A Different Kind of Challenge
Summary: Sir Reepicheep of the Order of the Lion faces his greatest trial yet…
Disclaimer: I own anyone you do not recognize.
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Reepicheep paced and twirled his whiskers furiously, one paw on the pommel of his gleaming sword. His furred face was contorted in an expression of deep, frustrated thought and one could almost hear him turning ideas over in his mind as he made another pass across the springy green grass.
He had been at this ponderous ritual for about half a glass of time, twirling his lovely whiskers and pacing the grass. Seven tails long and three tails across, turn at the patch of clover and continue back to the buttercup, tail draped over his sword arm to avoid the indignity of dragging it…the carpet of green had a small oval shaped track of flattened grass from his pensive strides. Not that the valiant Knight noticed, though. He was too preoccupied.
More than preoccupied, actually. Though he would not care to admit it to anyone, even himself, Reepicheep was nervous.
"Such a trial awaits. Nay, an ordeal! The likes of which I have never before encountered…" the Mouse chirruped softly, pausing and placing his paw to his chin. He stood in such a manner for a minute or so, looking grave and thoughtful and irate, before his putting his paw back to the task of twirling his whiskers. He tapped a foot upon the turf, then set off with his pacing again, more fiercely than before, muttering to himself.
"Courage, Mouse…that is what you need, the courage of the Lion himself! Wit and deft words, too, will be needed if this is to be undertaken seriously…a very delicate matter indeed…"
He strode back and forth, steeped in thought and speculation and jangling nerves. A more solemn being, Mouse or otherwise, one could not hope to find.
To those who knew him, this brooding was a most unsettling sight. King Caspian and Trumpkin had already passed him by three or four times, giving him worried glances and inquiring after his health. The reason for their concern was obvious and understandable; Reepicheep, when bothered by something, did not brood about it. He would sit and mull the situation over for a bit, yes, but then he would go about and do something about it, by the Lion! He did not fret about it like a tittering Telmarine housewife!
Abruptly, Reepicheep stopped in his tracks and stood stock still, his nails drumming against the hilt of his treasured sword. His beady black eyes, once clouded with anxiety, now gleamed with the manic determination that made him so formidable in Council and in battle. His whiskers quivered and his back stiffened until he stood proud and straight like a pine.
"The time has come to cast aside my reserves and draw up my courage. I shall embark upon this venture and, by my Tail and Whiskers and Honor as a Mouse and knight of Narnia, I shall retire this evening victorious!" he squeaked boldly, eyes flashing.
With his declaration made and his fears cast sternly aside like a cumbersome cloak, the Mouse marched away from the accursed pacing ground, paw on hilt and kind of terrified courage thundering through him. He paused only to cut down a creamy yellow crocus with a flash of his blade and then collect it before continuing on with his quest.
After a few seemingly tortuously long minutes, Reepicheep stood outside an airy, cheerful pavilion filled with laughing Dryads and Centaurs and Beasts. He hesitated for but a split second before entering, his fragrant trophy grasped tightly in his paw.
He scanned the confines of the tent, heart in his throat. At last, his eyes landed on and beheld the most radiant beauty in the room; Breenathreep, a well celebrated spy from the War of Reawakening. She sat beside Adenya the Dryad on a luxurious red cushion, laughing and chattering happily, her silvery gray fur shining in the light overhead.
Reepicheep felt as if he had been bewitched. His feet were no longer touching the ground, he had gone deaf to all other noises but her laughter, his heart was hammering away like a Dwarf at a forge…Breenathreep. Lovely, courageous, loyal Breenathreep.
Reepicheep squared his shoulders and made his way towards her. It was now or never, he reasoned, and he would be a thrice cursed and forsaken trap maker if he did not at least try.
All too soon he stood before the glorious Mouse maiden, and it was then that she turned fathomless dark eyes upon him, a smile in their depths.
"Sir Reepicheep! To what do I owe the honor of this visit?" she asked in a musical, piping voice. At once, Reepicheep swept her his finest bow and presented her with the crocus with much ceremony.
"Lady Breenathreep, I come here today to declare to you that you are the fairest of all Mice, the bravest, the truest. For your sake I would battle any warrior in Narnia, in all the lands! I would comb the seas of the world until I obtained for you the most perfect of pearls. I would climb the highest mountain and shout to the heavens my love for you. I would slay any who dared insult your honor, who even conceived the thought of harming you." He said gravely. Slowly, he lowered himself upon one knee, every inch of him dignified.
"I would brave all the dangers of life, would cut off my very tail…if you would but grant me your hand in marriage."
There, it was said. Reepicheep looked up at Breenathreep as she sat on the cushion and stared at him. Her long whiskers quivered with emotion, her expressive eyes were moist with tears that had yet to be shed and she held one sure, delicate paw against her breast, over her heart.
Before she even opened her mouth to voice her acceptance of his suit, Reepicheep knew he had overcome the greatest challenge of his life.
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GASP! I have actually written something not involving Jaslan or Frelen! It's a Post Christmas miracle! W00T!
First time writing for Reepicheep. I love that fellow…the epitome of impeccable honor, manners and ass kicking skills. Tell me how I did with him by clicking the magical little bluish purple button…you know you waaaaant tooooo….