Author's Note: Chapter 6 is Doled Mar :D a way of saying 'shared pain/hurt.' This chapter was fun to write (despite that long nightmare you see in italics) heheh. I hope you enjoy it!
And just in case some of you are still wondering, Conundrum is a word for 'mystery.'
Chapter 6: Doled Mar
Edmund inhaled sharp intakes of breath, clutching desperately onto the sheets of his bed. His eyes shut tight, deep in his nightmare, sweat patching his face greatly, shining with brilliance under the direct contact of the moonlight that poured into the quarters of the Just king.
The Narnian scarlet tents were used only in the most important of occasions, during wars, campaigns, and if the moment pleased, tournaments. Edmund found himself standing in a tent this very moment, hearing the muffled cheers sounding from outside. He furrowed his brow, confused, glancing around him uncertainly. Then the king looked down at his clothing and realized he was in the ensemble of his own chain mail and armor. Edmund held out his hands tentatively, adjusting the straps of his leather arm guards.
"Your Majesty."
Edmund shot his head up to meet the eyes of a smiling Faun guard wearing smartly his own armor, "You have chosen for this tournament a most worthy opponent."
Edmund set his jaw. He couldn't bring himself to recall any tournament he had agreed upon to fight. He soon found that he could not seem to speak either. Perhaps it was from the large amount of adrenaline, now coursing through his body, tensing his muscles for the fight.
The faun made his way behind the king to a simple wooden cot, on which lay Edmund's sheathed sword, "Here, Your Majesty. Prepare yourself," said the guard and Edmund gripped the hilt of the blade and pulled at it with trained ease. Edmund stared down at his sword and wielded it skillfully to warm up his arm. The faun had laid the sheath back onto the cot and walked forth to slightly pull back the flap of the tent that led out to the courtyard. The cheers grew louder as he looked and he grinned most enthusiastically, "King Edmund, she cometh."
Edmund froze, resting his blade on his forearm. She?
The faun clopped back to his king and bowed so low that Edmund thought he was to kiss the ground, "May good fortune smile upon thee, my liege."
Edmund watched strangely as the guard walked through another flap and out the tent. A horn blew from outside, signaling the start of the fight. Edmund gripped the hilt of his sword, feeling a strange contraction in the pit of his stomach. Growling he thought, Ignore it.
And ignore it, he did. The king exited the tent and stepped onto the courtyard and instantly felt the hot sun at its peak bear down on the weight of his armor. Edmund hissed and squinted, his eyes proving no match for the bright colored grounds of the courtyard. But as he adjusted to the sight of it, the king looked at the onlookers and started at the Narnians loyal, and Followers, cheering and jeering down at him. Edmund swallowed and looked before him, for striding forth was Jadis, Empress and White Witch, a single thin blade in her hand. She wore her black chain mail dress, with its Lion's mane collar. Edmund cringed at the very thought of how the collar had been made and anger wove its way into his good heart.
"Edmund, dear," Jadis said smoothly, "I've missed you."
At the next signal of the horn, Jadis swung her blade forward in a motion that took Edmund by surprise. He slipped away just in time and blocked another blow to his head. He strained against the witch's strength, his muscles burning at the very pressure of defense.
Edmund swiveled around and slid his blade across the witch's. Jadis staggered forward and faced him, sword raised over her head, calculating her opponent's every move. Edmund walked around apprehensively, sword at the ready. Jadis growled and sent her blade forward again.
The fight was long and hot, and Edmund soon realized that he wore no helmet, leaving the entirety of his head unprotected. He bared his teeth in frustration, feeling the heat of the sun wearing him down. The cheers of his people began to die, and the jeers of those against him grew stronger. Edmund roared as he attempted to strike the witch, only to find his blade missing its desired target. Jadis made to disarm him, locking her sheath on his own and twisting it in such a manner that would have dislocated his arm, were it not for the king's agility. Edmund maneuvered and again faced the witch only to be met with the hilt of the enemy blade strike him hard on his cheekbone. Edmund shut his eyes and cursed and staggered back, a bloody bruise slowly forming on his face. Distracted and weary, Edmund was not prepared for what happened next.
He could feel the cold metal slice brutally through his tunic and into his flesh, drawing blood to mix with the color of Narnian scarlet. Edmund cried out, the burning slash across his torso running long and deep. Falling to his knees and silently begging for respite, Jadis grabbed the king by his neck and forced him to his feet, "Suffering, Son of Adam?" she said loudly, triumph evident in her voice. The sounds around Edmund were now soft and muffled, thinning into the distance. His dark eyes dulled in exhaustion as he stared into those of the witch. She smiled and laughed demonically. Edmund presently felt great pain, feeding on him to his very soul, his wounds, his heart, his entire body. Edmund screamed.
He felt a strong jolt as he was thrown against an unusually cold stonewall. Edmund grunted and felt himself fall onto the icy floor, his chain mail making the faintest sound.
Sound.
No sound. There were no cheers or shouts or yells or screams. There was no witch's cry. There was no hint of metal against metal, sword against sword. The silence was deafening and thick in the king's ears, as if Edmund had lost that sense of his body.
Edmund groaned heavily and pulled himself up on his hands and knees, staring weakly at the blue ground beneath. Blue?
Forgetting his wounds, Edmund blew out his breath and a ghostly white mist came produced by his mouth. The young king scrambled to his feet and looked up. The great ceiling of glacier-like ice stretched overhead. He knew where he was, for this was the very place he was imprisoned in only three years ago as a young boy.
Edmund bit his lip to keep from crying out, and he bit down until he tasted blood. His blood. Edmund walked back until his hands came in touch with something cold other than ice. He looked down to see black and rusty shackles hanging unused on the wall. Edmund swallowed down, forcing back the bile that threatened to come forth his mouth.
The king tiredly sagged to the ground and leaned against the wall for support, again beginning to feel the gash on his body. The next cell, he thought. Edmund frowned thoughtfully and looked to his right. The once wall of ice that separated his cell from another had a large and gaping hole with only broken iron bars to patch it up slightly. Edmund shivered and realization dawned on him. Slowly, he made his way to the wall and called out in a hesitant whisper, "Mr. Tumnus?"
He waited and there came no reply.
"Mr. Tumnus, it's me, Edmund," a little louder this time. Still no reply. Edmund closed his mouth in a tight line, the freezing temperature of the prison taunting his teeth to chatter. He knelt by the iron bars and looked over it to see a hunched figure just below, cloaked in black and lying on the ice, curled up. Edmund froze at the sight of the auburn hair of the being. Her waves in a tangle and dried up bloody mess. He reached out and gently brushed the hair off of the girl's face, whispering helplessly, "Eleanor?"
The girl made no flinch, nor sound and remained lifeless on the icy ground. Edmund felt his heart race wildly in his chest. He stroked Eleanor's pale face with a gentle hand, "So cold…" said he, his fingers coming to contact with Eleanor's deathly pale skin. Edmund scowled as he slowly began to make out bruises and fresh cuts on the princess's face. He clenched his fist and hissed out a breath, anger at the witch never ignored. Edmund then wanted- needed Eleanor to awake as soon as possible.
"Please wake up," said he, as gently as he could and he drew in a shaky breath. And, as if she had heard, Eleanor's grey eyes snapped widely to life. Edmund jerked in his position, but continued to gently stroke her head, brushing away the few strands of hair that disturbed her face.
Eleanor slowly looked up, her grey eyes returning to its normal size and filling with fresh tears at the sight of Edmund. Carefully, she raised herself from the floor until she half lay and half sat. She opened her mouth to speak, and Edmund was unprepared for what reached his ears.
"How could you?"
The king's hand froze in place, ending the gentle strokes it did on the cuts on Eleanor's pale cheek, "W-what?" he stuttered. Eleanor shook her head and the first streams of tears began its course, "Edmund," she whimpered, "What have you done?"
Edmund noticed the rest of Eleanor's wounds now. Around her neck was a reddish line, as if a thin chain had been torn against her skin. Her hands, which she had now used to grip the iron bars for support, had more cuts similar to those on her face. Edmund's dark eyes dulled with pain at the very sight of them and he met Eleanor's grey stare, "Tell me, Eleanor," he said softly, "What have I wronged you with?"
Eleanor tilted her head to one side and answered matter-of-factly, "You killed my family," she said. Edmund withdrew his hand, stunned by her words. But Eleanor's speech wasn't finished. Her voice was so frail, so delicate that Edmund wanted so much to hush her and console her, "You went for mama, and papa," she continued, "And that wasn't enough," Eleanor's face crumpled in sorrow, "You took away from me Mathilda, and Ludwig," tears streamed down her face and Eleanor's next words were accompanied by a sob, "And that still was not enough to satisfy thy bloodlust. You took from me, my home, my kingdom," pause and a whisper, "Borovia."
Edmund had shaken his head in disbelief, both in shock and in outrage at what fallacy Jadis had obviously told the poor girl, "Eleanor," he whispered back, feeling just as weak as the girl before him, "I n-never did," said he, "I didn't…I swear- I'm s-so sorry."
At that moment the prison gates of the stairwell opened and Eleanor fell to the ground again, left to her sorrows. Edmund tried to scramble away just as the White Witch took her last step and into the main prison. She greeted Edmund and smiled wickedly, "Comfortable, my king?"
Edmund got up and reached for the hilt of his sword, only to find that he had none. His hand gripped the air just beside his hip and met no weapon's form. Jadis laughed gloriously, "You cannot fight me, Son of Adam," said she, "You've wasted away."
Edmund growled and shouted, anger eating him out, "What have you done to her?"
Jadis raised her eyebrows, "The Borovian traitor?"
Edmund hissed and
said threateningly, "She is no traitor."
"Is she not?"
Jadis challenged and met the king's glare with her own of hatred
and spite, "She pledged her loyalty to me-"
"Under your
bewitchment!"
"And
has no drop of innocent blood in her veins!" Jadis retorted,
eyes flashing. Then, a wave of calm passed over her face and she
strode forward, backing Edmund into the wall, "Just like you."
Edmund stood, stung by the words that left the witch's mouth and rolled off of her tongue so smoothly as if it were so simple to comprehend. Edmund's mind swam with memories of his dark past. He was a traitor, forever in the service of the dark Empress Jadis. He killed his own family through his words, selling them like merchandise in the market to a very wealthy dealer to be paid with Turkish Delight.
But there was hope after all of that. The Great Lion Aslan had led him to his salvation and loved him unconditionally. He gave up his life and-
Edmund let out a long and agonized scream, the sensation of the pain in his wound heightened by Jadis's dark art. Edmund doubled over to the ground, groping at his bloody tunic. He remembered bitterly at whose mercy he was at right now.
Jadis grabbed a handful of Edmund's dark hair from the back of his head and pulled back at it furiously to force the king to look up, "You are nothing but a traitor, my slave, and my Follower. From the very beginning, you pledged your loyalty to me, even without my force! You sold your family, and yourself to me. Freely."
Edmund's eyes filled with hot tears and he bit his lip again to keep from screaming any more. His eyes darted to the gap of his cell and he caught Eleanor staring at him with terror etched delicately over her features. Edmund mouthed 'I'm sorry, my princess.' And again he met his pain. His blood seeped into his tunic. He gasped, desperate to end this unbearable mar.
"Edmund!"
Susan struggled to keep her voice calm, trying to call her brother awake. He gasped and curled up under the sheets, grabbing at his body as if he were in pain. "Make it stop!" he begged loudly, eyes still tightly closed, "Please, make it stop!"
Susan hushed him gently, pressing her fingers into his dark and damp hair, "Edmund," she tried again, "Edmund, wake up!"
Edmund froze with one last gasp and his dark eyes flew open. In haste, he sat up and began looking around wildly, searching in the dimly lit room for something unknown to Susan, "Ed?" she asked softly, "Edmund, it's all right. I'm here."
Edmund's eyes fell on his sister and a look of relief spread quickly over his pale face, "Susan?"
Susan smiled kindly and pulled her brother close, letting his head rest on her shoulder, "It's all right, Edmund," she soothed.
Edmund buried his head in his sister's hair, breathing in that familiar scent of Narnian flowers that calmed him, soothed him, hushed him. Susan continued to rock him back and forth, just like when Edmund was just a little boy before the war back home. In moments, Edmund's breathing deepened and Susan was wondering if he had already fallen asleep when he pulled away, "What are you doing here?" he asked uncertainly.
Susan chuckled weakly, "Ed, Peter told me about your dreams over supper."
Edmund stared at her, a little hint of irritation projected towards the eldest Pevensie. I thought he didn't want to worry her? he thought annoyed.
"Edmund, please don't be angry. He's only concerned, and so am I." Susan said, as if reading Edmund's mind. Her brother wasn't the kind who wanted people fussing over him in anyway, after all.
Edmund nodded and smiled weakly, "S'all right, Su," he said quietly and looked down at the pool of moonlight streaming on the floors of his quarters, "I'm glad you came anyway."
Susan noticed the fear in the statement and asked carefully, "What happened, Ed?"
"Peter didn't tell you?" Edmund raised his eyebrows. Susan shook her head, "Nay. He just told me you've been bothered."
Edmund furrowed his brow and wiped his face with his sleeve, only noticing the cold sweat drying up and giving him shivers, "I'm not sure," he said, "It's always about Jadis-"
"Oh, Edmund!" Susan exclaimed, concerned for her brother. Even when she's dead she manages to haunt him, she thought bitterly. Edmund smiled tiredly at his sister, assuring her not to worry, "And Eleanor."
"I beg your pardon?"
Edmund cringed inwardly at the memory of the princess in his dreams: tortured, hurt, worn and beaten, both inside and out. The tears that streamed down her scarred face were fresher in memory than they ever were. Her frail voice still rang in his ears, accusing him for what he had supposedly done. Murder. Edmund sighed and looked back at Susan, "She's hurting, Su," he said quietly, "I can feel it."
Susan shifted on the edge of the bed, "Edmund," she said, "Peter said something about this being instigated by magic."
Edmund smirked and mock glared at his sister, "I thought you told me that he only mentioned my being 'bothered'?"
Susan huffed, "Edmund, be serious!"
The young king only laughed and his face fell again after that, "I honestly don't know if it is magic or not, but I have to admit," he paused, "It certainly feels like it is."
Susan bit her lip, "We can't even tell the magicians," she whispered helplessly.
"No. We can't,"
Edmund added firmly, "But something tells me I have to let these
dreams continue their course."
"Edmund!"
Susan protested, "Have you gone mad?"
Edmund shook his head and looked his worried sister in the eye, "I just think it's the right thing to do. At least for now."
Susan met her brother's gaze and saw the truth in his words. She knew that he wouldn't make decisions without thinking them over first. Then she thought of the Lion. Aslan must know something about these dreams, and if He did, then He would have good reason to let them run through. Whatever the reason, however Susan trusted Him, "Alright, Ed," she smiled, "I suppose you aren't King Edmund the Just for nothing."
Edmund chuckled at the statement, honored by his sister's words, "I guess not," he teased, "Now, I don't want you worrying so much, alright?"
Susan sighed, "That's a bit of a challenge, don't you think?"
"I can only imagine," the brother grinned. Susan huffed again and glared mockingly at her sibling, "You're my little brother!"
"I know," Edmund said matter-of-factly, "And might I say, you take care of me very well, but there are a good number of things I believe I can handle on my own."
Susan rolled her eyes and smiled, "Fine, then," said she, "What about going back to bed?"
Edmund raised his eyebrows, "And what if I don't?"
"I'll personally bring up some warm milk for you."
"Susan," Edmund said calmly, "I don't suppose you've noticed that I am presently seventeen and not seven, right?"
Susan laughed melodically at the look on her brother's face and covered her smiling mouth with the palm of her hand, observing the true decency of a gentle queen. Edmund chuckled, "I'll get you for that."
Susan stood up and smiled down at her brother, "Just some water, then," said she, "But if you can, Edmund, I would very much prefer it if you can get some sleep, alright?"
Edmund smiled and nodded. Susan bent down and kissed his forehead, "Good night then, brother," she whispered.
"Thanks, Susan," came the reply.
Susan walked quietly to the door and stepped out to the hallway, closing the door behind her with only the slightest sound of the latch.
Edmund sank back under the sheets and furrowed his brow in deep thought. You're hurting Eleanor, he thought, I can hear you plead.
And with that as his final thought for the time being, the king closed his eyes in exhaustion and waited for the invitation of sleep to take to him.
Susan descended the staircase and looked around. Cair Paravel was very different at night, but still managed to keep up its warm and friendly air, and as her personal opinion, very romantic. Susan smiled and she looked across the floor to see shadows casting across the path interrupted by shots of moonlight coming from windows and great doors.
Edmund knows what he's doing, she thought to herself, still mulling over what her brother had said, Aslan help him. Susan stopped for a moment and furrowed her brow, "Everything is so strange about Narnia," she found herself whispering, then giggled silently, "Well, Narnia is a magical land, Susan. You'll never know what you'll find."
And with that queen continued her way when she ran into the night guard, a Faun who looked very much surprised to see the queen up and about at this time of the evening, "Queen Susan," he said and bowed deeply, hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword, "Is there anything I can do for you, Your Majesty?"
Susan smiled kindly and shook her head, "Nay, Good faun," said she, "King Edmund just needs a drink of water."
The guard raised his eyebrows and said quickly, "If that be so, Queen Susan, is His Majesty ill? Shall I call for a healer?"
"Nay, not this time, Good faun," Susan shook her head in emphasis. The guard bowed again, "Yes, Your Majesty."
Susan dismissed herself and continued her way down the staircase. She could never get used to how much respect she and her siblings had gained from the Narnians in a short period of time. Especially since Edmund had once turned traitor towards them. But that is past, Susan thought, recalling the words of the Lion. He is very different now. The queen smiled as an image of her brother crossed her mind, Seventeen or not, Ed; you'll always be my baby brother. And so Susan went, continuing to let her thoughts run about by how her brothers were well respected all throughout the Empire, and how allies like Archenland continued their support for Narnia.
Finally, Susan found herself crossing the Dining Hall towards the doors leading to the kitchens. It wasn't the first time she did this, for even in the past, especially when Peter, Lucy or Edmund would fall ill, she would come down at night to get them water or fruit or anything of the sort she could find to make her siblings comfortable. Little did she know exactly how much the other Pevensies loved her for loving them to that extent. (I could probably tell you how much they loved her, but their love is so great, it's impossible to put it in words. In fact, great love would be an understatement.)
Susan opened the large doors to the kitchens and looked to retrieve a simple goblet from the great shelves lining a wall. After this, she went on near the great window where there was a ready jug of water sitting just at the shadows. Susan poured the water into the goblet and looked out the window, admiring the effect of the stars on the sky and the dimly lit grounds outside. But something different caught her eye, and it sent a good deal of shivers down her spine. The queen froze as she watched a large dark figure hastily making its way down the path towards the back of Cair Paravel. Based on its direction, it was as if it was returning to the castle.
Susan narrowed her eyes, trying to make out the face under the hood of the cloak, but failing miserably. The figure slowed to a complete stop and faced her, and Susan could have yelped. She swallowed down the urge and continued to stare. Presently the hand holding the goblet felt very cold and wet and Susan jumped. Hurriedly, she set down both the jug and goblet and hurriedly wiped her hand on the skirts of her nightgown. She looked up and out the window again and cringed. The figure was gone.
"Impossible," she whispered to herself. The window was vast, if the figure was running, she would still be seeing it hobbling away. There was a still a great stretch of path to be seen and the queen was very sure she had not let her sight leave it for too long. Still, no matter where she looked, even leaning close to the glass and standing on her toes, Susan saw nothing.
"It must be me," she chided herself uncertainly and remembered Edmund might still be waiting for her. Quickly, she cleaned up the spilled water and took the goblet. She glanced a final time out the window, shook her head and left the kitchens.
"And where will you be heading this fine morning, Lucy?" Peter asked over breakfast. Lucy grinned from her seat and looked at Edmund, "Well…"
Edmund smiled, "Don't look to me, Lu. You're the one who wanted to go riding today."
Lucy's face lit up in sheer delight, "What about the plains?"
"And what doth the High King say?" Edmund addressed his brother. Peter laughed, "Don't go too far and be back well before noon," he reminded, "Ed, we have letters from Calormen."
Edmund nodded reassuringly and returned to his breakfast. Susan smiled, "Who will you be taking as your horse, Lucy?"
Lucy looked thoughtful, "Would Darcy mind, do you think?"
Susan cocked her head, "A Talking Horse?" she asked, "Will it be all right?"
Eleanor looked strangely at Susan, unsure of why a Talking Horse would be so wrong to take. Edmund caught her look, "Don't worry, Su," he said, "I'll be taking Phillip, and Eleanor will be with Thistleberry. Darcy could use a good ride out on the plains."
"Oh, delightful," Susan smiled at Eleanor, "You'll be taught by one of the best mares of Narnia."
Eleanor smiled uncertainly, "I'm sorry, Susan. But I don't think I quite understand why you were questioning taking a Talking Horse."
"Talking Horses are rarely ridden on casual days here in Narnia," Edmund offered, "That's because they are considered very important in society."
Eleanor then looked anxious, "And Thistleberry won't mind? I mean," Eleanor paused, "Well, I'm not really Narnian myself."
Peter chuckled good-naturedly, "You're part of the Empire nonetheless."
"Don't worry, Eleanor," Lucy grinned, "Thistleberry is an excellent trainer, and you'll be riding regular horses soon enough, if that's any comfort to you."
Edmund watched Eleanor closely for a while. He wasn't sure if the others noticed and were just keeping quiet about it, but Eleanor looked very much tired. Her eyes were ever so slightly swollen, like after crying for a bit, and her skin just lightly pale. Edmund furrowed his brow in thought. I wonder if she has any nightmares herself, he pondered, And if she does, how by the Lion does she cope?
Edmund cleared his throat and turned to Peter, "Do we have anything else to attend to besides Calormenes and councils today?"
Peter smiled wickedly at his brother, "What about that spar?"
Edmund returned the grin, "Well, what about it?"
Susan sighed, "Here we go…"
Lucy giggled and her bright brown eyes shifted from each of the three siblings: a mother-like glaring Susan, a challenging blue-eyed Peter, and a mischievous full-of-game Edmund. Eleanor watched thoughtfully the staring contest of the two kings while Peter continued talking, "Since we don't have lessons scheduled for today," Peter said, "Perhaps a little tournament to get you going?"
"Why are you worried about me?" Edmund taunted meanly, "You're the one who failed our last dispute."
"Oh, rubbing it in, are we?" Peter laughed.
Susan glared warningly at her brothers, "If you two go on about trees again, I'll—Well, I don't know what I'll do!"
Edmund winked, "If it's any comfort," he said, "We'll do it on the courtyard."
Peter raised his eyebrows, "Fine by me."
Lucy clapped her hands, "Oh, what fun!" she grinned. She enjoyed it when her brother's sparred. They were excellent at it. And every time Cair Paravel held tournaments, the kings never ceased to awe the crowd with complex maneuvers, sharp techniques, and a grand finish whether or not they won or lost.
Eleanor smiled. She had heard of these tournaments from the Beavers, and in fact she had chanced upon some books in the dam and in the Secondary Library regarding sword matches and when and how they were held. It was considered a great sport among royalty. Then again, her face fell.
Ludwig, according to Mr. Beaver, had sparred the witch all by himself, a feat that was considered a fool's attempt. But be that as it may, Eleanor's heart welled with pride for a brother she never really knew. He had stood up for his country, while she fled. Eleanor felt a pang of guilt. Why hadn't she fought back in the first place? Then she could have joined her brother and sister and parents in an eternal glory, rather than be left behind. Eleanor huffed inwardly.
Hush, Eleanor.
Eleanor sat up. That voice.
"Well then!" Lucy's voice broke into the princess's thoughts, "Now that we're all done with our meals, why don't we get ready for the ride?"
Eleanor swallowed, shaken by the strange and haunting voice.
"Is everything all right, Lady?" Edmund asked carefully. Eleanor caught his gaze, that dark and sympathetic gaze that seemed to understand, to be aware, to know so many things. Eleanor returned that gaze with the blank one of her own and she replied softly, "Yes."
Eleanor hurriedly ascended the staircase to the direction of her quarters and leaned against the wall, "Oh, Eleanor," she whispered, "If you'll stop thinking so much, then maybe you won't be haunted by…" Eleanor fell from speech, unsure of what to say, "Anything."
She continued her way until she came to the door. Svéda was right outside, "Good morning again, mistress," she greeted with her bright smile, "How was your meal?"
Eleanor nodded and smiled kindly, "Very well, thank you." She never understood how Cair Paravel's servants managed to transport themselves from one area of the castle to another so quickly just like Svéda. She reckoned that perhaps there were certain passages and access hallways for them to use.
Svéda held the door open for Eleanor and said, "And what is it you would like to do now, mistress?"
Eleanor entered the room and walked to the wardrobe, pulling out the riding dress and cloak, "Queen Lucy and King Edmund have invited me to go out riding with them," she replied and turned to the naiad, "Please help me," she smiled nervously.
Svéda chimed laughter, "I'm sure a lady like you would make a fine horsewoman, mistress," said she, "Your mother taught you how to ride?"
Eleanor opened her mouth to speak while Svéda helped her undress when she remembered that no Narnian at the moment knew of her origins, "Oh, I…" Eleanor raked her brain for an answer, "I do have an older sister, who would take me out on trails once in a while."
"Ah!" Svéda said brightly and prepared the riding dress in her arms, "Which trails, Your Ladyship?"
Eleanor swallowed. Had she gotten herself into a mess now. Which trails? The princess replied with the only answer she could think of, "The Western Woods."
Svéda held up the dress before her and stopped her errand for a moment, "The Western Woods, Your Ladyship?"
Eleanor nodded and smiled, struggling to keep her face calm, "Yes, I come from…" Eleanor's mind raced and she recalled what Mr. Beaver taught her about Narnia's geography just before she ran away, "Lantern Waste," she continued confidently, "Up north."
Svéda looked at her for a moment and a smooth smile played on the naiad's lips, "I see," she said slowly and helped Eleanor into the riding dress, tying the ribbons at the back.
"Let's tie your hair, Your Ladyship," she said after a while, "'Tis not wise to have one's hair lose while riding out."
Eleanor smiled kindly, relieved that Svéda had not pressed on about her country, "It's all right, Svéda. I can take care of it-"
"Now, now. I insist, mistress," Svéda said and seated Eleanor in front of the vanity, "I am quite sure Queen Lucy is doing the same thing right this moment," smiled knowingly, "And this won't take long."
Eleanor sighed and played with the pendant of her necklace again. She bit her lip and was about to begin another conversation when she looked to the mirror and nearly jumped ten feet in the air. Eleanor's eyes widened. Svéda was no longer the one doing her hair, rather it was a fair-skinned maidservant dressed in a beautiful dress of cotton creams and deep reds. Her hair was tied back in a neat braid and she wore a necklace identical to Eleanor's around her neck. She smiled at the princess through the mirror and laughed musically when she was done, combing the last strands of her hair back, "Well," said she, "They don't call me Maidservant Maria of Hair for nothing, do they, Eleanor?"
As she laughed, Eleanor realized it was meant to be a jest, as if it was a jest she had been making for a long time now. But Eleanor didn't find it funny. The name Maria was dreadfully familiar…
"Mistress," Svéda's voice broke in. Eleanor blinked and shook her head, "Oh," she mumbled unconsciously.
"Mistress," Svéda said quickly, "Is everything all right?"
Eleanor suddenly stood up and said hastily, "Yes, Svéda. Everything is fine. Thank you," she breathed and strode to the bed to get her cloak. Svéda watched as Eleanor moved and just as the princess was about to reach for the door, she said, "You know, milady," she smiled strangely, "That's a beautiful necklace you have around your neck."
Eleanor slowly turned to face the naiad and she smiled solemnly, "Thank you, Svéda," she said carefully, "My…mother gave it to me when I was little," she said. And as an afterthought added, How I wish that were true.
"Oh, it sounds very special, Your Ladyship," Svéda nodded, "Wouldn't you like to leave it in the jewelry box instead?"
Eleanor furrowed her brow in thought, "Why ever, Svéda?"
"Riding can be very tricky, Your Ladyship," the naiad pointed out with another chime of laughter, "You might lose it while bouncing on the saddle."
Eleanor gave it some thought but shook her head, "No, thank you, Svéda. That won't be necessary."
"But, mistress-"
"Svéda," Eleanor said and stared at the naiad, baffled by the naiad's insistent behavior, "I have ridden with this necklace before," she lied, "Now, if you'll excuse me. I have to meet the monarchs."
"Of course, milady," Svéda said and curtsied, "Forgive me."
Eleanor nodded, "It's all right," she said softly and promptly left her quarters.
Author's Note: Thus ends the sixth chapter of the trilogy :) Please review/let me know if you have anything to say (good or bad) about this chapter.
I can't wait to get the next one up for you guys. I hope you continue on with this Borovian quest of ours. There is so much more you need to know about this now forgotten country…
Spooky. Lol! Kidding.
Thanks for reading!
