Chapter Nine: Polishing Things Up

In an attempt to take her mind off things, Arrani had gone to the armory and asked the smiths if she could help. They promptly set her to work polishing the various pieces of armor that had gotten dusty and scratched in the assault. The polish used to seal the scratches and smooth the metal made her nose itch and her eyes water, but she set to her work with a will, hoping that her distraction would extend to the thousands of thoughts chasing each other around in her head. She didn't want to think about the friends she'd lost in that battle, she didn't want to think about the White Witch, or Peter or Caspian or anyone else. For just a few precious moments, she wanted to think about nothing at all.

The polish took forever to rub into the metal and her forearms began to ache from the constant motion, but eventually, the pieces under her hands became smooth and gleaming once more. Running a finger along the un-etched part of a shield, she absentmindedly thought of her father and wondered what he was doing at that moment. She wondered if he missed her, and she was surprised at how much she missed him. He may have been feeble and old, but there was a quiet wisdom about him, the kind that only could be gained from thousands of years of life. Suddenly she found herself missing the quiet peace of her island home, where there was no loss and no death.

A single tear splashed on the shield she was polishing. Hastily she wiped her eyes and rubbed the polish across the spot on the shield to remove the evidence of her tears, but paused and stared at her hands for a moment. They were glowing again, of course, and she took the time to turn them over a few times, looking at the way they seemed more silvery than the rest of her skin.

"You're not going to get those shields done if you keep staring at your hands like that."

She jumped and turned to see Caspian standing behind her, his eyes twinkling. She hadn't even heard him approach! She felt a blush creep up her neck as he pulled a barrel over and seated himself near her. "I didn't see you," she said as he picked up a breastplate and a rag and began to polish.

He shrugged an apology and glanced pointedly at her hands. "How are you feeling?"

Not entirely keen on answering, she focused instead on the shield.

She felt him watch her for a few more seconds, but he turned his attention away at last. They worked in companionable silence for quite some time and her hands had completely stopped glowing before she finally said, "I was… missing my father."

He looked up at her, his eyes full of sympathy, and she was suddenly very glad that he understood how she felt. It meant that she didn't have to explain or try to describe how she felt. He knew it already. The thought was extremely comforting. Perhaps there was something to be said for allowing someone to know your weaknesses, after all.

They were interrupted by a sudden tromp of boots and a quick, "Ahem." Turning, she saw Trumpkin standing there, one hand on his belt, his eyes twinkling as he took in the two of them hunched over a pile of old tarnished shields and breastplates. "I see you've gotten His Highness to settle down in one place for longer than a few minutes," he said. "Good for you, Starlet."

Blinking at the new nickname, she grinned sheepishly. "That's not patronizing at all, is it?" she said, mimicking his typical response to the Pevensies calling him "D.L.F."

"Well, Their Majesties don't exactly lend themselves to nicknames, so I have to take it out somewhere else, wouldn't you agree?" he replied.

She made a face. "I suppose."

He motioned toward the armor they were polishing. "Mind if I join you? I have some things to discuss with Caspian."

"Do you want me to leave?" she asked, beginning to get up, but he waved her back into her seat.

"It's nothing that you can't hear. Keep polishing those shields."

She settled back and picked up the rag she'd dropped. Trumpkin dragged over another barrel and seated himself on it. He looked her over briefly. "Did you have the healers tend to you?" he asked critically, his eyes traveling over what he could see of her various bruises and scrapes.

She made a face at him. "I don't see you interrogating Caspian about his battle scars. Stop fussing over me like a mother hen."

The Red Dwarf's brows knit together and he turned to look at Caspian, a teasing smile on his face. "She's got pluck, this one."

The Telmarine prince chuckled softly in reply, his eyes meeting hers briefly before looking back at Trumpkin. "Leave her alone, Trumpkin, and give me the report you came with."

The Dwarf looked as if he might enjoy teasing his young companions a bit more, but he hemmed and hawed importantly and settled back with a set of greaves and a polish-dipped rag to do some polishing of his own. "One of the faun sentries says he caught a glimpse of a Telmarine soldier at the edge of the woods beyond the How Field. That means they know where we are, Prince."

The mood in the room seemed to plummet to a new, deeply serious level. Caspian's face fell and his lips pressed into a thin line as he contemplated the implications of the information he'd just received. "But that means that we will have to meet them in full battle," he murmured grimly. "No more sorties and surprise attacks. Our forces against theirs." He tossed aside the polishing rag and set the armor on the ground. "I don't really like the sound of that."

"Does Peter know?" Arrani asked Trumpkin.

"Of course. He was the one who told me."

Caspian raised his head. "What does he say?"

"He said for me to tell you that we will convene a council of war in the Table Hall at sunset. We have many plans to discuss."

One question was bothering Arrani. "Just how many soldiers does your uncle have?" she asked Caspian.

He looked up at her with a grim expression. "Double or triple our forces, at least."

"And if they lay siege to the How?"

He shook his head. "We might last a few days on our stores, but no longer."

Trumpkin looked equally grim, and Arrani began to realize just how precarious her position was in this life. She had run away from home looking for adventure and now she was starting to feel as if she'd found more than she really wanted. Somehow, even during the fighting at Miraz's castle, she had never really believed that she could actually die without seeing her father again. Now that it was a very real possibility, she began to regret her hasty flight from her island home. She hadn't even said a proper goodbye to her father.

"Well," Trumpkin said after a long, drawn-out pause, "there are many things to do before the council. I'd best be seeing to some of them. You would do well to get busy yourselves," he added, looking severely at both of them. He tromped out on whatever business required his attention, leaving two very silent young people sitting motionless behind him.

Caspian seemed to guess exactly what Arrani was thinking. "Do you regret coming to us, now?" he asked her when they were alone.

She took a shaky breath and fiddled distractedly with a strand of her hair. "I regret not saying goodbye to my father," she said at last.

"It's not too late, you know. If you left now, you could get out through the woods behind the How and probably make it to the river. After that, you'd be past most of Miraz's soldiers and they'd be busy worrying about us."

"You think I could just leave now?" she asked him.

He blinked at her. "You have no reason to stay. Your family is not threatened; you have no connection to Narnia. You've done far more than anyone would ever expect of you by helping us at all."

"This isn't about expectations," she replied quietly, "This is about friends that I love and care about. I can't just leave them to die while I live." She straightened and looked away, keeping her hands carefully folded out of sight so that he couldn't see how frightened she was. "If I left now, I would regret it more than I could ever regret coming here."

She glanced up to see what he would say and saw him looking at the fold of her skirt that covered her hands. "Well, if you want to stay, there's not a lot we can do about it," he said at last. He leaned forward and flicked the fold away from her hands. "And I won't say that it doesn't make me glad that you're staying. Your hands are glowing again," he said, changing track suddenly.

"Well spotted," she replied a little sourly. She wasn't really meaning to be rude, but the conversation, combined with her own conflicting feelings, had made her touchy.

"Sorry," he answered, offering a conciliatory smile.

"Caspian!" Edmund came around the corner suddenly and stopped short, seeing the two of them in conversation. "Sorry," he said, clearing his throat and shuffling his feet awkwardly. "Um, Peter wants to see you before the council starts. He also said for me to invite you, too, Arrani. You've earned your place."


One more chapter and then more action. ;) I don't know about you guys, but I'm itching for some more. I keep brainstorming for things to do later on and keep realizing that I have to get there first. So enough dilly-dallying and onwards I go!

Elena