The Ridiculous

by Mase992

In which Caspian learns of Rabadash’s existence and Susan learns of the ways of courtly love in the art of jousting. Movie-verse. Not beta’d. Pevensies, Caspian. Susan/Caspian

Genre: Humor/Romance

Rating: G (General)

Characters & Pairing: Pevensies, Caspian. Susan/Caspian

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended and I'm not gaining any profit from this story, I'm only having fun with C.S. Lewis's fantastic world and characters.

Author's Notes: Prompt #8 at susancaspian with the word "evil". In the end it turned out a little longer than I expected for a drabble...; I also tried to portray the colourful folklore of Narnia mixed with some medieval treats here and there. Take note that this mentions events that take place in "The Horse and His Boy" so it includes some generalized spoilers for that book. Anyone catch the Shakespearian quote? ;)

Movie-verse. Not beta'd.

Summary: In which Caspian learns of Rabadash's existence and Susan learns of the ways of courtly love in the art of jousting.

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"The Ridiculous"

by Mase992 (-chan)

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As it was customary Narnian fashion, while several political affairs were treated delicately with the edge of Peter's sword and his equally sharp ego, most dignitaries long come from the border beyond Archenland or the far isles to the east were grandly welcomed with the blessings of the Narnian kings and queens as it was a manner of courtly etiquette, and presently a jousting tournament was held (with much enthusiasm and revelry) as a display of the current king of Narnia's willingness to please and entertain the foreign ambassadors (in hopes to establish a much joyful and quiet allegiance). During the kingship of Miraz the Usurper, Narnia lost contact with several countries if they still had any for most unions had been broken ever since Narnia was overtaken by the Telmarine race (a good example of this was when the Lone Isles stopped paying tribute to the kingdom and seemingly forgot about such an accord). The trade with the Calormene had been particularly bad and despite the ever-going alliance between Narnia and Archenland the support between the two kingdoms had been lacking.

The whole kingdom had been invited to the tournament although certain restrictions were made on accord to participants and several creatures were not allowed to take part in the competitions. Of course, the king's purposes and worry for the well-fare of his smallest and weakest subjects were well received by the Talking Beasts, Dwarfs, and the remaining lot of mythical creatures. The Centaurs were neither content nor offended by the strict regulations for becoming a participant, after all, as the solemn and wise creatures that they are this sort of display was mostly silly and too time consuming while they had more important affairs to attend to, such as serving as a personal escort for the kings and queens or keeping a watchful eye on the other politicians' own escorts. Grateful by their insight and seriousness, newly crowned King Caspian X gave them the task to serve as vigilantes on the entrances of the arena and charged a fit, serious Centaur named Hoarsegroom (with the help of a few Eagles) with the tournament's security.

The morning passed quickly as the preparations for the tournament were completed and the whole of Narnia was anxiously waiting for the entertainment to begin. The space where the tournament was to be held was a spacious square with no grass, staked on its far corners so as to mark the extension of the field and rows of wooden benches were placed around it forming a small sort of what a stadium would be here on Earth. The roofed seats at the centre were reserved specifically for the Royal Vizier and Prince Roshta come from the capitol city of Tashbaan in the heart of the fierce heat of Calormen. On the row of seats beside were to sit the King and courtiers of Archenland (who were smart enough not to be as picky in their viewing places as the Calormene) and on one level above them were five exquisitely carved chairs sided with crimson banners and lions imprinted as its coat of arms. The rich, bright colour swayed smoothly with the morning's warm, gentle wind and the golden or red lions from the flags placed strategically around the field and close to the viewer's places appeared to be stretching their limbs or chasing after some invisible prey within the banner. Quickly, the eager spectators ambled blissfully into the flat and soon a large crowd of strong-accented Telmarines, Talking Beasts and Fowls, energetic Fauns, gruff Dwarves, and giggly birch girls of silver, leafy hair were on their seats talking, gambling or betting on their preferred contestant, and laughing, and some even started singing. Soon the 'patter-patter' of feet and the hullabaloo stopped at the sound of silver trumpets and when everybody turned their heads to the source of the music three majestic horses (of course unsaddled and unbridled) surged from behind the hill at a steady trot. Sitting on one of the horses, this one being chalky white and leading the group (and at this sight everybody in the crowd bowed low), was a young man with fair hair, his golden tresses bound by a circlet. A long sword, with its gleaming pommel carved unto the shape of a lion's face, rested against his bouncing lap and he wore a red leather over-coat over a pearl white shirt, grey britches, and boots. The clothes, although of fine quality, were loose and slim for a day of riding with dust and in the heat of the Narnian summer. Riding on his side was another young man but of darker, sharper features (and the match was quite fitting for the handsome youth rode a coal black war horse). He also carried a long sword of different crafting and more intricate designs on the hilt and scabbard, sharp silver and deep black being the predominant colours, and he wore a sky-blue tunic which was a sharp contrast with the tan skin and brown-almost-black, warm eyes. And finally, a few paces to the right of the first man (whose predominant colour was red) rode a younger lad of equally attractive features; lily-white skin and an unmanageable turf of dark hair, both a likeable and solemn face, with a broad sword wrapped around skins and leathers clacking and racketing against his side as the chestnut colt (with a milky streak on its forehead and a golden mane) marched along its company. He also wore a tunic: forest green, dark britches as the second man, and just as the other two dark brown boots. A strange air of coolness revolved around him. By their rich garments, their mannerly vocabulary, and lordly faces (although still quite gentle, friendly, and inviting) it was easy to know of their noble status and everyone in Narnia would have to be daft or blind (with no real offense to blind people) to not recognize High King Peter, King Caspian, and King Edmund. A small procession of Centaurs wearing lion sewn talbards followed the three kings as they dismounted before the entrance of the arena. The tallest Centaur whom I presented to you earlier as Hoarsegroom approached King Caspian slowly and pressed his arm against his man-chest.

"Hail, King!" He immediately turned to High King Peter and King Edmund, repeating the curtsey. King Caspian grinned respectfully, signalling the Centaur with his hand to proceed. "Do carry on with your duties, good Hoarsegroom. The tournament is soon to start and we want to make sure our guests are grandly welcomed for our games."

"If your Majesty wills it." The great Centaur made his exit.

"Then all's left to do is wait for the rest of the company." Edmund sighed, patting the side of his mount and rewarding it with a cube of sugar.

"I do wonder what Queen Lucy and Queen Susan are doing. I worry they may not be early for the opening of the games." Caspian made a funny face.

"I wouldn't worry too much on them." Came Edmund's response. "They're pro'lly still choosing their dresses or what sort of perfume they could use (and trust me, it will be more potent than those Calormenes' scent).

"Girls can be pretty silly. And either way, Susan was never too fond of this sport." Peter added squaring his shoulders. "She once said she considered, and I quote: 'jousting is a pompous and immature excuse for men (or boys, as she calls us) to show off their mastery on abusing a horse, boasting their overgrown egos while waving a stick (it's called a lance, dear Su) to prove in a completely irrelevant way their superiority in strength (it's all about marksmanship and training your abilities for war, by Jove!), and while being at it and for the sake of their pride stage an exaggerated victory to court a bewildered lady whom I'm sure understands mostly nothing of this hastilude for men and would much rather be offered the head of a horse than a humiliating victory dedication out of nothing.'"

Edmund whistled with amusement. "Woah, Pete! Not even I could have remembered all that on the dot!"

"I only did because those ill-refuted words hurt me grandly."

Caspian chuckled. "Ah. That has to be why."

Their conversation abruptly ended when an Eagle descended before his Kings and gave notice that their guests were come. Soon a group of dark skinned men with turbans marched towards the Kings and saluted stiffly. Their leader was a skinny and tall man, well past his thirties, with beady black eyes, and a pointy beard smeared in scented oils. He wore a funny suit of a flashy orange colour; tons of jewels and necklaces trimmed his sleeves, his neck, and his turban, huge and bulky was adorned with curiously shaped feathers. Beside him was a plump dark man of little feet high, also with a pointed beard (in fact, every Calormene present had a long and pointy beard) and swollen lips. The difference in heights of the scoffing lords was so great, King Caspian and High King Peter and King Edmund had to bite their tongues and shut their eyes for a few moments to avoid laughing in their faces. Even after the presentations were said and done, King Caspian had to avert his gaze from the small announcer who was none other than (as he introduced himself) the loyal confident of the Tisroc (may he live forever): Tarkan Erevis Ashtan and Royal Vizier. Then he named the second attendant, Prince Roshta who stood straight, proud, and sneering while adjusting the tip of his beard with his dark, oily fingers.

Caspian was not very fond of the Prince's demeaning way of speech and his lordly mannerisms and came to the conclusion that he didn't like the Calormenes much. Edmund and Peter agreed with him on that and were sure to warn him that it was best treating them carefully lest they were a great threat, for as the Kings of Old had learned that these dark people who revered Tash were sneaky and dangerous. Caspian hoped that the King of Archenland was not like these men and when the merry old King (named Garren III) and his escort joined them, he thanked Aslan for the benevolence and kindness of the kings of Archenland as opposed to their neighbours.

It was well past one o'clock by now and the Kings and politicians proceeded to join the clamouring spectators in their stands and all was well and ready (despite a fit of complaints from Prince Roshta's part that his spot smelled of horse dung or that he should have brought a cushion to seat on). Trumpets sounded again and the competitors strode slowly in files of two and two before the monarchs to be addressed. Telmarine soldiers and a few Satyrs composed the competitors, all clad in mail, heavy armour, and helmets. Their horses (dumb beasts of course for no one would dare ride a Talking Horse in a jousting competition) puffed and stamped their hooves against the earth.

Caspian rose from his chair and all at once, heads wheeled towards him in full attention. "Brave friends, I greet thee on this fine day. In little time our tournament shall begin and I do not wish to keep you any longer from the experience. Brave men, be free to show us your horsemanship, bravery and skill with the blade and lance. We hope our humble displays please our dear guests this eve and I bid all competitors and noble beasts luck and may the grace of The Lion guide you to glory and victory. Let the games begin!"

A round of applause followed the King's speech (as well as an unnoticed grunt from the Royal Vizier) as a line of Phoenixes blazed overhead signalling the official start of the event. Fiery sparks rained down on the list field and the stroke of a bell called the first two competitors. The earth thundered. Lifting clouds of dirt in their wake, the destriers' flanks shimmered in the sunlight as they rode mightily from one side of the tilt and in a flash the wood of a sharp lance broke into a thousand splinters after clashing against a cuirass. The first matches proved worthy openings for once the horse battle passed the men would meet on the ground with their naked swords, swinging with skill and power. Edmund and Peter eagerly discussed strategy and technique for they were quite passionate about this knightly sport, much like we are with football. When the fourth round had ended in clamour and stomping did Caspian finally see the brave knight Reepicheep and the red Dwarf Trumpkin reaching his side with funny faces.

"You are late Reepicheep and Trumpkin, what kept you so long?" Questioned Caspian.

"I beg your indulgence, Sire." Replied the Mouse sounding truly distressed.

"And the Queens? Are they all right?"

"I saw that their trip was safe. They are well and both glow in the flower of their beauty this evening."

"Although they did prove hard to bring, lad, especially Queen Susan." Added Trumpkin beneath the mass of red beard.

"Oh yes, I was told she is particularly reluctant when it comes to these events… Why ever is that?"

"Ladies in their sensitivities probably…" grumbled Trumpkin, "Go figure."

"The Ladies are come, Sire." Reepicheep said motioning with his short arm towards the steps leading to the monarchs' seats and bowing his head grandly. Caspian's eyes glittered as the two belles stepped from behind the banister grasping their soft skirts as they walked and dragging translucent capes behind their bare feet. Lucy was accompanied by two escorts: a curly-haired Faun and a kindly Weasel, whereas Susan was followed by two woodland Nymphs in green. Soon, the tickling and captivating perfume only found in a field of new-grown flowers reached the stand and all heads turned to greet the queens. Lucy looked as lovely as ever, beaming her trademark smile and walking slowly so as not to trip with her long tresses. She wore a pink dress over a white shift with flowery patters sewn over her neck area, long golden-trimmed sleeves, and a golden belt. Her silky chestnut hair hung loosely down her back, with small braids decorating her sides, and a crown of violet lilies nestled lightly atop her head. She smelled of honeyed plums as she welcomed their guests joyously and Edmund commented that his sisters had apparently decided not to wear any sort of perfume leaving the Calormenes dumbstruck and quite possibly offended. Behind the Valiant Queen and taking short steps was the even more gracious Gentle Queen draped in velvet, silk and lace. She wore a long, elegant gown coloured like wine to represent the festivities and fertility, as well as the feisty and jovial spirit Baccus. The leather straps were wrapped artistically below her exposed shoulders and down to the bend of her arms. Covering the exquisite and creamy skin were long, dark yellow sleeves similar to the colour of mustard that enhanced the blue of her eyes and the brown of her freckles speckled randomly over her nose and cheeks. A garland of daisies delicately crowned her cascading curls and the smell of the flowers mixed with her quaint scent of fresh rain on soil. She modestly crossed her fair, pearly hands on her front as she greeted the foreign courtiers. Lucy then took a seat besides Caspian and Susan sat on the left end of the row beside her sister.

"It's about time you girls got here!" Exclaimed Peter. "I thought you liked this sort of thing, Lu."

"But I do! Susan was just slow and hard to convince. She kept on bringing an excuse to delay the horses while trying to control everything..."

Susan scoffed. "So as to make it all perfect. You know very well that I was only making sure that everything was ready and you also kept tripping with your skirts Lucy. I only did come for the importance of our public image before those lords so as to secure Caspian's future dealings."

"I thank you for your concern, My Queen." Smiled Caspian and Susan smiled back.

"It is my pleasure."

"Did I miss anything worth the mention, Sire?" Reepicheep added as he stood on the arm-rest of Peter's chair right to the side of Caspian's, his black eyes set on the field.

"Well…" started Edmund, "We were just discussing how number three over there's got a strong arm but his technique is rather poor. See how he doesn't avert his eyes at the moment of the blow? That'll turn into a problem soon no doubt about that when he faces number seven who has unhorsed at least two men now."

"Ah, I see. I'm betting on number two actually."

"Why is that, Reepicheep? His armour is beaten and marred." Observed Peter.

"His horse, Sire. Look at it: tis a charger; less heavy or powerful than a destrier but still quite agile. That noble beast is certain to bring its master close to victory (and of course number two came out as the winner in the end but that doesn't come into this tale.) The event cannot be more exciting than as it is."

"Nay Master Mouse, the only thing better than this is an apricot in Damascus."

The wild crash of oak against steel died down under the outburst of the cheering crowd; under the barking and bleating and roars and squeaks and stamping of feet or hooves or claws. The Kings and Lucy (who would hug Trumpkin when the match was too much for her to bear) clapped and shouted, caught up in the thrill of the sport, yet Susan remained stoic in her chair and occasionally shook her head in disappointment, boredom darkening her face. Caspian turned, noticing her silence and biting his lower lip, Peter's words came back to mind.

"Lucy, would you mind switching places for a moment?" He whispered to the little queen.

"Oh not at all!" She replied. "Actually that would do much good to Peter…"

Caspian looked back at the blond whose grip on the chair tightened at the sound of breaking lances; his knuckles turned white and his mouth pressed into a concerned line. King Garren turned back at Edmund nodding and the dark-haired king turned back to his brother with a sly grin.

"He certainly is in need of your support." He chuckled. Lucy shook her head and giggled, "He always loses his bets with Edmund and apparently this time the payment was high. I wonder what he did now?"

Soon he was beside the beauteous and frowning queen and he gently placed his hand over hers, gaining her attention with a little smile on her part.

"Are you not enjoying yourself, My Queen?"

Susan sighed, looking straight ahead to void the evident concern in his dark eyes. "I'm afraid I don't find excitement in these sports but do not let this trouble you, Caspian."

"What would you rather have me do instead? For I cannot bear the thought of rejoicing while you do not."

"Oh don't be silly. It's only natural that we don't agree on certain things."

"Well that is true… If it pleases you, once the alliances are set, would Her Highness be glad to lend her grace for organizing a royal ball in celebration?"

"I would love that, thank you." She replied, sheepishly looking down at her skirts.

"Although I am a little curious… If I may, why is it that you dislike jousting so much?"

Susan stretched her neck, sitting erect on her chair and eyeing the wounded knight below limp back to his grooms.

"Truly, it's quite simple. I find it medieval. I can't find a logical explanation for hurting oneself and a confused mount willingly."

"Well if you look at it that way of course it's going to sound dull. You must understand that its popularity is based on the demonstration of skill of its participants."

"Either way, I still find it pointless."

Caspian smiled turning his attention back to the tournament. "As a practitioner of this sport I am encouraged to make you change your opinion about it, My Lady for I do not wish to see you bored."

Susan laughed at his side. "You indulge me, Caspian but there's no need for you to do that…"

"Listen to her Caspian and don't waste your time like past suitors did." Susan glanced at Edmund, pursing her plumb lips in anger while Caspian looked curious. "What ever did she do to those men?"

At this point, Peter and Lucy joined the conversation. "Ignored most of them or asked them to do ridiculous quests in the name of their love for her." Susan blushed in anger. "Peter, you know I was perfectly fit to entertain myself with those bragging and self-centred princes who did nothing but profess their love for me in vain with dumb acts of brute force and no sensitivity."

Caspian laughed. "I see your point now, My Queen."

"Although there was one that was particularly stubborn…"

"Peter there's no need to talk—"

"Who was this man?" Caspian's intrigue caught up to get the better of him (as well as his possessiveness). For a moment, the tournament slipped from the five rulers' heads.

"Prince Rabadash from Calormen.." continued Peter sternly, "…the ungrateful coward."

"He was perfectly dreadful, wasn't he?" said Lucy.

"Although I did believe Su fancied him …"

A spark of jealously briefly marked Caspian's features briefly when he turned to Susan, "D-did you?"

"Oh of course not! I only gave him certain privileges for at the time I was interested in the culture of Calormen and I gladly accepted his invitation to the capitol Tashbaan. But once we were there I saw he was only an evil and manipulative tyrant who tried to force me to marry him or else he would kill Edmund and our escort."

He eyed the Calormene below who were fanning themselves with their hands, seemingly disgruntled by the smell of sweat and dirt and hot horses. He liked Calormenes less and less by the minute.

"Why that dirty, plotting swine—!"

"Ass." Corrected Edmund, and at his comment the other rulers burst out into silent laughs.

"Pardon?"

"I meant to say that he received his just judgement and punishment by Aslan. He was turned into an ass and dubbed 'Rabadash the Ridiculous'." Caspian joined in the laughter and shared a joke with Edmund who warned him that courting Susan would turn him into something worse than a poor donkey.

"So your dislike comes from the showiness directed to you before, My Queen?" Susan ignored the question and looked down. "Even so, I do believe you look beautiful today, it's a pity you won't smile..." he whispered and Susan turned to him with a funny look in her eyes, an almost challenging expression.

"My Lord, this is only for the well-fare of exterior relations during your reign so as to make sure your dealing with politics is less quarrelsome."

"But what good are politics for a King when he has no Queen of his own to share his duties and passions with?"

Something seemed to shine in her eyes. "It's a pity truly... Are you to follow the codes of courtly love to amend such a weakness?"

"Perhaps as I have already spotted that lady…"

"So what follows after that?"

"Well… it would be gaining the lady's heart with feats of arms she considers fairly ridiculous."

Susan suppressed a laugh and shook her head. "Then you would fail to earn her love."

"I do believe this case would be different from previous ones, as the lady seems to return the feelings."

Her hand searched his own and she squeezed it tightly for a moment until the toll of a bell called everyone's attention and the current round was called a draw.

Once it was announced that a short recess was to be held to allow the remaining participants to catch their breath, Caspian did something no one (and especially not Susan) expected: he rose from his chair and said that he would participate against whoever wished to go against him. Since he knew that Susan was genuinely worried about him then surely he had a chance to entertain her with this. As a difference to her previous suitors he didn't want to prove his strength as a symbol of his love for her (as she clearly disliked such shows). He only wished to see her smile and enjoy herself. And what better way than doing that by involving himself in something she disliked? That ought to gain her attention. His plan went well when the shocked queen questioned him in horror and pointed out that he lacked armour and the equipment for protection.

"You churl, you're not doing this for me are you?"

Caspian smiled reassuringly. "Why else would I do this?"

"Oh for the love of Aslan you will do no such thing! Don't you know I would much rather—"

"His Kingship the Just did mention the horse-head."

"Then stop this foolishness, Caspian and get back here! You are of no use to me with your legs broken!"

Caspian did catch that hint of humour in her latter words, and it was too late anyway for the order was set and he was already midway down the stand.

"I'll be swift to fetch you your horse-head, dear Queen."

Susan leaned over the rail, crossed and with her eyebrows knitted in worry. Caspian looked up at her sweetly and with a lopsided grin he raised his arm and stroked a curl of dangling hair behind her ear.

"Surely you don't expect to receive a token now for I do not have a handkerchief with me."

"One kiss and I'll descend."

The frown vanished for an instant as his lips melted against hers. They parted and Susan remained standing with her hands nervously clutching the rail and her eyes studying the field carefully. In truth she was still bothered by his decision but was unable to continue complaining. Lucy joined her sister and with an understanding grin she put a reassuring hand on her back while behind them Edmund and Peter looked at them with amused faces. Susan's concerned expression brightened for a moment when Caspian looked back at her from his horse and the ghost of a smile lingered on her curved lips for a moment but was gone as fast as it had lasted.

"Men! They are all so ridiculous!"

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