Disclaimer: I own nothing in this marvelous universe; it all belongs to C. S. Lewis and Walden Media.
Author's Note: ::laughs softly:: I'm sure there's going to be some disappointed "awws" in this chapter, as Rorin does not make an appearance. I think he's more popular than Edmund and Peter at the moment. But please enjoy this next little bit, I've been itching to get this out and I hope it lives up to your expectations!
Reviewers: All 27 of you, thank you! I'm so glad you've enjoyed this! Here's the next chapter, just waiting to be devoured…::grins::
Rating: T
Summary: Peter comes to terms with how he has treated Edmund…(Moviebased) (Brotherfic) (NO Slash)
"Speech"
/Personal Thoughts/
Memories/Quotes (Italics)
(1) Hebrews 13:2
Gratitude
By Sentimental Star
Chapter Two: Revelation and Reconciliation
(Three Days Later, By Narnian Reckoning)
Edmund Pevensie leaned his aching head back into one of the upholstered (and lumpy with cotton stuffing) seats of the train car, shutting his eyes. In some ways, this was better than the Underground, but it in no way compared to the air of Narnia. That…or other things.
With a grimace, he tugged irritably at the starched collar of his shirt. He had forgotten how much he disliked his British clothing until he had worn his Narnian ones again. He wouldn't even touch his jacket or scarf until he and Peter had reached school…
"Oh, Ed, stop fiddling with it. That only makes it worse, you know."
Opening his eyes, he gave Lucy a half-hearted glare…then smirked slightly when he noticed she was picking at her blouse's starched cuff. "Indeed, Queen Lucy? Perhaps you should tell that to your hand."
His little sister half-groaned, half-laughed where she sat across from him in the train compartment, "Did I say for you? I meant for me."
"Deeply sorry, Madam," Edmund groaned, "but you'll excuse the rather sudden urge I have to completely yank it off. Honestly, why did we agree to let Mum use starch of all things on our clothing?"
Lucy giggled, standing up to kneel next to her younger brother on his seat and batting at his hands as he went to tug on his shirt again. "Probably because anything else was too strictly rationed. Here, let me see. You might be able to take it off."
"Not likely," Edmund grumbled, dropping his hands and letting her have a look. "That would be too convenient."
Lucy grinned, studying his collar. "You're in a mood today, Ed. What's up?"
He sighed, once again shutting his eyes. Rolling back his shoulders and shaking out his wrists, he admitted, "Nothing really. I'm just tired. And sore," added with a hiss as her hand accidentally brushed a small, half-healed cut on the back of his neck.
Lucy's eyes widened. "Shirt off," she demanded.
Edmund blanched. "What? But, Lucy-"
Lucy rolled her eyes, trying not to betray her agitation, and pointedly yanked on his collar. "So we'll draw the bloody curtains. Shirt off."
Edmund sighed, but complied, muttering about little sisters and bloody Healers.
He yelped as Lucy gave him a not-so-gentle jab in the back. "Careful, Lu!"
Her eyes widened even more when he revealed the extent of the damage. "Ed…" she murmured, paling.
At least a dozen long, shallow cuts decorated Edmund's back, shoulders, and neck, some barely a centimeter from his spine. He grimaced as she started to lightly probe a few of them. "The Wer-Wulf got in a few swipes before I could shove my sword into him. It's not all that bad, really."
Lucy snorted softly. "Only because someone knew you well enough to get you to the Healers before you could slip off and let them get infected. And I'd say it was a fair bit more than 'a few', Ed. You're lucky Peter didn't see these."
Edmund raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think he didn't?"
She gave him a look that clearly stated she thought he was an idiot. "Because he wouldn't have let you two feet from him if he did. I'm surprised he even let you issue that challenge to Miraz." Lucy frowned, and poked gently at the half-healed swipes on his shoulder. "Why didn't you say something, Ed? You're the one who found me after the White Witch…"
"I did try to, Lu," Edmund reminded her gently, "but Peter had found us by then." He shrugged, "There wasn't really much time after that."
Lucy snorted again, lightly. "No. But there was plenty of time for Peter to give himself heart failure." She scowled slightly when she noticed the largest cut was beginning to show faint hues of red and started examining its edges.
Edmund hissed and tried to twist away. "Don't prod, Lu," he complained, "they're still tender."
Lucy raised an eyebrow and sat back on her heels, apparently deciding that they were far enough along in their healing process that she didn't need to worry. "And whose fault is that?"
Edmund stuck his tongue out at her. "Not mine. Lord What's-His-Name decided to mutiny, remember?"
She rolled her eyes warmly. "I'm not likely to forget it." Lucy sighed, and her look grew troubled as she leaned against the seat, unable to tear her gaze from the cuts littering her brother's skin. She knew they would scar, and Edmund had more than enough scars already. "You make like this is nothing, Ed," she whispered at last, "but I'm sure not even the Healers knew how close you came to dying that day. If those swipes had been several centimeters deeper or one centimeter closer…"
Her younger brother shifted uncomfortably. "If you don't mind, Lu," he murmured, "I'd rather keep that between us."
"Too late," a weak voice remarked from behind them.
Lucy glanced over his shoulder and paled. Edmund turned sharply to face the door of their compartment. "Su?" he asked faintly.
Their rather pale older sister was tightly gripping the doorframe. "Not just," she whispered.
Lucy dug her elbow into Edmund's side. "Ed," she murmured, nodding to the seat across from them.
Edmund slowly shut his eyes, turning to face the fourth occupant of their compartment. "How much of that did you hear?" he asked softly, opening his eyes.
"Enough," Peter stated flatly, tears trickling down his cheeks.
Susan sat down, balancing precariously on the edge of the seat Peter occupied. Silence grew between the four siblings, heavy and thick. For a few minutes, the only sound that could be heard in the compartment was the tick of Edmund's watch.
Finally, the younger boy spoke up, voice quiet and directing his words at Peter, "You already knew I had been injured." It was not quite an accusation.
Peter flinched, glancing away. "Not until Susan and I had been reamed out by a highly irritated Dwarf," he whispered.
Lucy stirred in her spot, her interest peaked. "Dwarf?" she asked.
While Peter dropped his head into his hands and nodded, Susan sat up straighter and cleared her throat, "Rorin," she supplied quietly.
Lucy frowned. "But surely...it couldn't have been our Rorin, could it?"
Susan shook her head. "He couldn't have been anyone else. He knew us too well."
Edmund turned towards her, frowning. "That's impossible, Susan. He even told me so himself."
Susan merely crossed her arms over her chest and leveled him with an even stare. "Then explain why Glenstorm told me he didn't exist."
Her younger brother glanced at her sharply. "What are you talking about, Su?"
Susan sighed wearily and shut her eyes, beginning to explain, "Rorin barged into the room where Peter and I were…discussing…the night raid." She missed the hard scowl Edmund shot at her when he realized "discussing" the night raid actually meant arguing about it. "Glenstorm found me afterwards. He…wasn't too pleased with the state he found me in…"
"My Lady, if you would just grant me leave…!" Glenstorm growled out; the Centaur's eyes were dark and his jaw hard.
Susan shook her head, choking back more tears. "It's…it's all right, Glenstorm. I…I deserved much worse."
"Be that as it may, my Lady…no man, whether Human, Dwarf, or Hamadryad, has the right to speak to you in such a manner!"
They had been arguing about this for at least half an hour, ever since the Centaur had realized that the Dwarf he'd caught sight of was most likely the cause of Queen Susan's tears. But the Queen herself absolutely refused to grant him permission to seek retribution.
"No, Glenstorm. Rorin was only doing what he felt needed to be done. It is nothing he has not done before."
The Dwarf's name pulled Glenstorm up short. "My Queen," he replied delicately, "there is no Dwarf named Rorin."
(End Flashback)
IOIOIOIOIOI
Edmund slowly closed his mouth, feeling slightly stunned. /Rorin…? How is that even possi-/
"'Be not forgetful to entertain strangers,'" Edmund jerked at his brother's quiet voice, "'for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.'" (1)
Peter's three younger siblings abruptly turned to face him. "Peter?" Susan asked sharply.
The older boy raised his head, fixing her with a tired gaze. "It's in the Bible, Susan."
"Yes, but why did you bring it up now?" she demanded, perhaps a little more harshly than she had intended.
Peter shrugged, if possible looking even more tired, but Lucy spoke up, looking thoughtful, "It fits, though. Don't you think so, Susan? I mean, I'm guessing Rorin's the one who treated Ed," she glanced at her younger brother for confirmation and he nodded. "You've already established the fact that he's the one who spoke to you. So why not?"
Susan frowned slightly. "An angel? I don't know, Lucy…"
Her little sister gazed at her archly. "You didn't think it was Aslan across the gorge, and yet it turned out to be Him in the end anyhow."
Susan sighed. "Supposing you're right, Lu…why would Aslan—if it was Aslan—send an angel?"
Lucy said nothing, merely glanced at Edmund. Susan paled and Peter turned white. Edmund merely scowled, and yanked back on his shirt, "I'm fine!"
"Now you are," Lucy pointed out, "but even you can't deny that it was close."
"Lucy…" Edmund warned softly, glancing pointedly in Peter's direction.
Their older brother's face was stark white.
Lucy grimaced apologetically and stood up. Quirking Edmund a rueful smile, she held out her hand to their older sister, "Come on, Susan. I think I just saw the food cart."
Susan dubiously eyed the empty corridor outside their compartment, but willingly slid her hand into Lucy's. Before the older girl could protest (not that she had really tried), her younger sister had pulled her to her feet and gently yanked her out of the compartment.
IOIOIOIOIOI
Once the door slid shut behind the girls, Edmund shifted uncomfortably in place, slowly growing unnerved under Peter's unwavering stare. Finally, unable to maintain their gaze, Edmund glanced away, staring out the window.
As he sat there, watching the buildings flash by, a thick coil of frustration slowly curled its way into his stomach: they were almost halfway to school, and Peter hadn't said anything. Well…other than to quote from the Bible, and Edmund felt distinctly uneasy whenever he tried to contemplate it (it hadn't been that close, had it? Surely Lucy was exaggerating…).
He winced when Peter's thumb suddenly settled gently against his split lip, glancing up at his older brother in surprise.
Peter flinched and withdrew his hand, turning away.
When his brother refused to look at him, Edmund frowned slightly and reached across the compartment to touch Peter's hands where they were clenched in the older boy's lap. "Peter?" he asked tentatively.
The fourteen-year-old drew in a deep breath and hesitantly raised his eyes to the younger boy's face. "E-Ed…" he swallowed, "c-can I…?" He gestured helplessly to his younger brother's shirt.
Edmund's eyebrows furrowed with a nearly audible click, but he nodded and turned his back to his older brother, gingerly lifting his shirt and vest.
Behind him, he heard Peter suck in a sharp breath as his back was once again exposed. Delicately, his brother traced a finger along the largest swipe to where it ended barely a centimeter from the younger boy's spine, heedless of the way Edmund's eyes stung at the tenderness inherent in the gesture.
Releasing a shaky breath, Peter gently pulled the shirt down by its hem, his examination done, and smoothed his hand lightly down the eleven-year-old's back. Turning Edmund around to face him, he murmured, reaching out to grasp the younger boy's chin and tenderly brushing back a wayward dark curl, "I'm sorry." His breathing hitched, "I'm sorry. I almost got you kil-"
Edmund interrupted him, dark eyes full of tears, "Shut up, Peter. Please." He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut, "Please, please just shut up. You were going through a rough time. It's only natural that you would-"
"Don't you dare," Peter hissed, his sharp tone causing his younger brother's eyes to fly open, "don't you dare try to excuse the way I treated you! You went through the same thing; you never lost sight of who you were…who we were!"
"It's not an excuse, Peter!" Edmund cried, frustrated. "It's a reason! I was never the High King; I never had near the responsibility you did! I never had to juggle a kingdom and a family both, or maintain the same connection to Narnia's very blood…! It's not an excuse, Peter, it's who you are!"
"That's rubbish, Edmund! It doesn't matter whether it's an excuse or whether it's a reason; I still had absolutely no right to treat you as shabbily as I did!"
Peter shut his eyes then, the echoes of his voice ringing in their compartment. For a few minutes nothing could be heard except the older boy's hitched breathing. When he finally spoke again, all fire had gone out of his voice, "Ed…Edmund…" Peter murmured brokenly, pulling back and releasing him, "th-the day you returned to us at Aslan's camp…I-I swore I'd never again alienate you," his façade crumbled, "and I failed you. Spectacularly. I…I'm not sure I can forgive myself for that…and I don't know how you can…"
Edmund took a deep breath. In one fluid motion, he had grabbed Peter's chin and forced his startled older brother to look at him, tightening his grip when Peter tried to glance away. "It's called love, Peter," he whispered, squarely meeting his big brother's eyes.
To Be Continued
