Fanfics, insane or not-so-insane

Fan Fiction inspired by The Chronicles

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Re: Fanfics, insane or not-so-insane

Post by narniac101 » Wed Mar 18, 2015 9:55 pm

:shock: *applauds* THAT WAS AWESOME!!!!!
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Re: Fanfics, insane or not-so-insane

Post by jesusgirl4ever » Thu Mar 19, 2015 1:09 am

I LOVE IT!!!
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Re: Fanfics, insane or not-so-insane

Post by Ariel.of.Narnia » Thu Mar 19, 2015 3:26 am

*grins* I really want to say this is King Frank, but this character young and unmarried, so... so much for that. :) Anyway. I really liked this and honestly had no idea where it was going until he was painting the ship. Very nicely done!
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Re: Fanfics, insane or not-so-insane

Post by hobbit_of_narnia » Fri Mar 20, 2015 10:22 pm

@ Ariel: :lol:
But thanks, guys! The king I had in mind as the king in this story was King Gale. I wondered if he might have had a dragons-prow ship since he killed that one dragon in the Lone Islands...
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Re: Fanfics, insane or not-so-insane

Post by Ariel.of.Narnia » Fri Mar 20, 2015 11:43 pm

Mm, yes. Hadn't thought of that.
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Re: Fanfics, insane or not-so-insane

Post by albero1 » Tue May 05, 2015 2:04 pm

Hobbi....I just re-read Wedding Belles...are you SURE that you didn't base Belle off of anyone? 'Cause she sure acts like an exaggerated version of me. XD
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Re: Fanfics, insane or not-so-insane

Post by hobbit_of_narnia » Tue May 05, 2015 7:07 pm

:lol: No, she's completely original. But now that you mention it...she does remind me of an over-the-top fangirl what-I-could-be-like-if-I-wanted-to version of you. :P
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Re: Fanfics, insane or not-so-insane

Post by hobbit_of_narnia » Wed Aug 05, 2015 4:14 am

Sorry to double-post, but I've finally finished this fanfic, which I started during the reading challenge this summer. I'm hoping there aren't any obviously ridiculous mistakes (eg. obnoxious/humorous typos, missing quotation marks, and unfinished sentences :? ) or any not-so obvious mistakes (especially character/geographical errors). I also haven't quite finished editing it yet, so I'll probably be doing that sometime in the future in an attempt to fix any errors.
So without further ado, here is "The Diamond and the Hammer".


Bor and his men had been missing for thirty-six hours. They had taken the boat ashore the evening they had dropped anchor, telling the others not to follow until they had scouted the area around the bay, for the very air of the island felt hostile. Those on deck watched the small light of the torches they had brought as they reflected off the little waves and ripples made by the boat’s wake (there was no wind that night), watched them lurch as the boat was grounded on the beach, watched them bob about as the men crossed the strip of level ground near the water’s edge, and at last disappear into what was apparently a little forest of trees.

The party did not return that night, nor did the light of morning bring any sight of them. They could see the boat pulled up on the beach near the mouth of a little stream, and through a telescope they could see a track of footprints running up the sand until they reached a thick stand of cedar-like trees. The whole of that day dragged by with no further sign, and a second still night. But at sunrise, Norrith the cabin boy knocked on Restimar’s door, telling him that his presence was requested on the deck…

*****

“I’m going ashore,” Octesian said, looking with grim face at the others gathered on the deck: the five remaining lords, Norrith, Lethain the captain, and Garv the mate. “We cannot go on without them, for by chance they may yet be alive.” Restimar saw that he wore light leather armour and his golden-hilted sword was slung at his side. “I’ll go alone if I must. I can’t wait any longer.”

“You’re not going alone, whatever happens,” Restimar insisted. “I at least shall come with you.”

“As will I,” agreed Rhoop, the youngest of the lords. “Fetch me my sword and the lightest pieces of my armor, Norrith.” The cabin boy bowed and hurried below deck.

“My lords,” began Lethain, but Octesian raised his hand in a gesture of silence.

“No, this quest was ours and we should have been the first to go ashore,” he said firmly. “And now I am determined to atone for the shirking of my duty, as much as it is possible. I shall find the men, and if they are dead, I shall make it my task to avenge them. If the lords Rhoop and Restimar make it their wish to come with me, I shall not hinder them, but I ask no others of you to come, for it would not do to lose all of us with one stroke if something were to go awry.”

“But how will you get ashore? The boat is there on the beach.”

“I can swim,” snorted Rhoop. “I do not fear the sea like a timid rabbit of a commoner.”

“It is only those with weak minds that fear the sea,” Restimar put in. “My father taught me to swim when I was a boy.”

“And I too can swim,” Octesian agreed. “It is our obligation to discover what we can about the lost men, so we must go ashore.”

“I beg you to reconsider,” the captain tried again.

“I have considered, I have reconsidered, and I have made up my mind.” Octesian squared his shoulders and set his jaw. He was a tall man, and his strength matched his height. “I will go, and my friends the Lord Restimar and the Lord Rhoop shall go with me.” He took off his boots and, tying them together with a thin length of rope, slung them over his shoulder. “If you would be so good as to lower me over the side, captain.”

Lethain, seeing it was useless to argue further, lowered the three lords into the water. Treading water, Octesian called up at him, “If we do not return before the morning after tomorrow’s, go on without us.” Then he at once began a steady stroke and the others followed his lead. They encountered no unexpected currents and a quarter of an hour found them wading through shallow water onto the rocky shore near the empty boat. Octesian pushed his dark, wet curls away from his face and looked up at the ominous cliffs before them, his eyes glinting almost as ominously. “You do not frighten me,” he muttered between clenched teeth. After a final glance back at the ship, he turned to his companions. “The trail of footprints leads into the very heart of the woods,” he said. “But I wonder if we should not keep more to the bottoms of the cliffs.”

“We may find signs of them if we follow their trail,” Restimar disagreed. “And if they are in the thick of the trees we may go straight around them and not discover it until too late.”

“And what do you say, friend?” Octesian asked, turning to Rhoop.

Rhoop hesitated and nervously pressed his knuckles against his lip. At last he said, “I think we should follow the trail.”

Octesian’s dark eyes smouldered, but he only said, “So be it.” Then with a firm stride he set off in the direction of the line of entwined prints. Restimar followed after him, and Rhoop came last of all, sorry that the final vote and resulting displeasure had fallen to him. They had gone in silence for hardly two furlongs before they found themselves gazing in horror at a little clearing.

The grass had been withered, the ground was burnt, and even the rocks showed signs of a recent, exceptionally hot fire. The blackened stumps and shattered trunks and charred limbs of a score of small trees were still sending up little threads of murky smoke. Lying here and there were broken weapons and scorched pieces of armor and mail-shirts.

Restimar cried aloud and rushed forward. He knelt on the ground and from a pile of ashes near a battered sword he pulled out a small, dim object. Rubbing it on his sleeve he gasped and held it up, for it now shone brightly in the morning sun. Octesian and Rhoop both came forward.

“It’s a coin!” said Rhoop after a moment’s inspection.

“And not just any coin,” Restimar remarked. “This is an old Narnian Lion. And look!” He clawed away a few more of the ashes and uncovered another similar coin. “Another one!”

Rhoop and Octesian were now on their hands and knees, sifting through the ruins. Within a few minutes the lords had uncovered nine golden Lions and four silver Trees.

“Without doubt it was here that Bor and the others met their end,” Octesian said.

“But why did they have coins such as the Narnians used hundreds of years ago?” Rhoop asked.

“And what killed them?” Octesian continued. “For the fire seems to have been contained to this clearing alone, if it was indeed a clearing before.”

Restimar, thrusting the coins into his pocket, stood up and peered intently into the dim forest about them. He took a few steps forward and touched the side of a tree. “There is blood here,” he said. “And here.” Then they heard him draw a sudden hissing breath through his teeth.

“What is it?” Octesian asked, coming quickly to his side. Restimar gestured at the ground, and Octesian looked.

There, quite plain in the soft earth, was the print of a fierce claw, pressed deep by the weight of a very heavy creature. The remains of a torn, bloodstained jerkin and a few splintered bits of bone scattered about obviously confirmed the fate of one of the unfortunate sailors. Rhoop winced and turned his face away.

“So this is our fate,” Octesian murmured.

“What was it?” Restimar asked.

“Only a dragon can do the things we see done here,” he answered. Restimar gasped, but Rhoop let out a loud laugh.

“So you try to tell me dragons exist!” he exclaimed. “Why, in that case Fauns and Centaurs and Talking Beasts may yet live in the woods on the southern border!”

“They may, or they may not,” Octesian replied angrily. “But if you can give a better account for what killed the men here I would ask you to tell me it.” Rhoop looked shamefaced and said nothing. “Then we must do what we can to avenge our friends,” Octesian said.

“I should say they discovered the dragon’s den,” said Restimar. “Dragons are known for gathering treasure. They took some of it and were surprised by the beast itself as they were returning to the ship. But we are forewarned. We too ought to find the lair,” he concluded, and there was a strange light in his eye.

“Yes, to avenge them,” Octesian said. Throwing aside the slender young trees in his way, he strode firmly into the forest, with Rhoop and Restimar following. Gradually the trees thinned and before long they found themselves looking at a steep hill covered with grass. With some difficulty they at last reached the crest of it and found themselves standing on a ridge. To the right, the ground dropped away in sheer precipices. But to the left there appeared to be a way down for a careful climber: a steep, perilous way that twisted around pillars of jagged rock, running down into a rocky, narrow valley—a valley like a deep gash in the earth, with black spots of burnt ground here and there in it. But all this they had only a moment to take in, as Octesian drew his sword and sank to the ground, and the others followed his example.

They strained their ears for any sound from below, but for a long time (or what seemed like a long time) they heard nothing, and Octesian cautiously rose to his feet and made for the path down into the valley.

The footing turned out being a treacherous mass of loose shale and pebbles, and the lords had a difficult time finding any firm places to put their weight. Each step seemed a lifetime and, indeed, before they were halfway down they were obliged to begin using their hands as well as their feet for the precarious climb. Aside from an occasional grunt at the scrape of a boot, there was dead silence. Then Restimar, who was last in the party, set his foot on an unstable rock and slipped, and at once all the cliff-side below them turned into a thundering river of sliding rubble. It swept the three lords along with it until at last, bruised and battered and half-buried in the ruin, they reached the valley floor.

Octesian pulled himself free and staggered into a standing position. Gravely he studied the destruction of the path, which was now converted in a grey, unstable heap, sloping up at a dizzyingly steep angle. “There will be no return by that way,” he said.

Then there was a minute of silence as the three of them took in their situation. Octesian knew the dragon would find them sooner or later, if it were not already watching them. For judging by the appearance of the place, the valley was obviously a favourite haunt of the beast, maybe even its home.

“Look!” Restimar exclaimed suddenly, and ran forward to a wide, dark hole at the bottom of the cliff. The ground appeared to drop down a foot or two just inside. Ducking his head (for, though wide, the top of the opening was low) Restimar clambered down into it despite the cries of warning from the others. They stood just outside on either side of the door, tense and waiting, expecting any moment to see a flash of light and hear the roar of the dragon, maybe a dying shriek from Restimar. But it never came.

At last Octesian drew his sword and silently nodded at Rhoop. They were on the point of advancing into the lair when they heard a laugh. It was Restimar’s laugh, yet somehow it sounded unlike him. Then there came footsteps, coming toward them from the darkness ahead, and in a moment they saw Restimar emerge from the door. His face seemed deathly white and bore a strange expression, and his eyes glimmered. His hands were full, and as he held them out to Octesian with a breathless “Look!” Octesian saw that he was trembling with excitement.

“It’s gold! And jewels!” Restimar exclaimed. “The dragon’s treasure! It’s all piled against the back wall, everywhere gold and gems and jewelry, arm bands and coronets and rings, and unfashioned pieces of raw gold and silver.” He gasped, leaning up against the cliff. “And it’s all ours for the taking,” he finished in an undertone.

“No,” said Octesian, shaking his head as he sheathed his sword.

“No?” Restimar said in disbelief. “We could be rich beyond belief, without having to do anything, only reach out your hand and take it! We could take whatever we fancy, return to the ship, and continue on our way—it would be so easy!—and yet you say no!”

“I say no,” repeated Octesian.

Restimar stared at Octesian incredulously. “But…but why?”

“Because we would die for it, as our friends died for it. A dragon’s treasure is always under enchantment, and no one can buy it without pain and grief! Do not fall under its spell or you will regret it.” Octesian’s eyes blazed.

Restimar looked at Octesian, and a rage came over his face. With a sudden spring, he was on top of his friend and had thrown him to the ground. Octesian writhed away and took a step back. “You have already fallen under the spell, Lord Restimar!” he cried. “You do not know what you are doing.” Restimar clenched his teeth and threw himself again at Octesian, his right hand holding Octesian’s throat, his left gripping Octesian’s right forearm. Rhoop saw a sudden, animal-like hunger kindle in Restimar’s eyes as his hand touched the golden bracelet on Octesian’s wrist. With a sudden wrenching movement, Restimar pulled the bracelet off Octesian’s arm and grasped it tightly in his hand as he tightened his hold on Octesian’s throat.

“I will keep all the treasure I wish,” Restimar growled through his teeth. “And I will kill you if I must.” With a sudden strength, he lifted Octesian off his feet and hurled him into the cave. Rhoop heard the thud as Octesian hit the ground and his low groan as it echoed in the darkness. With a ghastly smile on his face, Restimar bent down until he crouched on all fours like a beast, and leaped into the cave.

Rhoop, standing outside terrified with his sword still held limply in his motionless hand, heard the sounds of the battle grow more and more violent. At last he could bear it no longer and, dropping his sword, covered his ears and ran with a wail to the farthest corner of the valley, where he flung himself to the ground behind a rock, the hood of his cloak thrown over his face.

*****

He did not know how long he lay hidden there, still hearing the horrible sound of the battle despite all his attempts to shut them out, but after some time he felt the ground shake and heard a rumbling, grating sound from the direction of the lair. Then the air was silent. At last, feeling that everything must be over, and unable to restrain his curiosity despite his fear, he rose cautiously to his feet and turned and looked.

A cloud of pale dust was coming out from the cave mouth. Even as he watched, it settled. When a few minutes had passed and nothing further had happened, Rhoop warily approached the cave.

“My—my lords?” he called hesitantly. There was no reply. A chill of fear struck his heart and he ran forward putting his head into the cave. He couldn’t hold back a cry of alarm and grief when he saw what was inside.

Only a few paces in, the roof and walls had collapsed, completely blocking the way. And on the ground just before the obstruction lay the body of Lord Restimar, face down. Rhoop froze for a fraction of a second, remembering the horrifying look he had last seen on Restimar’s face, but then instinctively ran forward, falling to his knees beside him. He rolled Restimar over onto his back and bit his lip when he saw the terrible cut running across his friend’s forehead and the blood covering his face. Taking one of Restimar’s hands in his own, Rhoop wondered if he was the only one left alive on the island.

But just then Restimar opened his eyes and blinked. “Rhoop!” he said faintly. His grey eyes Rhoop saw only the gentle expression he had always known. “I’m all right, Rhoop.” He closed his eyes again and drew a shaky breath. “I’m so sorry,” he went on. “I didn’t know what I was doing. I—I’m afraid that I’ve killed Octesian. I fought him and—and it all fell in on us.” His voice caught, and he added, “It was the gold. I would never have done it otherwise. I don’t know what came over me. I wasn’t myself.” And he began to weep.

“I know,” Rhoop said softly. “I saw you.” Restimar’s eyes flew open again.

“You—you saw me?” he choked. “I wish you didn’t have to. Oh, why did we ever come here?” he moaned, and turned his face away. Rhoop’s eyes filled with tears, but he brushed them away.

“We must leave this cave,” he said, “for the dragon may return. And even if it does not, this is place with a curse on it and I do not wish to stay a minute more. Can you walk?”

“I—I don’t know,” Restimar faltered. “I can barely move.”

“Then you had best not try,” Rhoop said. Half-lifting Restimar from the ground, he crawled up the little slope to the entrance of the cave and looked out. A little wind had sprung up, and the low, dry grass rustled, but there was no other sound. With an effort he pulled himself out, dragging Restimar beside him. He collapsed onto the ground and lay recovering his strength for a few minutes, for merely being inside the dragon’s den seemed to have drained him, in addition to his physical exertion. After a while he heard Restimar’s voice at his side.

“I am so sorry, Rhoop. So sorry. This was all my fault.”

Rhoop rolled over onto his side. “No it wasn’t,” he replied. “Not all of it.”

“But it was I who caused the way out to be lost, and it was I who allowed myself to come under the spell of the gold.” He added in a lower voice, “And it was I who killed Octesian.”

“But it was I who failed to help him hold you back,” Rhoop said. “Do not dwell on the past.” He struggled to his feet. “We must find a way out of this valley.”

“There is no way out,” Restimar whispered. “We’re trapped. We are going to die here, all of us. I am, and you are, just like Octesian did.”

Rhoop stared at Restimar in dismay for a minute as he tried to fight off the despair that was creeping over him. But as he looked up at the cliffs around them he realized that it would indeed be next to impossible to escape, even if Restimar had not been injured. Even as he looked the walls seemed to be closing in, arching over them until they touched each other, shutting them away from the light with in a tomblike roof of stone, then getting lower, and lower, and lower, until they were trapped beneath it, buried alive by the mountain…

“No!!” he shouted and, turning quickly, stumbled to the cliff and buried his face in his arms, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

The wind was growing, and before long it was rushing through the valley, whistling, and blowing stinging bits of dirt with it. Rhoop turned from the cliff, tearstains white against the dirt on his face.

“I think we’re in for a storm,” Restimar said quietly. Rhoop nodded. “I might be able to walk now,” Restimar said a minute later, “if I had help.” Rhoop aided him to his feet and Restimar leaned on his shoulder, but the injured man’s steps were slow and faltering. The rain had started before they at last reached a place behind a large rock near the opposite end of the valley where the cliff overhung a little and they were out of the wind and rain. Rhoop took off his cloak and wrapped his friend in it. Then they sat down to wait out the storm. The sound of the rain was steady, and as it danced on the floor of the valley they found their eyes growing heavier and heavier until at last they both fell into a deep sleep.

*****

What woke them was a great clamoring, throaty roar. Rhoop’s eyes jerked open and he looked out. The first thing he saw was that it must be evening, for the shadows were long and the light was becoming dim. The second thing, which he noticed right after the first, was that the rain was over. There were great puddles lying about and there were no clouds in sight.

But the third, which quickly put the other two out of his mind, was a spout of flame coming from over the ridge. And a moment later, the shape of a terrible dragon came into sight, black smoke coming from its nostrils and a bright and angry fire in its eyes. With a start Rhoop realized his sword still lay near the entrance of the cave. He knew the dragon would see it in a moment, and foresaw the terrible vengeance it would wreak when it found the state of its lair. Restimar stirred and weakly raised himself on one elbow.

“It’s here,” he whispered. “This is the end.”

There was a coughing screech, and a blast of sudden wind swirled past them as the enraged dragon flailed its wings. But Restimar’s words had stirred something in Rhoop’s heart. “No!” he muttered. “We are Telmarines and warriors, and I am resolved not to go down without a fight.” There came a grating din from the other end of the valley as the dragon tore boulders from the cliffs with its claws and sent them spinning by a blow from its powerful tail.

Restimar undid the clasp of his sword-belt, taking great care to keep it from clanking. “Take my sword,” he said to Rhoop. “I cannot use it and I have no greater advantage with it than without.” He held it out and Rhoop took it, his hand closing tight around the hilt. He braced himself and waited. The dragon had ceased its demolition and he could hear it snuffling noisily about. Rhoop knew the time had come.

With a flash the sword was drawn, and Rhoop leaped out with a shout, holding the blade aloft. The dragon had its back to their hiding place, but at Rhoop’s shout it slewed its head around and snorted, its nostrils flaring and its eyes blood-red. It was furious. Perhaps if it had not been so furious it might have just burned him to a cinder at once right then and there, but it was, and before it attacked, it threw its head back and shot an enormous fireball straight up into the air. In its defense, though, Rhoop was rather small and vulnerable and almost completely unarmoured and there wasn’t any way for him to escape. Then, after raking the ground once with each front claw, the dragon lunged forward. Rhoop set his feet well apart and shut his eyes, waiting for the shock.

But before it could come there was a deafening explosion, and something hit the dragon from behind. It fell heavily to the ground and rolled a couple times, knocking Rhoop over so that he struck his head against a rock. When, a few moments later, the darkness had cleared from before his eyes, he looked up and saw orange flames licking around the entrance to the cave. The boulders that had blocked the tunnel lay scattered about as if blown out by an incredible force, and they were blackened on one side.

To the left there was a huge cloud of dust and in it Rhoop saw the dragon’s tail lashing about. There was a flash of light from the cloud and the dragon broke away, holding one of its legs in the air as if it were injured. But before it could go very far, a flash of green and gold leapt from the cloud of dust and landed solidly on the dragon’s back. Rhoop jumped back as the dragon and it assailant fell to the ground. The dragon writhed as if in agony, its tail and limbs thrashing wildly, but it was useless. With one final flail of its body it croaked, and at last lay still. Rhoop looked up to see what the dragon’s attacker was.

The scarlet-coloured eyes, the smooth round scales, the huge bat-like wings spread above the shoulders: it was without doubt a dragon. Indeed, Rhoop would have thought it was the same dragon except there still lay, stretched grotesquely on the ground, the crumpled length of its body. The victorious dragon’s crimson eyes gazed deep into Rhoop’s frightened ones and Rhoop saw with a shock that they were Octesian’s eyes. The dragon lowered its wings and bowed its head almost to the ground, and it approached Rhoop with a half-sideways crawl, looking up sorrowfully at him.

“It can’t be!” Rhoop exclaimed. The dragon nodded its head slowly and let out a sob so rich that seemed to come from the very heart of the earth. “Octesian?” Rhoop whispered. The dragon hung its head even lower and nodded again. “Can’t you speak?” The massive head wagged slowly. “How did this happen?”

Octesian shook his head mournfully and turned his head away, hiding it under one of his huge wings. Rhoop took an unsteady step backwards. “What are we going to do?” he gasped. Octesian peeked from under his wing and his eyes burned as he shook his head quickly. “No, but there must be something we can do!” The headshake again. Rhoop stood stunned for a moment, then reached out and flinchingly touched the dark green scales shot with gold. A shudder ran through Octesian and he pulled back, as if ashamed to have himself touched in his dragonish state.

“Can we bring you on the ship this way?” Rhoop asked, though he already anticipated the answer. Octesian shook his head. “Then we shan’t leave you here alone. I shall stay, although we ought to bring Lord Restimar back to the ship.” He turned and returned to the rock some distance away, where Restimar had been waiting for the old dragon to find him and kill him, and had been quite puzzled and alarmed by the sounds he had been hearing. When Rhoop came behind the rock, a look of astonishment crossed Restimar’s face.

“My lord,” Rhoop said, kneeling by the older man, “Octesian is alive!” Restimar’s eyes widened and Rhoop added, “Yes, he is alive, but I’m afraid…I’m afraid he’s been transformed into a dragon himself.” Restimar started violently, and Rhoop went on before he could say anything. “We must get you back to the ship. I shall remain with Octesian, but you are not to let the rest stay, for someone must go on with the quest. Now come.” He handed Restimar his sword and helped to his feet.

“I believe I could walk on my own now,” Restimar said. Steadying himself for a moment on the broad side of the rock, he went slowly forward, watching his steps and his teeth clenched in his effort. At last, raising his eyes, his gaze locked with that of the dragon and for a moment time stopped, Restimar swaying a little and the dragon’s sides heaving. At last the dragon’s head drooped as it let out a moan.

“I’m so sorry,” Restimar whispered. Rhoop came up beside him and Octesian crouched low to the ground as Rhoop helped Restimar onto the wide, hard back of the dragon. He took a moment to retrieve his own sword before climbing up himself. The great dragon-wings spread wide and with a leap they were in the air.

They wheeled once over the valley, then veered sharply toward the bay and the ship. Restimar nearly slid off at the sudden change of direction, but Rhoop had the presence of mind to catch him about the waist.

The sun half below the horizon as they landed. Octesian came down into a loping run on the level beach, stopping a few yards from the boat, which still lay up against the sand. Rhoop and Restimar slid off his back. They could hear a commotion coming across the water from the ship; Rhoop assumed the crew had seen Octesian and imagined that the lords were dead. Time was short if Restimar was to make it to the ship before the crew left the island in their fright.

“Now,” Rhoop said to Octesian, “I will take Restimar to the ship in the boat, but I will come back right away.” The dragon shook its head violently. “Yes,” Rhoop said earnestly. The ship seemed to be drawing anchor and there were little black specks of crewmen crawling up the ropes to set the sails. But the dragon still shook its head no. “Yes!” Rhoop urged. He was growing impatient and anxious. If this went on too much longer there would be no hope of Restimar’s boarding the ship. There seemed to be the oars coming out the sides of the ship now. Rhoop looked in bewilderment into Octesian’s face and saw there, as plain as if his friend had spoken it aloud:

“Both of you must go.”

“No!” exclaimed Rhoop, but he was no match for the dragon, who reared up on his hind legs and, catching one of the lords in each huge front claw, sprang into flight. His massive wings beat the air, carrying them at a terrible speed toward the ship. As they drew nearer, they dropped lower until they were almost on a level with the deck. Then, all at once, when they could have almost touched the carved rail, the dragon swerved and they found themselves tumbling onto the deck at the feet of the startled sailors. Rhoop regained his feet with considerable alacrity and rushed to the railing, watching as the dragon flew back to the shore. He was about to leap over the side into the water, but a half a dozen pairs of hands held him back. Restimar, who seemed to have recovered some of his strength, was one of them.

“It’s what he wants,” he said softly. Rhoop looked at him in dismay and disbelief. Restimar nodded soberly. Restimar choked and turned his face away so Restimar wouldn’t see the tears that welled up in his eyes. The ship was pulling fast away, but he still saw in the disappearing light the dark shape on the beach that was the dragon. The edge of the forest was kindled as if in farewell, and even as he watched Rhoop saw the dragon raise its head and emit a desolate howl. Rhoop held the railing until his knuckles turned white. The dragon spread its wings and took to the air in an erratic flight inland.

Even when they were miles away they could still hear, borne over the water, the sound of the great dragon as it wept under the waning moon.
Last edited by hobbit_of_narnia on Wed Aug 05, 2015 4:37 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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If somebody has an idea for a Narnia comic that they weren't planning on making themselves, I <------ This offer still
would be so grateful if they would send it to me in a PM. I am running appallingly low on ideas...! <-- stands. :)
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Re: Fanfics, insane or not-so-insane

Post by jesusgirl4ever » Wed Aug 05, 2015 10:42 am

Whoa. That was sad.

*Little grammatical note, you said "It's out obligation," when it should have been our.
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Re: Fanfics, insane or not-so-insane

Post by hobbit_of_narnia » Wed Aug 05, 2015 4:37 pm

Thanks you for pointing that out, Jaygee. *fixes*
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If somebody has an idea for a Narnia comic that they weren't planning on making themselves, I <------ This offer still
would be so grateful if they would send it to me in a PM. I am running appallingly low on ideas...! <-- stands. :)
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