The suggested categories are:

a. an emotion

b. a color

c. an adjective

d. an element (fire, earth, air or water)

e. a Creature or Animal (must be mentioned somewhere in one of Lewis's Narnia books).

From Ashleigh M, I have fear, red, worried, earth, and Centaur. Here's the story I made from them.

Disclaimer: Edmund and Peter Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.

WEATHERING THE STORM

The last few days had been . . . difficult, to say the least. Susan and Lucy had been in Archenland for a week already, visiting King Lune and his family, and they weren't due back for several days more. Peter and Edmund both had looked forward to spending some time on their own, "just the men," together, but Edmund had caught cold and spent the first few days of the girls' absence confined to his bed. He wasn't that good at bed rest even at the best of times. Without Susan to mother him and Lucy to entertain him, he had become increasingly petulant and whiny.

Peter had spent what time he could with him, but he had his hands full trying to see to his own duties along with the most urgent of Susan's and Lucy's and Edmund's. He often worked late into the night, and when he finally did leave his study, he frequently found Edmund curled up in a blanket in front of his door, sound asleep, waiting on him. And, always with an indulgent smile, he'd scoop Edmund up, blanket and all, and carry him to his bed. And sometimes, if he was exceptionally tired, Peter would climb under the covers next to him, oblivious to everything until the sun woke them both the next morning.

Tonight was different. Maybe it was because Peter didn't know what he was going to do, short of an outright threat of war, to silence the increasingly acrimonious insinuations from Calormen that the Lone Islands were rightly theirs. Or maybe it was because he didn't know, without making mention of her empty-headedness and no doubt causing irreparable offense thereby, how to graciously respond to the Archenlandish Duke's observations that his daughter would make a fine Queen of Narnia when she and Peter both turned sixteen in the coming summer. Maybe it was just the constant and endless tugging of responsibility from every side. Whatever it was, Peter was feeling exceptionally tired and snappish. The storm wasn't helping.

He didn't mind the thunder and lightning himself. In fact, he rather enjoyed how cosy it made the Cair feel, but he knew his brother and sisters were often frightened by it, and it always made him worry for them. Edmund, despite his bravery in battle, despite being far older than his years in judgement and intelligence, was the worst of them, and Peter wasn't surprised when he heard a hesitant knock at his study door. He wasn't surprised, but he wasn't particularly happy about it either. The stack of correspondence he'd been told was urgent seemed to grow rather than shrink the more he worked at it, and the ache in his head seemed to increase with the lateness of the hour.

He rubbed his eyes. "Come in, Edmund."

He saw the tousled black hair first and then the big dark eyes peeked hesitantly around the door. "Are you– Aren't you going to sleep tonight, Peter?"

With a sigh, Peter looked back at the letter at the top of the stack. How many ambassadors should he send to treat with Telmar and who ought they to be?

"In a little while, Ed. You should go on to bed."

Edmund caught his breath and looked up as the lightning flashed and a boom of thunder followed on its heels. Then he came into the room, dragging his blanket behind him.

"It's pretty late," he said, trying to look unconcerned and failing miserably. "Can't you do that tomorrow?"

Peter frowned. "By tomorrow this stack will be twice as high. You know how it is. Go on now. I'll see you in the morning."

"Couldn't I just . . . " Chewing his lower lip, Edmund looked out at the pitchy sky. "Couldn't I just stay in here till you're done?"

Again came the thunder and lightning, and he scurried to Peter's side of the desk, his eyes impossibly bigger than before. Peter scowled at him, not surprised to see that, once again, he was wearing nothing but his thin nightshirt and his feet were bare.

"What have I told you about keeping warm, Ed? You're just getting over a cold. Do you want to have to stay in bed for another week? Susan will kill us both if you get pneumonia."

Edmund ducked his head. "I'm sorry, Peter. I just–"

Once more the storm crashed, and he clutched at Peter's arm, overturning the inkwell and sloshing ink all over the papers Peter had labored over since early morning.

Peter sprang to his feet. "Edmund!"

Edmund shrank back from him. "I'm– I'm sorry. I didn't–"

"I've been all day on those!"

"I didn't mean to." Edmund tried to blot the ink with his bare hands, making more of a mess than before. "I was just– The storm–"

He flinched at another boom and crash, clenching his fists and looking pleadingly at Peter. Peter only pressed his lips into a hard line.

"It's just a storm, Edmund. It's not going to get you. What are you? Twelve or two?"

Edmund's lower lip quivered, and he swallowed hard, fighting the tears that filled his eyes. Without another word, he bolted from the room.

"Oh, splendid." Peter sank back into his chair, rubbing his temples. "Well done, Peter. Well done, indeed."

After a moment, he took a deep breath and exhaled noisily. Then he tidied up what he could of the mess on his desk, relieved to see it wasn't as bad as he had at first thought. A rather sternly worded notice to Ettinsmoor, warning them to respect Narnia's northern border or expect consequences, was the only thing that was really spoilt. He hoped to find he had done as little damage to his brother.

"Good evening, Melville," Peter said softly as the Bear on duty at Edmund's door gave a lumbering bow.

"King Peter."

"Is my brother in his room?"

"Yes, Your Majesty." The Bear looked at him hopefully, eager as always to please. "Shall I fetch him out?"

"No, no. That's all right, thank you. I'll just go in." Peter tapped at the door. "Ed?"

He waited, smiling faintly at the Bear, and then knocked again.

"Edmund? Come on, Ed. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

He waited another long moment and then pushed open the door.

The room was empty.

OOOOO

A blinding flash of lightning illuminated the forest, accompanied by a rattling crash of thunder. There was no delay between the two, so Peter knew the lightning was nearby. Where was he? Where was Edmund?

As soon as he realized Edmund wasn't in his room, Peter had alerted the guard. Bears were strong and fierce but not really all that clever. Poor Melville didn't stand a chance against Edmund if Edmund really wanted to get past him.

When a search of the Cair turned up nothing, he had been forced to send for Oreius. The Centaur general had mustered his soldiers, sending them out to search the surrounding woods and fields and the beach. It was miserable work in this weather. The night was so dark, it was quite likely that, if Edmund didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be. Peter was certain he wouldn't want to be found.

Over Oreius's objections, Peter insisted on searching by himself. Yes, he wanted the rest of the soldiers searching, too. He wanted Edmund to be found as quickly as possible. But if he found Edmund first, he wanted to talk to him without anyone else being around. There were things he needed to say, and those things were just between him and his brother.

Already soaked to the skin, he trudged deeper into the dark forest, his little covered lantern barely lighting one step at a time.

"Edmund! Edmund, can you hear me?"

Peter's voice was already ragged with shouting, and he swallowed down a frustrated sob.

"Aslan, please. Help me find him. Please." He held up his lantern, straining to see in the blackness. "Edmund! I'm sorry!"

Another flash of lightning lit up the trees, and there not fifty feet ahead of him, he caught sight of something red up in the swaying top branches of a towering oak. Edmund's heavy cloak was red.

"Edmund!" Peter sprinted to the foot of the tree, relief flooding through him. "Edmund! Come down! Please! I didn't mean it!"

Small and bedraggled, Edmund only clung to the tree, not lifting his hooded head. Peter set the lantern down in the wet grass, and hoisted himself into the tree's lower branches.

"Come on, Ed!" Peter called up to him as he climbed higher. "Come down!"

Edmund only turned his face away and huddled closer to the tree. Peter struggled to get up to where he was, afraid he might move wrong in the darkness and fall, afraid Edmund might lose his hold before he could get up to him. He didn't look down, and he was certain he didn't want to know just how high up they were. He just had to get to his brother and get him home.

Finally he got to the branch where Edmund sat. First he simply reached up to tug at his brother's ankle.

"Come on, Ed," he said gently. "You don't need to be out in this weather."

Edmund merely pulled away from him, pulled both legs up under himself and out of Peter's reach. Peter sighed and climbed up to sit next to him.

"Come on down, Edmund. Let's go home."

He tried to put one arm around Edmund's shoulders, but Edmund only wrenched away from him, nearly losing his balance as he did.

"You go home." He glared at Peter from under his cloak. "I'm fine where I am."

"Come on, Ed," Peter pled. "Please come home. I didn't mean what I said back there. Really."

"Sure you did. It's true. It's just a storm. Why should I be a great baby about it? Why should I be the biggest coward in all Narnia every time it rains?"

"Oh, Eddie." Peter put both arms around him this time, and this time Edmund couldn't escape. "Don't think that. I think you're the bravest person I know."

Another flash of lightning showed him dark eyes full of fear, and once the thunder had rolled into nothingness, he heard Edmund's derisive laugh.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Sure. Look at you. I know you're afraid of storms, but you came out here anyway to face it."

Edmund sniffled and wiped his nose. "If I was brave, I wouldn't be afraid at all."

"If you weren't afraid, then this wouldn't be brave."

Edmund was silent a long while.

"But really, Peter, it is just a storm. I know that. Why can't I–"

Peter held him a little bit tighter. "Irrational fears are . . . irrational. It doesn't matter if they make sense. They just are what they are. Who knows? Maybe someday you'll learn to enjoy storms. I think they're rather exciting."

Again, Edmund sniffled and looked at him dubiously, and then he moved a little closer.

"Besides," Peter added. "I don't know how irrational it is to be scared when you're sitting up in one of the tallest trees in the forest in the middle of a lightning storm."

He grinned, and when the storm crashed again, Edmund huddled against him.

"I'm sorry I ruined your papers, Peter," he murmured, a little catch in his voice.

"They're not ruined. Well, one is, but it was just a letter to the Ettin Giants, and most of them can't read anyway."

Edmund snickered and then flung his arms around Peter's neck, sobbing in earnest now. Peter merely held him there, shushing him, until he heard a familiar voice from down below.

"Your Majesties? King Peter?"

"Oreius! We're coming!" Peter smiled at his brother. "Come on, Eddie. We have to get home and dry before we're both sick."

He tried to take Edmund's arms from around him, but at the next boom of thunder, Edmund only held on tighter.

"Please don't, Peter. Don't."

Peter finally had to carry him down, bracing himself every time lightning ripped the sky, waiting until Edmund calmed before he moved to a lower branch. Finally, his boots sunk into the wet black earth of the forest floor.

"Are you all right, Your Majesties?" The Centaur looked at Peter with worried eyes. "King Edmund?"

"He's all right," Peter assured him. "Come on, Ed. We're on the ground now."

Again he tried to take Edmund's arms from around him. Again Edmund only held more tightly.

"Please, Peter."

Peter smiled apologetically at Oreius. "Will you dismiss the men? I'll get him home."

Oreius signaled the Faun who was with him, and the Faun disappeared into the darkness.

"My lieutenant will see to the men. You are tired, My King. Let me carry King Edmund."

Peter nodded gratefully and tried to shift his brother into the Centaur's outstretched arms, but Edmund still would not release him. Finally Peter could only shake his head.

"Thank you, Oreius, but I can carry him."

It seemed a much longer walk out of the forest than into it. The rain still lashed at them, and Peter could hardly remember what it felt like to be dry, but at least the thunder and lightning seemed to have stopped for the moment. Before they were halfway back to the Cair, Peter realized he was wobbling as he walked. The second time he stumbled, Oreius stopped him.

"You are tired, Majesty."

"I'm all right." Peter squinted into the darkness, just able to make out the lights from Cair Paravel. "It's not that much farther, is it?"

"At least let me carry–"

"I don't want to put him down." Peter shifted Edmund a little, getting a better hold on him. "We'll be all right."

"No need to put him down, My King."

Before Peter could protest, the Centaur lifted him and Edmund both into his arms and carried them home.

Author's Note: Anyone who is interested is welcome to leave me a review with a list of words based on the above categories. I can't guarantee I'll write stories for all of the suggestions I get, but I might. :)

– WD