Time passed and things fell into a fairly predicable routine. Helen begrudgingly allowed Lucy to study swordsmanship on the condition that she learn in theory only. No matter how hard Digory and Edmund pressed, she refused to let Lucy use any of her knowledge in action, saying it was very unladylike and that she would rather live on the streets than allow her female child to behave in such a manner.
Sometimes Peter would come by while Edmund or Digory (Sometimes both) were teaching Lucy from their well-worn dusty tomes and would put him his own two-sense on the matter. He was a good teacher and although he could rarely stay for the full lesson, the advise he shared was always helpful.
Every now and then, Lucy felt curious about his life and thought of asking him about his family. Somehow though, the words never could quite come out. She'd plan to ask him about his sister or maybe his father, or else even what the servants in his household were like but her lips wouldn't move at the right time and the phrases she practiced in her mind stayed put. She knew he probably would answer any questions clearly and truthfully but she worried about bringing up something painful. Much as she liked him, she always felt something holding her back in their friendship. Some dark invisible force that couldn't be explained or understood holding them apart. He knew her well enough but she felt that she could not full know him.
Edmund, though darker in nature, seemed easier to relate to. She soon learned that he wasn't the open book she had at first thought him to be; that he could be distant and even bitter at times. Lucy could see both sides of him. The playful side he used when teasing and the gloomy side he used when he wanted nothing more than to be left alone. The thing was that in spite of his ways, nothing was hidden. It was not so with Peter who seemed, metaphorically speaking, to be standing in the shadows more often than not. Maybe he wasn't dark, maybe he was nothing but light, maybe he'd long since left his demons behind; but you couldn't tell by looking at him nor through the things he said.
When her mother was out, Lucy liked to watch Edmund and Peter practice their sword fighting. At such moments, lost in the amusement of admiring two highly-skilled sportsmen, she could almost forget that she herself would never be permitted to try it. They were both very talented; more over, they were gentlemen in their dealings-although they could be known to play tricks on each other from time to time.
Two days before Lucy's tenth birthday, while she was busy cleaning up a rather weather-beaten sword made of some sort of fake-gold metal, the bells at the front of the shop rang and a tall golden-bearded man walked in.
Although she had never seen him before, Lucy knew at once who he was. Most of his features where familiar. His face was almost an exact mirror image of Peter's only older and more angular in shape. This was, without question, Lord Pevensie.
He also dressed much more lavishly than his son did. The top of his tunic had light golden tassels and a scarlet side-cape which swept over his right shoulder in three neatly creased pleats. His boots were a rich, glossy black, as perfectly polished as all of the swords Lucy worked on each day.
In comparison to his expressive, many-parts, garments, Lucy's clothing seemed painfully plain. Her neat black frock, simple gray cap, and-originally-white, cinder-stained apron had seemed perfectly decent-looking before Lord Pevensie had arrived. Now they seemed colourless and somewhat dreary.
"Hullo, little maiden." He said, clearing his in throat. "Is Digory Kirke here?"
"He's gone to take a new dwarf's sword to Master Trumpkin's estate." Lucy explained, apologetically. "He wont be back until late this evening. His grandson, Edmund, is here though. Shall I go get him for you?"
Lord Pevensie paused for a moment to think it over. "Please."
Lucy put down her sword and rag and went into the back room to find Edmund. "Ed, Lord Pevensie is here."
He looked up at her, his eyes widening with surprise. "Really?"
"Yes."
"Usually he just sends Peter when he wants something from us." Edmund said, standing up slowly.
"Do you think it's about the sword?" Lucy wondered aloud.
"Most likely." Edmund shrugged. "There isn't much else he would need to talk to us about. Maybe he didn't like it."
"How could he not?" Lucy exclaimed incredulously, her eyes widening as she spoke. "It's the most beautiful sword ever. What you and Digory crafted was simply incredible, Ed."
Edmund's expression softened and he gave her a small smile, placing a hand on her shoulder and leading her towards the front of the store. "Come, let's go see what he wants."
"Good day, Edmund." Lord Pevensie greeted him.
"Good day to you, sir." Edmund responded respectfully.
"I came here hoping to find your grandfather but I suppose you can pass a message on to him?" Lord Pevensie said.
"Yes, sir."
"Tell him this, that I was very pleased by the new sword he made for my son-the professor is indeed a master, I've never seen it's equal-"
"Oh, but Edmund worked on it, too!" Lucy blurted out.
Lord Pevensie paused and looked down at her with an eyebrow raised. "Did he now?"
"It wasn't much..." Edmund started, feeling something between a longing to hug Lucy for bringing it up and wanting to smack her for it.
"But it was!" Lucy went on, not stopping to think if she had made a mistake by interrupting a Lord when he was speaking. If her mother had been there, she would have surely been scolded. "Digory made the metal but the design was Edmund's, the carvings and the hilt were his, too."
"So they both made it?" Lord Pevensie asked.
"Yes." Lucy told him.
"Equal shares in the work?"
"Certainly, sir." She answered.
"Well in that case, I thank you for your fine work as well as that of your grandfather's." Lord Pevensie said rather diplomatically.
"Thank you, sir." Edmund said, giving Lucy a look which was something between a smile and a grimace.
"Anyhow, as I was saying," Lord Pevensie started again. "I've never seen a finer sword in all my life and I know of several other investors who would be deeply interested in such specialty swords. I'm having some of these investors over for tea next week and was wondering if your grandfather-" he looked at Lucy, paused and then looking back at Edmund, added, "And you as well, Edmund."
Lucy smiled.
"Would come to my manor for tea on that day and perhaps meet them." He finished.
"I'll let my grandfather know, sir." Edmund promised.
"Good." Lord Pevensie nodded, satisfied. "Also, you can bring along your friend, if you like." He smiled at Lucy who looked down at her feet, turning a little red in the face from surprise-she hadn't expected this. "Good day, I must be leaving now."
As soon as the bells jingled and the door shut behind him, Edmund turned to Lucy and laughed, "Oh, Lu, you little imp! I don't know whether to thank you for bringing me into this, or curse you for it."
Lucy laughed along with him. "Didn't you want me to?"
"Maybe I did." Edmund said thoughtfully. "How is it you know me so well?"
Lucy shrugged her shoulders and went back to polishing the swords.
A few days later, shortly after the noon meal, Lucy stood looking a small dusty staircase which had been hidden by a pile of rags and curtain scraps up until Helen had moved in and thrown them away. There was a trace of a former railing but the wood was almost completely rotted and bug-eaten, of no real use now.
"What's up there?" Lucy asked Edmund when she was sure her mother was out of earshot (Helen had given her a sound warning to stay away from the staircase, saying it was nothing by a torn-up death trap and that she would get a spanking if she attempted to climb it).
"Our attic." Edmund told her. "Or rather, Grandfather's great grandfather's attic. It hasn't been used in a few generations."
"Have you ever gone up there?" Lucy wanted to know.
"Actually, I haven't." Edmund realized, seeming rather intrigued by the idea. He grabbed onto Lucy's wrist. "Come on."
"But I can't." Lucy protested, remembering her mother's warning.
"It's not dangerous." Edmund said. He wasn't sure if that was true or not, he simply wanted her to come with him and he didn't intend to let anything happen to her anyway. He'd be sure to keep a close eye so that she didn't get lost or hurt or anything; why shouldn't she come?
"You don't know that." Lucy reminded him. "You've never been there yourself."
"Well, tomorrow I wont be able to say that and neither will you, come on." Edmund said, giving her wrist a slight yank.
Lucy looked both ways, her mother was busy with something else and wasn't around. "Alright, I suppose I could come for a little while."
Edmund grinned at her and they started going up the staircase together. Edmund went in the front, testing out the firmness of each step with his foot and then he would turn around half-way and nod at Lucy to let her know it was safe to stand on. The stairs went further up than either of them had thought at first and when they finally reached the top, they were nearly exhausted.
"Phew." Said Edmund, wiping a small trickle of sweat off his forehead. "That was quite a climb."
Lucy opened her mouth to answer him but her words turned into a cough from the dusty air they were now engulfed in.
"Look, Lucy." Edmund pointed to long row of trunks and a something tall covered by a long gray sheet.
Lucy opened one of the trunks, and let out a gasp when she saw a pretty golden dress folded up neatly inside of it. Gleefully, she unfolded it and spread it out in front of her body, looking over to the tall mirror on the other side of the attic. It had a long, thick crack running through the middle of it but other than that and, of course, a layer of dust it was still an honest reflection. It was much too big for her little ten year old body. The dress had been made for a grown woman, not a child.
While Lucy ran her fingers over the lining of the trunk and folded the dress up to put it back, Edmund fished through another trunk and pulled out a knight's helmet. Just as the dress had been made for a woman, the helmet had been made for a man, not a boy; it was far too big on him.
Still he put it on and held his head-which seemed so much smaller in the large helmet-high. Lucy saw him and giggled.
He took it off and raised an eyebrow at her. "You think it's funny?"
"Well...yes..." Lucy said through her laughter, backing up towards the tall covered thing. Her foot caught on the edge of the sheet and when she tried to free herself from it, she pulled off the whole thing, revealing a tall apple-wood wardrobe with a looking-glass on the door.
Edmund whistled when he saw it. "Nice."
"We should open it." Lucy decided, reaching for the handle, listening for the opening, click.
Playing with the wardrobe and all of the other things in the attic, Edmund and Lucy lost track of time, it was hours later when they finally came down stairs just in time for tea. Both were dirty, sweaty, and breathless when they came face to face with Helen, Digory, and an elderly man who's name Lucy didn't know.
Digory and the other elderly man had sat down for their tea and Helen was putting out the food and the rusty kettle for them in the reclining area. She stopped and glared at her daughter.
"Where were you?" She demanded.
"Um..." Lucy began timidly.
"We were playing in the wardrobe." Edmund blurted out, hoping to distract Helen's thoughts from anger towards Lucy. "Pretending there was a snowy wood behind it. It's my fault really, I shouldn't have encouraged her."
"Hmm..." Digory's guest looked at him and Lucy with a thoughtful expression on his face, bringing his cup of tea to his lips.
"What are you thinking of, Jack?" Digory asked him.
"Oh, nothing." He smiled to himself, looking at Edmund and Lucy out of the corner of his eye. "Nothing at all, Digory."
"More tea, Mr. Lewis?" Helen asked, shooting a sharp, angry look in Edmund's direction.
AN: (I thought that would be a funny way to end the chapter) Please review.
