--Scenes and Sketches of Esme: on my DeviantArt site found in my Profile! Also Costume designs are UP!
OUT OF A DREAM by Terra Forever
CH. 10 Of Memories and Dreams
"What do you mean, you can't remember them?" asked Edmund, leaning forward. .
"I… I know their names, their ages, but I can't… I can't see their faces," said Esme, her voice suddenly tinged with fear and panic. The Pevensies exchanged uncertain glances.
"Well things change when you're in Narnia," said Susan, sounding official, trying to keep Esme from panicking as she straightened her posture "We ourselves have forgotten quite a bit about our world."
"A lot of what we know seems very much like a dream," added Lucy.
"Yes, but…" Esme bit her lower lip. This seems like a dream that is slowly fading away, she thought, worriedly. I don't want to forget my parents! How can I? I remember other things about them… How can someone just forget about their parents?
"Well, why don't you tell us about where you learned about your fighting abilities," said Peter, trying to change the subject to find what she could remember and perhaps Esme could work her way from there.
Esme knew what Peter was trying to do and she was grateful for it. Perhaps she was just thinking too hard about it after all. Esme relaxed a little. "Well, it was a school," said Esme, trying to picture the old brick building she visited everyday. Yet, she wasn't sure that what she was remembering was the same building at all. "It specialized in a variety of techniques."
"You must have mastered every one of them," said Lucy, confidently.
Esme smiled. "Oh I don't know about that, Your Majesty, but I did work very hard to be as good as possible."
"In other words, she was the best," whispered Edmund and they all laughed while Esme continued to deny it. She admitted she was one of the better fighters but she had years of training still ahead of her.
"Were there many of you?" asked Susan.
"Well," Esme pursed her lips to try and remember, "there were about twenty dedicated students in all. There were others but they mostly came because they had nothing better to do or because they wanted to learn how to fight like they do in the movies – which is quite different," said Esme. "I just hope none of them take advantage of their skills. It was taught that we must never use our abilities unless absolutely necessary… otherwise we would be no better than those we fought."
"That's very true," nodded Peter.
"And those of us who ranked high enough to learn very dangerous, even deadly, techniques, were sworn never to use them…"
"At all?" asked Edmund, eyes wide.
"Well… no, but…" Esme looked thoughtfully at the floor. "I just… I personally never believed in killing. I felt like it was wrong – I suppose that's what I was brought up to believe."
"Well here…it's a little different," said Edmund. "There are situations where it's kill or be killed."
"Yes, it's not pretty and I can't say it's right, necessarily," nodded Susan, "but it is something that is sometimes impossible to escape. Believe me, if we could avoid any killing we would. I personally avoid any fighting myself."
"Esme, while you are here you are under our protection," said Peter, leaning forward. "You needn't fight anymore. Leave that to us."
"I can't very well sit idly by while you and the others risk your lives when I can help," said Esme, straightening. There he goes being protective again, she thought, a little irritated. I suppose it goes along with being the eldest of four children and the High King of a nation, but even so! Esme was used to doing the protecting, not the one being protected.
"I don't think we'd be able to hold her back," grinned Edmund, who saw Esme take on a defensive countenance.
"No it doesn't appear so," said Peter, shaking his head with a smile.
"It's getting late," said Susan, "we all ought to get some rest." Lucy groaned. "The earlier we sleep the earlier we can wake up and give Esme another tour of the city."
At that Lucy brightened and soon the five of them were heading to their rooms. As per custom, Peter and Susan tucked Lucy in. It was always hard for Lucy when either Peter or Susan, usually Peter, could not tuck her in. It was a ritual she enjoyed and treasured greatly since she was very little. When either of her siblings had time, they would tell her a story. Sometimes Susan would sing a Narnian lullaby. Tonight, Edmund joined his siblings to tuck in Lucy as he did on some occasions.
In her room, Esme looked out at her view and at the stars. Although she was in want of some actual, restful sleep, there so much on her mind that she wasn't sure she would get any at all despite having such a large, and comfortable bed. In the end, she gave in to her exhaustion and changed and went to bed. Out in the hallway, Edmund and Peter bid Susan goodnight as she headed to her room. The moment her door was closed, the two brothers discussed their plans for the next day in hushed tones then bid each other goodnight.
Esme woke up with a gasp. Her eyes wide, her forehead damp with sweat. She did not bother to try and look around her for something familiar. Instead she lay still trying to recall her dream knowing that it was something from her past, something in her life before she came to Narnia. But the more she thought of it the more it faded away and before long she had completely forgotten it. She tried to rack her memories for major events in her life but it was as if she was looking through an album of incomplete puzzles. Each page in the album contained an image, but with pieces missing here and there.
She immediately pushed back the covers and rushed out of bed to the chest of drawers in her room. In the bottom drawer she pulled out the clothes she wore when she first arrived in Narnia which were almost hrown away had she not asked it to be kept safe. They were no longer dirty but were now clean and smelled fresher than when she first bought them. But she could no longer remember where she bought them and the brands no longer seemed anything but distantly familiar. Esme's heart began to race as she pressed her face into her clothes, which were beginning to be the only real reminders of where she came from.
Peter let out a sigh as he rolled onto his back. He thought that after the recent events he would fall right to sleep on his large and very comfortable bed. Yet, he could only toss and turn and by now had managed to roll around almost the entire span of the bed, which was quite an accomplishment. Finally he sat up, frustrated. With a look of frustration and resignation, Peter decided to take a little walk.
The young King closed his bedroom door quietly behind him and then checked in on his siblings. Over the years he managed to nearly perfect the art of sneaking into their rooms and keeping them from waking. They were alarmed at first when they found him watching them in their sleep, but eventually came to understand that it was something Peter needed to do, not just for them but for himself. While their experience in Narnia has brought them all closer, their duties as Kings and Queens also kept them away at times. So, for Peter, these visits were an intrinsic part of being an older brother. He loved to see his siblings sleep peacefully, especially Lucy and Edmund. But if they had a nightmare, he would sit closer, gently take hold of their hand or run his hand through their hair to soothe them in their sleep. Sometimes they would wake up then, but if they did, they did not often mind and would fall back to a more comfortable sleep with Peter's hand with theirs. He smiled as he watched them all sleep peacefully that night, glad that no one was plagued by nightmares by those horrid creatures. When he left Lucy's room, whom he visited the last and the longest, he looked at Esme's door. He remembered how her dreams did not look pleasant the night before and Peter hoped she was sleeping better now that she was safe in Cair Paravel.
As Peter walked around the halls and down several corridors, sometimes he would meet a few others who either could not sleep, or did not need the sleep. There were also the guards whom he had posted and asked to be extra vigilant. He greeted each of them with a smile. They had express orders not to mention meeting him at such a late our to anyone else, especially Peter's siblings because he knew they would be concerned.
"It seems that even our new visitor cannot sleep well tonight," said Telhorn, one of the Fauns whom Peter met at the end of a hallway. He was one of the oldest Fauns that the Pevensies knew and was now living at Cair Paravel because his old home had too many terrible reminders of the past.
"I don't suppose you mean, Esme?" asked Peter, tilting his head slightly at the news.
"I do indeed, Sire. She came by this way earlier. She was walking aimlessly at first – I think she might have gotten a little lost - but eventually decided on going to the practice arena."
"What would she want there?"
"A little practice perhaps?" asked the Faun, looking at Peter curiously. "What else?"
"But at this hour?"
"We all do what we must to reach a state of calm," said Telhorn. A small grin appeared on his face as he eyed Peter carefully. "There are those who like taking long strolls late into the night."
Peter chuckled. "Yes, well, I'd better go and see if she's alright. If you'll excuse me, Telhorn."
The Faun bowed. "Your Highness."
Peter walked quickly to the practice arena and true to Telhorn's words, he found Esme there in the near dark practicing something strange. He was not familiar with her movements as she moved around the arena jumping and flipping, kicking and punching, twirling and posing. It was strangely beautiful and he was sure that if she had an actual opponent, it would also be dangerous. She was back in her old ripped jeans and t-shirt, noticed the King. He couldn't quite blame her. Peter could only imagine how difficult it might be to do all these movements in one of her gowns. He heard her utter a few loud cries whenever she made what looked to be a decisive move. Although there was only the night sky and a few candles for light, he could see her face clearly. Again he saw the calm, cool, determined countenance Esme wore when she fought.
Esme was usually very alert but she was lost in her kata, trying hard to put other thoughts aside. She needed something to calm her and meditating only made her think back on her worries. Every time she tried to put herself into a state of peace, she kept thinking of her fading memories. The moment she found pieces of a memory, before she could do much else, it was already disappearing.
Pushing another thought out of her mind, Esme punched the air then she flipped and brought her leg up for a kick. Then she fell to her hands and somersaulted several times to land where she had laid a staff. She grabbed it when she flipped onto her hands and then flipped back up to her feet. Esme twirled the staff around as she spun, moving to her right then stopped suddenly, the staff held straight out in front of her. Then she swung to the right, and then twirled it again and then swung to the left. Even with the distance between them, Peter felt the air move from the force of her swing and blinked in surprise. He would hate to be struck by that. Then Esme struck the ground with the staff and then flipped again into the air while kicking out her legs. It was so fascinating that for a long time Peter stood rooted to his spot. But then he finally moved toward her.
As Esme twisted around to swing out her staff, instead of striking thin air, it made contact with something else. She immediately turned to look and saw Peter holding another staff out. "Your Highness," she said, blinking in surprise. She immediately straightened herself. "I hope I didn't wake you or anyone else up."
"Oh no, no, I was just taking a little midnight stroll," he said.
"Well that's a relief."
"And what of you?"
"Um, midnight practice?" said Esme, a little unconvincingly.
"Couldn't sleep?" He asked. She shook her head. "What's wrong?"
"I'm…not sure…" she looked down and Peter took a step closer.
"Esme?"
She touched her shirt and felt the cotton in her fingers. "Remember how I said earlier that it seemed I was forgetting where I came from?"
"Yes?"
"…I think it's getting worse."
"What do you mean?"
Esme looked up. "I've been having dreams, since I arrived… they were all of things I've done before, or at least things I thought I did before. But now I'm not so sure… Every time I wake up, I forget what the dream was and I think… I think I'm really forgetting my memories…"
"You mean, like they're being erased?"
"…Yes. I know it sounds utterly bizarre but…"
"It does sound strange, I'll admit," nodded Peter, "but here, few things make sense as we often expect it to. We've been here a few years now but I don't think any of us cease to be surprised or amazed by the rules or lack thereof… reality bends in all sorts of ways here."
Esme shook her head. "I don't want to forget that world, Peter. I admit, I don't really care for that world… but my parents…they were really the only things that I ever considered important, yet I can't even see their faces… and everything about them now seems like just a dream."
"Well remember we've forgotten things too…"
"But you've been here for years. I've been here a few days!"
"Some things don't happen logically, which is unfortunate for people like Susan… I know this sounds terribly cold, but for the moment, until we can discover anything else about your presence here, you'll just have to accept it," Peter said apologetically. "But most things do happen for a reason, however strange it may be, and I think that you weren't brought here just to forget about your past. I'm sure that you're here for something. Please try not to worry over this too much."
"I'm sorry, your Majesty, I don't mean to be such a burden. You already have so much troubling you."
"Believe me, you are no burden, Esme. So far you've proven to be nothing short of a blessing. You've saved my life and helped my siblings… Lucy adores you… Esme," Peter smiled, "please, don't worry about us."
"…"
"Besides," Peter put a hand on her shoulder, "it doesn't matter that you cannot remember your parents' faces. What matters is that you know you still love them. So in that sense you can never completely forget them." Esme did not look up to meet his gaze, but Peter saw that she did take his words to heart. "Now, how about a little match?" he asked, raising his staff, with a more cheerful countenance.
Esme blinked and for a moment she looked uncertain, and Peter thought she would decline, but then the corners of her lips turned up and she nodded. "Alright, I'll try to go easy on you, Your Majesty."
"Now don't underestimate me," said Peter, standing back.
"I'm not." Esme twirled the staff in front of her and then stood ready. "Anytime, Your Highness."
Peter immediately charged at Esme who blocked his swing easily. He ducked her swing and then struck out with the end of the staff but she was gone. He turned and blocked just as she came up from behind. She's so fast, he thought. It was one thing to watch her fight but it was an entirely different matter to fight against her. He twirled the staff and then twisted his body to strike her but she blocked and they parried for a while each swinging and blocking, jumping and ducking. She doesn't even look to be tiring at all, he thought. Indeed, Esme's command of the staff was probably among the best Peter had ever seen. But she did not rely entirely on the staff. She often used her arms and legs to punch or kick whenever she had the opportunity or if her staff was otherwise unavailable. When she swung the staff down to strike him from above, he moved back to avoid being hit but she immediately flipped the other end up wards. Had Peter even blinked he would not have been able to move his staff up in time to block.
"Very good, Your Highness," said Esme, when they both jumped back. "You're pretty good with a staff, but I think your strong point still lies with the sword."
Peter was breathing a little heavier now. "Yes, well, I've had more practice with that."
"I'm quite impressed."
"You're not even breaking a sweat," said the High King, shaking his head.
Esme leaned on the staff a little. "This is usually my choice of weapon, actually," she admitted. "It's very fast and very versatile."
"But it can be broken much easier," Peter pointed out.
"Mm, perhaps, but it also depends, on the person using the staff." Esme twirled it a little. "A weapon is as good as it is made, but it also depends on its owner. If you truly make it an extension of yourself, then if your will is strong, it will be more difficult to break your weapon, whatever it might be. Of course, that isn't always the case."
"I never thought about it that way," mused Peter, "but I suppose it holds some truth."
"Another thing," added Esme, "even if a staff is broken, it can still be useful. In fact, it's often fun to use two weapons at once."
"That would make you even more dangerous then," grinned the King. "Well, I must concede. It appears this match is yours."
"But you weren't even giving it your all, Your Majesty," argued Esme.
"Even if I had been, I've no doubt you would have beaten me."
"You're not confident enough," said the young woman, shaking her head. "Well what if you use your sword and I use this staff. We'll both be using our weapons of choice."
"Have you even tried using our swords?" asked Peter. "I noticed you always took the other weapons when you were fighting earlier."
"I have… but your swords are much heavier than the ones I'm used to. Our blades are much thinner and the hilt much lighter. It makes for much quicker movements."
"I see…"
"Besides, with a sword it is much more difficult to fight without killing your opponent."
Peter looked at Esme, who had picked up a sword and was staring at her reflection. "Esme…"
"I know it would end a fight much quicker, but I cannot bring myself to kill, Peter…at least not right now… I'm sorry." Peter saw Esme's eyes in the light reflected from her sword and once again they seemed older and faraway. They seemed sad and pained somehow.
"It's alright. You needn't fight anyhow."
"But you know I can't do that."
"In all honesty it was difficult for me at first… I had no idea what I was doing at the time but…but really, to take a life, even if it's an enemy's, is nothing short of a heavy load. Eventually there was nothing we could do but kill – it was a war…"
"Yes, I understand," said Esme, looking up. "I don't know why I'm having such a difficult time with it."
"Well you mustn't worry about it. But it might be good if you did get some practice in with our swords. You never know when you might need it."
"That's very true. At this point I might just be more of a danger to myself and others the way I swing it around." Peter chuckled but highly doubted Esme's comment.
The two of them practiced a little while longer before they were finally beginning to feel tired and drowsy. "You ought to practice with Edmund. He's really gotten quite good at it and he's a good teacher too – much better than me I think. We've got excellent teachers here with all sorts of different weapons."
"Oh yes, I've already asked Susan to help me in archery. Seeing her in action and all…"
"I know what you mean! Both Lucy and Susan are much better archers than I."
"I'm sure you just need practice."
"Well we'd better get some rest. I have a feeling Lucy will drag you out of bed nice and early in the morning."
"I'm actually looking forward to it. I can't wait to explore the city and then all of Narnia!"
"There's a world beyond Narnia as well," said Peter.
"Oh I know! I'm not sure I'll ever get there considering what there is to see here." Esme looked wide awake and excited all over again and Peter was sorry he brought the topic up. But not entirely sorry as he was glad to see the spark return to Esme's eyes. Eventually they made their way to their rooms and bid each other goodnight.
END. CH. 10
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Illustrations on my DeviantArt site (links found in Profile)
-Sketch of Esme
-Stargazing Scene of Esme
-Costume Designs for Esme and Susan
I really wish I could draw the other characters but I feel like I wouldn't do them any justice. I know I could just use my own imagination but I feel that the movie's actors are good portrayals of the characters and while I can barely doodle as it is, I most definitely cannot do real life art.
Thanks for reading so far. Comments and such are welcome but please be kind. And expect lots of revisions as I go along.
Thank you so VERY much to everyone who has read the story and has reviewed it. It really makes me want to keep writing and I hope that that in turn keeps everyone reading. I'm glad that some of you like my sketches even though they're not all that great. I really need to take an art class… P I'm going to try and doodle a few more scenes that I like and such….
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