7/11/2017
Chapter One: Secret of the Doe
Edmund had taken to painting lately.
This day was no different. The art studio at school was empty but for him, and Edmund could be found poring over the canvas. He had already completed a number of pictures- of centaurs and knights and fauns in a snow covered land. There was also one of a great, but terrible looking lady in a white dress, a golden crown on her head and a sharp wand in her hand. When the art master saw it, he was pleasantly surprised. The painting gave him a feeling that Edmund couldn't have painted her so accurately; with every sharp stroke of her features, unless he had once met her himself. But that was impossible; in this world, at least.
Presently the art master entered the studio. He sat down beside Edmund and began to paint, too, of two owls against the night. Neither of them said a word, until he asked:
"Why the doe?"
He was looking at Edmund's painting. It was of an otherworldly beauty- one that he couldn't possibly describe nor achieve,even after all his years spent here surrounded by paints. The painting took place in a beautiful forest. A stream was rushing down the middle, snow covered mountaintops could be seen peeking out over the trees, and a doe was grazing by the stream, its elegant neck stretched straight and high, its clear eyes surveying the viewer.
Edmund looked up for the first time; he was a handsome boy now, more confident since the last summer. His smile was slightly lopsided as he brushed back the shining raven locks hanging over his forehead.
"I have two sisters, sir." He said peacefully. "This painting represents the elder of them- Susan. She's the beauty of the family. There's one of Lucy, too, somewhere around there. She's our light and laughter. They both go to the school across the road; Peter and I visit them, at weekends."
As he was saying this his slim, pale fingers dug around lightly on the tale beside him, and he produced another picture. Whilst the doe painting was all beauty, elegance and grace, this was of passion, fire and love. The rising sun was bursting in the sky; while a majestic lion stood, roaring to the heavens. A young girl was clinging to his mane; her eyes were laughing, and her golden, red hair flew in the wind. It was the best painting the art master had ever seen.
"And this," Edmund continued, "Is Peter's."
It was there again: love and an inner fire. The art master recognized Peter Pevensie, only he was dressed in royal robes, a golden crown atop his head. He was standing on a balcony. And in the distance, a wide, blue sea could be seen- its rolling waters told of freedom beyond all else, and faith. The lion was there again, too- walking steadily on the golden sand of the beach below.
"Well, Edmund," the art master said, "These are wonderful. But what of one for yourself?"
For a moment Edmund's face darkened. But then the expression was gone, replaced by a neutral one once more. He got up to search around on the shelves. Five minutes later, he seemed to have found what he was looking for. It was a grand castle of ice, standing, between the snow- covered peaks of two hills. The art master didn't understand the painting; and he knew, too, that maybe he wasn't supposed to understand. So he let it go, and left Edmund, still working on the painting of Susan.