Disclaimer: I own nothing of C. S. Lewis'

Of Ruins and Royal Murderers

She did though. Indeed, we had so much time for sleep. Not that it was restful, mind you. The road was uneven and rocky, and there were too many obstacles which the men had to stop and clear away so the carts and carriages could pass. If we had been on horseback, or even in a smaller carriage it would have been difficult, but not impossible, to force our way through. But Father's carriages were all so large and luxurious, and I'm not sure there was a smaller one among them to be found. All in all, by the end of the fifteenth day, I just wanted to get there. I did not care if there were the most dreadful murderers and attackers awaiting our arrival, so long as I could be out of the blasted coach for longer than ten minutes, I would happily accept any terms.

Approximately seven miles from our destination, Father ordered our worn, little party to halt by a large creek so that Lorelle and I could bathe ourselves before being presented to their majesties. I fully admit that I was no less than a hot, sticky, smelly mess, but after a full half-hour of scrubbing and splashing and scraping our white skin to a burning red with fresh bars of rose-hip soap, I believe that I was somewhat presentable. We were brought elegant and slightly more formal gowns to slip into, and sweet smelling oils to fragrance our freshly washed bodies. I felt like I was wearing an entirely new outfit of skin. Now all I wanted was hot food and a warm bed. Kings and queens be hanged.

It was mid-day, and I knew we still had at least another hour or travel before our arrival, when at last I would be free. Lorelle finished tying up the lace to the back of my dress and then had me do hers. Then, taking one of the sheets of cloth set out on a rack for us by the servants, she proceeded to massage my head in such a rough and desperate manner, I swear she meant to scalp me.

"I'm not sure now," she said quietly. "I do not feel right to be marrying a man in three weeks whom I have never even laid eyes on." She jerked the cloth on the ends of my hair and I winced slightly. "Sorry…"

"No, no." I shifted out of her reach and took the cloth from her hands, handing her a fresh one to use on herself. "As you said once, your life and his will be very separate."

"I…I need some time to think, Ren," she spoke even softer, using my pet nickname so I knew she was serious. "Just a few minutes, please."

I ran the drying cloth once more over my wet mess of hair and tried not to look overly thrilled. "Well then, I'll just go for a walk, shall I?" It was hard to keep the eagerness out of my voice, but I do not think she would have noticed anyway. She merely nodded.

After sending our dresser back to the carriages to let Father know when we should be back, I removed my slippers, hiked up my flowing skirts, crossed that blessed creek and headed out to the deliciously green meadow I could see peaking through the trees, avoiding mud and dusty leaves and sticky brush as best I could. Because of a light fall of rain from earlier that morning, the grass still glistened in the afternoon sunlight, as though a million little fairies had just come and sprinkled little baby stars all about. Oddly enough, there were no flowers, but straight out in front of me, about fifty paces away, large blocks of what looked like to be the remains of ruins stood their ground. I stared and squinted, and I am sure that I must have looked something of a slightly impaired creature. They looked almost like the ruins of ruins; the remains of an already pick-over skeleton. The animal was dead, the flesh was gone, there was nothing of any worth left.

I walked slowly, still holding the skirts of my dress above my ankles to avoid the wetness of the leftover raindrops. Running would have been most improper, but I could not help but think about half-way across that, had I been wearing pants, I would have been then by now.

The ruins may as well have been merely large, lumpy rocks in the middle of a field. They held no shape or form, and it was apparent that the castle they had once been had met its last day to siege and catapults. Tall grass and weeds grew ramped, and prickly thistles hid where my eyes could not see to avoid. Pausing by a large hunk of stone and plaster, I decided that it would be best to return later with shoes and more suitable clothing.

"Hello."

I gave the most unladylike, throaty shriek of surprise and whirled to face my "attacker," (or so my mind was screaming to me). Any normal person would have been expecting to see one of my father's guards sent to fetch me back to the carriages, but no, I could only think of the worst murderer who delighted in killing of defenseless girls lost in the countryside with no means of escape or rescue.

If he was a murderer though, I am not sure that I would have objected much to being murdered by his hand. He had very nice hands. Actually, he had very nice everything. His clothes, which were to the style of a hunter or outdoorsman, were not particularly grand, but they were very well tailored, and I noticed a fine, gold fringe rimming the edge of his sleeves. (So, he must be of some importance.) His hair was a very dark brown and messy, falling over his forehead and into his chocolate-brown eyes. He looked young in years, but in his face shone wisdom and experience far beyond any youth's natural age. He was smiling at me, in a a crooked and almost mischievous manner, and his jaw-line was shady and bristly, with a needing for a shave. Large hands fingered a black hunting bow and a long, leather quiver, but I noticed that he had nothing to show for it. The butcher's boy definitely would have had plenty.

"I believe there may be broken particles of glass where you are standing, milady." Speaking again, he snapped me out of my thoughts, and I stood a little straighter and tried to walk forward cooly, while glancing as subtly as I could around my feet for the said shards of glass.

"You have a strong war cry there, milady." He chuckled. "My apologies. You are the Lady Dakadore, I presume?"

Feeling slightly embarrassed and taken aback at his words, I quickly shut my slightly agape mouth and shook my head. "Lady Dakadore is my sister," I said. "I'm just Wren. Lady Wren, I guess. You're from the Cair? Yes, you must be. We stopped only for a while to rest and bathe. Is the road good from here on? Ugh, if we have to stop one more time I don't think I can bear it. Glass, you say? Where? I'm not wearing my slippers. I would have ruined them in the wet grass, but now I am fearing that I will be ruining my feet even more. Well where is the glass? Am I safe to walk to you? What's wrong?"

I could talk fast when I was nervous, but I was hardly ever nervous, and my sudden outburst surprised myself just as much as it seemed to startle him. Now it was his turn to stare, with mouth slightly agape. He shook his head a little.

"Her sister?"

Had he heard nothing else that I had just said? Right now, I was more concerned about the glass. I squinted indignantly at him and tip-toed towards the edge of the ruins. He offered me a hand, which I assumed was to aid me in climbing off the small pile of stone blocking the entrance, but I just shook it in short acknowledgement and stepped off myself.

"I will be returning to our carriages now," I said shortly. "You should probably go try a little more of your luck with that." I motioned towards his bow and empty hands, and he looked slightly embarrassed.

"My sister is the archer in the family," he said sheepishly.

"I-I think, er..." I felt awkward now. How rude of me. "Well, good day, sir."

He did not bow, he did not even nod respectfully. How impudent! Certainly, he was below my station. But he just stood there, staring.

I did not walk as slowly. In fact, I fairly ran. How odd and obscure that was. I had not even gotten his name. He had had such a gentle smile, and his voice was so soft and comforting, but at the same time deep and safe-sounding. There had been several little scars near his chin and temples, so obviously a sword, and not the bow, was his main choice of weaponry. With this conclusion, I also decided that he must be a soldier in the High King's army, and I felt even more ashamed with my bluntness and short words.

At the edge of the meadow, just before I disappeared into the line of trees, I turned to glance back for a moment.

He was still staring.


As soon as the first peaks of the great castle of Cair Paravel poked into view, I quickly closed the leather flaps of all the windows and flattened myself against the back of my cushioned seat. I wanted to wait until I could see all the splendor at once, right before my eyes. To stare up at the towers so high that I was practically leaning back on my heels, and still there would be more to see. Having it all appear so slowly, peak after peak, window after gaping window, tower after tower…well, there was just nothing very dramatic or romantic about that.

Lorelle frowned and raised her window flap again. "Don't tell me you're scared of their majesties already."

"Pffft," I blew out indignantly. "I think I may have met someone from the Cair already, actually."

"Hm?" That caught her attention. "Who? The royal donkey?"

Choosing to ignore her mockery, I smooth my rustled skirts neatly, and folded my hands delicately on my lap, sniffing primly, for effect of course. "The royal murderer."

"Excuse me?"