Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia. And if I did there'd be something about macaroni. …ok no more lipton tea for yoo-hoo.
The yellowed pages of the text seemed to make the ink drawings of men in turbans pop out more than the text and the pleasant warmth of the Narnian spring day only added to the Pevensie's lethargic attitudes toward their daily lessons. The children's first Narnian winter had been longer than any other they had experienced in their short lives. Mrs. Beaver assured them that its length only seemed so because they previously had experienced a few days of winter when they initially entered Narnia. Besides, the talking animals in their court insisted that winter seemed to fly by like a breeze. Regardless of the length of the winter, the sun felt good on the children's shoulders and the prospect of walking barefoot through Cair Paravel's gardens was taking precedence over their lesson: the culture of the Calmoren.
"Would you hurry up with the answer, Su?" Edmund asked, impatience seeped in his every move. The winter had been a painful reminder of how close he brought the family to ruin and of his sins. Indeed, no one welcomed the spring more than Edmund.
"Patience is a virtue, Ed." Came the sing song reply of Susan as she ran her finger down the black text.
"Not when you're taking forever and a day." Lucy giggled at her position nestled against Susan's arm. The child paid no attention to what the words said. In truth she did not understand such large words such as "Socioeconomic status" and was content looking at the pictures. As Susan turned the page a drawing of a man with a pointed beard and curly shoes caught her attention. Her fingertips grazed the yellowed parchment where an abnormally large turban graced the head of this odd looking man in the drawing. Under the aged drawing the word Tisroc was scrawled the length of the drawing.
"Su," Peter spoke up in agreement with the other three as he paced back and forth in front of the tree they sat under, "We've been at this for hours. Can't you speed it up a bit?"
The gentle queen gave an unladylike snort in indignation. "Well," she returned loftily, "I care about the customs of the Calmoren even if you-golly!" she cut herself short as her eyes fell upon the illustration of the turbaned Tisroc. Edmund rolled his eyes expecting another useless fact about grain export and Peter stopped pacing, giving his sister a calculating look.
"Golly," Susan elaborated, "Look at the size of that turban!"
"How does he keep his head up with that funny hat?" Lucy wondered leaning her head against her sister's arm. Edmund leaned over to look and gave a low whistle as he decided aloud that he wouldn't be caught dead in such a hat.
By this time the High King was getting frustrated at the length of the lesson. Oreius had told them what to review and had gone on a routine scouting expedition. The spring thaw was not entirely complete and the centaur had led a group of talking beasts to see what main bodies of water were thawed and what parts weren't. It was a mundane task but as the High King it was one that Peter had wanted to go on. Anything to get out of the mundane study sessions. "What are you three gaping at now?" he asked impatiently as he kneeled in front of Susan to look at the text upside down.
"This." Susan told him, shoving the book under his nose.
"Isn't it is a funny hat?" Lucy asked with a giggle.
The High King nodded in agreement and lowered the book from his face. He looked at his siblings with an unsure look. The day was waning and if Oreius caught them with out the work done, Peter would surely hear about it. "But what does this have to do with Calmoren culture?"
His younger siblings sat silenced for a moment, snappy comebacks were at a loss for them. At length Lucy concluded slowly, "The man with the biggest hat has the most power." Edmund let out a laugh as the eldest two cast amused looks at each other.
Susan set down the book with a mischievous look in her eyes. "Oh really?" she wondered idly as she picked up Peter's discarded cloak. He had set it on the grass to sit on hours ago and had since been pacing in impatience. Then with out warning, Susan threw the cloak over Edmund's head; his indignant cries of 'Gerroff me!' muffled against the fabric. After a few moments of struggling and unheard protests from the Just king, Susan stepped back to observe her work: the cloak artfully draped around Ed's head like the turban in the book.
"What do you think?" Susan wondered to the others as she stepped back with a giggle to observe her work. "Is it funny enough for his status as King Edmund the Just?"
"I'll give you status, I will." Edmund vowed in mock anger as he lunged at his older sister's knees. Chaos ensued as the other two joined the dog pile, intent on "turbaning" Susan.
They failed to notice the quiet hoof beats of Oreius approach. Back from the scouting expedition, the centaur stood a few feet from the oblivious four, content on watching the odd ritual of sibling bonding. His queens and kings never ceased to amaze, inspire and amuse him. He had not seen such closeness in a family before he met the Pevensies. The hundred years winter had been tough on all aspects of Narnian life. In his herd of centaurs, Oreius had witnessed his siblings and cousins both betray the cause and die for the hope that Aslan would return one day.
At length he cleared his throat to announce his presence. The four had paused mid motion. Queen Lucy had King Peter's cloak draped across her head, the wine red riding cloak looked the size of another Queen Lucy. She gave Oreius a sheepish smile as half of her turban fell over her face. Queen Susan looked no better for wear. Her dark hair was disheveled and twisted around her crown as if she had just rose in the morn and her light green shawl sat lopsidedly on her head. King Edmund had somehow acquired his own deep blue riding cloak along with several old leaves atop of his head. Oreius cast his gaze on his High King and barely managed to keep his stern face. King Peter had somehow acquired Queen Lucy's small chiffon scarf sat crookedly on his head. It was measured for a nine year old's body and was the length of the High King's right arm. A small breeze blew the chiffon in front of his eyes, only accentuating the fact that the scarf barley fit around his head once.
With her eyes wide, Queen Susan gently picked up Peter's crown that laid by her feet and hesitantly walked over to her elder brother before gingerly setting it on top of his head, "turban" and all.
"Your Majesties," Oreius began successfully hiding his amusement from the four, "What does this have to do with the Calmoren culture?"
The four cast each other guilty looks before Edmund hesitantly explained, "We find that the bigger the turban, the higher up the social scale one is…"
A/N: This is the brain child of my African History course. I should explain that my professor holds an uncanny likeness to Professor Kirke. And his joke of turban size in Ancient Mali inspired me so much it worked its way to my notes and into Lucy's mouth. Quite frankly I want to hug Lucy in this fic. I never wrote fics for a series that had such an adorable character. glomps Lucy and gives a confused Tumnus macaroni please review and excuse my turban loving mood. Macaroni for all.