Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any of the lovely Pevensie children.
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The Hitchhiker
The truck driver first caught sight of him from a distance of about fifty meters. Before that, he hadn't been paying much attention to the road, seeing as there hadn't been anything worth paying attention to on this stretch of road for the past hour or so anyway. Truth be told, when he first noticed the shape in the distance, he'd assumed it was an overgrown cactus of sorts.
But when he pulled closer, it became apparent that it was a young man, albeit a rather dusty and worn-out-looking one. The young man looked up hopefully as the truck neared him, sticking out a thumb.
More out of curiosity than from the goodness of his heart, the truck driver pulled the truck to a stop right next to the young man, and nods for him to hop in. Something infinitely grateful flickered in his eyes, and he climbed into the passenger's seat without a word.
The truck driver noticed several things in that moment: one, this young man- or boy, really, because he couldn't have been much older than twenty, is a soldier. The look in his eyes said he was no stranger to battle, and the few scars decorating his skin seconded that thought. It was in his every guarded movement and the muscles in the hands that clutched his backpack tighter. The truck driver noticed a keychain hanging from the zipper of the pack, the name 'Edmund' carved into rose-coloured wood, tiny, intricately patterned flowers and animals- was that a lion? framing the name. The small keychain, two inches at most, was a masterpiece, and for a moment he couldn't even believe it was from this world. And 'Edmund'- what an unusual name. To the truck driver's eyes, with his fair hair and bright eyes, the boy didn't look much like an 'Edmund', but then again, he didn't know any other Edmunds to compare the boy with anyway. Turning his attention back to the road, the truck driver stepped on the accelerator and the truck bounced down the dirt road, kicking up sand in its wake.
.
'Edmund' is a very quiet passenger, although the truck driver suspects it's not because he's trying to be rude or unfriendly. The boy seemed unsettled and worried about something, and his fingers hadn't stopped wringing each other out since he'd gotten into the car. However, the truck driver couldn't help but want to know more about this mystery passenger, so he breaks the silence with a question.
"Where are you headed?"
His passenger rattles off an address automatically, then in a softer voice, adds the word "home."
But there's something unhappy about the whole situation. The truck driver voices it.
The boy seems almost hurt that anyone had questioned the happiness of his family life. "I am happy. I just wish I could go back once without it being for a family emergency." He blows gently at the sand-coloured bangs getting into his face. "My brother's sick."
"Is it bad?" the truck driver asks.
His passenger doesn't reply, just folds his hands atop the bag again and resumes staring out at the barren land zooming past outside the window. This goes on awhile, but the truck driver still wants to talk, so he decides to try again.
"Edmund?" he prods gently.
All of a sudden, 'Edmund' is on edge, protective and wary. It's like he'd flicked a switch. "Where did you hear that name?" he asks sharply.
The truck driver gestures towards the keychain. "I assumed it was your name."
The boy looks down at it, then grasps it tightly, as though he'd forgotten it was there. "No, it's not." his passenger murmurs. "I borrowed this bag from my brother."
The same brother who's sick? the truck driver wanted to ask. But he doesn't, and if the way his passenger is acting is any indication, it probably is the same brother.
"It's a fine keychain." the truck driver says.
The boy whose name he now does not know nods. "Thank you." he says absently. Seconds later, he flushes a bright red, head whipping around like he'd let out a huge secret. And then the truck driver understands. That once upon a time, this boy- young man, had carved that keychain for his brother. He wonders briefly how the boy had obtained the skill. Something like that should have taken at least ten years of practice of the craft. He wonders how long it took to carve the keychain. Wonders how much it'd cost if he requested one- and then shakes the thought from his head. Because he realizes now, that not only was the keychain made by unmatchable talent, there was another element added into its making that couldn't be reproduced so lightly. Something that years of practice could never perfect; something far more intangible and all heart.
The truck driver knows then that if he's going to have any conversation with his passenger, he's going to have to talk about the sick brother too, because the two are entwined at the roots and impossible to separate.
"You love him." the truck driver states.
"More than anything." his passenger says, without hesitation.
The confession should have made the truck driver feel uncomfortable, because he wasn't used to such open displays of affection, and by a boy, no less. But it doesn't. Instead, there's something like admiration and awe stemming within him for this stranger he'd picked up from a deserted outback road.
"You'll be home soon." Is all the truck driver can think to say.
His passenger nods, and somehow the truck driver gets the feeling that the thought of 'home' and the brother that he loves is more than enough.
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His passenger must have had fallen asleep, because he didn't even move when the truck enters town. The truck driver slows down near the petrol station, which is also near the bus stop, and watches the various people boarding the buses. For a reason unknown to even himself, he doesn't stop. He drives right past the petrol station, past the bus stop.
And heads towards the address his passenger had revealed a little more than an hour before.
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The boy wakes up a little disoriented, but as he silently takes in his neighborhood, the truck driver can almost feel the anticipation building in the still air. The house is at the end of the block, a corner house. His passenger is on the edge of his seat, backpack already slung over one shoulder. It's a wonder he hasn't jumped out of the truck and sprinted to the house.
Two teenagers are sitting on the steps to the front porch, and the girl is asleep on her brother's shoulder. The boy watches the truck stop, but only his eyes move. The truck driver notices how much care he takes in making sure not to wake his sister.
This is Edmund; somehow he knows it.
His passenger dashes across the lawn, and all Edmund's care is wasted, for the girl wakes up, and shrieks a delighted "Peter!" before jumping straight into his open arms. Peter lifts her off the ground in the hug, and another girl, and older, dark-haired-beauty appears at the doorway.
"He's home!" she calls into the house, and stands smiling on the front porch.
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The real Edmund walks towards the truck while the rest of the family welcomes his brother home. He's a little pale, and altogether much too thin, and the truck driver notes the shiver as a gust of wind whips past. But Edmund is not so easily deterred by illnesses or cold wind, and he continues on until he's standing at the window of the truck.
"Thank you." he says simply.
"Don't mention it." the truck driver says. "Get well soon."
Then Edmund smiles, turning to glance fondly at the older brother who has sneaked up on him from behind and is trying to smother him in a hug.
"I'm better already." he says.
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The end.
Thanks for reading! It's been ages since I've posted anything online. Somewhere around the time I posted my first Narnia fic, 'Accidents and Lacerations', I had this vague idea of an unknown truck driver picking up one / or both of the boys from the roadside, and watching the way they interact and their relationship. Today I finally organized my thoughts and sat down to write it- I hope you liked it! Let me know your thoughts!