Chapter Ten: Dearest

"Who wants to go first?"

"I will! Let me. Mine's the heaviest. There must be something inside!"

"All right, Lu! Prove to us right now that Narnia's younger king remembers how to write."

I giggled at Peter's happy teasing and took a seat on a foot rest close by the fire. Peter and Susan settled down on the floor beside me and we leaned close and warm in the cozy sitting room that divided my room from Susan's. Three letters had arrived today carried by gigantic black Fruit Bats who lived close by the Blue River Smithy. Though there were only three letters, about twenty bats brought them. After talking to them a little while we figured out that they had all wanted to carry the letters to us, so Edmund charged the lot of them with delivering his messages and they had taken turns carrying them.

We had hurried through our evening meal and dessert, making ourselves wait until we could settle down and comfortably enjoy Edmund's news. I missed my brother so much that not opening his letter immediately was almost as bad as waiting for presents on Christmas morning.

I broke the red wax seal and unfolded the thick paper. Something heavy for its size slid into my lap and I carefully lifted a metal arrowhead. It was shaped very much like a narrow aspen leaf with a heavy stem, and there was an delicate scroll design engraved on the flat surfaces. Susan and Peter leaned forward to see it as I lifted it up. It glinted almost mirror-bright in the light of the fire as if in memory of where it had been born.

"It's beautiful," breathed Susan, her eyes aglow.

"And sharp," Peter said, able to tell at a glance. "Careful," he warned as I placed it into Susan's ready palm.

"Read the letter, Lucy," begged Susan, turning the arrowhead so she and Peter could admire it from every angle.

I cleared my throat, and I was so excited I was almost breathless as I read them Edmund's letter. It was dated from two days prior and showed a few scratches from the Fruit Bats' claws.

Dearest Lucy,

Thank you for the letter from before I left. I found it my first full day here and I needed it badly. I had spent the day doing useless and very messy work and I was very tired and annoyed. It was good to hear from you and Susan. I hope Peter is behaving.

The smithy is hard by the Blue River, a full two days gallop from the Cair. The Dwarfs here are all from the same branch of their clan with a few distant cousins serving as apprentices. They're not as friendly as the Red Dwarfs we're used to at the palace, but once you get to know them they tend to smile more than scowl. Most of them, anyway. One girl, Baia, is younger than you and she and her brother Brack wake me up every morning. For some reason they think it's fun. Their grandmother used to be Chief Smith and she's taken a shine to me.

I've been working with one of the master smiths and three apprentices. I run around a lot and fetch things and tend the furnace in the shop. It gets fantastically hot and the metal turns white-hot then brilliant yellow-orange and red as it cools down. It's very pretty to see and the master makes the most amazing weapons. I'm including an arrowhead he was going to discard so you can see some of his work. He didn't like the balance on this particular one after it was engraved and sharpened and he let me have it. Pretty, isn't it? They don't believe in making anything plain that can be made beautiful. Be careful, it's very sharp.

I know I said I'd stay a week, but that's not long enough. I'm going to stay longer because I haven't really gained Brickit's trust. They've had their experiences with people that ruled Narnia before and they weren't at all good. I have to show them that we're different in as many ways as I can, and since they respect hard work and sarcasm, I'm the one for the job. It also helps that I have dark hair. Baia was horrified when I told her Peter had yellow hair - they don't like things that are too different from what they're used to. I don't think Peter would have survived ten minutes here.

Love,

Edmund

P.S. Don't tell Peter I said that!

I clapped a hand over my mouth and looked up at Peter, trying not to giggle at his expression. He shook his head, trying to scowl but bursting into a smile that led to a laugh instead.

"Hath he no faith?" cried Peter in mock despair.

"He knows you too well," said Susan, nudging him.

"And what's wrong with being blond?" he wondered, rocking to the side as she elbowed him gently. "As if I can help it."

Susan leaned close, smiling brilliantly at him. "Nothing, Peter, it's just that so far you're the only one we've seen in Narnia. Now read yours."

Grumbling and still shaking his head, Peter broke the seal on his letter.

Peter,

Deliberately provoking is a gross understatement, dearest brother.

I'm going to stay another week. My apologies to everyone that expected me back and I hope Martil can find enough dust to keep him busy, but I think Brickit is testing me and my resolve . . . among other things. He said I haven't gained his trust but I think - no, I know I've made some headway. He seeks me out now and then and gives me some instruction or help and I think he likes that he hasn't rid himself of me quite yet. I have to use the momentum I've built up to gain his good will. I know I can do it.

I hope the Weavers' Guild has gone away and that the girls have backed off a bit from their 'worrying about you worrying about me' plot. Lion's sake, just don't give them anything to work with, will you? Am I the only one in this family that doesn't worry without good cause?

And I do not snore!

Love,

Ed

"So you two are driving me mad on purpose?" yelled Peter. He wasn't angry or hurt, not really, he was just teasing us.

"You do worry," I said, realizing we had been crowding him quite a bit.

"Maybe," he said, "but not letting me study won't help!"

Susan gave me back the arrowhead and reached over to put her hand on Peter's knee. "You're right. We were trying to keep you too busy to worry. We won't bother you so much, we promise. He'll be home soon, Peter."

"I'm not worried," he defended. "Not really. I just miss him. We've just never not all been together, that's all. And he does so snore," Peter added under his breath.

"Well, listen to your brother and don't give us cause, then," said Susan, opening her letter.

Dearest Susan,

Here's some of your paper and ink back. Thank you for sending it, I forgot to pack some. Everything here is Dwarf-sized and I probably could only fit a few words on a sheet of their paper anyway.

I think things are going well, though I'm extending my stay. A sennight isn't enough time to see this through. I don't know what I was thinking when I took up this challenge. It's a bigger project than I anticipated, and diplomacy has ended up having some very odd demands, including scrubbing out an oven for making coke and learning how to draw wire. I'm willing to do whatever it takes. I will say that I'm enjoying the work and learning about their craft. I'm not enjoying being woken early every day of the week and the stuff they call beer (there's almost nothing else to drink) could remove the paint off my shield. I suppose I should be grateful they don't try making wine, though Brickit's brother thought he could smoke sausages over a coal fire and ruined breakfast this morning. I liken the Black Dwarf cuisine to that of Centaurs - filling but bland, heavy, and in desperate need of salt.

The Dwarfs here are gruff but on the whole very kind in their way. You'll be happy to hear Brickit's mother thinks I'm too thin, just as you do, and has taken to feeding me extra at almost every meal, just as you do.

I miss you all terribly, but I think these people need us the same way we need them. I have to try my hardest.

Love,

Edmund

Susan pursed her lips, glancing over the letter again. "Oh, he's going to come home hungry."

I laughed and raised a finger. "And in want of a bath."

Peter was smiling fondly as he stared at his short letter and something in his expression struck me as very wise and knowing. I think he was reading between the lines and seeing far more in the words than even Edmund meant. Of us all he knew Ed best and was closest to him. There was pride in my oldest brother's voice as he said,

"He's going to come home a success."

And because Peter had no doubt of that fact, neither did I.