Chapter Three:

King Edmund stood by the grand doors of Cair Paravel, bidding farewell to his brother and younger sister. King Peter and Queen Lucy were departing for the northern territories of Narnia, ones which were almost constantly besieged by the nation of giants that shared their borders. Garrisoned soldiers had done no good in the regard, and King Peter was tired of letting these vicious neighbors always plead either ignorance or make renewed promises of peace. Half the Narnian army stood ready to teach the giants one certain lesson.

His sister Susan stood beside him, her face worried and her handkerchief at the ready as she watched her younger sister wield the reigns of her mount with precision. Lucy was only ten, but having been left out of several campaigns thus far, she refused to be relegated to the castle any longer. Actually, Peter was also too generous to put his foot down, when he actually should have. But Peter trusted Lucy, and, for all that she was a little rapscallion, she really did belong with him, on the front lines, defending Narnia with all her great heart's passion.

Edmund, lifting his hand to shield his eyes from the brilliant morning sunrise, was not disappointed to be left behind this time. Though he was certainly not afraid of combat, by any means, he also preferred the quiet work in the castle, which also had a great impact on the running of the nation. Peter was aware of the concerns caused by the drought of the Avar, the mighty river vein of Narnia, but he could not concentrate on both relief efforts there and the threat of the giants. It became Edmund's unspoken province, the control and management of domestic problems, in order to leave Peter, the magnificent High King, to defend the nation from foreign threats.

Amidst shouted and waved goodbyes, the horns sounded and the army began its ponderous pace towards the mountains. Edmund, while watching the cavalcade move off, became aware of Susan's tears as the lady waved her handkerchief towards the disappearing back of her sister.

"They will be well, Sister," he said, moving to her side. "Queen Lucy can take care of herself. And you know that our Brother will be with her."

"I know, Edmund," she replied, gazing wistfully into the distance, "but my heart still rests uneasy. She is still very young."

"Would you face her rage at being left behind again?" Edmund chuckled at the memory. "By the Lion! During the Battle at Beruna, Lucy nearly broke her neck climbing out of her bedroom window. I would prefer not to imagine what lengths she would have been prepared to go in this case."

Susan laughed, and turned away from the retreating army. "My wise Brother," she said, embracing him, "where would I be without your wisdom?"

"Exactly where you are, my dear Sister," Edmund said, walking back into the castle, "for you never needed my advice before."

"True, true," Susan replied, laughingly, as they parted ways in the great hall. She retired to her rooms, as Edmund walked to his study. On his desk were already several letters and petitions for aid from the people who drew their wealth from the dwindling Avar. Measures would have to be taken immediately, if the crops of that area were to be saved, and significant investigation of the Avar would have to be made to understand the cause of its reduction.

Edmund read and wrote letters all day, summoning ministers and locals to the audience chamber, where he tried to come up with a plan of assistance. So far, matters were touchy at best. No, no one understood why the Avar had lessened in its yearly flow. Water for crops and drinking would have to be hauled thirty miles at least, and though the beasts of other areas were more than willing to assist the human villages, it would involve much immediate action to save the year's growth.

The sun was sinking below the horizon when the basis of a plan had finally been reached. Edmund sent his advisors away, telling them that they would continue the discussion on the next day. He rested his heavy head in his weary palms and thought somewhat grimly of Peter, heading up north. His brother had probably had had a weary day of riding, but at night there would be stories and laughter, and mock fighting around blazing campfires. Though he tended to be more solemn by nature, Edmund found the quiet of court oppressive when his Brother and Sisters did not liven it by their presence.

As if in answer to his wish of company, a light touch at his arm told him that Susan had brought him comfort. The cup of chocolate was fresh from the kitchens, and to it cook had added a small plate of marzipan strawberries. The almond paste was heavenly, and the chocolate smoothed away many of the day's anxieties.

Susan sat next to him on her throne (for Edmund sat on Peter's when he held court) and smiled at him.

"I hear from the ministers that your wisdom was unrivaled by the Kings of old, Brother," she said. "I too, have been making plans for assistance."

"Susan," Edmund said, looking at her gratefully, "anything would be of assistance right now. I feel as though the weight of the world is on my shoulders."

His sister looked grave. "For so it is, my Brother. But," her voice brightened, "I have been speaking to the wood nymphs, and they have agreed to speak with the spirits of the earth, and they might be able to find out the source of the Avar's trouble. Moreover," she continued, biting the end off a candy strawberry, "they might be able to create an underwater tributary for the Avar from the other river, the Arrow."

Edmund's face lightened considerably. "That would save this year's crops, without doubt! But do you think it can be done?"

"It has been done before, Edmund," Susan said, "and from what I have heard, I have no reason to believe that it cannot be done again."

"Oh, Su!" he cried, jumping from his seat and swinging her around, feeling for once as though he were actually thirteen and not some old, old man. "This is wonderful!"

His older sister laughed as well, hugging her brother tightly. "It is good to hear you laugh, Ed."

She so rarely used that name with him anymore. He remembered when he had asked her not to use it; he had been so sure that he was grown up and mature. But every so often, when she knew it would be most effective in calming his riled spirit, she would use it again.

"You take too much upon yourself." Her voice was unmistakably solemn. "I worry about you, Ed."

He smiled and shook his head. "Our Brother trusts me to manage his affairs when he is unable. And you have your own concerns, and our Sister Lucy is not yet old enough to partake in too much government. Although, she does try."

Susan smiled. "Lucy will do what Lucy will do. Which often ends up being much of what we do. But this worry of yours is unhealthy. You look pale and worn, Brother."

"I will rest tonight, and tomorrow, when you hear the news from the nymphs, I am sure our situation will have improved." He said, stealing the last strawberry and putting it away in two bites. "And now I want my dinner."

"Cook has it waiting for you."

The next morning dawned bright and sharply clear. Midsummer heat shimmered inches above the exposed rocks in the ocean, and the mermaids had retreated deep into their undersea caverns for the blessed cool of the water. The earth itself seemed thirsty, and Edmund's throat tightened as the stinging taste of salt bit the inside of his mouth.

Susan had met him in the hallway, accompanied by two nymphs, one of the wood and the other of the river. They assured him that an underground tributary was the surest route to the renewal of the river, and he had given them permission to put it into effect. Susan had ridden away towards the site of the operation, determined to give any assistance she could and see the success of the experiment.

Edmund had been told that he had a supplicant waiting for him in the audience hall. So, much as he wanted to do as Susan was, he turned his unwilling feet towards the supplicants' hall.

His visitor was gazing out the large windows behind the thrones, the ones that fronted the sea, and her rather…transparent nature was highlighted beautifully by the clear day outside. River nymphs were always somewhat ethereal on land, and for one of them to waste more time than necessary out of its native element was a rarity. He knew that this must be a dire situation.

"My Lady," he said, startling the woman from where she watched the ocean, "I am at your service."

"My King." She curtsied deeply before him. "I have brought news of the Avar's trouble."

Edmund was attentive. He gestured the woman to a seat at the table and took one right next to her, insides writhing as he spent a few desperate moments puzzling all possible problems.

"Your Majesty, the river is being chained."

His face went pale with anger. "Who has denied our edict in this manner? Who built a bridge or a dam where the people of the river declared none were to exist?"

"King Edmund, you need not fear that one of your people has committed this atrocity. As you know, the river originates in the northern realm, the realm of giants. They have harnessed the river to sawmills and grain mills, and it has depleted the strength of the water. Moreover, it has injured some of my sisters and brothers."

For a moment, Edmund sensed elemental fury building within the incarnation of natural strength that sat before him.

"I hastened from my home in the north to inform you of our plight, my King. We have also sent messages to King Peter, whom we understand to be leading an army against the giants. We beg his assistance in throwing off the heavy harness of these vile giants."

"And he will grant it, this I know," Edmund said, rising abruptly from his seat, "I shall send a letter to him at once."

The girl's face lit up in a true smile. "I thank you, King Edmund. You are truly Just."

And she faded from sight.

Edmund stood for one moment, relief spreading palpably through his body. Peter could solve this problem. Peter was on his way to solve the problem.

Now, he had to write that letter…

Susan's arms were bare and covered with muddy water when she heard her brother's cheerful hail. Pushing strands of her dark hair from her face, she shielded her eyes against the sun and waved. Her brother dismounted and came over. Beavers, minks and weasels bowed to him, and turned back to removing the mud that the river sprites were disgorging from the riverbed. Already the smaller river was flowing easily along its new underground passage, but there was still a good deal of sodden earth to be moved. Many of the river denizens were taking it for their houses.

Mr. Beaver was happily surveying and ordering his neighbors about in their labor.

"King Edmund, your Majesty!" he said, bowing low over one claw, "'tis a joy to see you about!"

"Thank you, good Beaver," he replied, smiling, "Thank Aslan that I can be about!"

"Thank Aslan that the work is going ahead as swiftly as planned." Susan said. "After all the worry we had about the route the river was going to take this morning, I was afraid that you might come and see nothing had been accomplished."

"Great things have been accomplished," he told her, "for the visitor I had this morning was from the mouth of the Avar, and she told me where the problem had originated."

Susan gasped. "Wonderful news indeed! What ails the Avar?"

"It seems our neighbors the giants are responsible. They have built so many dams and mills that the river sprites are being harmed by their presence. Hence the decrease of the river."

"Have you sent word to our Brother?" Susan asked, immediately, "He will want to know."

"A letter went off with the fastest rider we have, Susan."

She beamed. "Excellent! Now, Brother," she said, pointing to a fresh bank of mud that had just been thrown up on shore, "why don't you take that shovel, and the two of us can shift this to where it belongs."

"With pleasure, Su," he said, slopping one shovel after another into a wagon, where an industrious mink waited to take it to his winter hovel.

The hours of exercise, talk, and laughter were exactly what he needed. As his muscled started to ache pleasantly, the weight of his crown eased off his head, and he began to feel as lighthearted as all his subjects.

Towards the evening, the river sprites, who had been working much faster than they, came out of the tunnel and announced that the passage was complete. Such cheers! Edmund and Susan whistled and laughed with everyone else, and Edmund used a little of his authority to declare holiday, which meant that everyone had full license to laugh as much as he or she wanted. The fauns dashed about wildly—they had been curiously absent while the work was going on—and the satyrs even emerged from the woods, as the evening drew closer.

They took their fete to the village near the mouth of the great river, where the villagers, already receiving the benefits of the underground tributary, were also rejoicing in the ability to bathe and properly wash their clothes and feed their plants. Susan and Edmund became, instead of monarchs, friends and neighbors, who had done their best during a terrible time of trouble.

Children were splashing in the water, which, though much greater than its former flow, was nowhere near its original volume, and it was safe for them to play in it. The women of the village brought in new potatoes, some fresh ears of corn, so newly ripened that all the sweetness of the sun was encompassed in their taste. Boiled together, they made a delicious meal after all the struggles of the day.

Animals too staggered out of the woods and drank deeply from the renewed river, and all the children screamed in delighted fright as one of the gentle talking bears tossed them around between his paws.

The music of the fauns piped happily through the trees, and Edmund and Susan danced together like the children that they still were, joined by the rest of the villagers.

The world span, and the stars came out, and they were happy, and wet, and full, and tired, and Edmund and Susan both slept where they fell, which was in the sweet smelling haymow of a farmer.

"Your Majesty! King Edmund!"

There was something tickling the inside of his nose. Edmund groaned, sneezed, and peeled open his sticky eyelids. He still could never quite reconcile himself to waking up to a furry face.

"M-Mr. Beaver!"

The whiskers that had been tickling his nose receded as the animal retreated to a more respectful distance.

"Your Majesty, I bring a message from your rider, who reached your royal Brother, King Peter, yesterday night."

Edmund leaned over and shook Susan awake.

"What has my Brother to tell us?"

"He says that he will take care of the problem. For he has seen himself the damage that has been caused by the giants' careless use of the resource of the river."

Susan laughed and clapped her hands. "Then everything will be well! How does our Brother fare in his campaign?"

"He writes that he met with an encampment of scouts yesterday, and Queen Lucy's idea of iron spears upheld over the footmen's heads was quite effective whenever the giants attempted to win by crushing alone. He says that they sent these off with ease, hopefully running back to the capital to tell the King and Queen that further violation of Narnian borders will not be tolerated!"

Several villagers, who had been listening closely, raised a mighty cheer, which reverberated back and forth through the sunlit woods. Susan smiled and flopped backwards onto the bales of hay. Edmund smiled to see her so disheveled. Usually she had to scold him to remember to change his doublet whenever it became soiled. But here she was, straw all over her clothes and her hair, stuck together with mud and dirtied beyond recognition by the water and grime.

"Hurrah Narnia and the Lion!" Mr. Beaver cried.

"Narnia and the Lion!"

Three weeks later, King Peter and Queen Lucy returned to Cair Paravel. During this campaign, Peter attained his title 'the Magnificent'. While he had been away, his brother had attained the name 'the Just'.

Lucy, who seemed much unchanged by her involvement, spent the whole first dinner together telling everyone how it had been her idea to make spears of solid iron and have them held aloft so that the giants could not step on them without running their feet through.

Susan, who was slightly shocked over the youthful enthusiasm and bloodthirstiness that she saw in her sister, recommended to Peter that Lucy be made to stay indoors and learn…gentler tasks for the next few weeks. But after Lucy shot Peter a desperate look, Peter said that as long as she could remember all of her training as a lady, she was more than capable of learning different things. So Lucy fell silent, happily contemplating mornings practicing with a wooden sword with the sons of the other Lords of Narnia, and Susan kept her mouth shut, only shooting half reproving glances towards her older brother and younger sister.

Edmund was happy to have his brother back. The freedom that he had imagined was quite different from the actuality of not having his older brother's steadying hand right when he needed it.

They all wandered together out onto the balcony, listening to the singing of the mermaids. The sun set slowly, drawing out the beautiful colors of the sky until twilight deepened, leaving only the dark blue blanket of the sky pierced by the diamonds of the stars. And there was no need to speak. They were together. They were a family.

Author's Notes:

Since I had some requests about the meaning of heraldic symbols, I'm going to post some explanation of colors and devices.

Or (gold): Generosity/Elevation of mind

Argent (silver): Peace/Sincerity

Gules (red): Warrior/martyr. Military strength or ambition

Vert (green): Hope, joy, loyalty in love

Azure (blue): Truth/loyalty

Sable (black): Constancy/grief

Purpure (purple): Royalty/sovereignty/justice

Tawny (orange): Worthy ambition

Sanguine (maroon): Patience in battle/victory

Stag (Susan's arms): One who will not fight unless provoked. Peace and harmony.

Dove (Lucy's arms): Loving constancy and peace; the Holy Spirit; with an olive branch in its bill, it signifies a harbinger of good tidings.

Lion (Peter and Edmund's arms): Dauntless courage

Spear (Lord Dar's arms): Honorable warrior, valiant knight

Scimitar (Prince Rabadash): Not an accepted heraldic symbol, but I figured that since the Calormene weapon of choice is usually the scimitar, I wanted Rabadash to have those on his arms.