Chapter Eight: A Lesson in Philosophy
I appropriated Peter's bed simply because it was bigger than mine and closer to the door and therefore a shorter distance to stagger with the pile of books I had taken from the library. He wouldn't mind my borrowing his space if, indeed, he noticed at all. Dumping the heavy tomes onto the bed, I hurried off to tea.
I was, of course, late, but no later than my siblings had come to expect me to be on a regular basis. Tea was set up on the veranda by the rose garden and the moment Lucy spotted me trotting down the hall she began to pour. I dropped into a chair next to Peter and stole a glance at him. Quiet as usual, he seemed both tired and relaxed. Lucy's company had done him some good, but then she could always cheer him up.
Someone - Susan most likely - had remembered my preference for coffee and served me some in a two-handled saucer more commonly used for hot chocolate. Despite the heat of the day I drank the coffee very hot before I sat back with a contented sigh, ready to listen to the various wedding plans and avoid mentioning my own lack of preparation. To keep from having to talk I rather overindulged in snozberry tarts. I felt justified, though, since snozberries are my favorite Narnian fruit and they have such a short season, made all the more scarce by this drought. Besides, I was hungry again and the little yellow tarts were too rare and delicious to let go to waste.
I noticed that Peter didn't eat much at tea or at the light dinner that followed. Later on, in our room, he made no comment about the pile of books or the little brother occupying his bed. Instead he lay down amidst the tomes and papers and set to reading the pages Arthur had marked for me in one of the books. I did my very best to remember everything Kanell had told me that morning in order to transcribe it along with Xati's answers. It seemed as if an age had passed since the Giants had arrived and several ages since I had been asked to join the two Centaurs in marriage.
Staring at the pages of notes, struck by the similarities in their answers, I waited for inspiration to come take me by storm and for the words to flow effortlessly forth from the pencil I clutched and onto the paper before me. I had no such luck. I knew what I needed, but the right words eluded me. Time passed. Inspiration ignored me completely.
"Ed?" asked Peter when one sigh too many told him I was at an impasse.
"I don't know what to say. Cheroom explained what to do, but I don't know what to say to them." I looked at my brother. He was watching me with an odd intensity not unlike the look Oreius had given me in the armory. A thought occurred to me as I returned his gaze, and I hesitantly admitted, "I've never blessed anyone before. Not really."
"Bosh," said the High King gently, the look in his eyes softening. "Certainly you have. Haven't I heard you say that Dwarfish blessing a thousand times?"
"It's not the same!" I threw down the pencil in frustration and protest. "That's always asking for Aslan's blessing, not mine."
"But it is the same, Ed. You're the one that's there, seeing the need for a blessing and bestowing it on the spot. You might be asking for Aslan's protection, but the desire is yours." He set the book aside and leaned his head on his hand. "This time it's just a bit . . . bigger."
"And more permanent," I muttered, flopping back into the pillows.
"Aslan willing, yes, it will be."
"I don't know what to say," I admitted, lifting my head to look at him. "How do you manage it? You rattle off blessings as easily as blinking."
He blinked. "Well, you can cut someone down to size with two sentences and a glare."
"Racking up casualties is not the point of a wedding, Peter."
Peter chuckled, and I could see him unwind a bit more. "That depends on the wedding, I suppose, and the in-laws. It doesn't have to be anything fancy, just heartfelt and honest. When I bless someone, I just say what I wish most for them."
"But I want it to be perfect!"
Now he smiled. "Knowing Xati and Kanell and how much they're in love, you could just get up there and say 'Aslan's blessing and mine upon this union' and it would be perfect."
I shook my head. "But why ask me?"
"Why not?" he countered. "Both Kanell and Xati hold you in the highest regard. You're a king and knight and scholar! Don't sell yourself short, brother. There's no one in the world I'd sooner have beside me or behind me in combat or debate."
"But . . . I haven't always been the best person, Peter."
"Who has?"
You have, I wanted to say, but I knew he would deny as much. Peter may not be perfect, but he was closer to the mark than anyone I knew, and his shortcomings just added to his charm.
"Cheroom said . . . he said before that I was Narnia and the fact that I was made a king by Aslan is proof enough of my worthiness."
Peter nodded in agreement. "Precisely."
I waited for more, but without prompting that one word seemed the end of that train of sagacity.
"I don't follow. How can I be Narnia? How can any of us be a country?" I pressed, demanding more.
Peter gladly gave me everything I asked for and more. "Aslan gave us to Narnia and Narnia to us. We are Aslan's blessing upon Narnia. Each of us and all of us. Out of all the people in our world, he was waiting for us. And not just because of who we were, but of who we are and who we'll be." Sitting up, he folded his bare feet beneath him. "Oreius said something similar to me when he knocked some sense back into me the other day. He said, 'When will you realize that you are Narnia?'"
Our Centaur teachers must be in cahoots. That didn't surprise me in the least, especially since they were related. I made a face, gesturing helplessly for him to get on with the philosophy lesson. "But what does that mean?"
He turned and stretched out to rest his head on the pillow beside mine. "Narnia just isn't a patch of land, Ed. It's people, our people, joined by love and magic and revinim. It's the wind and the waters and moonlight to dance by, music and wine and laughter. It's the army and Parliament and those silly Mice and those poor Giants and -"
He paused to swallow. I could tell he was trying to brave his way past the memories of this morning and my heart ached for him. He struggled for control and after a moment he continued in a quieter tone.
"By giving us to Narnia, Aslan has given us the greatest gift imaginable in return." He shifted to a different tack. "Could you leave Narnia? Right now? Just walk away from all this?"
I shuddered at the thought, remembering the moment I first stepped foot in Ettinsmoor. To say that land had been lacking in comparison to our home was an understatement. I could not imagine life without the clash of swords every morning and the wise voices of our teachers and counselors or rich clothes and bountiful feasts and the haunting music of Narnia. Life without Narnia would be a pale, disappointing echo, an imitation of life and beauty.
"No," I finally managed.
"Because it's in you. In your heart and soul. Val-" He broke off. He had hardly spoken the name of the Ettin crown prince a dozen times since we had rescued him. With a shuddering breath he rolled onto his back, staring up the rich canopy overhead as he forced himself to continue. "Valerlan couldn't grasp that. He had no regard for revinim and he was not one with his land or his people. He didn't want to be."
"That sounds very lonely," I replied softly.
"He was, I think." He stared directly at me, his blue eyes bright and his gold hair fanned out on the pillow. "That's part of it, Ed. In Narnia, we're never lonely. Not in that sense. We have Aslan. We have the land, and the land is alive."
"You're right. When did you become so smart, Peter?"
"Since coming here and having classes pounded into my skull. Though I've said it before and I'll say it again, Edmund Randall: you are the smartest of us."
I scoffed. "I don't feel it."
"That's because you haven't given yourself a chance to see it or feel it. You are. Trust me."
"I do."
"And you can manage this wedding ceremony, brother." He smiled at me then, that gentle loving smile that meant the whole world to me. "The blessing will come."
And I, for one, knew better than to doubt the word of the land's High King.
"Peter?"
"Hmm?"
I was thinking of when he had gone into the Western Wild to get the apple from the Tree of Protection in order to save me from Jadis' curse. In those months without him, I had felt ancient before my time. Upon return home he had been so exhausted, so worn, that he had seemed so old to me. We were all older and more mature and responsible than children our ages should be. Such was the price of kingship, but I wouldn't have it any other way.
"How old are you?"
"Fifteen. You know that."
"You don't sound it," I said in a whisper.
Peter's expression turned sad, though his smile lingered. I knew he understood my meaning.
"I don't feel it."
