Sword clashed. The noise of battle raged with the deafening thunderstorm above. The rain poured down drenching the kings and their army.
"Peter!" Edmund called, stabbing one of his swords into a giants heel and bringing him down, "We need to retreat!"
"No!" Peter yelled back, "We can still do this!"
"Be reasonable!" Edmund cried as more Giants entered the battle, "Our troops are injured badly, we've lost many. Let's fall back until we have back up and a better plan than just leaping headfirst into battle."
Peter gave him a short glare and stabbed another giant.
"Fine!" he snapped, picking up his fallen shield. "Fall back!" he bellowed, "We need to fall back now!"
The horns sounded and the Narnians began to retreat. Since the war had started, they had barely gained an inch on the opposing side: the giants of the north.
The defeat of the White Witch had brought them friends and enemies. Sadly, it seemed there were more enemies than friends.
The Narnians only ally was Archenland. They wouldn't however send desperately needed support to the Narnians when they called for aid. Not to mention other issues that desperately needed resolving.
Back at camp, Peter hurled his sword and shield into the corner of the tent he and Edmund were sharing. It was mentally and physically exhausting keeping the northern giants invasion at bay. He sat down on the bedding mat more roughly than intended and flinched when an injury he had obtained a few days ago protested painfully. He waited, with his head down, for one of his brother's comments.
Edmund, thankfully, kept his mouth shut.
Peter looked up at him from where he was seated.
"How much longer can we keep this up?" he asked.
Edmund hesitated a moment and bit his lip.
"I don't know," he replied, "There's no telling what might happen next in this war."
Peter raised an eyebrow at his brother.
"You're lying." he decided. Edmund opened his mouth as if to say something, decided against it, and simply nodded.
Peter sighed.
"How long?" he asked again.
"Two months at most." Edmund sighed, "We're in some serious trouble."
"And there's really no peaceful way to resolve this." Peter looked at his brother silently begging him to tell him that, yes, there was a way and, no, it didn't include Susan marrying the king of Giants or Edmund being cropped at the neck.
"I'm 'fraid not." Edmund sat down on his bedding roll. There were rings under his eyes and he looked pale. Peter noticed his brother was having difficulty simply staying awake. He needed to sleep.
"Get some sleep," Peter told Edmund.
Edmund nodded, too exhausted to argue. "You'll wake me if there's anything, right?" he asked.
Peter just nodded. He watched Edmund struggle into a sleeping position and toss the thin blanket over himself. Then he reached over and tucked him in like he had when Edmund had been little. His brother gave him a small, tired smile and drifted off almost instantly.
Peter smiled. He remembered those wonderful days. Edmund had always been asking him to play games or for Susan to read to him and he'd been very protective over Lucy despite only being two years older than her. In turn Lucy had been very fond of Edmund and had often been seen clinging onto his hand as they walked around the house pretending different objects were magical and making up different things for them to do.
Peter's favourite story of theirs had been the kettle that "told the future". He had always liked to know what was coming next.
In that very moment, he wished for that magic kettle very much.