Dearest Reviewers,
WHOA! We made it over 100 reviews! You guys are incredible! This is only chapter eight—this is the first time for me—I feel so spoiled.
Ya'll know me all too well! I don't even think I could think of adjectives to use to make this graphic enough for an M rating! It'll be rated T. If you see anything that seems too violent just let me know and I'll up the rating. I don't want anyone younger than the age of thirteen getting a nasty surprise and having nightmares or something. (like cans of Dr. Pepper attacking them with pencils and book bags)
Oh, and one more note, sorry for the use of 'bloody' in the last chapter. I didn't think twice about it since it is not a curse word in America, but I wasn't being very thoughtful for any British reviewers. (If I have any.)
Well, now that all that is over with, onto the next chapter!
Love to all,
Pip
PS: I decided, even though there are a few of you that have expressed support for an Edmund/Mary Sue (that Mary Sue being ME) fic, I just can't do it. I would feel quite guilty for the other party that likes this story because it ISN'T a Mary Sue, and it goes against my code—creed, if you will—of being loyal to Lewis. Plus, my dears, I am very…old…for Edmund. His character was what—fourteen? I'd be a cradle robber! Anyway…that's my conclusion.
Shout Out to Monkey: I love your idea. I will use it with your kind permission.
Chapter 8, Preparation and Strange Dreams
"How am I doing?" I asked Edmund about an hour into our sword practice. We were caught in a pause, both our blades were pressed together and we were putting our weight into it. I expected him to start monologuing about 'using hate to give me strength in the Dark Side'.
"You'll die bravely," he said, gritting his teeth.
"Fine!" I snapped, suddenly stepping out of our stance. Edmund toppled forward and landed on his hands and knees. "That was good!" he barked. "Stab me while I'm down!"
I lunged as if to stab the dirt next to him. He used to flat side of the blade and smacked me in the ankle. "If you are going to stab him while he's down, leap. Your feet will be off the ground in case of an ankle swipe. You can stab him in the back and use him as a spring board to get behind him."
I backed up, panting. "Are you always this good?"
"Yes," he rolled and was quickly on his feet again. "Let them make the first move." I waited, and he swung his blade in an arch. I wasn't sure which way to block so I dived and plowed into his stomach.
"Oof!" he exclaimed, dropping his sword. I stepped back again, and he put a hand on his stomach.
"Sorry," I squeaked, "Did I hurt you?"
"No, you knocked the breath out of me," he said. "That was also very good! If you're a better wrestler than you are a fencer, by all means, get rid of the weapons and go for the throat."
"If I CAN get them to drop their weapon," I said thoughtfully. "Well…shall we go again?"
Edmund used the flat again and whacked me in the shoulder. "I've just cut off your right arm, what will you do?"
I collapsed on the ground and started twitching.
"What is THAT?" he asked.
"A seizure," I replied.
"Get up," he commanded.
"Okay." I stood.
"I repeat," said Edmund patiently, "What will you do without your right arm?"
I switched hands. "I'll use my left," I said, "AND I'll scream every profanity ever known to man. Except for the ones that take the Lord's name in vain, of course."
"And if they come at you from the right?" Edmund whirled around me and rushed to my side, ignoring my second idea.
I hesitated, completely unsure of what to do without a right arm. Just as Ed drew close enough to really do damage, I turned so I had my back to him and used the butt-end of my hilt to bash him in the chin.
"Ouch!" Edmund jumped back, rubbing his face.
"Oh!" I turned around. "I'm so sorry!"
"Pippin, if you stop and apologize every time you get someone, you'll be dead in thirty seconds!" Edmund said, lowering his hand.
"Sorry," I said, "I just thought I'd given you a fat lip or something."
"No, but you made me a very proud teacher. That was very clever. Its an elementary move, but clever for your level."
"I watch a lot of Pirate movies," I confessed.
"Do you like Errol Flynn?" Edmund asked, circling me in a very creepy way.
"I LOVE Errol Flynn!" I gushed.
"Don't get distracted!" Edmund suddenly rushed me again, going directly for a stab. I sidestepped it and clumsily threw my sword around, trying to hit his blade away from me.
"Careful," Ed urged, "Don't kill me. I'm just the instructor."
We went on and on like this for another hour. Soon I was so exhausted I finally sat on the ground and panted, "Strike. I am going on strike."
"You've done pretty well, for a clumsy girl," Edmund plopped down next to me.
"Will I live?" I asked breathlessly.
"More or less." Edmund glanced up—Peter was calling his name somewhere. "Pippin," he said seriously, "Are you sure you want to do this?"
"Noooooo," I drawled.
"Then WHY are you doing it?" Edmund pressed.
"Why are YOU asking so many questions?" I sidestepped only because I didn't know what to say. I wasn't suicidal, and I wasn't brave. What kind of descriptive terms did I have that explained the balance between the two?
"Edmund!" Peter called again exasperatingly.
"I'm coming, Pete!" Edmund stood up and brushed the dirt from his hands on his pants. "Look," he said in a different tone, turning and facing me again. "I'll be honest. Tonight you'll last about fifteen—twenty minutes tops. When you die, it will most likely be by bleeding to death lying helplessly with a few other bodies and praying for rescue. I don't WANT to be morbid, and I DON'T want to discourage you."
"You just want me to know what I'm getting myself into," I finished.
"Yes," Edmund said softly. "Now…I repeat. Do you really want to do this?"
He held my gaze until I grew disquieted enough to break it. "Yes!" I said, not really irritated at him but sounding like it. "I'm a teenager. I'm stupid. It's all I do. Well—okay—except for writing fan fictions and getting zits and singing."
"Edmund, come on, we're drawing the plans, and Caspian wants to talk with you about using your electric torch for something!" Peter appeared by the door. "You can chat later!"
Edmund rolled his eyes at Peter, then turned to me again. "Get some sleep," he said, sounding annoyed with the stubbornness but in a tender way. "I'm going to try and figure something out for you."
"What would that be, exactly?"
"That would be for King Edmund the Just to know about, and for Pippin the lowly peasant to NOT know…yet." He turned and walked away.
I threw a dirt clod at him and missed.
Lucy came running up then. "Pippin," she called, "You never answered my question about fighting in the battle. Are you?"
"Oh, right," I said distractedly, "I am…or, I hope to."
"Perfect," Lucy came running up to me and grabbed my hand. "Come with me. The fauns have been working on armor for me, but I told them I wouldn't be fighting. I'm only an inch or so taller than you, so, it may just fit you."
"Excellent!" I said, slightly excited.
We went into the armory and Lucy began showing me the pieces and strapping them to me. "These are the arm guards," she narrated, "And here's the chain mail—hmmm—it's a little long. Quinn?" a black-haired faun came to us and bowed.
"Can we get this chain mail shortened for Pippin?" Lucy asked sweetly.
"Absolutely, your Majesty," said Quinn, "But will you not be using it yourself?"
"I am afraid I am very rusty on my fighting skills," Lucy admitted, patting the fauns' hand.
"But you did so well during the fight at Anvard in the great battle with Calormene!" cried Quinn, excited. "Our bedtime tales say that you led the attack yourself."
"I did," Lucy smiled at him, "But I was much older and more mature then!"
The faun blinked, confused. "Uh…very well, your Majesty."
"Poor dears," Lucy whispered to me when he had taken the chain mail shirt away. "I wish I could explain it all to them."
"I'm sure they do too," I whispered back.
After another ten minutes, Lucy showed me how to put on my armor. With my short-cropped hair and lack of makeup, I looked like a boy.
"Lucy," I whined, "I'm a man!"
"You could almost be Caspian's long lost brother!" giggled Lucy.
"Lusssssseeee!" I shouted like the Prince in 'Enchanted'. "Come, my love! Let us not tarry and be married! I have slaughtered the evil dragon and we must proceed to my golden castle in the clouds!"
"Alas," Lucy hid her face and curtsied. "I am not worthy of your…um…manliness."
"All women are worthy!" I guffawed in my manly Edward voice. "We will be married tomorrow! Wait—what is that I hear? My valiant steed gallops aloft and will arrive soon to carry us away."
Lucy collapsed on the floor, laughing hysterically.
"It wasn't that funny," I said seriously.
She kept on laughing.
"Come on, Lu, I am not THAT funny," I said, grinning nevertheless.
"No, no, its not you, its h…" Lucy cried breathlessly.
"No, wait," I giggled, "Let me show you FUNNY!" I drew myself up to…well, as high as I could go…and drew my sword. "I am Prince Caspian Jr.!" I said in a pretty darn good Spanish accent. "Lucy! My love of loves! My father has spoken of your gallantry. I must ask you to bestow…uh…the Genovian order of the Rose! I beggeth you!" I dropped to my knees.
"Rather!" snorted Lucy.
I tried to stand back up. "Darn," I snapped, "I can't get up."
"Allow me to give you some assistance," said Caspian's voice.
I screeched and fell even more over. Lucy was laughing so hard she wasn't making a sound any more. There were now several onlookers.
"Well, hey there, Highness, your Honor, sir," I stumbled.
Caspian grasped my elbow and pulled me to my feet.
"I tried to warn you!" giggled Lucy. Caspian held out his hand and helped her to her feet as well.
"You did," I said, blushing.
"That was highly amusing," Caspian smirked at me. "So—how does my accent sound again?"
"Oh shutup!" I whirled and marched away on heel, and everyone in the armory burst into laughter. When they subsided, the only noise to be heard was the awful clanking and jingling my armor made and they all laughed a second time.
"LUCY!" I screamed. "Please come help me get out of all this!" She scurried after me and Caspian bit his lip to hold back his polite fruit Prince chuckles.
As early evening drew into later, we were informed by a crier that we had two hours to sleep and another for getting ready. Lucy told me she'd wake me when it was time. After eating a meager dinner, she left me alone to get some rest.
I crawled into a makeshift bed of two thin, moth-eaten blankets huddled against the square arch that framed the view of Aslan's carved statue. I pulled my book bag towards me, opened the flap, and began a more thorough search. I found a toothbrush—thank God—but no toothpaste. There were two sticks of gum, the Prince Caspian book, and a few other essential feminine items. A sheaf of notebook paper and a pen also lay in there—along with a few tissues, my wallet, and a receipt from the Dollar Tree. There was also the leather gloves I'd stolen from the treasure chamber—the arm guards were nowhere to be found. Either it was the result of an un-happening or I dropped them.
Who knows?
I opened my Prince Caspian book nonchalantly, planning on flipping through the blank pages and wonder forlornly if I'd ever know the future like all the other World Fall Ins.
I was surprised to find the first page full.
"The library was extremely quiet, as usual," I read out loud. "It was one of those days when I biked over in the Englandish kind of day." I gasped.
The blank book DID have words in it—but they weren't C. S. Lewis's.
They were MINE.
It was everything I'd ever thought, or did, since the fateful moment when I passed across the threshold of the library entrance.
"It was raining slightly," I continued. "…and the clouds were gray, but the air was fresh and smelled green. A good book day."
I closed the book, mouth open so wide a bird could fly in.
"Well, I'll be killed and chilled by Happy Dale cemetery," I breathed in complete shock. I pulled the book open again, this time a little father on.
"So, Pumpkin," I ventured.
"It's Trumpkin," he growled softly.
"Do you have any lembas?"
"What the hedgehog is that?"
"It's a wafer bread. Elves make it."
I slammed the book shut.
"This is crazy," I said out loud. "Abolsutely crazy! And incredible! I love it all ready! I won't even have to try and remember anything! I can type it right up and post it when I get back! Er…if I ever GET back. Maybe this is just a stupid un-happening too and it will all be blank again." I propped my book bag behind my head for a pillow and slapped my head on it. Something very hard pressed against my skull.
I sighed. "What is this??" I unzipped the front flap, which had a pocket I had forgotten to look in, and found my camera.
"Yes!" I muttered sleepily. "Now! I can take pictures! I'll show everyone when I get home! They'll all see what I did this summer…if I ever GET back…" that was definitely my favorite saying of the hour.
I was beginning to drift. "I have to remember to get a picture with Lucy and Susan…I will give Caspian bunny ears!"
Soon, I was sleeping. But what is a sleep before battle without a dream?
I dreamed I was standing in front of my house back in that Other Place. I saw a man leading a horse go by, but he wasn't really there. It just a premonition or something. On the horse were two body bags…with bodies in them, apparently.
Just then, the man turned and grinned at me evilly. He lifted the hood from one of the body bags, and I saw Edmund's face.
"Crap!" I shouted. "He's going to kill my friends!" I ran down the street and was suddenly in downtown. Before me was the old-fashioned 40s theatre called the 'Cameo' that I love going to. The sign said "Prince Caspian, Hollywood premiere!"
I scurried inside, saw a friend of mine from school named Ben, and sat two seats down from him. I scanned the theatre, thinking for some stupid reason that Edmund would be in this US theatre in the year 2008 even though he lived in 1940s England.
Suddenly, I looked down at myself and realized I was wearing a gorgeous salmon colored dress and white high heels. What the heck?
Just then, with a polite "'Scuse me, 'scuse me," Edmund was seated beside me. "Sorry I'm late," he blabbed. He looked at my dress. "OH," he cried, "I guess I should have dressed up for the occasion!"
He was wearing black sweatpants and a black sweatshirt.
"Uh, it's okay," I stammered, "You looked so hawt during Homecoming that'll keep you going for the next couple of months!"
Edmund's mouth dropped open and he snorted in laughter. My friend Ben burst into hysterical laughing too. I blushed so badly and muttered, "I can't believe I just said that!!" They kept on guffawing.
"Just to let you know, some guy is coming to kill you," I interrupted their revelry.
"Oh! We must warn Peter!" Edmund jumped to his feet and ran to the front of the theatre, with me close behind him. Peter was sitting in the front row. Together, the three of us ran out to an adjoining country neighborhood.
Suddenly, a crowd of screaming people grabbed swords and charged to attack us.
The ground began to shake, a huge hole appeared, and a Narnian army poured out. They began fighting with the charge of people, saving the Pevensie boys and I.
A shrieking woman ran by then, screaming, "THERE'S A MONSTER!"
"Um," I corrected, "Try a couple hundred different species of creatures from another universe?"
Then, it faded into blackness.
"Pippin," said Lucy's voice.
"Hmm?" I mumbled. "What, Lu?"
"I'll help you with your armor, here's a bit of food for you, and their meeting in the main cave."
"Is it time?" I asked, not entirely awake yet.
"Yes," she whispered, "It's time."
Sorry, bit of a cliffie there. The Night Raid will be next.
And, yes my dears, I DID have that dream...last night, actually. It was just so funny and ridiculous I just HAD to put it in!
God bless
Pippin
