Fields of Golden Barley Chapter Two, a chronicles of narnia fanfic

So she took her love for to gaze awhile,

Among the fields of barley.
In his arms she fell as her hair came down,
Among the fields of gold.

Corin's POV

I didn't have to wait long to find out the results of the Parliamentary decision. Within minutes of my final appeal, runners – young boys employed by the noblemen to carry and distribute news to the marketplaces – burst out of the very doors I had just exited and began tearing down the streets and byways to the more inhabited areas of Anvard. I heard with joy their cries. "Parliament elects to end tax-funded pensions!" "Prince Corin's call for relief of commoners wins over majority of Parliament!" I'd had every assurance of victory when I exited the Hall, but this confirmation elated me, and I pumped my clenched fist in exultation. "Yes, yes!" I exclaimed over and over again. "Thank You, Aslan!"

I must have said "Thank You, Aslan" at least thirty times when I was spun around by a euphoric and out-of-breath brother. "By the white summit of Stormness!" he exclaimed breathlessly. "You…they…it…victory!" he finally managed to cry out, throwing his arms in the air.

I laughed aloud, the joy emanating from my twin affecting me as well. "I know, Cor. Seeing how fast the runners were sprinting, I imagine that half the kingdom knows by now."

Cor caught his breath and slung his arm over my shoulder. "You, my twin, are the greatest thing Archenland has seen since Pire was slain by Sir Olvin – and Olvin can't claim to have exited Parliament Hall to a standing ovation"

I grinned. "You realize that was five-and-a-half centuries ago?"

"Precisely my point!" Cor yelled, still euphoric. "No prince has ever addressed our Parliament! You, on the other hand, insulted them, called them traitors, threatened to lead a popular revolt of Archenland peasants, and then persuaded the vast majority of them to support your proposal. I don't understand it – is this just all in a day's work for you?" Cor sighed, shaking his head. "Sometimes I honestly believe you would be the better king of the two of us."

"Don't say that." I scowled playfully. "You've already robbed me of my kingdom; I'll knock you down if you try to give it back."

My brother inclined his head in mock defeat. "Oh alright, if I must. Mark my words, I'll be the only king ever in our history to reign under a prince's shadow. You know as well as I do that you're a folk hero from this day forward." Again he shook his head. "I don't know how I'll ever live up to the kingly standard."

"You'll make it as king because I'll be standing behind you every step of the way – you know this, Cor." I smiled as I said this, but I was deeply sincere. "I'm just a no-name prince. You, on the other hand, were born royalty, yet lived most of your life as a peasant – a slave, more like it - before escaping with a Calormene Tarkheena and saving your native country from a dastard's plan of revenge. The people are enamored with you, my twin! All you have left to do is ascend to the throne – and, of course, marry the Tarkheena." I said with a wink.

Cor quickly looked over at me, a playful grin on his face. "Yes indeed, marry the Tarkheena I must," he said coyly. "But thank you, Corin, for your words. I grew up without the love of a brother, and I will need it to effectively rule this land of ours. Your support of my throne will be invaluable, especially now."

"And you will always have it." My tone was jovial, but I was serious. "This I swear by the Mane of the Lion. Come, let us walk back to the Keep."

We began walking – rather leisurely – back to our home, weaving our way through the crowds that gathered daily in Anvard's marketplaces, neither of us in any hurry. We both wanted to savor this day, as passerbys saw us and cried out salutations which we cheerily returned. But after a short silence, I had a thought. "So what will come first, do you think – your throne or your marriage?"

Cor laughed. "Hopefully my marriage, if Aravis doesn't torture me with a temporary refusal. Our good father could live for many years, and I have no interest in waiting for a bride – though she can't decide between you and me."

"What?!"

"Oh yes. She told me quite frankly several days ago that she didn't know which of us she likes best. She said it ought to be you, since you're the rough-and-tumble kind. Rather like her, if I may say so. I wouldn't be surprised if I lost out to you – again."

I shook my head. "Opposites, my dear twin, opposites are the key. They are what attract people together. I love Aravis dearly as a sister, but Aslan knows I could never love her as anything else. We are too alike, you know this. You, on the other hand, are the sensible one among us – you two are perfect for each other. Besides," I grinned wickedly, "she said she likes me best, which likely means she loves you best."

A grin slowly widened over my brother's features. "I like your logic, Corin. However illogical it may be, I like it very much."

At that, I had to stop walking – I was laughing too hard. "By Pire's summits, Cor!" I finally gasped, clutching the stone wall lined alongside the cobblestone road to keep my balance, ignoring the looks I was receiving from bystanders. "Don't torture yourself any longer – it's starting to torture me! Just buck yourself up, lad, and ask the girl!"

"Oh, very humorous art thou, brother mine," Cor glowered, though his eyes were twinkling with mirth – his response was only causing me to laugh harder. "Know that you will be among the first to know if I make a formal proposition to my lady love."

"Praise be!" I said as soon as I was able to regain my voice. "I eagerly await the day. But tell me – exactly how did it fare in the Hall after I left?"

Cor let out a chuckle. "The vote was all but unanimous. Half of Parliament wanted to be Lord Tallum's second, and Dar and Darrin called for an immediate vote. After the usual last-minute discussion over the precise wording of the resolution, no one dared speak out against it. Even Lord Kollin's faction deserted him."

"And Lord Kollin himself?"

Cor shook his head. "Opposed to the end, hence the 'all but unanimous' bit. Don't fret over him, though – he knew he was beaten before the vote was called. You beat him, brother mine, no one disputes that. Your resolution passed without a hitch and is effective tomorrow. You've won, plain and simple."

I smiled, but shook my head. "No Cor," I said quietly, looking out at the usual hustle and bustle of Anvard's streets, gazing at the common people passing us by, completing their daily duties, feeling relieved in my heart once again that a tragedy had been averted. "They won."

…

We were silent as we resumed our stroll. Several minutes passed before we heard a somewhat frantic voice behind us. "Your Highnesses!"

We both turned instantly to see a half-running, half-walking Lord Tallum making haste after us, pressing his way through the crowds. Cor instantly trotted back to him with myself directly behind him and the knight slowed his pace, a smile of gratitude on his lips.

"My thanks, good sirs," he panted. "I'm not as youthful any longer as I want myself to be."

My brother laughed as I grinned and reached out to steady the good nobleman on his feet. "Pace yourself, my good man. With grey hairs comes greater insight, not greater fleetness of foot."

"I will grant you that, my Prince." Tallum laughed. "And may I also congratulate you, for your words in the Hall this day have changed the hearts and minds of the most influential men in the land. This day should've come much earlier, and it is a mark on our character that it took someone from outside our ranks to open our eyes. But you have done that, and Archenland is the better for it"

I cast my eyes downward, abashed at Tallum's praise. "Aslan cares for His own, Sir Tallum, and it was none other than He who raised me up to argue on the common man's behalf. To the Lion should the ultimate praise go; not to me, who merely acted as His obedient messenger."

The elder man's eyes were shining by the time I fell silent. "Would that Aslan had blessed me with a son such as you, but I give Him thanks for allowing me to serve such a Prince." he said quietly. Cor murmured his assent as the knight quickly cleared his throat. "But I digress. I was commissioned by His Majesty your father to bring two items of business to your attention, the first being the Narnian Spring Solstice Festival and Tournament at Cair Paravel."

I had overlooked that event entirely. Cor looked guilty. "My fault – I was supposed to remind you," before turning back to Tallum. "And what was it our father wanted us know about the Festival?"

"Just if either of you were taking part in the jousting or the knight's tournament?"

I laughed. "If there's no contest that allows me to bash a man's face in, I'm not taking part in it. Cor here is the better swordsman by far of the two of us."

"Duly noted." Tallum chuckled. "I come then to the second item of business; as you, Prince Corin, walked out of the Hall, I remembered of a sudden that you were scheduled for a boxing bout in the near future."

I am? For once in my sixteen years of life, I was at a complete loss for words. I hadn't trained in over a week, my thoughts and attention focused on a plethora of different events ranging from Lucy to Aslan to the present national crisis. Add to that the events of today, and all thoughts of boxing had vanished from my head. If I had a match anytime soon, I was in trouble. "When in the near future, Lord Tallum?"

My face must have betrayed my dismay, for the man gave me an almost apologetic smile before he hesitatingly answered. "Tonight, Your Highness."

…

Three months later…

Two days. I had been present at Cair Paravel for two whole days and nary a word had passed between myself and the object of my silent affections. If I had wondered if she remembered the course of events that took place between her and I at the Archen River, all doubt and wondering was gone.

…

Cor, myself, and the Archenland delegation had arrived at Cair Paravel the day prior to the Festival. King Edmund had met us in the courtyard as we cantered in, shaking Cor's hand and slapping me on the back in his normal jolly manner of greeting old friends. Queen Susan was right behind him, and laughed softly as I kissed her hand and said "Well met, mother," as had been my pet name for her the past ten years.

"How fares the High King?" Cor had asked as he helped Aravis down from her palfrey. Lord Peridan, who had just come on the scene and was greeting our convoy, replied. "He rides from the North with Her Majesty Queen Lucy and General Oreius, and will be arriving at the Cair early on the morrow, before the festival begins." More was said, as greetings and blessings were bestowed all around, but I heard scarcely little. Peridan's words reminded me of whom I was to see again for the first time in little under a year, and my heart quickened. Steady, old boy, steady. Oh, but bother everything, why did you have to go and kiss the girl in the first place? Blast you, Corin, certain times you are worth hating!

My mental strain calmed later on in the evening, as the Narnians wined and dined us in the great dining hall of Cair Paravel. My father had stayed behind at Anvard this time with the majority of Parliament in order to sort out official business, but many of our knights and their ladies had traveled with Cor and I into Narnia, and they were delighted to see their Narnian counterparts once again. Many old friendships were being revived, and I was no stranger to it, enjoying a marvelous conversation with my old friend Tumnus.

Soon enough, Tumnus was asked to dance, and I laughingly encouraged him to go ahead. The night was fast becoming a merry one of drink, music, and dancing, and watching Cor and Aravis dance together was like a balm. For the first time since their dramatic escape from Calormen, Aravis looked truly happy. It was obvious to all that my brother and the Tarkheena had an unspoken understanding between them that wouldn't be unspoken for long. Watching my twin gaze into the eyes of his (undeclared) beloved and seeing the utter joy at his knowledge that all he had to do was finally ask created a feeling of contentment in me. All was right in the world – or at least in Anvard – if Cor and Aravis loved each other.

But just as soon as my gratification came, it left me, and I was left reclining on the knee-length marble columns with only my wine to comfort me, wondering in my heart if I would ever have what Cor had…if I would ever gaze into Lucy's eyes and see the love shining in them that Cor saw in Aravis…if Aslan's will had us to be forever separated and my love to remain forever inside of me, never declared.

I was Corin Thunderfist, He Who Feared No Man – but lo, I feared this.

My eyes clouded, and I moaned quietly as my fears and grief swiftly overtook me. I quickly dashed the tears out of my eyes and sipped my wine, but I wasn't fast enough to escape the notice of a Gentle Queen.

"What is it, Corin?"

I hadn't heard anyone come up behind me, and I was surprised to see Queen Susan seated next to me. "'Tis nothing, good lady."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Now I know something is wrong."

"How so?"

"Because you've never called me 'good lady' once in your life."

That confident, matter-of-fact statement surprised me, and a chuckle escaped from my throat as I bowed my head in mock defeat. "You always could read me like a book, mother." I said, slipping into an informal tone.

"That I could," Susan smiled, easing into the motherly role she'd been to me for the past twelve years, "and I can read you now. What is it that troubles you?"

My gaze fell on the dancers, Cor and Aravis in the midst of them. "Have you ever wanted something or someone so bad that you felt your life couldn't go on without attaining it?" I asked, turning my eyes back to her

I had hit a nerve unknowingly, for her beautiful face tightened and I could see sorrow take hold in her eyes. "Yes," she nodded. "and I thought I had finally attained it in Tashbaan."

Rabadash. "I thought he truly loved me," she went on, eyes beginning to glisten. "But alas, there was only room for one in his heart."

"And that was himself." I finished her sentence. I could see the unshed tears in her eyes, and I hated the Calormene prince for it. "He merely wanted another concubine to round out his collection." I was angry now, furious at the one who would have treated my surrogate mother in such a fashion. "I should have run him through when I had the chance, before Anvard's walls."

"It isn't him, Corin," Susan said hastily, blinking away the moistness in her eyes. "It was that I wanted – still want – to find a man to love, and to be loved in return." She sighed. "Sometimes I wonder if I ever will find such a man."

I hated to see her cry. I tried to cheer her up in the time-honored way I knew how – by being outrageous. "Must be awkward at times, being called 'mother' when no man calls you 'wife'." Susan looked up at me, surprised at my decidedly delicate words, but saw the corners of my mouth twitching upwards. "You scoundrel!" she exclaimed, swatting my shoulder as I laughed. "No indeed, no one has yet accused me of any impropriety in that regard." The Gentle Queen tried to look severe, but failed miserably, soon laughing along with me. "Oh, dearest Corin, you would be the death of civilization and royal manners were it not for my patience."

I winced, remembering my lessons in propriety as a young boy with Susan as my teacher, trying my best to fail and discovering in the process how ungentle the Gentle Queen could be. "You were a mother to me in word and deed, no doubt there – as you always have been," I quickly added, remembering how the young Susan had opened her heart to a hurting child and tried her best to take the place of his lost mother. "I never would've amounted to anything without you."

Her hand was warm on my shoulder and her smile was a salve. "From that first day I saw you as a young child, I have always loved you as my little boy." She softly pulled my head down until it was resting on her lap and I was stretched out on the marble ledge, like we used to do in times past. "I never knew your mother, Corin, but I've loved her son as my own, and I've tried to be a good mother to him in her place." Her fingers were playing with my hair, something she had not done in years, and suddenly I realized how much I had missed her and her "mothering". "Now tell me, little one" she said with a grin, knowingly using the nickname I had always hated, "what's wrong?"

I sighed deeply, not knowing what to say. "Believe me when I say that I cannot speak of it to you yet," I finally said, my head still buried in her lap. "But also believe me when I say that you will be among the first to know when I make it public."

I could tell that was not what she wanted to hear, but she slowly nodded. "Very well then, I shall await the day when you tell me the name of the maiden you are pining for. Yes, my dear boy, I CAN read you perfectly," as my shocked gaze met her mischievous grin. "But I will honor your discretion."

"You have my thanks," I muttered.

"And you," she said brightly, "have my respect. For I've heard tales of your exploits in fair Anvard, both in the ring and in Parliament Hall, and I must say both are very impressive."

I groaned. "I beg you, do not remind me of the fight! I am lucky to have escaped with my life!" I may have exaggerated some, but not much.

The Gently Queen laughed aloud, drawing attention from a few of the dancers. "Yes, your royal father wrote to us describing your appearance immediately following the match. I warrant you will not forget another bout again."

The fight of which we spoke had taken place the night of my now-famous address to Parliament – a fight of which I had forgotten entirely and was reminded of that morning. My opponent was a naval officer in our royal navy and a very trim and fit young man. Lord Tallum had offered to postpone the fight, but I declined, deigning to go on with the bout as planned.

It was the circumstances of the fight that had gained significant attention. News of my Parliamentary address and the end result had made its way around Anvard like wildfire, and the commoners were ecstatic. They had crowded into the city square that night to cheer me on. I do believe they willed me to victory.

My opponent had fought hard, and I was sorely out of shape. Four times I was knocked down, and blood was dripping from my nose and jaw by the middle rounds. I had lost every round up until the last one, when a desperate sudden flurry of punch combinations rocked my foe back on his heels. Seeing my last hope, I quickly forced him into the corner of the ring and lashed out with everything I had left, pummeling my rival with body shot combinations to the ribs and abdomen. As he instinctively lowered his hands to protect his lower body, I threw my left fist into his jaw. Seconds later, my right fist also connected with his jaw and down he went. He couldn't beat the count, and had to be helped to his feet moments after I was declared the winner.

I was exhausted and close to death – so I felt – but was carried back to Anvard Keep on the shoulders of exuberant and grateful Archenlanders. As Cor and our menservants helped me inside just before I collapsed from pain and exhaustion, I heard the roar of the crowd one last time.

"Corin! Corin! Corin!" Over and over they shouted my name. From that day forward, Cor's prediction had come true. I was a folk hero in the eyes of my people. I couldn't walk down a back alley without an escort of commoners. I was welcome at every hearth and home in Anvard. Songs and ballads had been written (quite unnecessarily, in my opinion) about brave Prince Corin staring down his angry foes in Parliament Hall, boldly standing for the rights of his people. As Aravis had told me privately, "You showed your love for your people – now they are returning the goodwill."

"I merely did in Parliament what any good prince should have done in aid of his countrymen." I finally said, hoisting myself up to stand over Susan. "You would've done the same."

My "mother" smiled. "But no one could ever rival your passion, my boy. That has always set you apart – sometimes for good, sometimes not. Now it has gained you the respect of a nation, and it will gain you the eye of the damsel for whom your heart yearns. Of that I do not doubt." She smiled warmly and grasped my hand. "Now be a dear and fetch your 'mum' another glass of wine before she turns in for the evening, will you?"

I bowed low like a court jester. "Anything for you, mum." Her laughter was music to my ears as I moved through the crowd toward the wine. As I poured her a glass, my mind went to her words. "…and it will gain you the eye of the damsel for whom your heart yearns. Of that I do not doubt."

If only it could, mother…if only it could.

Later that night, after Cor saw Aravis off to her chambers, he came whistling back to ours. "By the Mane, what a night!" he said jovially. "These Narnian chaps definitely know how to put on good entertainment. My legs are positively worn out, but a good night's rest will do them a world of good." He collapsed on his bed. "And their beds are divine!"

I remained silent, my mind on tomorrow's events and the fact that I would see Lucy again for the first time in twelve months. Cor seemed to realize this as well, as his jovial mood lessened a bit. "Are you ready for the morrow?" he asked, and I could tell he wasn't just referring to the Festival.

I shrugged. "We'll find out in the morning."

He nodded. "Does Queen Susan know?"

"Cor, what do you think her first reaction would be if I told my surrogate mother that her adopted son was madly in love with her younger sister?"

My twin didn't have to think long. "Not a Gentle reaction, I would warrant."

"Exactly."

Minutes later, I was in my bed and Cor was in his. I thought he had dozed off, but then I heard him from the other side of the room. "What are you going to do?"

"Do what I should've done from the very beginning."

"Which is?"

I sighed, fatigue slowly overtaking me. "Wait on Aslan, Cor. That's what He would have me do."

In the end, I didn't have to wait very long…

…

I applauded as I watched yet another Archenland knight vanquish his opponent and claim 2nd Prize in jousting. 1st Prize went to the Narnian challenger (General Oreius) – in fact, the Narnians were winning the day. Queen Susan had taken 1st Prize in the Archery Contest, at which no one was surprised. High King Peter had taken part in the Swordsman Competition and had lived up to his title – Magnificent he was, as he easily claimed the championship, defeating his own brother in the final match as King Edmund claimed 2nd Prize. Having been persuaded by Aravis to join my brother in the Swordsman Competition, I reluctantly donned a suit of armor and proceeded to claim the most inglorious title of 21st-ranked champion, thus proving once and for all that swordfighting was not my specialty.

The shock of the day had come when Cor defeated the heavily favored Terebinthian champion to take 3rd Prize. The Archenlanders (led by myself) and the Narnians had erupted in cheers and thunderous applause, and even the Narnian monarchs set down their trophies to join us in our celebration. The Crown Prince of Archenland had achieved the nigh impossible, and Anvard would be celebrating our good showing at this Festival when we returned home.

The Spring Festival was blessed with record attendance this year, with spectators and participants coming from places such as Archenland, the Lone Islands, Terebinthia, Galma, The Seven Isles, and even the Calormene Empire. The actual fairgrounds were just outside the city limits – for Cair Paravel by this time had become quite a bustling town – and the people flocked to it in high numbers. I never discovered the number, but masses added up to the thousands. The weather conditions were better than hoped for, and the spirit of the day was positive and festive.

But though outwardly I smiled and was genuinely happy at our success in the competitions, inwardly I was dejected and melancholy.

I had seen Lucy several times that day; first, as she and the High King cantered in to the courtyard early in the morning after returning from the North. She had seen me then, and no word of greeting or acknowledgment came from her lips; instead, she turning away. It cut me to the heart, but I was wise enough not to force the issue.

The Valiant Queen opened the day's contests, and though I hadn't seen her in a long expanse of time, I could tell that my oldest friend was not herself. My suspicion was reinforced throughout the day, as the Festival approached its ending. I wondered, as I stood beside Tumnus with my brother in the courtyard of the Cair waiting for him to dispose of his armor so I could get rid of mine, if I had something to do with that…

"…then Duke Tinuviel of Avra will vie for the right to court her, but I can't think of any who will challenge him. After this – 'tis mostly ceremonial anyway, he has no guarantee that she'll hear his suit – the fireworks shall begin, after which we shall all congregate to the Cair for the celebratory feast." Tumnus was saying to Cor.

Duke Tinuviel…vie for the right…hear his suit? "Beg pardon, master Faun," I quickly interrupted the faun as he was about to continue. "What is this about Duke Tinuviel?"

Tumnus turned to me just as Cor blanched. His stricken look made me feel sick to my stomach, and I instinctively knew what Tumnus was going to say. "The Duke of Avra will officially ask High King Peter for permission to court his sister, her majesty Queen Lucy. This will mean nothing if she refuses his suit, but the Duke is merely seeking permission to ask her." The Faun seemed pleased with the proceedings. "First Duke Tinuviel will issue a mostly ceremonial challenge to any who denies him his right to make this request of the High King – a challenge of swordsmanship. If anyone stands forward, they will fight until one of the combatants is disarmed. The victor will then make his request of the High King." Tumnus grinned. "Finally we shall see if our beloved Queen Lucy can find a man worthy of her lov—Corin?"

For I had turned on my heel and began striding back to the Festival with Cor at my heels.

I heard Tumnus' anxious voice behind me. "Did I say something wrong, Prince Cor?"

My twin's reply spurred me on. "I don't know yet, Master Tumnus."

I reached the lists just in time, for Tinuviel had moments before entered the lists to the roar of approval from the Lone Island attendees. As the roar sustained, my panic grew. Think, Corin, think. Blast you, Corin, think man! What would Aslan have you do?

The crier stepped forward. "His Grace, the Duke of Avra, Lord Tinuviel, challenges any man within hearing, that if such man would challenge the right of His Grace to ask the High King of Narnia for permission to court his royal sister, he should step forth and submit himself to the rules of combat!"

What would You have me do, Aslan?

Then I remembered.

When the time comes, know this – true love is not in words. It manifests itself in deeds, in actions. It shows itself to the poor and lowly in the form of the high and powerful. To show true love, one must be courageous and willing to fight for those he loves, even when others question him. Remember this, when the time comes for you to act on it.

"Will any among you challenge His Grace, the Duke of Avra?"

Oh dear Aslan…when You said "fight for those he loves", I never thought You meant it literally…

"Any among you?"

I looked back at Cor. I think he knew what I was going to say before I said it. I grasped the hilt of my sword, still buried in its sheath. "I'm going in there."

Cor halfheartedly tried to talk me out of it. I think the romantic side of him wanted me to go in and fight to the death – he would have done the same if the hand of Aravis was at stake. "He could kill you, if he has the chance."

I grinned roguishly. "If there's one thing boxing has taught me, brother of mine, it's how to duck."

Then before Cor, or Tumnus, or anyone else could say another word, I had ducked under the streaming banner which roped off the lists and stepped into the expansive square.

"I, PRINCE CORIN OF ARCHENLAND, CHALLENGE LORD TINUVIEL FOR THE PERMISSION OF THE HIGH KING TO COURT QUEEN LUCY!" I roared, then added for good measure, "THE VALIANT!"

Everyone within sight of this fell silent…

…and remained silent.

Then my stunned countrymen found their voices, realizing the full consequence of my words. By the Lion, what a roar they raised then! Clanging their shields together, waving their swords and banners high above their heads, yelling at the top of their lungs – it made one proud to be a son of the mountains that day!

I had my eyes fixed on the royal booth, where the Narnian monarchs watched the proceedings below. Queen Susan had gone pale, looked ready to faint actually, but was steadied by her naiad attendants. I could see that "Mum" had finally realized who my secret true love was. King Edmund had a silly grin on his face, not truly believing at first that I was in earnest. I saw him turn to his older brother and speak. I found out months later that he had told the High King, "If this is one of his pranks, I will kill him myself." As for the High King, I could see the shock on his face as he slowly came to terms with what I was doing – and the implications therein. I could see the silent question in his gaze as he turned his eyes to his youngest sister. Did you know anything of this?

As for the Valiant Queen herself, I couldn't read her emotions – which was strange, as I had always been able to easily ascertain her sentiments. Surprise flickered across her face, followed by…I couldn't tell. Anger? Fear?

Hope?

The crier stepped forward again. "Prince Corin has challenged His Grace, the Duke of Avra to single combat!"

Oh. Right.

Killing a man with bare fists was possible, but not entirely easy. Killing a man with a sword, however, was just a matter of one fortunate blow. I knew Cor – who was a master swordsman – could have easily defeated Tinuviel. The question was, could I?

Speaking of Tinuviel, he had been surprised as everyone else when I stepped forward into the lists and issued my challenge, but I could see now that his surprise had turned into wrath. A sixteen-year-old youth had challenged him for a woman's hand – that was an implied insult to his manhood – and he was intent on making me pay for his perceived humiliation. I had no intention of killing Tinuviel (unless he left me no choice in the matter), but of his true intentions I was uncertain.

Lucy stood, her red-and-yellow embroidery in her hand. King Peter stood next to her. I could see her eyes search out Tinuviel, then turn to me. It was then I knew she feared for me. If I had been older and wiser, I would have been fearful as well, for Tinuviel was not a bad swordsman. But I only felt a white-hot burning in me to fight for Lucy, to finally show the world that Corin of Archenland was willing and able to risk bloodshed and injury for the honor of loving a Queen.

Peter whispered in her ear, she faintly trembled, then the embroidery fell to the ground. And when I saw it come to a stop on the sand of the lists, I felt peace wash through me and knew that I had judged Aslan's words rightly.

Only, the feeling of peace vanished as Tinuviel yelled his war-cry and charged.

What followed next was a match for the ages. I cannot tell you how long it lasted; the official timekeeper, a Dwarf, was so enthralled by the combat that he forgot to time the contest. I can only speak of how utterly exhausting it was, defending your life with only a sword, as neither Tinuviel nor I had shields.

Crash! Clang! Clash! The song of the sword played its deadly music time and again. Over and over, we made the same moves, gave the same thrusts, and swung our blades the exact way we'd swung them seconds earlier. For ages, it seemed, we fought, neither myself nor Tinuviel gaining any upper hand. For hours, it seemed, we cajoled our blades to strike, to swing, to thrust, trying to will ourselves to victory.

Lord Peridan told me days afterwards that the lists were sparsely congregated at the beginning of the fight. But word spread quickly that a sword match of unprecedented fervor and emotion was taking place, and so thousands upon thousands of fairgoers made their way to the open tiltyard, surrounding the expansive lists in hopes to see this contest of contests. Narnians of all breeds, races, and types stood next to rugged Archenlanders, who stood next to tanned sheepherders from the Islands and Isles, who stood next to dark skinned Calormenes, all enthralled by the combat raging before their eyes.

After we had traded blows for what seemed like ages, with neither of us injured or come close to being disarmed, I stepped away and lowered my blade, calling out "TIME!" Lord Tinuviel stepped back, breathing heavily. "Do you crave a respite, Prince Corin?" the crier – a Talking Bear by the name of Boru – asked me.

"Two minutes?"

Boru nodded "Granted. TWO MINUTE RESPITE!" he bellowed out to the massive crowd.

I gazed at Tinuviel with a critical eye, measuring him up as I would any opponent in the ring. He's well older than I, but still a young man…his thrusts have been impulsive and easily defensible…when he sees an opening, he concentrates on nothing else.

I had two minutes to effect a plan that would either win me the contest or kill me.

Moving quickly, I laid my sword in the dust and stripped off my armor, reclaiming my sword when I was finished. "Ready!" I called out to the crier.

Gasps went up from all around the lists. "What is he doing?" "He's mad!" "Tinuviel will kill him for sure…" King Peter and King Edmund were half out of their seats, ready to intervene, when I was jerked around by a furious brother.

"What. Are. You. Doing?" he curtly asked through his teeth, pointing at my discarded armor.

I shook my head. "Don't have the time to explain. Get off the lists before they expel you from the Festival."

"You're practically begging him to kill you!" he hissed at me frantically.

"That's what I WANT him to think. Now go!"

Cor searched my eyes, most likely for some semblance of sanity. All I had were my breeches and cotton shirt. Depriving oneself of armor in a sword fight is neither something desirable nor advisable. But I was fast becoming exhausted and knew I had to win – or lose – the match quickly. Soon, my twin sighed and turned away. I turned back to Tinuviel. Seeing his eyes feasting on my unprotected body, free of armor, I had a glimmer of doubt in my strategy and turned back to Cor. "Give my regards to Father," I called to his retreating back, "just in case."

Turning to face my antagonist, I barely heard Boru yell "TIME!" before the Duke of Avra was upon me. I parried his frenetic blows the best I could, moving in rhythm with his propulsion. But one of his thrusts got through my defenses...

I cried out as his blade cut into my left shoulder, and I felt the cool stream of red fluid began to roll down my chest. I stumbled, and instead of stepping back and allowing me to regain my footing (as was the honorable policy regarding an injured swordsman in the lists), Tinuviel's blade whistled down once more, and as I jerked out of its path, it left a red gash across my chest.

"FOR SHAME!" roared the crowd, and through my pain I could see knights of Archenland with swords drawn, ready to exact revenge on my less-than-honorable opponent. But Cor was instantly there in the midst of them, commanding them to sheath their blades, that justice would be meted out accordingly. Praise Aslan, they obeyed their Crown Prince, and war with the Lone Islands was assuredly averted.

The pain was momentarily blinding, and I was gasping to breath. The gash wasn't deep, a scratch more than anything, but it was long, and bleeding continuously. But after a few deep breaths, I was able to see clearly and found that I could lift my sword and continue. I scarcely had enough time to recover before Tinuviel was on me again.

Ah, but boxing training is a fine thing, even in sword fighting, for it taught me to keep moving at all costs – and in this circumstance that advice saved my life. I stumbled away from the Duke's blade, raising my own to meet his attack. Free of my armor, I was lighter, quicker, and more agile, thus able to meet my opponent's assault with greater speed. I fought hard, parrying every blow, matching every movement. But above his skills with a sword, Tinuviel's black character shined through, for when he discovered that I was still able to fight, he (like a child at play) stuck out his foot, and I tripped over it and fell to the sand. As I instinctively rolled away, his blade cut a bloody gash across my back. I couldn't hold in the pain, and cried out in agony.

"FOR SHAME!" came the roars of disapproval again. Again Archenland knights jumped to their feet, swords in hand, and it took Tumnus and Oreius to aid Cor in pacifying them once more.

I regained my feet only to instantly collapse to my knees, believing it was over, that I had nothing left, that I would be dead if I reentered the fight.

Then I saw Him.

He was in a haze, not actually there in person, but nonetheless He was there where I could see Him. The Great Lion smiled at me and whispered, "Well done." Then a gust of wind from the sea blew in, and He was gone. And where I had just seen His wonderful face, I saw Lucy in the royal pavilion, her beautiful face etched with worry, and I remembered anew why I was fighting.

Strength once again filled my sinews, and I knew I had the blessing of the Lion upon me. I got to my feet as the crowd gasped in surprise and shock, and hoisted my sword in my palm. "In Your name and by Your power, oh Aslan, will I conquer." I whispered, repeating the ancient knightly oath of Archenland. I stood tall, ignoring the blood that made its way in tiny streams down my legs, and waited for Tinuviel's charge. He didn't disappoint, and it lost him the contest.

What happened next became the most talked-about item of news for months after its occurrence. I purposefully kept the left side of my body open to his blade, silently begging him to see it. He did, and brought his blade down prematurely. I had assumed rightly that he was impulsive. I sidestepped his thrust with speed that surprised even myself and crashed my blade against his back with all the strength I could muster. His armor saved his life, but the force of the blow sent him facedown into the sand. His sword slipped through his fingertips, and when he rolled over, he found my blade at his neck. "Mercy!" was the first word that issued from his lips.

Breathing heavily, I struggled to speak. "Take your life," I finally was able to say, withdrawing my blade from his neck. "I have no need of it." Boru moved in, aided Tinuviel to his feet, and I turned to face the crowds...

...and spun around as I heard Tinuviel cried out in anger and push Boru away. In his hand was his sword, and it was whistling down towards my head as cries of horror came from the thousands watching this.

Ah, but boxing training truly is a fine thing!

I instinctively stepped into his thrust, reaching out to seize his fist with a grasp of iron. My right fist crashed into his face, and Tinuviel stumbled back, losing his sword in the process. Again, my fist crashed into face, and again he stumbled back. Once more, my fist made hard contact with his jaw, and the Duke of Avra ignobly crumpled to the sand, becoming the twentieth person in history to have been knocked unconscious by Corin Thunderfist.

It was then the cheers came.

In my exhausted haze, I could faintly hear the thunderous applause and shouts of approval that rang from the overjoyed onlookers. I could somewhat see the joyous celebration from the Archenland delegation, Cor and Aravis in the midst of them. The Narnians were intermingling with them, just as overjoyed as their Archenland counterparts, clapping each other on the back and shaking hands with Cor.

I held my sword aloft, raising it high above my weary head, and the roars intensified and grew, swelling until it almost made my heart burst. Years later, a Galmian painter with a long memory was able to capture that pose almost perfectly, and it still is a famous painting in Archenland to this day.

As the ecstasy subsided, I limped towards the royal pavilion, pain filling my body with every step. I brought the flat of my sword up to my face in salute to the High King, and ingloriously stumbled to a stop.

"King Peter the Magnificent, High King over all Narnia and her dominions throughout the world," I began before I was forced to stop from lack of breath. I had last a good amount of blood, more than I realized. "Having challenged and defeated His Grace, the Duke of Avra, I now make my request of you for your permission to ask your royal sister for the right to court her."

Few times, if ever, had I seen the High King speechless. This was one of them.

"Prince Corin," he began, still visibly startled at the turn of events. "As victor of the challenge and conqueror of His Grac-"

"Oh, come off it, Peter," I retorted breathlessly, still struggling to catch my breath as both Queens gasped and King Edmund gaped. I had not been this informal with the High King in years – and never in public. "I have blood running down my back, my chest, my arms, and I know not how long I can remain standing, for my legs feel like they could go any moment. I beg your mercy to give me a simple 'yes' or 'no'."

Peter's eyes hardened, but it was not in anger. He rose and stood at the front of the pavilion, every inch of him a High King, resolution in his gait. "You, Prince Corin, have earned the right to stand before me and make this request," he said with manly firmness. "And the answer is 'yes'," he added with a slight grin.

I whispered my thanks as I brought the flat of my sword up to my face in salute, trying to smile through the pain as I turned back toward my waiting countrymen.

And promptly collapsed, facedown, on the sand.