calm tone, as Edmund spluttered. "Give us a moment, please, good Sphinxes. Ed, calm down." He walked with Edmund and Susan to a distant corner of the Tower yard, away from the Sphinxes.
"We can kill them, right?" Edmund asked, rather eagerly, it must be admitted. But his head still hurt very much.
Peter shook his head. "No, we cannot kill them. They're simply doing what Sphinxes are supposed to do, and it's not right to kill Narnians who have just been doing their duty all these years."
"Besides, there are ten of them against three of us. And the other Sphinxes in the wood who are still holding off the Guard. We're not that good," Susan pointed out, and even though she was right, her practicality was still annoying.
Edmund stared at the both of them. "So, we're what? Going to answer riddles?"
Peter shrugged. "Do we have a choice?"
"Fine," Edmund sighed. "Five riddles. It can't be that bad."
"And you're very clever, Ed," Susan said in a cheerful tone.
"You want me to answer all the riddles?"
Susan and Peter glanced at each other and then back at him. "Well, you did have that riddle book back in England…" Peter began.
"I hardly think those are the kinds of riddles Sphinxes will ask!" But when Susan and Peter just stared at him, he sighed. "Fine. But you'd better help!" And he stalked back to the Tower entrance, Susan and Peter following, where Hyusis was waiting. "All right, we're ready for the first riddle."
Hyusis seemed pleased. "Oh good. Here is my riddle: What belongs to you, but everybody uses it more than you do?"
Edmund thought, but only for a moment before he realized the answer. "My name."
"Very good, your majesty!" Hyusis stepped aside to let them enter the Tower. "Good luck. Harav will be waiting for you at the top of the stairs with the next riddle."
"I hope all the riddles are that easy," Susan said, as they started up the dark stairway.
"I didn't think it was particularly easy," Edmund said, even though it really was. "I just happen to be very good at riddles."
"Well, I hope you're very good at this one," Peter said, as they came to the Sphinx blocking the next set of stairs.
She nodded respectfully. "I am Harav. Here is my riddle: There is a black horse that jumps over a tower and lands on a small man. The small man starts to disappear. What is happening?"
Edmund beamed. "Oh, I know this! It's a game of chess!"
Susan clapped her hands, as Harav moved aside. "Good work, Ed!"
"Do you suppose the Sphinxes are giving us easy riddles?" Peter wondered as they climbed the next flight of stairs.
"I told you, I'm very good at riddles," Edmund reminded him, and Peter nodded, but Edmund thought he saw him rolling his eyes.
The next Sphinx seemed rather happy to see them. "Oh, your majesties! Greetings, I am Aravelk, and I have long hoped to see the King of Narnia again!" she said, bowing her head.
Peter bowed his head in exchange. "Our greetings to you, Aravelk. Do you have a riddle for us, good Sphinx?"
He needn't seem so eager, Edmund thought, although perhaps he was buttering her up to get an easier riddle.
Aravelk nodded. "I do, your majesties. Here is my riddle:
There's not a kingdom on the earth,
But I have travelled over and over,
And though I know not whence my birth,
Yet when I come, you know my roar.
I through the town do take my flight,
And through the fields and meadows green,
And whether it be day or night,
I neither am nor can be seen.
What am I?"
"Oh, this one rhymes," Susan said, amused.
Edmund gave her a Look. "Rhyming doesn't make it easier."
"Guess they're not giving us easy riddles anymore," Peter sighed.
"Give me a moment." Edmund thought hard, repeating the riddle to himself and finally asked, "Is it the wind?"
"Yes!" Aravelk smiled and moved aside, so they could continue up the stairs. They were silent as they climbed, and Edmund may have been just the tiniest bit worried about the next riddle.
When they reached the next Sphinx, Edmund remembered that he didn't really like Sphinxes much. This one looked quite mean, and was definitely less happy to see them than Aravelk.
"My name is Arevmutk. Here is the final riddle," the Sphinx announced with a smile, and Edmund shivered, because it looked like the kind of smile someone might give you before they slit your throat, and he had seen a few of those in his day.
"There are two guards. One is always truthful and the other always lies. They are guarding two doors. One leads to certain death, the other to freedom. You can only ask one question and only to one of them. What's the question?"
"What, no rhyming this time?" Edmund muttered. This was the hardest riddle yet, and oh Aslan, his head hurt. Was it fair to bash someone in the head and then ask them riddles? He didn't think so. And of course, Peter and Susan were no help at all.
"What?" Peter asked, noticing Edmund's glare.
"Any ideas for an answer?"
Susan looked alarmed. "You don't know the answer?"
Edmund sighed. "I'm thinking. But a little help would be nice."
"Oh, but you're very good at riddles!" Peter said, and this time Edmund definitely saw him roll his eyes.
"Oh shut up. I have a concussion, remember?"
"I'm sure it's not a concussion, Ed," Susan began, when the Sphinx (which one was it? Aravelk? Arevmutk? Edmund had lost track) interrupted.
"Well, your majesties? Do you have an answer for me?" The Sphinx leveled a long look at them all. "You know the penalty: your sister's life."
Edmund found himself wondering just how things had gone so awry. Best to blame it on Peter, he decided, and asked the Sphinx, "Can you repeat the riddle?"
Arevmutk didn't look very inclined to repeat it, but did so grudgingly, and Edmund puzzled over it, rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head. Susan looked worried, he noticed, and Peter was no longer rolling his eyes.
"You do know the answer, don't you?" Peter hissed.
Edmund sighed. "I think so. I mean, I have a guess."
"It's the right guess, right?"
"Well, we're about to find out, Su." Edmund turned to the Sphinx. "I would ask 'What would the other guard say is the safe way out?' And then I would choose the opposite of what they say because the lying guard will lie and say the death door, and the truthful guard will say the death door, as that is what the lying guard would say."
"That is correct," Arevmutk said with a baleful look. He didn't seem at all pleased to spare Lucy's life, Edmund noticed, and he didn't really move aside to let them go up the last flight of stairs. They all had to squeeze by him on their way to the tower room and the last riddle.
"Well done, Ed!" Peter said as they went up the stairs and Susan said happily, "Just one more riddle!"
"I hope they're not saving the hardest for last." And Edmund noticed that Peter had drawn his sword, and Susan had her bow and an arrow ready. Edmund arched an eyebrow at them both.
"Well, we're not just going to let them kill Lucy, if you get this riddle wrong," Susan said practically.
"Oh, such faith in me," Edmund muttered, but he drew his sword as well.
And thus prepared, they came to the top of the stairs, ready to face the last Sphinx and the last riddle. But what greeted them at the top of the Tower took all three by surprise.
"Hello!" Lucy said, giggling and waving a very large mug at them. She was seated comfortably on the floor, next to a very large cask, and a rather small Sphinx. He also giggled and waved a paw at them.
"Lucy! Are you all right?"
"Is that wine?"
"Are you drunk?"
Lucy giggled again, spilling some wine on her trousers. "No! Yes! No! Wait. That's not right." She and the Sphinx looked at each other and laughed uproariously, then she said, "Yes, I'm all right. And yes, it is wine. And no, I'm not drunk." A pause while she sipped from the mug. "Oh, maybe a little."
"We thought they were about to kill you!" Peter said.
"That'll leave a nasty stain," Susan muttered, and Edmund privately thought Lucy was going to have a worse headache than he did, come tomorrow morning.
Lucy and the Sphinx dissolved into peals of laughter. "Kill me! Oh, Jinx would never kill me, would you, Jinx?"
The Sphinx assumed an air of great offense. "No, we're friends! I'd do no such thing!"
"Jinx?" Peter said weakly.
"His name is Jixas — Jinixsha —"
"Jinikshahrahaterah," the Sphinx said, to Edmund's dismay, since he thought he'd have a better chance with a riddle from a Sphinx who was too drunk to pronounce his own name.
"Yes, that!" Lucy said brightly. "But it's far too long, so we decided I could just call him Jinx. Jinx the Sphinx!" And she and Jinx were off laughing again.
"So you made friends with a Sphinx and got drunk?" Susan asked skeptically.
"Well, we were waiting for you to rescue me, and there's ever so many casks of faun wine here in this tower, wait til you see it all! And it's all over a hundred years old, and Jinx said it was very good, and maybe we could try some while we waited for you, and then we decided we would ask each other riddles and if you couldn't guess the answer, you had to drink."
"You riddled with a Sphinx and beat him?" Peter sounded incredulous.
Lucy laughed again. "Well, he didn't know the answers to 'what's black and white and red all over?' or 'why does a hummingbird hum?' or 'where does Friday come before Thursday?' so it was quite easy to beat him. And Jinx's riddles were awfully hard, which is why I had to drink so much! But I think we've decided on a good riddle to ask you."
"You chose the riddle for him to ask us?" Edmund's hopes for an easy riddle rose up, only to be dashed when Lucy continued.
"Oh yes, and it's a very hard one! You'll have to think about it." She nudged the Sphinx. "Go ahead, Jinx. Say your part!"
The Sphinx sat up straight and tried to look very proper. "My name is Jinikshahrahaterah. Here is my riddle:
The beginning of eternity
The end of time and space
The beginning of every end,
And the end of every place.
What am I?"
Edmund grinned in relief as he realized that drunks must have a different idea of very hard than he did. "You're the letter E."
Jinx stared at Lucy accusingly. "How did he get it so fast?"
Lucy took another sip from her mug and giggled again. "I forgot that Edmund is very good at riddles."
A fic for Tenae:
In Aslan's Time
The sky was dark with looming rain clouds that only emphasized the gloom of those standing in the St. Michael’s church graveyard. Every person was draped in black and even the scenery outside seemed to be shrouded in grief. It was still early spring, but a late frost had killed the emerging blossoms before vanishing again. The trees were mostly bare, with a few dead leaves hanging from their branches.
Anna Davis stared dully across the field behind the church. Fitting, she thought dryly. Even the earth mourns their partings. The girl standing next to her—Susan Pevensie—was blinking rapidly, as only someone who is trying desperately not to cry can. Anna took her hand and squeezed it gently to remind her that she wasn’t alone.
They barely heard the minister’s words as the caskets were lowered slowly into the ground in front of them and Anna wondered idly what that family (for indeed it could not be anything but a family) was doing now. Do they even remember us here? Does Peter remember me?
Her fiancé’s name brought a stab of anguish and pain and her eyesight blurred for a moment. Susan glanced at her and smiled sadly. “They’ll remember us,” she whispered. “They must remember us.” Anna nodded at her and dropped her gaze to the headstones being nestled into their places.
She supposed that it had been fortunate to have all of that “family” buried in the same place, but the thought brought her no joy. “Are they… in His country, do you think?”
“Yes,” Susan replied.
“They deserve to be there, I think.”
“I hope one day I’ll deserve to be there, with them.” Susan smiled fondly at the thought. “Think of it: all of us in Aslan’s country. Together.”
Anna smiled and the two young women turned to walk away from the graves. “Did I ever tell you about when Peter told me about Narnia?” she asked. Her own levity surprised her, but Susan didn’t seem to notice. They climbed into the car they’d driven to the cemetery and Susan shook her head. “Well,” Anna continued. “It was right before we went back to school. Peter had told me stories about Narnia before, but I thought they were just that: stories. But then…”
“What?” Susan looked eager to hear about her older brother.
“We went on a walk.”
vVvVvVv
Anna clasped her hands behind her back and gazed up at the young man beside her. Peter was taller than most of the other twelfth-years and more handsome than any of them (at least, he was in Anna’s mind). He was different than other boys she knew—kinder, wiser, and more thoughtful, among other things—and she yearned to know why.
“Do you…” Peter trailed off and began again, “Do you remember the stories my siblings told you? About Narnia?”
Anna smiled up at him. “Yes.”
“Ah.”
“Are you going to tell me another?”
Peter smiled. “Perhaps. Do you want me to?” Anna mock-glared at him, knowing that he was stalling, and he held up his hands. “Have I told you about how the four monarchs first got to Narnia?”
“No. Will you tell me?”
He nodded and sat down on a bench beside the path. “During the war, four children were sent away to live in the country. They arrived at a magnificent house; and at first they were content to stay there. But after a while they became bored. The youngest convinced them to play hide-and-go-seek.” Peter smiled fondly and continued, “She hid in a magnificent wardrobe, and when she stepped back, there was snow underneath her feet and pine branches all around her.”
Peter went on to tell her about how the second youngest was tricked and captured by an evil witch and how the other three had to find the Great Lion, Aslan, to save him. “He died for the younger king,” he murmured softly when he told Anna about how Aslan had sacrificed Himself instead of the younger boy. “Actually, I think He died for all of them, in a way.” Anna looked at him quizzically. “The prophecy needed four children. I don’t know what would have happened with only three. And Ed—er, the younger king, saved the others so many times after they were crowned that life without him would have been very short. And not worth it.” He said the last sentence so quietly that Anna wasn’t sure it was meant for her.
“But that wasn’t the end?”
“No. Not at all.” He smiled and continued his tale, telling her about a battle and a Lion’s resurrection and a Witch’s ended reign. When the story ended, the two sat in silence for a few moments. “Anna?”
“Yes?”
“That… wasn’t a story.”
Anna’s brow furrowed in confusion, “What?”
“I didn’t make it up.”
“What do you mean?”
He turned to face her. “Narnia’s real, Anna.”
She smiled, suddenly unsure. “It was a lovely story, Peter.”
“No!” He grabbed her upper arms and turned her to face him. “It’s real, Anna. I’ve been there. The story I just told you was mine.” Anna froze and listened as he persisted, “You can ask any of my siblings—except Susan, who doesn’t remember any of it—and they’ll tell you the same thing.”
Anna shook her head. “But how—”
“Have I ever lied to you, Anna?”
“No…”
“I’m not lying to you. It’s real!” He shook her gently and, observing her expression, added, “And I’m not crazy!”
“You really went?”
Peter nodded fervently. “The four monarchs were the four of us. We ruled for fifteen years there before we came back the first time. Then we went back a year later, and Aslan told Susan and me that we couldn’t come back. Ed and Lu got to go back with Eustace, our cousin, later that year. Yes, we went.”
Anna sat in stunned silence. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“Would you have believed me?”
Anna thought for a while before shaking her head apologetically. “Thank you. For sharing Narnia with me.”
He smiled. “Thank you for listening. And believing.”
vVvVvVv
Susan smiled warmly. “That sounds like Peter.”
Anna nodded. “He loved you, you know. It broke his heart when you said you didn’t remember.”
“I know. I just…” Susan broke off. “ I couldn’t stand being different from everyone else, so I tried to forget. It was wrong of me.”
They stopped in front of a small house and got out. We might be left behind, Anna thought confidently, but we’re not finished yet. Somewhere in the back of her mind she heard a lion’s roar and she knew that it was true.
She and Susan would come home—in Aslan’s time.
A fic for Caleon:
The Last Charade
Edmund Pevensie, once the Just King of a land called Narnia, was nineteen years old for the second time as he and his elder brother Peter set off in the very early morning on an unexpected journey. Instead of the usual errands he had planned to run that Saturday, he found himself traveling into a part of London he’d never visited before with the intention of committing a crime.
Well, perhaps that isn’t the most accurate way to put it, he thought. For after all, was it really a crime to take back someone’s own possessions? And furthermore, if the person from whom said possessions were being taken was completely unaware that they existed at all, did he really have a claim to them?
Edmund smiled to himself. It was good to be contemplating judgment and justice again, and even more interesting that the would-be accused was Edmund himself.
He was walking down a narrow street in a residential area of London with which he was for the most part unfamiliar. They’d been able to take the Underground most of the way, and now had only a very little distance to trek before reaching their destination. The city was mostly asleep, as it was still early in the morning and a Saturday to boot. The sun had only erupted over the horizon an hour or so before, bathing the red-brick buildings in a host of glorious colors that gradually faded as the day began in earnest. Now the world was completely lit up, bathed in the sunshine of a brilliantly cloudless summer day.
To his side strode his elder brother Peter, his collar turned up against the early morning chill. The two of them had traveled in silence for much of their journey, each wrapped in his own thoughts about the task to be done. Edmund wondered at what Peter, his face set in rigid determination, was thinking at that particular moment; if he was contemplating the rights and wrongs of their future deed as Edmund was, or if his mind was elsewhere. As usual, Peter’s expression was indecipherable, even to the man who knew him best in the world.
Despite whatever small worry was present concerning the exact lawfulness of their undertaking, Edmund also felt a familiar thrill that fluttered somewhere in his stomach. This wasn’t his first undercover quest on Narnia’s behalf; this wouldn’t be the first theft he undertook for the good of his country. Espionage and the necessary but dirtier parts of diplomacy had been his particular forte, and some part of Edmund, perhaps a part left over from who he’d been Before, reveled in the thrill of them.
He recalled an especially difficult mission to Terebinthia, where his objective had been to recapture a scroll of classified information that had been lifted by a member of the recently-departed Terebinthian envoy. Rather than draw attention to the theft and risk an international incident, not to mention the interest and involvement of other nations who would have died to learn the secrets and records that that scroll had contained, Edmund had taken it upon himself and a very few hand-picked associates to infiltrate the tiny island nation and steal it back. It hadn’t been easy, and they’d quite nearly been caught a couple of times – he still didn’t know what they would have done had Evanova not created that bar-fight diversion – but in the end it was Edmund who had strode into the private royal study with the offending scroll in his triumphant fist.
“Left here,” came the quiet interruption of Peter’s voice, and the two of them turned the corner and continued their walk in silence.
The mission on which he found himself now wasn’t nearly so exciting, and there wasn’t remotely as much to be lost or gained, but still Edmund undertook it with all the solemnity and adrenaline that he had felt a hundred times before. Today they were dressed as workmen, in clothes borrowed from Professor Kirke’s unknowing handyman and nicked from the clean laundry. Edmund couldn’t help but grin when he looked over at his brother, who couldn’t have looked less like a workman if he was wearing a pair of Susan’s nylons. It wasn’t that there was any shame in being the sort of man who was called upon to fix drains; indeed, Edmund had met his fair share of citizens of the so-called working class who’d shown as much nobility as the greatest of Narnian knights. Rather, it was just that Peter, since the dinner, had been looking so very kingly that it was hard to imagine him as anyone whose head wasn’t meant for a crown.
There was also the issue of the clothes themselves, as his older brother was a size or two too large for the uniform he wore. The seams were too narrow for his broad chest and shoulders, and he’d had to roll the sleeves to his elbows to hide how dreadfully short they were. As for the trousers… well, they’d just have to hope that no one paid attention to how much of the High King’s boots and socks stuck out from beneath the hems.
For his part, Edmund was still the chameleon he had always been. The workman’s clothing seemed made for him, as if Edmund himself was made for their ruse. Upon studying himself in the mirror that morning, he’d found his appearance most convincing. There was nothing in Edmund’s face to draw attention; he was easily able to shed the kingly bearing that Peter probably didn’t even know he possessed. His was the sort of face that no one would bother to remember because he was able to appear so very normal: handsome but not dazzling, intelligent but not intimidating, confident but not ostentatious.
Edmund was playing the game again, and he grinned at the comfortable familiarity of it. He’d had ample experience disguising his thoughts and his features. Peter, on the other hand, had never been a good actor, as he was both too noble for dubious deeds and an appallingly terrible liar. It seemed that little had changed on that front, judging by the High King who was so obvious despite attempts to disguise his nobility in workman’s clothes. Edmund, however, had had a lot of practice with lying Before, and therefore had only a little trouble adapting his talents to suit his charades of espionage. At first it had felt wrong, an icy snake twisting up his spine as the lies came to his lips, but as he learned to forgive himself for every other evil he’d done Before he discovered that lying in defense of Right and Truth and Peace and Justice was a very different matter entirely. It was the conversion of his former flaws and weaknesses into tools and skills that had brought about Edmund’s redemption.
Edmund caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye and looked over to find Peter studying the directions the Professor had meticulously written out for them.
“Next street, I think,” Peter said, glancing up to consult the sign they were just passing. “It won’t be far after that; just a few more blocks by the look of it.”
Edmund nodded, and within a moment they turned into a derelict-looking neighborhood. It had the dingy feel of a place that had once been quite clean and respectable, but since had fallen into some disrepair and ruin that had nothing to do with the bombs that had rained down in London only a few years earlier.
So much has changed, he reflected as he took in the creeping vines that were overtaking the chipped and discolored bricks. Sometimes it was hard for Edmund to believe that a war had come and gone, that he’d lived an entire adolescence and young adulthood twice over. Other times he felt old, so much older than a nineteen-year-old should feel, even if he’d lived fifteen more years than others his age…
“I think I’m going to tell her soon, Ed,” Peter said suddenly, earning a somewhat startled look from his younger brother at the sudden break in the silence and interruption of his thoughts. It took a moment for Edmund to process what Peter had said, but finally he asked,
“Nora?”
Peter nodded, but carefully avoided Edmund’s eye. “I think she suspects something already.”
“Well, she’s a smart girl, a lot smarter than that last one,” Edmund replied with a cheeky grin. More seriously, he added, “And you don’t exactly do well at hiding the High King sometimes.”
A shadow of a grin passed over Peter’s features. After a moment’s hesitant pause, he added, “Did you ever tell Margaret?”
Edmund shook his head, feeling that tiny but acute pain in his midsection that always seemed to accompany that name nowadays. “Almost,” he replied. “When it started getting serious, and she seemed to be catching on …” He trailed off, deliberately returning his wandering mind to their task at hand and Peter himself. “So it’s getting rather serious, then, is it?”
“Yes,” Peter said, looking over at last. “It rather is. She’s… I…”
There was a reason why Edmund, not Peter, had most often been called upon for such tasks as speech-writing, treaty drafting, and annals-keeping. Upon seeing his older brother floundering (and grinning to himself at the mental image of Peter struggling to have a similarly emotional conversation with Nora), Edmund supplied the words.
“She’s the closest thing to perfect you’ve found on this Side.”
Peter looked over at his younger brother with a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude on his face. “Exactly.”
“Do you think she’ll understand?”
Peter thought a moment. “You know, I rather think she will.”
Edmund, little that he knew Nora, hoped that this was true. All of the Pevensie children had done well adjusting to a life permanently spent in one world only, though they’d gone about it in different ways. His thoughts fleetingly flew to Susan, whose new and growing discomfort with any mention of Narnia was increasingly worrisome for the rest of them, but he repressed those images in favor of the situation at hand. Even though he, Peter, and Lucy had established lives for themselves here in England, Edmund knew that none of them could ever hope to be happy in a marriage with a partner who didn’t have at least some understanding, if not complete belief, in the Other World that had meant so much and become such an integral part of them. Narnia was too important, and if marriage was to be a process of two separates becoming one whole, it would be impossible to do so while ignoring such a huge piece.
“I’m happy for you, Peter,” Edmund said honestly. Jealous as hell, but happy for you.
“Thanks,” Peter replied. He seemed to be weighing his words in his mind, and suddenly they tumbled out almost as if he was afraid of them. “Look, Ed, I’m sorry about you and Margaret…”
Edmund waved a hand, effectively cutting the sentence short in midair.
“Don’t worry about it. Isn’t this the street?”
Peter didn’t seem particularly convinced by his casual tone, but Edmund was right that they’d nearly reached their destination. A final right turn and they were only a building or two away from the rowhouse that had once been the home of a young Digory Kirke.
Although at first the Pevensie children had kept mostly to themselves (understandable, considering the war that had put even greater emphasis on treasuring loved ones for the little time you had them, not to mention their extra-worldly experiences), they soon found that spending time only in each other’s company was neither therapeutic nor particularly healthy. When it came time to return to (or, in Lucy’s case, begin) school, they’d found most of their old friends waiting for them, and a few new ones, too. Creating and fostering relationships in this world helped to anchor them, to endear to them the place where they lived Now, and to mask the pain the memory of the place they lived Then sometimes caused. Their friends helped them find a way to be happy and feel a sense of belonging in a world where they had at first felt so distant and strange.
It had been difficult, of course, going back to school. He returned from their time at the Professor’s a very different child than he had been Before, and it had taken his schoolmates a good while to accustom themselves to this new Edmund. He eventually found his place, though, forging better relationships with some of his Before friends and abandoning others who would have only tempted him. Friends came and went, and as he grew up a new creature, but one he’d met before in another life, appeared.
Girls were suddenly everywhere. He wondered why he’d never noticed.
He’d met and gone steady with a girl who’d reminded him of a particularly enchanting countess from the Seven Isles, and he’d met and loved a girl who didn’t remind him of anything Narnian at all. It had hurt when he and Margaret had separated, and although his mother meant well her soothing words of how it was “all a part of growing up, having your heart broken,” were less than soothing given that he’d already done a considerable amount of growing up before.
This isn’t the time to be thinking about that, Edmund reminded himself, both because Margaret was the last thing he wanted to think about and because the number on the rowhouse before them matched the number on Peter’s paper. From then on, it was all business. King Edmund the Just, gifted diplomat, chameleon, thief, and unsung national hero, was back in action.
They counted the number of houses to the end of the row (musing as they did as to which neighbor was once the Plummer home) and backtracked down the street so as to be able to access the backyards. After ensuring that they had chosen the right house, he and Peter carefully climbed the crumbling brick wall and dropped into the tiny, square garden. Edmund’s heart pounded with the thrill of their quest as he and Peter checked the windows for signs of early-rising tenants.
There was no talking now except the occasional hushed whisper uttered only out of greatest necessity. Thankfully, years of practice and close living had made the two former Kings masters at reading each others’ body language and facial expressions, so little verbal communication was needed. They had quite a job ahead of them; the tree around which the rings had been buried had blown over in a storm ages ago and was turned into the wardrobe that had been the portal through which their first adventures in Narnia had begun. In addition to having no reference point to decide where to start digging, it would also be something of a miracle if no one had located the rings in the time since the house had been sold. The Professor had told them that the holes he and Aunt Polly had dug for the rings had been rather shallow, which might have led to the rings’ location by the new owners, but shallow holes also meant that Edmund and Peter wouldn’t have to disturb too much ground in order to find what they sought if the rings were still there.
They set to it, trying to judge by the spacing of the few remaining trees where another might have once stood. It took more time than Edmund would have preferred to locate the first of the rings, but at last Peter gave a low whistle and Edmund moved quickly to his side to find his older brother holding out his trowel. Upon it, caked in the dirt and grime of decades spent underground, was the unmistakable shimmer of a golden ring. Edmund held out his gloved hand and Peter overturned the trowel into it. Brushing away the dirt, Edmund deposited the ring into the little sack they’d brought with them.
Once they had a general idea where the rings were hidden, it didn’t take long to unearth the rest of them. A green one, its color still brilliant even after so many years, came next, and within moments the two of them had dug up another green and another yellow.
“Should we find the rest?” Peter whispered, dropping his newfound yellow ring into the little sack Edmund held open for him. “We’ve got enough now for Jill and Eustace to have one green and yellow apiece.”
“Might as well collect them all,” Edmund muttered in return. “There’s no telling what might happen if we don’t, who might find them after we’ve gone.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Peter nodded, moving away to where he judged the next green one might be buried. “If Aslan wants to call someone to Narnia, he’ll have his own way of doing it. Better to have all the rings safe at the Professor’s.”
And so they spent a few minutes more in the dirt, trying to disturb the earth as little as possible and sparing occasional glances over their shoulders at the still-quiet house. Edmund took one arc of the circle while Peter took the other, and eventually their labors brought them side-by-side as Edmund uncovered the last green ring and Peter the final yellow.
As he carefully tied off the bag and deposited it in the pocket of his workman’s clothes, Edmund felt a sudden flash of temptation. It would be so easy to touch one of the yellow rings; he could fumble with his gloves so that it looked like an accident. It wouldn’t be hard to find Narnia once he was in the Wood Between the Worlds… surely he’d know it when he saw it and could keep switching greens and yellows and pools and worlds until he did.
As suddenly as it came, however, the temptation departed, and Edmund buttoned the pocket securely. Somewhere inside of him he heard a deep, low rumble that sounded more pleased than angry. Nothing for it, he thought. We’re here now, at least until Aslan calls us to his own country. And I should think that that calling will have nothing to do with rings.
Peter had already scaled the decrepit wall and had dropped out of sight, and Edmund, with a final glance at the former Kirke residence, was not far behind.
A fic for Winged Flight:
The Riddle of the Sphinx
Edmund decided he didn't like Sphinxes very much.
And it wasn't because one had bashed him over the head as they stole him and Peter and Susan away from their camp (although that didn't help his mood very much). It wasn't because one of the Sphinxes had kidnapped Lucy and taken her to this supposedly abandoned fortress hidden deep in the Shuddering Wood that the four of them had come to explore (although that was quite aggravating). It wasn't that Sphinxes were such very good shots with their bows and arrows (although that had proven to be quite the deterrent to the rescue party. Also rather puzzling, since Edmund couldn't figure out how they shot with paws). And it wasn't even that Sphinxes seemed, to Edmund at least, rather humorless.
No, what really made him not like Sphinxes were all the blasted riddles. It would have been so much easier to just lop off their heads and rescue Lucy and claim Gilexand Tower back for Narnia.
But no, once the Sphinxes had told Peter and Susan the tale of how they had been guarding this fortress since before the Hundred Year Winter, how they had kept it safe for the King of Narnia all these years, how they had convinced the trees to grow up around it, and make an impenetrable barrier to keep it hidden from the Witch, Peter had said that they couldn't kill loyal Narnians.
Of course, Edmund had had the story told to him second-hand by Susan, since he had been unconscious (thanks to the blow to head) when the Sphinxes had brought the three of them to Tower yard. He did grudgingly agree it wouldn't be right to kill loyal Narnians, even if Peter wasn't the king these Sphinxes were loyal to.
The last king the Sphinxes knew was King Davan, who had been killed by the Witch when she conquered Narnia. They had guarded Gilexand Tower for over a hundred years, waiting for word from the King that the Witch had been vanquished.
Sphinxes, Edmund had also decided, were not quite clear on the average Human lifespan. Understandable, given that they had such long lifespans themselves, but still. Annoying.
Also annoying was how one of them had come across Lucy when she wandered away from their camp and now was holding her prisoner in the very top room of the tower. And then how the rest of them came after Edmund and Peter and Susan, and dragged them all back here to bargain for Lucy's life.
"Normally, we would kill anyone who tried to approach the Tower," the Sphinx guarding the entrance said.
"But you didn't kill Lucy?" Susan asked hastily.
"Oh, no," said the Sphinx, whose name was Hyusis. "She told Jinikshahrahaterah that she was Queen of Narnia, so he thought it best to bring her back here, so we could question her."
"She told who?" Edmund muttered while Susan elbowed him, and Hyusis explained that Jinikshahrahaterah was the youngest Sphinx, born after the Hundred Year Winter started. Being so young, he didn't remember King Davan, and was very excited to come across someone claiming to be a Queen of Narnia in the woods.
Peter had explained that while the Sphinxes were busy guarding the Tower, Aslan had defeated the Witch, and crowned them all Kings and Queens of Narnia, with Susan helpfully adding bits to the story that Peter forgot (Edmund was too busy sulking and rubbing the sore spot on his head to join in). But it wasn't until Peter showed the Sphinxes his ring, which had been found in the treasury of Cair Paravel, and given to Peter on their coronation day, that the Sphinxes seemed inclined to believe their story.
"The King's Ring!" Hyusis exclaimed. "I was there at King Davan's coronation, I saw them place that ring on his finger!" He nodded at all the other Sphinxes, gathered round in the yard. "This is the true King of Narnia!"
At that, the Sphinxes all bowed, muttering respectfully, "Your majesty."
Peter nodded. "That's right. I am the High King, and my brother and sister are king and queens under me. Your allegiance is to us now. And I thank you, good Sphinxes, for holding this Tower safe for Narnia, all these long years."
Susan thanked them graciously as well, as the Sphinxes all bowed to her and Edmund, but Edmund asked, rather grumpily (but of course his head still hurt), "Can we have our sister back now?"
The Sphinxes all looked at each other and Edmund thought they seemed rather nervous.
Hyusis cleared his throat. "Well, your majesty… I'm afraid it's not that easy. Once we took her into this tower, the Sphinx's Law took effect. We spared her life, but in order to enter the Tower and claim her back, you all must answer five riddles."
"Five riddles?" Susan asked, puzzled. "Why? You know we're your monarchs. Can't we just order you to release her to us?"
All the Sphinxes were shaking their heads. "Oh, I'm afraid not, my lady," Hyusis said, and he was clearly embarrassed by this. "But it's the reason Sphinxes make such good guards. Once we're guarding something, or someone, we cannot allow anyone access, or release, until the riddles have been answered. You will have to answer a riddle from me, and from the Sphinxes guarding each floor of the Tower, until you reach the top. There you will answer a final riddle, and your sister will be released to you."
"And if we can't answer the riddles?" Peter asked.
Hyusis's face was very red. "Then I am afraid your sister's life is forfeit."
"Forfeit?! You must be joking!" Edmund exclaimed. His headache was definitely getting worse. Most likely he was concussed.
Hyusis looked puzzled by this. "No, I never joke, sire. If you fail to answer all five riddles, we must kill your sister. It's the Sphinx's Law, as I said. We cannot allow a prisoner to leave the Tower, unless the riddles have been answered."
"I see," Peter said in a calm tone, as Edmund spluttered. "Give us a moment, please, good Sphinxes. Ed, calm down." He walked with Edmund and Susan to a distant corner of the Tower yard, away from the Sphinxes.
"We can kill them, right?" Edmund asked, rather eagerly, it must be admitted. But his head still hurt very much.
Peter shook his head. "No, we cannot kill them. They're simply doing what Sphinxes are supposed to do, and it's not right to kill Narnians who have just been doing their duty all these years."
"Besides, there are ten of them against three of us. And the other Sphinxes in the wood who are still holding off the Guard. We're not that good," Susan pointed out, and even though she was right, her practicality was still annoying.
Edmund stared at the both of them. "So, we're what? Going to answer riddles?"
Peter shrugged. "Do we have a choice?"
"Fine," Edmund sighed. "Five riddles. It can't be that bad."
"And you're very clever, Ed," Susan said in a cheerful tone.
"You want me to answer all the riddles?"
Susan and Peter glanced at each other and then back at him. "Well, you did have that riddle book back in England…" Peter began.
"I hardly think those are the kinds of riddles Sphinxes will ask!" But when Susan and Peter just stared at him, he sighed. "Fine. But you'd better help!" And he stalked back to the Tower entrance, Susan and Peter following, where Hyusis was waiting. "All right, we're ready for the first riddle."
Hyusis seemed pleased. "Oh good. Here is my riddle: What belongs to you, but everybody uses it more than you do?"
Edmund thought, but only for a moment before he realized the answer. "My name."
"Very good, your majesty!" Hyusis stepped aside to let them enter the Tower. "Good luck. Harav will be waiting for you at the top of the stairs with the next riddle."
"I hope all the riddles are that easy," Susan said, as they started up the dark stairway.
"I didn't think it was particularly easy," Edmund said, even though it really was. "I just happen to be very good at riddles."
"Well, I hope you're very good at this one," Peter said, as they came to the Sphinx blocking the next set of stairs.
She nodded respectfully. "I am Harav. Here is my riddle: There is a black horse that jumps over a tower and lands on a small man. The small man starts to disappear. What is happening?"
Edmund beamed. "Oh, I know this! It's a game of chess!"
Susan clapped her hands, as Harav moved aside. "Good work, Ed!"
"Do you suppose the Sphinxes are giving us easy riddles?" Peter wondered as they climbed the next flight of stairs.
"I told you, I'm very good at riddles," Edmund reminded him, and Peter nodded, but Edmund thought he saw him rolling his eyes.
The next Sphinx seemed rather happy to see them. "Oh, your majesties! Greetings, I am Aravelk, and I have long hoped to see the King of Narnia again!" she said, bowing her head.
Peter bowed his head in exchange. "Our greetings to you, Aravelk. Do you have a riddle for us, good Sphinx?"
He needn't seem so eager, Edmund thought, although perhaps he was buttering her up to get an easier riddle.
Aravelk nodded. "I do, your majesties. Here is my riddle:
There's not a kingdom on the earth,
But I have travelled over and over,
And though I know not whence my birth,
Yet when I come, you know my roar.
I through the town do take my flight,
And through the fields and meadows green,
And whether it be day or night,
I neither am nor can be seen.
What am I?"
"Oh, this one rhymes," Susan said, amused.
Edmund gave her a Look. "Rhyming doesn't make it easier."
"Guess they're not giving us easy riddles anymore," Peter sighed.
"Give me a moment." Edmund thought hard, repeating the riddle to himself and finally asked, "Is it the wind?"
"Yes!" Aravelk smiled and moved aside, so they could continue up the stairs. They were silent as they climbed, and Edmund may have been just the tiniest bit worried about the next riddle.
When they reached the next Sphinx, Edmund remembered that he didn't really like Sphinxes much. This one looked quite mean, and was definitely less happy to see them than Aravelk.
"My name is Arevmutk. Here is the final riddle," the Sphinx announced with a smile, and Edmund shivered, because it looked like the kind of smile someone might give you before they slit your throat, and he had seen a few of those in his day.
"There are two guards. One is always truthful and the other always lies. They are guarding two doors. One leads to certain death, the other to freedom. You can only ask one question and only to one of them. What's the question?"
"What, no rhyming this time?" Edmund muttered. This was the hardest riddle yet, and oh Aslan, his head hurt. Was it fair to bash someone in the head and then ask them riddles? He didn't think so. And of course, Peter and Susan were no help at all.
"What?" Peter asked, noticing Edmund's glare.
"Any ideas for an answer?"
Susan looked alarmed. "You don't know the answer?"
Edmund sighed. "I'm thinking. But a little help would be nice."
"Oh, but you're very good at riddles!" Peter said, and this time Edmund definitely saw him roll his eyes.
"Oh shut up. I have a concussion, remember?"
"I'm sure it's not a concussion, Ed," Susan began, when the Sphinx (which one was it? Aravelk? Arevmutk? Edmund had lost track) interrupted.
"Well, your majesties? Do you have an answer for me?" The Sphinx leveled a long look at them all. "You know the penalty: your sister's life."
Edmund found himself wondering just how things had gone so awry. Best to blame it on Peter, he decided, and asked the Sphinx, "Can you repeat the riddle?"
Arevmutk didn't look very inclined to repeat it, but did so grudgingly, and Edmund puzzled over it, rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head. Susan looked worried, he noticed, and Peter was no longer rolling his eyes.
"You do know the answer, don't you?" Peter hissed.
Edmund sighed. "I think so. I mean, I have a guess."
"It's the right guess, right?"
"Well, we're about to find out, Su." Edmund turned to the Sphinx. "I would ask 'What would the other guard say is the safe way out?' And then I would choose the opposite of what they say because the lying guard will lie and say the death door, and the truthful guard will say the death door, as that is what the lying guard would say."
"That is correct," Arevmutk said with a baleful look. He didn't seem at all pleased to spare Lucy's life, Edmund noticed, and he didn't really move aside to let them go up the last flight of stairs. They all had to squeeze by him on their way to the tower room and the last riddle.
"Well done, Ed!" Peter said as they went up the stairs and Susan said happily, "Just one more riddle!"
"I hope they're not saving the hardest for last." And Edmund noticed that Peter had drawn his sword, and Susan had her bow and an arrow ready. Edmund arched an eyebrow at them both.
"Well, we're not just going to let them kill Lucy, if you get this riddle wrong," Susan said practically.
"Oh, such faith in me," Edmund muttered, but he drew his sword as well.
And thus prepared, they came to the top of the stairs, ready to face the last Sphinx and the last riddle. But what greeted them at the top of the Tower took all three by surprise.
"Hello!" Lucy said, giggling and waving a very large mug at them. She was seated comfortably on the floor, next to a very large cask, and a rather small Sphinx. He also giggled and waved a paw at them.
"Lucy! Are you all right?"
"Is that wine?"
"Are you drunk?"
Lucy giggled again, spilling some wine on her trousers. "No! Yes! No! Wait. That's not right." She and the Sphinx looked at each other and laughed uproariously, then she said, "Yes, I'm all right. And yes, it is wine. And no, I'm not drunk." A pause while she sipped from the mug. "Oh, maybe a little."
"We thought they were about to kill you!" Peter said.
"That'll leave a nasty stain," Susan muttered, and Edmund privately thought Lucy was going to have a worse headache than he did, come tomorrow morning.
Lucy and the Sphinx dissolved into peals of laughter. "Kill me! Oh, Jinx would never kill me, would you, Jinx?"
The Sphinx assumed an air of great offense. "No, we're friends! I'd do no such thing!"
"Jinx?" Peter said weakly.
"His name is Jixas — Jinixsha —"
"Jinikshahrahaterah," the Sphinx said, to Edmund's dismay, since he thought he'd have a better chance with a riddle from a Sphinx who was too drunk to pronounce his own name.
"Yes, that!" Lucy said brightly. "But it's far too long, so we decided I could just call him Jinx. Jinx the Sphinx!" And she and Jinx were off laughing again.
"So you made friends with a Sphinx and got drunk?" Susan asked skeptically.
"Well, we were waiting for you to rescue me, and there's ever so many casks of faun wine here in this tower, wait til you see it all! And it's all over a hundred years old, and Jinx said it was very good, and maybe we could try some while we waited for you, and then we decided we would ask each other riddles and if you couldn't guess the answer, you had to drink."
"You riddled with a Sphinx and beat him?" Peter sounded incredulous.
Lucy laughed again. "Well, he didn't know the answers to 'what's black and white and red all over?' or 'why does a hummingbird hum?' or 'where does Friday come before Thursday?' so it was quite easy to beat him. And Jinx's riddles were awfully hard, which is why I had to drink so much! But I think we've decided on a good riddle to ask you."
"You chose the riddle for him to ask us?" Edmund's hopes for an easy riddle rose up, only to be dashed when Lucy continued.
"Oh yes, and it's a very hard one! You'll have to think about it." She nudged the Sphinx. "Go ahead, Jinx. Say your part!"
The Sphinx sat up straight and tried to look very proper. "My name is Jinikshahrahaterah. Here is my riddle:
The beginning of eternity
The end of time and space
The beginning of every end,
And the end of every place.
What am I?"
Edmund grinned in relief as he realized that drunks must have a different idea of very hard than he did. "You're the letter E."
Jinx stared at Lucy accusingly. "How did he get it so fast?"
Lucy took another sip from her mug and giggled again. "I forgot that Edmund is very good at riddles."
A fic for Tenae:
In Aslan's Time
The sky was dark with looming rain clouds that only emphasized the gloom of those standing in the St. Michael’s church graveyard. Every person was draped in black and even the scenery outside seemed to be shrouded in grief. It was still early spring, but a late frost had killed the emerging blossoms before vanishing again. The trees were mostly bare, with a few dead leaves hanging from their branches.
Anna Davis stared dully across the field behind the church. Fitting, she thought dryly. Even the earth mourns their partings. The girl standing next to her—Susan Pevensie—was blinking rapidly, as only someone who is trying desperately not to cry can. Anna took her hand and squeezed it gently to remind her that she wasn’t alone.
They barely heard the minister’s words as the caskets were lowered slowly into the ground in front of them and Anna wondered idly what that family (for indeed it could not be anything but a family) was doing now. Do they even remember us here? Does Peter remember me?
Her fiancé’s name brought a stab of anguish and pain and her eyesight blurred for a moment. Susan glanced at her and smiled sadly. “They’ll remember us,” she whispered. “They must remember us.” Anna nodded at her and dropped her gaze to the headstones being nestled into their places.
She supposed that it had been fortunate to have all of that “family” buried in the same place, but the thought brought her no joy. “Are they… in His country, do you think?”
“Yes,” Susan replied.
“They deserve to be there, I think.”
“I hope one day I’ll deserve to be there, with them.” Susan smiled fondly at the thought. “Think of it: all of us in Aslan’s country. Together.”
Anna smiled and the two young women turned to walk away from the graves. “Did I ever tell you about when Peter told me about Narnia?” she asked. Her own levity surprised her, but Susan didn’t seem to notice. They climbed into the car they’d driven to the cemetery and Susan shook her head. “Well,” Anna continued. “It was right before we went back to school. Peter had told me stories about Narnia before, but I thought they were just that: stories. But then…”
“What?” Susan looked eager to hear about her older brother.
“We went on a walk.”
vVvVvVv
Anna clasped her hands behind her back and gazed up at the young man beside her. Peter was taller than most of the other twelfth-years and more handsome than any of them (at least, he was in Anna’s mind). He was different than other boys she knew—kinder, wiser, and more thoughtful, among other things—and she yearned to know why.
“Do you…” Peter trailed off and began again, “Do you remember the stories my siblings told you? About Narnia?”
Anna smiled up at him. “Yes.”
“Ah.”
“Are you going to tell me another?”
Peter smiled. “Perhaps. Do you want me to?” Anna mock-glared at him, knowing that he was stalling, and he held up his hands. “Have I told you about how the four monarchs first got to Narnia?”
“No. Will you tell me?”
He nodded and sat down on a bench beside the path. “During the war, four children were sent away to live in the country. They arrived at a magnificent house; and at first they were content to stay there. But after a while they became bored. The youngest convinced them to play hide-and-go-seek.” Peter smiled fondly and continued, “She hid in a magnificent wardrobe, and when she stepped back, there was snow underneath her feet and pine branches all around her.”
Peter went on to tell her about how the second youngest was tricked and captured by an evil witch and how the other three had to find the Great Lion, Aslan, to save him. “He died for the younger king,” he murmured softly when he told Anna about how Aslan had sacrificed Himself instead of the younger boy. “Actually, I think He died for all of them, in a way.” Anna looked at him quizzically. “The prophecy needed four children. I don’t know what would have happened with only three. And Ed—er, the younger king, saved the others so many times after they were crowned that life without him would have been very short. And not worth it.” He said the last sentence so quietly that Anna wasn’t sure it was meant for her.
“But that wasn’t the end?”
“No. Not at all.” He smiled and continued his tale, telling her about a battle and a Lion’s resurrection and a Witch’s ended reign. When the story ended, the two sat in silence for a few moments. “Anna?”
“Yes?”
“That… wasn’t a story.”
Anna’s brow furrowed in confusion, “What?”
“I didn’t make it up.”
“What do you mean?”
He turned to face her. “Narnia’s real, Anna.”
She smiled, suddenly unsure. “It was a lovely story, Peter.”
“No!” He grabbed her upper arms and turned her to face him. “It’s real, Anna. I’ve been there. The story I just told you was mine.” Anna froze and listened as he persisted, “You can ask any of my siblings—except Susan, who doesn’t remember any of it—and they’ll tell you the same thing.”
Anna shook her head. “But how—”
“Have I ever lied to you, Anna?”
“No…”
“I’m not lying to you. It’s real!” He shook her gently and, observing her expression, added, “And I’m not crazy!”
“You really went?”
Peter nodded fervently. “The four monarchs were the four of us. We ruled for fifteen years there before we came back the first time. Then we went back a year later, and Aslan told Susan and me that we couldn’t come back. Ed and Lu got to go back with Eustace, our cousin, later that year. Yes, we went.”
Anna sat in stunned silence. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“Would you have believed me?”
Anna thought for a while before shaking her head apologetically. “Thank you. For sharing Narnia with me.”
He smiled. “Thank you for listening. And believing.”
vVvVvVv
Susan smiled warmly. “That sounds like Peter.”
Anna nodded. “He loved you, you know. It broke his heart when you said you didn’t remember.”
“I know. I just…” Susan broke off. “ I couldn’t stand being different from everyone else, so I tried to forget. It was wrong of me.”
They stopped in front of a small house and got out. We might be left behind, Anna thought confidently, but we’re not finished yet. Somewhere in the back of her mind she heard a lion’s roar and she knew that it was true.
She and Susan would come home—in Aslan’s time.
A fic for Caleon:
The Last Charade
Edmund Pevensie, once the Just King of a land called Narnia, was nineteen years old for the second time as he and his elder brother Peter set off in the very early morning on an unexpected journey. Instead of the usual errands he had planned to run that Saturday, he found himself traveling into a part of London he’d never visited before with the intention of committing a crime.
Well, perhaps that isn’t the most accurate way to put it, he thought. For after all, was it really a crime to take back someone’s own possessions? And furthermore, if the person from whom said possessions were being taken was completely unaware that they existed at all, did he really have a claim to them?
Edmund smiled to himself. It was good to be contemplating judgment and justice again, and even more interesting that the would-be accused was Edmund himself.
He was walking down a narrow street in a residential area of London with which he was for the most part unfamiliar. They’d been able to take the Underground most of the way, and now had only a very little distance to trek before reaching their destination. The city was mostly asleep, as it was still early in the morning and a Saturday to boot. The sun had only erupted over the horizon an hour or so before, bathing the red-brick buildings in a host of glorious colors that gradually faded as the day began in earnest. Now the world was completely lit up, bathed in the sunshine of a brilliantly cloudless summer day.
To his side strode his elder brother Peter, his collar turned up against the early morning chill. The two of them had traveled in silence for much of their journey, each wrapped in his own thoughts about the task to be done. Edmund wondered at what Peter, his face set in rigid determination, was thinking at that particular moment; if he was contemplating the rights and wrongs of their future deed as Edmund was, or if his mind was elsewhere. As usual, Peter’s expression was indecipherable, even to the man who knew him best in the world.
Despite whatever small worry was present concerning the exact lawfulness of their undertaking, Edmund also felt a familiar thrill that fluttered somewhere in his stomach. This wasn’t his first undercover quest on Narnia’s behalf; this wouldn’t be the first theft he undertook for the good of his country. Espionage and the necessary but dirtier parts of diplomacy had been his particular forte, and some part of Edmund, perhaps a part left over from who he’d been Before, reveled in the thrill of them.
He recalled an especially difficult mission to Terebinthia, where his objective had been to recapture a scroll of classified information that had been lifted by a member of the recently-departed Terebinthian envoy. Rather than draw attention to the theft and risk an international incident, not to mention the interest and involvement of other nations who would have died to learn the secrets and records that that scroll had contained, Edmund had taken it upon himself and a very few hand-picked associates to infiltrate the tiny island nation and steal it back. It hadn’t been easy, and they’d quite nearly been caught a couple of times – he still didn’t know what they would have done had Evanova not created that bar-fight diversion – but in the end it was Edmund who had strode into the private royal study with the offending scroll in his triumphant fist.
“Left here,” came the quiet interruption of Peter’s voice, and the two of them turned the corner and continued their walk in silence.
The mission on which he found himself now wasn’t nearly so exciting, and there wasn’t remotely as much to be lost or gained, but still Edmund undertook it with all the solemnity and adrenaline that he had felt a hundred times before. Today they were dressed as workmen, in clothes borrowed from Professor Kirke’s unknowing handyman and nicked from the clean laundry. Edmund couldn’t help but grin when he looked over at his brother, who couldn’t have looked less like a workman if he was wearing a pair of Susan’s nylons. It wasn’t that there was any shame in being the sort of man who was called upon to fix drains; indeed, Edmund had met his fair share of citizens of the so-called working class who’d shown as much nobility as the greatest of Narnian knights. Rather, it was just that Peter, since the dinner, had been looking so very kingly that it was hard to imagine him as anyone whose head wasn’t meant for a crown.
There was also the issue of the clothes themselves, as his older brother was a size or two too large for the uniform he wore. The seams were too narrow for his broad chest and shoulders, and he’d had to roll the sleeves to his elbows to hide how dreadfully short they were. As for the trousers… well, they’d just have to hope that no one paid attention to how much of the High King’s boots and socks stuck out from beneath the hems.
For his part, Edmund was still the chameleon he had always been. The workman’s clothing seemed made for him, as if Edmund himself was made for their ruse. Upon studying himself in the mirror that morning, he’d found his appearance most convincing. There was nothing in Edmund’s face to draw attention; he was easily able to shed the kingly bearing that Peter probably didn’t even know he possessed. His was the sort of face that no one would bother to remember because he was able to appear so very normal: handsome but not dazzling, intelligent but not intimidating, confident but not ostentatious.
Edmund was playing the game again, and he grinned at the comfortable familiarity of it. He’d had ample experience disguising his thoughts and his features. Peter, on the other hand, had never been a good actor, as he was both too noble for dubious deeds and an appallingly terrible liar. It seemed that little had changed on that front, judging by the High King who was so obvious despite attempts to disguise his nobility in workman’s clothes. Edmund, however, had had a lot of practice with lying Before, and therefore had only a little trouble adapting his talents to suit his charades of espionage. At first it had felt wrong, an icy snake twisting up his spine as the lies came to his lips, but as he learned to forgive himself for every other evil he’d done Before he discovered that lying in defense of Right and Truth and Peace and Justice was a very different matter entirely. It was the conversion of his former flaws and weaknesses into tools and skills that had brought about Edmund’s redemption.
Edmund caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye and looked over to find Peter studying the directions the Professor had meticulously written out for them.
“Next street, I think,” Peter said, glancing up to consult the sign they were just passing. “It won’t be far after that; just a few more blocks by the look of it.”
Edmund nodded, and within a moment they turned into a derelict-looking neighborhood. It had the dingy feel of a place that had once been quite clean and respectable, but since had fallen into some disrepair and ruin that had nothing to do with the bombs that had rained down in London only a few years earlier.
So much has changed, he reflected as he took in the creeping vines that were overtaking the chipped and discolored bricks. Sometimes it was hard for Edmund to believe that a war had come and gone, that he’d lived an entire adolescence and young adulthood twice over. Other times he felt old, so much older than a nineteen-year-old should feel, even if he’d lived fifteen more years than others his age…
“I think I’m going to tell her soon, Ed,” Peter said suddenly, earning a somewhat startled look from his younger brother at the sudden break in the silence and interruption of his thoughts. It took a moment for Edmund to process what Peter had said, but finally he asked,
“Nora?”
Peter nodded, but carefully avoided Edmund’s eye. “I think she suspects something already.”
“Well, she’s a smart girl, a lot smarter than that last one,” Edmund replied with a cheeky grin. More seriously, he added, “And you don’t exactly do well at hiding the High King sometimes.”
A shadow of a grin passed over Peter’s features. After a moment’s hesitant pause, he added, “Did you ever tell Margaret?”
Edmund shook his head, feeling that tiny but acute pain in his midsection that always seemed to accompany that name nowadays. “Almost,” he replied. “When it started getting serious, and she seemed to be catching on …” He trailed off, deliberately returning his wandering mind to their task at hand and Peter himself. “So it’s getting rather serious, then, is it?”
“Yes,” Peter said, looking over at last. “It rather is. She’s… I…”
There was a reason why Edmund, not Peter, had most often been called upon for such tasks as speech-writing, treaty drafting, and annals-keeping. Upon seeing his older brother floundering (and grinning to himself at the mental image of Peter struggling to have a similarly emotional conversation with Nora), Edmund supplied the words.
“She’s the closest thing to perfect you’ve found on this Side.”
Peter looked over at his younger brother with a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude on his face. “Exactly.”
“Do you think she’ll understand?”
Peter thought a moment. “You know, I rather think she will.”
Edmund, little that he knew Nora, hoped that this was true. All of the Pevensie children had done well adjusting to a life permanently spent in one world only, though they’d gone about it in different ways. His thoughts fleetingly flew to Susan, whose new and growing discomfort with any mention of Narnia was increasingly worrisome for the rest of them, but he repressed those images in favor of the situation at hand. Even though he, Peter, and Lucy had established lives for themselves here in England, Edmund knew that none of them could ever hope to be happy in a marriage with a partner who didn’t have at least some understanding, if not complete belief, in the Other World that had meant so much and become such an integral part of them. Narnia was too important, and if marriage was to be a process of two separates becoming one whole, it would be impossible to do so while ignoring such a huge piece.
“I’m happy for you, Peter,” Edmund said honestly. Jealous as hell, but happy for you.
“Thanks,” Peter replied. He seemed to be weighing his words in his mind, and suddenly they tumbled out almost as if he was afraid of them. “Look, Ed, I’m sorry about you and Margaret…”
Edmund waved a hand, effectively cutting the sentence short in midair.
“Don’t worry about it. Isn’t this the street?”
Peter didn’t seem particularly convinced by his casual tone, but Edmund was right that they’d nearly reached their destination. A final right turn and they were only a building or two away from the rowhouse that had once been the home of a young Digory Kirke.
Although at first the Pevensie children had kept mostly to themselves (understandable, considering the war that had put even greater emphasis on treasuring loved ones for the little time you had them, not to mention their extra-worldly experiences), they soon found that spending time only in each other’s company was neither therapeutic nor particularly healthy. When it came time to return to (or, in Lucy’s case, begin) school, they’d found most of their old friends waiting for them, and a few new ones, too. Creating and fostering relationships in this world helped to anchor them, to endear to them the place where they lived Now, and to mask the pain the memory of the place they lived Then sometimes caused. Their friends helped them find a way to be happy and feel a sense of belonging in a world where they had at first felt so distant and strange.
It had been difficult, of course, going back to school. He returned from their time at the Professor’s a very different child than he had been Before, and it had taken his schoolmates a good while to accustom themselves to this new Edmund. He eventually found his place, though, forging better relationships with some of his Before friends and abandoning others who would have only tempted him. Friends came and went, and as he grew up a new creature, but one he’d met before in another life, appeared.
Girls were suddenly everywhere. He wondered why he’d never noticed.
He’d met and gone steady with a girl who’d reminded him of a particularly enchanting countess from the Seven Isles, and he’d met and loved a girl who didn’t remind him of anything Narnian at all. It had hurt when he and Margaret had separated, and although his mother meant well her soothing words of how it was “all a part of growing up, having your heart broken,” were less than soothing given that he’d already done a considerable amount of growing up before.
This isn’t the time to be thinking about that, Edmund reminded himself, both because Margaret was the last thing he wanted to think about and because the number on the rowhouse before them matched the number on Peter’s paper. From then on, it was all business. King Edmund the Just, gifted diplomat, chameleon, thief, and unsung national hero, was back in action.
They counted the number of houses to the end of the row (musing as they did as to which neighbor was once the Plummer home) and backtracked down the street so as to be able to access the backyards. After ensuring that they had chosen the right house, he and Peter carefully climbed the crumbling brick wall and dropped into the tiny, square garden. Edmund’s heart pounded with the thrill of their quest as he and Peter checked the windows for signs of early-rising tenants.
There was no talking now except the occasional hushed whisper uttered only out of greatest necessity. Thankfully, years of practice and close living had made the two former Kings masters at reading each others’ body language and facial expressions, so little verbal communication was needed. They had quite a job ahead of them; the tree around which the rings had been buried had blown over in a storm ages ago and was turned into the wardrobe that had been the portal through which their first adventures in Narnia had begun. In addition to having no reference point to decide where to start digging, it would also be something of a miracle if no one had located the rings in the time since the house had been sold. The Professor had told them that the holes he and Aunt Polly had dug for the rings had been rather shallow, which might have led to the rings’ location by the new owners, but shallow holes also meant that Edmund and Peter wouldn’t have to disturb too much ground in order to find what they sought if the rings were still there.
They set to it, trying to judge by the spacing of the few remaining trees where another might have once stood. It took more time than Edmund would have preferred to locate the first of the rings, but at last Peter gave a low whistle and Edmund moved quickly to his side to find his older brother holding out his trowel. Upon it, caked in the dirt and grime of decades spent underground, was the unmistakable shimmer of a golden ring. Edmund held out his gloved hand and Peter overturned the trowel into it. Brushing away the dirt, Edmund deposited the ring into the little sack they’d brought with them.
Once they had a general idea where the rings were hidden, it didn’t take long to unearth the rest of them. A green one, its color still brilliant even after so many years, came next, and within moments the two of them had dug up another green and another yellow.
“Should we find the rest?” Peter whispered, dropping his newfound yellow ring into the little sack Edmund held open for him. “We’ve got enough now for Jill and Eustace to have one green and yellow apiece.”
“Might as well collect them all,” Edmund muttered in return. “There’s no telling what might happen if we don’t, who might find them after we’ve gone.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Peter nodded, moving away to where he judged the next green one might be buried. “If Aslan wants to call someone to Narnia, he’ll have his own way of doing it. Better to have all the rings safe at the Professor’s.”
And so they spent a few minutes more in the dirt, trying to disturb the earth as little as possible and sparing occasional glances over their shoulders at the still-quiet house. Edmund took one arc of the circle while Peter took the other, and eventually their labors brought them side-by-side as Edmund uncovered the last green ring and Peter the final yellow.
As he carefully tied off the bag and deposited it in the pocket of his workman’s clothes, Edmund felt a sudden flash of temptation. It would be so easy to touch one of the yellow rings; he could fumble with his gloves so that it looked like an accident. It wouldn’t be hard to find Narnia once he was in the Wood Between the Worlds… surely he’d know it when he saw it and could keep switching greens and yellows and pools and worlds until he did.
As suddenly as it came, however, the temptation departed, and Edmund buttoned the pocket securely. Somewhere inside of him he heard a deep, low rumble that sounded more pleased than angry. Nothing for it, he thought. We’re here now, at least until Aslan calls us to his own country. And I should think that that calling will have nothing to do with rings.
Peter had already scaled the decrepit wall and had dropped out of sight, and Edmund, with a final glance at the former Kirke residence, was not far behind.
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Date: 2011-01-01 02:51 pm (UTC)While Anna was sad and sweet, what I especially appreciated was both the normalcy of the relationship with Peter and her support for Susan. Friends! They have friends and normal relationships and Susan is not in a state of apostasy.
Edmund's temptation and their reflections were lovely. An excellent piece! Oh Lewis, why did you kill them!??
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Date: 2011-01-10 02:41 am (UTC)And I shall look at the other fics soon, later-ish. I really have just arrived home, you see...