The room itself was fairly warm as a few braziers blazed in the corners of the tent. Every now and again though, a late fall breeze would creep in, a reminder that the lingering warmth of fall was long passed. Beside him, he glanced again at the plate of cured sausage and potatoes and vegetables on a table. It had been hot once, he thought. After they had brought Edmund back, and before he had met with his commanders. Now it had grown cold and probably stale. He knew he should eat, but with his brother so terribly weak, he found he had no stomach for food
Sighing he turned back to his brother, watching the rise and fall of his chest. The healers had tending to his brother, bandaging and attending to what injuries were visible. The scent of the pungent herbs still filled the air, filled his nose and mouth as he took another breath, nearly gagging him.
Sighing, he studied the younger king's profile, looking for any sign of improvement and nearly gagging as he breathed in the smell of pungent herbs.
"Your Majesty, may I speak to you alone?" a chief healer, an elderly badger, petitioned. With her paw, she gestured to the far side of the tent, far away from the other healers and possible anxious, prying ears at the door.
"Yes, m'lady?" Peter answered, his voice controlled. Rising from his place beside his brother, he rose and followed her.
As Your Majesty has most certainly seen, King Edmund's injuries are indeed grave and there may be more yet unseen. We must be watchful. Care must be taken to keep him warm at all times, least He succumbs to the cold he endured from the river. There is also the danger should his majesty development, pneumonia. We must pray the Lion hold his Majesty and give him the strength to pull through.
"I understand... Thank you, Rosalee. Your service has been more than valuable to us," replied the High King, his shoulders sagging as he fought to keep control of his emotions. "You may leave now; kindly tell the others, I wish to be alone with my brother."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The elder king moved softly across the tent and pulled his stool up closer beside his silent brother's bed.
Gazing down, he thought how terribly weak and vulnerable his brother looked. He took Edmund's pale, chilled hand in his and held it, as he silently cried out to Aslan, begging for help and for his brother's life to be spared.
Of all the adventures that had happened while they had been in Narnia, Edmund had taken his share of the brunt of the evil done to them, especially when he had broken the White Witch's wand.
"No! No! Let him go! Please no. Take me instead, please." the younger king, cried out in his delirium, fighting Peter's hold as he resisted some fever dream.
"Ed, it's me. Peter. I'm right here," he whispered to Edmund, the younger king's breaths swift and shallow. "Don't worry, I won't leave you," Peter's steady voice reassured, although inwardly he wanted to break down and weep. “It’s alright.” As though comforted by the sound of his elder brother’s voice, the younger’s breathing deepened and began to even. When his brother was at last resting peacefully, the High King stepped to the opening of the tent,
"Eonus!" the High King called, fear for his brother energizing his shout.
"Yes, Your Majesty?"
"Fetch me some parchment and ink and have a swift courier readied. Quickly! My brother's life hangs in the balance."
Statistics: Posted by Lil — Tue Sep 25, 2018 6:31 pm
]]>
Statistics: Posted by knightofnarnia — Sat Aug 18, 2018 5:57 am
]]>
I read in Fan Fiction the rest are you going to update soon? It seems you haven't updated this tale in two years
I'm working on it.Statistics: Posted by Lil — Sat Aug 18, 2018 12:45 am
]]>
]]>
And you left Lucy behind for much the same reasons you wished you left Edmund behind, Peter. Can’t have things both ways.
Statistics: Posted by Ariel.of.Narnia — Sun Aug 12, 2018 8:41 pm
]]>
Accepting a ride doesn't mean you're sick either, Edmund! Stubborn dolt....
I know! Thanks for keeping up with this story and commenting, Ariel! --
Peter sloshed through the wet grass and mud along the riverbank. "Edmund! Edmund! Ed! Can you hear me? Answer me! Edmund!" the High King cried desperately, at the point of breaking. "Edmund, Where are you? Please answer me," he begged, his voice reduced to a hoarse whisper after yelling those same words all night long. He sank down, exhausted by the night's search, ignoring the discomfort as his armor jammed against his knees. His heart ached and his throat constricted painfully. He felt a burning sensation at the corners of his eyes and he blinked, trying desperately to hold back the tears that threatened to fall.
A far distant memory stirred like a dream in his mind. He was standing inside a strange building, in what seemed like a long time ago when he was younger, and a familiar woman stood in front of him. She had a kind, fair-skinned face and dark eyes like that of his brother, Edmund. He sensed anxiousness and worry from her, for even though she hid behind a brave demeanor her eyes betrayed her. As he looked around, he noticed the feeling of urgency mingled with fear and childish cries. Who was she? His mother?
She had hugged the younger version of him, and whispered gently in his ear, "Look after the others." He had replied, "I will Mum, I promise." Despite his best efforts, he had not always been able to keep his word and now his only brother was missing. Why had he let him come?
"Sweet Aslan, help me find my brother please, I beg," he prayed silently.
At the muffled sound of hooves coming across the plain, he raised his eyes to meet those of his stony-faced general. Steam rose off his mud-spattered flanks in the early twilight air. Oreius hardly ever showed any emotion, but Peter knew a stony look like this only meant one thing, the general was worried.
"Yes, General?" the High King asked, pleading for any report of his brother, as the general had been right there with Peter and the soldiers all along, leading the foremost search party.
"King Peter, you have been searching the night through. You are exhausted. Allow us to continue seeking your brother. You must return to the camp and rest. "
"He is my brother, General. As such, I will continue searching with or without a guard, till I have no strength left." the High King snapped through gritted teeth as he stood and walked away to continue the search, forgetting for a moment that Oreius would never abandon the search either.
Walking along the riverbank and battling the despair that threatened to engulf him, he stared at the murky river beside him. No longer a torrent, the waters had receded to a sluggish, shallow swirl of muddy water. A flash of metal caught his eye, the light reflecting off a familiar glint of steel as the sun arose in a magnificent display of color. He gasped and began to run forward, ignoring the cries of the soldiers around him and moving faster as he got closer the edge of the river up ahead.
"Edmund!"
Panic replaced despair as he lunged through the filthy water. The younger king lay unconscious among the reeds, his face barely above the surface of the river. Heedless of the cold and muck, Peter knelt and carefully, gently cradled his brother's head on his lap. Edmund's breaths were barely audible, only a whisper. The High King looked up desperately, shouting to the astonished soldiers:
"Flynn, alert the army. Swiftfoot, Twitterwing, fetch the healers! Tell them we need a litter! Quickly!"
He didn't even watch to see if they obeyed, but turned his full attention back on Edmund. There was a long, ugly cut on his forehead and beneath the filth covering him, Peter could see bruises forming on his brother's face. Dents from that awful fall marred his armor. Peter had seen enough battles to know that Edmund's injuries were far worse than were immediately visible.
Why, why had he insisted that Lucy stay behind at Cair Paravel?
Statistics: Posted by Lil — Sun Aug 12, 2018 8:04 pm
]]>
]]>
Peter watched his brother carefully; mindful of the toll the weather was taking on him and his health. He certainly did not want that cough turning into something worse. He saw how Edmund rode hunched over against the wind.
Something was bothering him, something more than just the weather.
Urging his horse to catch up to the younger king, he spoke in a voice only his brother could hear.
"What's wrong, Ed?"
"Peter, this is the second time," Edmund stated, trying to hide his discomfort and anxiety from his brother. He failed, and mingled in with his
serious tone Peter caught a hint of disgust.
"The second time of what?"
"The second time I've had magic in me. First it was her, and now this blasted potion."
"The headache is back, isn't it?"
"It's worse. No, Peter, it's not your fault," the younger king said firmly. Noticing the worried look on his brother's face, the look that said he was about to beat himself up for bringing the nearly-sick teen along, Edmund hastily added, "It started this morning. Don't worry, it's not the weather or the journey."
"General, we stop here tonight!"
"Peter, no. Don't stop them just for me. I'm fine," the dark-haired king hissed softly into Peter's ear.
"But King Peter! Surely you do not mean make camp with hours still left before nightfall?" an older dwarf queried. There were still a good three
hours of light by which they could travel left in the day.
"I mean what I said, Chauffkin. We stop for the night here, and not a mile further," the High King stated firmly, a steely quality to his voice that said this was not a matter to be debated or questioned.
"As your Majesty commands," Oreius replied. Quickly, almost like magic, the camp was set up and the kings' packs were set in their tent and unpacked.
Edmund slowly, carefully dismounted, closing his eyes a moment as the world seemed to spin before him. Even Phillip noticed this change in his sovereign.
"King Edmund. Sire, are you unwell?"
"Just tired and wet, Phillip." The younger king sighed, putting up a brave front and smiling wearily, so that his mount might not see his discomfort.
With snort of unbelief, the loyal horse wished the kings a very good night.
---
The morning of the next day the sun was out again, shining brilliantly and helping to dry everything out. As evening neared, the hot and sticky army began trudging up a broad, steep incline to a plateau just ahead where they would make their camp. Through the sun was out, the path was covered with slippery muck.
A few feet to their left, the edge of the path dropped away to a deep gully with a few stubborn, stunted trees growing on its steep slopes. A river ran through the bottom of the gorge, back through the valley behind, connecting with the River Shribble in the marshes. What was usually a tiny trickle of a river was now roaring with days of run-off that ran.
Before them, temporary, brown waterfalls cascaded off the mountains, thin veils of water and mist where the water poured over the edge and the mountains flattened out to the low, rolling hills and lowlands of Ettinsmuir, all heather-clad and sparkling.
Edmund looked at the rain-soaked path scattered with fall leaves and began to dismount. The soldiers were then treated to a brief argument between their Just King and his mount as the Edmund insisted upon walking up the incline on his own and Phillip insisted that he ride. Both were quite adamant and ignored their audience as Phillip used common sense to battle Edmund's logic. It was hard to say who actually won, but in the end the teen made his own way up the incline.
Edmund walked along thinking and muttering to himself. First it was his baby sister, then his brother and, now his loyal mount and friend. Goodness! He could take care of himself! He didn't need a lot of worrying Narnians hovering over him. He was just fine. All he had was a little cough and a headache. That wasn't sick!
He noticed the muddy ground beginning to shift beneath him. Then suddenly, like a trap door, the rain-soaked ground dropped out from underneath his feet. As his knees buckled beneath him, he cried out in surprise and fright. He saw Peter whip around, a look of horror and terror on his face, the soldiers' voices rose up in equal alarm. Then he was carried away in a river of water, mud and rocks. His brother's voice echoing over the tumult,
"EDMUND!"
Statistics: Posted by Lil — Sat Jul 28, 2018 2:05 am
]]>
Statistics: Posted by Lil — Thu Apr 30, 2015 2:42 pm
]]>
Statistics: Posted by Ariel.of.Narnia — Fri Apr 10, 2015 5:42 am
]]>
Lucy hugged her dark-haired brother, who despite his slight cough had convinced elder king to let him come. "You'll keep Peter safe and keep yourself well, won't you?"
"Yes, Lu. You think I want to let him get hurt?" Edmund exclaimed with feigned hurt in his voice. "I want to keep him from harm as much you do. And of course I'll try and stay warm," he replied, his voice hoarse from coughing. "As warm as anyone can, in such wet and misty lands as the moors."
"Oh Ed, I wish I was coming with you. Come back soon, dear brother. Aslan be with you," the youngest queen said as she stood on her toes to kiss his cheek.
"And with you, fair sister. Do keep yourself safe. I love you." Then in one fluid motion he swung up onto the waiting horse's back.
"Peter, are you sure won't let me come? You could get Tumnus to…" Lucy begged turning to Peter.
"Look at your lips. They're turning blue and you're shivering." The wheaten-haired king pointed, a joking smile on his face. "No. Lu," he said, his voice growing firm again. "It's just too dangerous. But if you need any counsel, you can always ask Archimedes. He said he'd be glad to be of help. I will bring Susan back, I promise."
"Do try to keep yourself from being overly heroic and make sure you both get proper rest. Lion be with you."
"He will Lu, and with you too," the High King answered, his voice comforting as he embraced his youngest sister. Then he leapt up on his horse, smiled to his sister and gave command to move out.
Statistics: Posted by Lil — Fri Apr 10, 2015 2:31 am
]]>
A knock at the door startled her.
"Come in," she called, sinking back into the bed and closing her eyes, too comfortable and warm to move. The soft tap of leather boots entered and came
around to the front of the divan.
"M'lady, may I have a word with you?" At the familiar voice, she instantly sat up.
"King Peter! I...I…I… My apologies… I did not know… I…" stuttered Dalia, extremely embarrassed at still being in her sleeping kirtle, her cheeks blushing as pink as the rose-colored blanket that covered her.
"As a knight and a king, it is I who should apologize. We wrongfully accused and disgraced you. For that I and my brother are very sorry. He would be here, but he has taken ill." He spoke with the sincere, open friendliness she knew and expected from the High King and his tone was instantly soothing.
"It is alright, King Peter. King Edmund is ill? I hope His grace is not grievously unwell. What of Queen Susan…? Is there any hope for her?" asked the maid earnestly.
"We'll be setting out to tomorrow to find her and break the enchantment." his voice sounded optimistic, but his eyes betrayed uncertainty.
"Have all the preparations been made to depart, King Peter?"
"Mostly, yes. General Oreius is readying the army. There's still a great deal to do with sorting out the weapons and rations and supplies." He smiled. "The healers never feel as if they've packed enough even when we picnic down at Clearwater, so to venture into parts unknown has them all awhirl. I must go see my sister now. Perhaps Queen Lucy has found more information and there are many details to which I still must attend."
"I know I am small and young, but could I be of help with anything?"
"Stay with Queen Lucy and be her companion. She will not like to hear it, but this mission is too dangerous for her and she will need a friend." His expression distant as he voice the command. "But now of pleasanter things! Would you please join us tonight for dinner?" The tone of his voice changed from firm and distant to easy going as he extended his invitation.
"Thank you, K… Sir. But I'm not a royal lady." The small maid smiled sadly, a wishful tone in her voice. Then an older dryad with a kind, wrinkly face entered. In her hands she held a pink dress, the same color as the blanket that covered Dalia.
"But you are our friend, and that is reason good enough. I believe my sister set a dress aside for you." With a faint smile, Peter departed, leaving Dalia with the dryad maid. The
elderly birch smiled as she asked,
"Well now, Miss Dalia, shall we start with your hair?"
Statistics: Posted by Lil — Fri Apr 10, 2015 2:28 am
]]>
I can try and post another chapter Cor. (yes, Swan Lake was one of my contributing ideas.)
Statistics: Posted by Lil — Fri Apr 10, 2015 2:18 am
]]>
]]>
It was amazing! Post as soon as you can! Lil, you are superb! (I am sensing a Swan Lake theme here) Oh and if you could type it out like you did 3 and 4 that would be great!
Statistics: Posted by cor — Sat Oct 11, 2014 10:49 am
]]>