The first time she saw him she was sitting on a rock by the river brushing her hair. It was a favorite pastime of hers, just sit there and let the warm sun shine on her skin. She had sat there all morning, singing to herself, when she saw a man approaching the bank at a rapid pace. It took her a moment to remember that it was called "running". The man was running. Well, she assumed it was a man since most human men she'd seen had had short hair and those funnily shaped coverings called "trousers". She put her comb down, stood up, and approached him.
"Hello" she said, as she had learnt that men started conversations that way. He looked up, startled.
"Who-?" He stammered, but she ignored the question as something else seemed more important.
"You're leaking from your eyes!" She exclaimed, alarmed. "Why are you leaking?" He hurriedly wiped at his eyes and turned his face away.
"It's called crying" he whispered. "And I'm crying because my heart is broken." Her heart went out to him, and she did what her sire had always done when she was just a sapling. She put her arms around him.
"I'm sorry" she said. It seemed fitting.
Edmund startled in shock as the girl's arms wrapped around him and her soft cheek pressed against his own, wet one. But then he hesitantly put his arms around her. It felt so good to be held for once. It had been very long since anyone but Lucy held him like this, but he and Lucy didn't talk much these days. Being King and Queen took time away from such things. But he needed to be comforted right now, even if the comforter was a woman he had never seen before and did not know the name of. Well, to be fair, she wasn't a woman. The slightly green tint to her skin (and the distinct lack of clothing) was a dead giveaway that the female in his arms was a dryad. They stood still and silent for many, many long minutes, just holding each other there in the little grove by the river. Then she spoke again.
"My name is Olwen" she said. "What's yours?" Her eyes were as green as a newly sprung leaf on a tree.
"Edmund. My name is Edmund." She smiled, all white teeth and dimples.
"Hello, Edmund."
"Hello, Olwen." He couldn't help but smile back at her.
"Would you like to be my friend?" Olwen asked. "You look like you could use a friend."
"Yes" Edmund replied, softly. "I could really use a friend."
He wasn't sure how it happened, but suddenly he was spending every day in the woods with Olwen. Running, laughing, eating berries, climbing trees, bathing in the river. Anything, really, just being together. She could make him laugh even when he wanted to huddle under the nearest tree, cry, and never rise again. She could make him smile through his pain and forget his heartbreak, even if just for a few hours. To say goodbye to her in the evenings always saddened him, for it meant he had to return to Cair Paravel and the court, where the rumours flew about the solemn King Edmund's adventures in the woods. Everyone had a theory, an idea, and it seemed as if they were all completely focused on him. Some said he was wandering aimlessly, some said he had a lover (of either sex), some said he had several. One or two posed the idea that he was partaking in wild orgies in the wood every day. When he told Olwen, she had laughed so hard she fell of the stone she was sitting on. Once she'd stopped, she'd asked what an orgy was and his explanation set her off again. They had laughed at everything and nothing that afternoon.
As Edmund sat at the end of the High Table, next to Peter, he found himself sneaking longing looks at the one who owned his heart and at the same time he wished Olwen was there. She would distract him with her curious questions about men and the items all around her. He snorted with laughter when he remembered her putting a bowl meant for soup on her head and parading around their glen like a newly-crowned queen. She had been completely bewildered as to why he was laughing until he managed to get himself under control and explain what the bowl really was meant for. Edmund choked on his wine in his mirth and Peter banged him several times on the back, slightly harder than necessary. He coughed and spluttered for several minutes.
"What's gotten into you, brother?" Peter asked, amused. "It must be a very funny joke! Do share it with us, please!" Edmund shook his head.
"I am afraid I was laughing at a memory, Pete. You wouldn't understand." He looked down at his plate, still smiling helplessly. He was already looking forward to meeting Olwen in the morning: he had promised they would go swimming again, and this time he would make sure she could not surprise him and pull him under. Maybe he would bring another picnic basket, and teaching her more about the sort of food he was used to eating. Olwen was endlessly amazed at the food being cooked, and had proven to have a sweet tooth. But that was hardly surprising, as she was raised on roots and leaves, mushrooms and berries and rain water. He made a mental note to bring a bottle of wine; if she was funny usually, she'd most likely prove herself hilarious when she was slightly tipsy. The thought of an inebriated Olwen was simply too much for Edmund and his until then barely restrained mirth broke lose. He hid his face behind his hand and laughed so hard his shoulders shook, much to Peter's confusion. Lost in the thoughts of his little friend with the long, earth-colored hair waiting for him in the woods, he did not see Caspian frowning at his joy.
That night, as Edmund undressed for bed, he wondered what Olwen would make of his chambers. She would be curious, of course, and he found himself wanting to invite her here. Show her all his belongings, and see how she reacted to things that to him were completely obvious. He remembered seeing her combing her hair with a piece of sharpened wood, and wondered how she'd react to a brush. He put his own aside to take out to her in the morning. That was when his door opened and someone came in without knocking. Edmund turned to admonish whoever it was, but found himself face to face with Caspian and all words died in his throat. The Narnian's eyes were flashing with temper, and to Edmund he had never been more irresistible than he was at that moment.
"There is talk about you" he said hotly.
"Good evening, Edmund" Edmund replied dryly, "I'm sorry for barging in so late. That's quite alright, Caspian, what is on your mind?"
"This is no time to be joking!" The man said indignantly. Edmund sighed deeply.
"Why are you here, Caspian? So there is talk. People talk all the time, you know this. It's what they do."
"Not about you, they don't!"
"I know" he sighed deeply. "But I can comfort you with saying that I do not have a lover of either sex, nor do i participated in wild orgies with multiple partners. No group of soldiers have had their way with me, nor am I cavorting with the pretty dryads of the forest."
"Then why are you out there all day, every day?" Caspian asked, seemingly having calmed down a little.
"I am spending time with a dear friend" Edmund said, not wanting to say any more. He turned his back in a signal to the other man to leave his bedchamber, but Caspian would have none of it. He pressed close to Edmund's back, letting his hands run down his body.
"A dear friend, hm? Is she pretty?" Edmund gasped as Caspian's hand slid under his shirt.
"She is… very pretty. But I'm not… ah…. interested in her." He sighed as Caspian kissed his neck. "Please don't." He begged.
"Why not? You want this as much as I do." Caspian's mouth made Edmund'¨s skin throb with want.
"You know I want more than this" He tried to conceal his sadness but it was clear in his voice. Caspian paused for a mere moment, then continued kissing and nibbling at his neck.
"Let's go to bed" he said, completely ignoring what Edmund had just said. And Edmund, God help him, was as always unable to deny him. They fell onto the bed, seeking pleasure in each other, and the night passed in a fog of lust and passion.
When Edmund woke alone in the morning, aching in ways he knew well, he was not surprised to find himself alone. Nor was he surprised to find himself weeping.
