Edmund's Wish


Love is not affectionate feeling, but a steady wish for the loved person's ultimate good as far as it can be obtained.

~ C.S. Lewis


Edmund woke to the dull glow of firelight on the black, weathered trunk of a tree. He didn't have any consciousness of himself, only a deep pain in his head. The moon was high and two dark forms crouched like ogres around the dying embers of a fire. They were talking, their voices coarse and rough in the darkness.

Edmund shifted and gasped as pain shot up his wrists. He couldn't move, his arms were tied behind him around the trunk of a young tree, his back ached. He sat staring, taking in the darkness, the trees that bowed around him. To the right five horses were tethered together, shadows in the darkness, but the moonlight caught a flash of something pale like silver and Edmund knew that he was looking at Ambyr and his flaxen mane.

"Bran is kilt," one of the voices said and Edmund tried to filter out the sounds of the horses stamping to hear his words, "that boy was quick with his knife."

"I say we kill the boy."

"Let's eat first."

"We'll eat and then we'll kill the boy."

Edmund wiggled his fingers, but that was all he could wiggle. The ropes bit like wires and his fingers were numb and cold. With a moan he laid his head against the trunk of the tree, his back stabbing pain. Now at last he remembered what he had wished for…excitement. Well, he had it.

He wiggled his fingers again, desperately, but it was no use. There was no escape, he was fairly trapped.

"I like not fair terms and a villain's mind," he whispered to himself and snickered at the absurd humor in it. Then he gasped and his heart leapt and pounded madly. Something damp was against his fingers. Something soft was brushing his wrists.

"Peter?" Edmund whispered, a gasp that hissed out of him with his breath.

Something whined softly in the darkness behind him. He felt smooth teeth against his fingers, working against the ropes, making them pull and bite deeper into his skin. Edmund bit his lip and bore the pain as a soft tongue rubbed over and over his fingers and teeth ground the ropes, trying to part them.

Time passed so slowly, creeping like the snail he saw sliding up the trunk of the nearest tree, slimy trail moonlit and glittering. The men were eating and eating too fast for comfort. Desperately in his heart, Edmund wished for midnight. Even if the bandits did not disappear, Peter would be himself again and Peter had had his sword on when he turned into a dog. At the moment, it wasn't much use, wherever it was.

Edmund gasped when the hound's teeth slipped and ground into his skin. He heard Peter whine in apology and turn again to gnawing the ropes. Oh break, break! Edmund screamed inside of himself, how much longer can they hold?

But it was too late; the figures around the fire were rising, looking impossibly large as their shadows were cast upward by the fire. They were turning to look at him and he watched in horrified fascination as one of them drew a long sheath knife, the blade stained blood red by the embers of the fire. They drew near him with heavy tread and he saw their faces disfigured and leering in the darkness.

"Cut 'im free," one of them grunted. Edmund glared at them, his blue eyes piercing in the moonlight. Desperately he wiggled his wrists, only a few strands of tough fibers still held them fast.

The one with the sheath knife came towards him and from beside him, Edmund heard a low, deep growl, bone chilling and menacing, so strangely like his brother's voice when he was angry. Hackles rising, the hound slunk around the tree from the shadows, the moonlight glowing spectral off his eyes. He crouched in front of Edmund, his teeth bared and glittering.

The men stopped frozen and the one in front gestured, moonlight glancing off his knife blade.

"Where'd 'e come from?"

"Is ita wolf?"

Edmund jerked his wrists, fighting against the last few strands of rope, and Peter feinted sideways and leapt.

~o*o~

Peter leapt at the one in front, jaws wide in the moonlight. There was an audible thump as he struck and a whistling gasp as the man fell, leaving his breath behind in the empty air where he had stood. Shouting, the other man turned and rained kicks down on Peter as he jerked and writhed, his jaws still clamped on the throat of the man on the ground.

Edmund gasped in pain as he jerked his wrists apart, again, again, again. He could feel the ropes giving, letting go, they would break in a moment, in just a moment. He wrenched them, giving all his strength and they broke with a snap. He could feel warm blood trickling down his fingers as he leapt to his feet. The man still standing swung around and grabbed him by the collar, lifting him clear off his feet. Edmund put his knees together and drove them into the man's stomach. He let go gasping.

Edmund rolled and was up again, snatching the sheath knife from where it lay on the ground. The horses were plunging, jerking their tethers and whinnying; he saw wide frightened eyes stare at him as light flashed off the knife in his hand. Moving as quickly as he could, he cut the tethers of all the horses but the two on the end, then shouting and waving the knife, spooked them into the night.

From behind him, he heard growls and shouts as he pushed a foot in Umbra's stirrup and swung astride. Snatching up Ambyr's reins, he turned Umbra around and urged him into the welcoming darkness of the forest.

"Peter!" He yelled, "all clear! Run for it!"

He heard an answering bark, clear and eager and knowing that Peter was behind him, spurred Umbra on into the night.

~o*o~

It was about three minutes later that Edmund pulled up Umbra and looked around. He had reached the main road and tree shadows lay like zebra stripes in the moonlit world around him. Ambyr stood behind him, silver mane heavy over his shoulders, but Edmund had no eyes for him.

"Peter!" he cried.

Where was he?

Heart running in terror, Edmund swung off Umbra and left him ground tied in the middle of the road.

"Peter!"

The woods welcomed him back with open arms and blue shadows, their faces closed in the darkness. Edmund stumbled over their feet, feeling in front of him.

"Idiot! Idiot?" he hissed to himself, "why didn't you make sure he was following?"

"Peter!" he called again. A soft whine answered him and Edmund dropped to his knees, feeling, feeling around him. Warm fur met his fingers and shuddered at his touch. Bending low, Edmund saw the hound outstretched on the forest floor, his tail thumping weakly. Edmund felt him over with shaking hands, was this Peter's blood he felt or his own?

"You're all right now, old chap," Edmund said, "For the first time in my life I'm bigger than you."

Gently he leaned down and gathered the hound in his arms, Peter's head lulling against his shoulder. He stood up and stumbled; the dog was an impossible weight.

"Figures," Edmund said, half smiling. Peter did not have an appearance of great weight, but whenever Edmund had a collision with him he always bounced off. Peter was dense.

Edmund staggered back out to the road and stretching all his strength, hoisted Peter over Umbra's saddle. Edmund clambered after him and turned Umbra. There was no question about going back to Cair Paravel and scaring Susan, they were going.

~o*o~

Edmund dismounted at the gates of the castle and knocked, his tender knuckles screaming. He heard bolts shooting back and a moment later, the little door set in the larger one swung open and Ahearn the centaur, the keeper of the gates, looked out, searching the night.

"King Edmund," Ahearn said, opening the gate the rest of the way, "Queen Susan has been worrying over you. Is the High King with you, your majesty?"

"He's stopping away another day," Edmund said leading the horses through the gate. Ahearn raised an eyebrow as Ambyr passed him.

"Shall I expect him, sire?"

"No, he'll not be coming tonight," Edmund said.

The horses' iron shod hooves rang and echoed on the cobles underfoot and moonlight gleamed blue on clammy walls. Edmund stumbled as he walked, his hand on Umbra's withers. He kept reaching up to touch Peter's head and get a reassuring lick from his brother.

"We're nearly there, old man," Edmund said and almost expected his brother's familiar voice to echo out of the darkness, "So we are, baby brother."

At his shout, a groom, rubbing sleep from his eyes, came down from his room above the stable to take the horses and look on questioningly as Edmund lifted the hound from Umbra's saddle and staggered away into the night.

~o*o~

"We few, we happy few, we band of brothers." Susan's soft voice hung in the fire-lit chamber, "For he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother...what's that?"

Susan lowered the book and glanced down at Lucy were she sat on the bearskin before the fire, knitting at a breakneck speed, her curls lit like burnished gold. Blue-green sparks leapt up, flying towards the flue as the flames licked around a copper nail, bent and brilliant in the firewood.

"It must be Peter and Edmund back," Lucy said, looking up. They both were silent as footsteps came down the hall, unsteady and tottering, then stopped. A gentle tapping came at the chamber door.

"Quoth the raven, 'nevermore'," Susan said grinning, "come in!"

"Can you open the door?" Edmund's voice came.

Lucy leapt off the bearskin and trotted across the room, opening the door wide with a smile.

"Hullo! We thought you'd never come back, where-" she broke off and stared as Edmund staggered through the door and fell to his knees, laying his burden gently on the bearskin by the fire.

"Oh poor thing!" Lucy gasped, "What happened?"

"Edmund!" Susan grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him around, "what did you do to your face? Did you fall off your horse? You're all bruised!"

"I'm fine," Edmund said, putting his hands on her shoulders.

"Did you fall off your horse?"

"Yes, actually, I did."

He turned back to the dog. Lucy was cooing over it, its head in her lap.

"Where ever did you find it?" Lucy asked, her eyes shining, "He's such a sweet looking thing! Is it a he or a she?"

"It's a he," Edmund said, "and I'm afraid he's met with a bit of an accident."

"I'll say," Susan said and with skillful, but gentle hands, she began to feel the dog over. The hound yelped when her fingers pressed too hard.

"He has a few bruises and I'd say some broken ribs," Susan said at last, "but he'll mend nicely. I didn't think you liked dogs, Edmund."

"I like this one," Edmund said, his voice low.

~o*o~

Edmund didn't eat dinner, he sat next to the dog and the others watched him wondering, while he talked and laughed with it as if it could understand every word he said.

"Where is Peter?" Susan asked, just before she closed the door, "He disappeared this morning."

"He does that," Edmund said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"I thought he was with you," Susan leaned on the door.

"He was for a while."

That night, Edmund brought the dog into his room and laid him before the fire on the bearskin from the other room. Susan and Lucy bid him goodnight and Lucy even went and kissed the dog, wishing him sweet dreams. The hound thumped his tail once.

"He's awfully attached to that dog," Susan said smiling as they went to their own rooms.

"He always said that he hated dogs," Lucy said, then threw a strong arm around her sister and held her close, "good night Susan and sweet dreams to you too."

"And you," Susan said, kissing the top of her little sister's head.

~o*o~

"How you can sleep, baby brother!"

That familiar voice. Edmund stirred, shifting in his sleep. Then he started and came awake with a shock. Something ice cold was trickling over his face.

He yelled and bright foggy images began to merge into one. Peter's face was above him, horribly bruised, but grinning, the pitcher from the washstand in his hand. Edmund sat bolt upright and stared at him.

"You're you again!" Edmund cried. Peter laughed and tousled his hair. Edmund reached out and grabbed him, one fierce, tight embrace and let him go when he howled.

"I am so glad to see you," Edmund said seriously.

"Look," Peter said, swinging unsteadily on the bedpost, "I may be me again, but it stands to reason that the ribs are still broken."

Edmund shook his head, smiling, "What was it like?"

"Like?" Peter said, "Terrible. I could smell things you wouldn't imagine…and I still feel like wagging my tail."

Edmund laughed. "I'm so glad to see you."

"I'm glad to see you," Peter said, lowering himself gingerly on the bed, "I couldn't let you sleep any longer. How are you doing? You have a bit of a swollen face there."

"I'm doing fine, you?"

"Swell."

"Good, shall we go downstairs?" Edmund said, "Susan's worried about you."

"You didn't tell her?"

"No."

"Good."

~o*o~

"How much of you was dog and how much of you was you?" Edmund wondered as they walked down the hallway.

"Oh, I was all me."

"You were acting like a dog."

"Most of that was for your benefit," Peter said grinning. "You wouldn't believe the expression on your face when I jumped into the bog."

Edmund grinned wryly, then turned to him again, "There's just one thing I want to ask."

"What's that?"

"What was it you were signaling me in Morse code?" Edmund wondered. "I figured out that it was a 'U', but what did it mean?"

"You are standing into danger," Peter said, his hand on the door of the breakfast room, "It was the only thing I could think of to warn you."

"Well…it didn't work, but thanks for the thought," Edmund said as Peter lifted the latch and the door swung open.

"Peter!" Lucy called at once; from where she sat, across from Susan at the table, "you're back!"

"Good morning!" Peter said, grinning.

"Peter!" Susan cried as she got a clearer view of him, "What did you do to yourself? What's that black eye?"

Edmund stood against the door, his back to it, watching while Peter helplessly tried to explain why he had a black eye and a couple of broken ribs.

"How's the dog?" Lucy was looking up at him, grinning.

"What dog?" Edmund asked distantly.


The End


And the moral to that story is this: Be careful what you wish for, it might come true and don't judge a book by its cover.


AN: Well...strange, yes...hope you enjoyed it anyway! I'm sure you've all heard the fairy tail about the Golden Fish that granted wishes! :)

My next story will be what I have been calling 'Narnia and the North', but have renamed 'The Horse that Stole the Boy'.

~Rose and Psyche