Lucy entered the kitchen carrying a tray loaded with empty dishes, and very unceremoniously dumped the entire tray into the sink. She gripped the edges of the counter, trying to get her emotions in check. When she finally felt calm enough, she began to rinse out the bowls and utensils.
It had been a difficult few days at the house for all of them, but Lucy was feeling especially drained. Peter had left the day after the old man arrived. She was very sad to see him go; she asked him if he couldn't possibly stay a bit longer, but Peter assured her that he had to return. Besides, he was going to check in on Susan and warn her about the stranger (for whatever good it would do), and Lucy agreed that yes, Susan would need looking after.
When Peter left, Edmund had become nearly impossible. Lucy had begun feeling a bit like a prisoner, as Edmund insisted she not go anywhere, in case the stranger was lurking about. She felt unbearably embarrassed about her entire encounter with the stranger, and wished she had been able to handle him on her own. She understood their protectiveness, but resented it nonetheless, and found herself snapping at Edmund whenever he spoke to her. To make matters worse, Peter had agreed that she shouldn't go anywhere alone, and had even had the gall to tell her before he left, "Now Lucy, I know you don't like being cooped up here, but you really must listen to Edmund. It's far too dangerous for you to be out on your own"—as if she were only a child!
"I fought in battles," she muttered to herself as she cleaned. "I know how to fight. I was better at shooting than Edmund ever was, and I know how to use a knife. As if Father Christmas hadn't given me a weapon as well! Besides," she continued, taking her frustrations out on the spoon in her hand, which she was scrubbing furiously, "I faced plenty of danger when I was queen, and it's not fair that Edmund and Peter get to continue on and act as kings, while I have to be just plain old Lucy. I'm not helpless, after all." Her monologue went on like that for a while, as her frustrations boiled over.
In truth, Lucy had every reason to feel frustrated, and it was more than just Edmund's smothering. Lucy had taken on the task of looking after the old man, a job that the others seemed to naturally hand over to her. She was grateful for something to do, but the old man was proving to be a very trying houseguest. On the first night there were so many of them in the house, dinner had to be done in shifts. Lucy had volunteered to eat last, so she took dinner up to the old man, who had been set up rather comfortably in the boys' room. She had knocked on the door softly and entered when he called. She found him in bed, papers spread about. He put down his pen and smiled at her. "I see you have been given work to do," she chuckled.
"Ah, yes, Professor Kirke has asked me to write down my story, and everything I can remember about Charn. It's simply amazing!" he exclaimed. "I never thought anyone would be interested in hearing the tales of an old man. Certainly no one has for quite some time." Then he laughed. "He's curious as a child, isn't he? I imagine I'll be sorry for volunteering myself before long, and have nothing but a hoarse voice and cramped fingers for my pains. But it is so good to have someone to listen again."
"Our Professor is quite the collector of unusual stories," agreed Lucy. She helped him clear away his papers and set the tray on his lap. She had started to go, but he asked her if she wouldn't mind staying for a while, and as Lucy had felt it would be positively bad manners to refuse, she pulled over a chair and sat down. "I have been told that you are a queen as well," he said. "How many of you are there?"
"Four," she replied. "My brothers Peter and Edmund, my sister Susan, and myself. We ruled Narnia together."
"Four," he murmured. He thought for a minute while he chewed. "Very odd indeed! Never heard of such a thing myself. Of course, from what I've been told you did a good enough job of it, so I suppose my opinion matters little. Although you don't look much like a queen to me." Lucy, completely taken aback, blushed furiously. The old man must have seen her fallen expression, for he went on, "I meant no harm, miss, but was only commenting on your youth. Your brothers appear much older than they are. But you seem to be the right age."
Lucy did not know how to respond to this, so she had decided to change the subject. "You are feeling better now, I hope?"
"Yes," he answered, poking his fork through the air as if to emphasize his point. "Although I worry about my grandson. He's a great fool, and a thorn in my side at times, but he is all I've got, after all. His father died in the war, you know, and his mother soon afterwards. The doctors said it was pneumonia, but I knew better! Her heart was broken, you see. The boy wanted to enlist, but he couldn't. Wasn't old enough at the time, and even if he had lied, they wouldn't have taken him anyway, on account of his leg. Hurt it when he was a child, and now he has a limp." He sighed. "I suppose things don't always happen the way we expect, do they?"
"Not always," Lucy said. "But I wouldn't give up hope yet. We'll find him."
The old man looked at her disapprovingly. "Are you always so optimistic?"
"I—I think so," she replied. She excused herself as soon as she could. She lay awake that night, thinking about what he had said, and became nearly furious with herself when she felt a few tears slide down her cheek. Lucy tried her best to be quiet. But Jill was awake anyway, and when she heard Lucy sniffle she immediately sat up and said, "Lucy, whatever is the matter?"
She thought for a moment that she would not tell her, afraid of how silly it would sound, but then before she realized it Lucy was spilling everything to Jill. She felt inadequate, and useless, and she was angry with her brothers for treating her so helplessly and even more annoyed at the strange old man for his careless words. Jill handed her a handkerchief and listened as a good friend should. "After all," said Lucy when she was finished, "I don't need reminding that I look nothing like my former self!" Lucy didn't say it, but when she looked in the mirror, she knew how drab her clothing looked compared to the beautiful gowns of Cair Paravel, and how her sensible hairstyle was nothing like the long hair that always got in her way when she was riding her horse. "It was such hard work being a queen, doing the right thing all the time, worrying about everyone else. It wasn't all feasting and parties the way it is in the stories. And even though Peter was always so protective, Edmund would stand up for me, and he treated me no differently than anyone else. But everything is so different here!" she said sadly. "Peter and Edmund still carry themselves as kings, and even Susan acts as though she was royalty. I know I am the most ordinary out of all of them! I couldn't even take care of Edmund when he was hurt, after I've done it loads of times! Maybe outside of Narnia, I simply am a regular girl."
She looked at Jill with embarrassment, expecting Jill to tell her to stop being so dramatic, but thankfully Jill said, "You mustn't be so hard on yourself, Lucy. You're worth ten of any girl I know! And bother Peter and Edmund. They don't always know what's best, even though they act like it." She folded her arms. Jill and Edmund weren't quite on speaking terms yet. "You're smart enough to take care of yourself. And forget what that batty old man says. What does he know? He's half lost his marbles anyway." Jill was working herself into a state. But then Lucy started laughing, and as laughing is contagious, soon the two girls were giggling together, both feeling much better.
From then on, whenever Lucy took the old man his meals, she would have a ready excuse not to stay. He was very strange, and told long stories about his life to anyone who would listen. Anyone usually meant the Professor, who would say "What a fascinating case!" over and over again. The others had tried to sit with the old man, out of a mixture of curiosity and pity, but he was very often rude to them, complaining about his pillows or his tea and not bothering to learn any of their names. Edmund had a stern chat with him, for all the good it did: now he was only rude to them when Edmund was not in earshot. Finally Polly, who had just about enough, told the Professor that the old man was not a fascinating case, but rather a stranger living in her house and eating all the food, and he had better think of something and quickly or she'd be ringing for the police to take him off of their hands.
They had attempted to get a full account of what had happened to him at the shop, but now that the old man was feeling better, he began to embellish the story. According to the old man, the stranger had broken into the shop and come up to his room, where they had a wrestling match during which (depending on the version he was telling) he was sure he had broken the stranger's arm or nose or any number of body parts. Sometimes the account would add in a duel, other times the stranger was accompanied by four or five others that he also bested. Jill pleaded with him to know what had happened to his grandson or where they might have gone, but with each telling his accounts became so elaborate that it was impossible to tell what was truth and what was fiction.
"He's as daft as a badger," Edmund commented, which made Lucy laugh in spite of herself. (This saying, of course, was from Narnia, which Peter had coined during their reign, and "Budgie the Daft Badger" was a joke within Cair Paravel. Budgie, who lived in the Great Forest, would find some fault with his neighbors once a week, and would come to court to complain about this one's garden or when that one was going to bed, insisting on immediate arrests. The four were patient at first to listen to his complaints, but finally Peter had told him sternly but kindly that he could not take up so much of their time with such things, and he really ought to find a way to get along with everyone. Budgie had taken great offense to this, and proceeded to attack the castle the very next day. The Centaurs on guard had him in custody quickly enough, and although the punishment for treason could have been severe, Peter was lenient. His hut was moved to the very edge of the forest, where he lived a day's walk from everyone else.)
Lucy had just heard an earful from the old man again when collecting his lunch tray, as the tea was too hot and the stew was too cold. And there she was, taking out her frustrations on the dishes, when Jill found her a bit later. "Don't tell me he was at it again!" said Jill, when she saw Lucy's expression. Lucy tried to think of something pleasant to say, but instead simply nodded. "Perhaps Aunt Polly's right, we should call for someone to come for him. He's becoming a bit much for us to handle."
"It's all right, Jill," Lucy sighed. "I try to remember that he doesn't mean any harm, and he must be terribly worried about his grandson."
"We'd have him out of here soon enough if Edmund would let us go and look for him," said Jill bitterly.
Lucy flinched a little at her comment. She felt as though she should defend him, but in her present state of mind, she could not disagree. "It's this house," she said. "I feel as though the walls are closing in on me. I want to get out and do something."
"Then why shouldn't we?" said Jill. "Come, Lucy, let's go out for a bit. We can slip out and have a nice walk before anyone notices we're gone."
Lucy hesitated, but the thought of having a free afternoon was just too tempting. Besides, they could take care of themselves. Jill gathered their things and then they slipped out together. "Where to now?" asked Jill. Lucy suggested the market a few streets over, and Jill agreed. They walked together, happy to be out. Lucy tried not to think about the old man, or the stranger, or to imagine what Edmund would say if he found them gone. But these thoughts were quickly pushed aside when they arrived. There were dozens of sellers out, and the girls browsed through the flower stands, and walked around the booths of jewelry and hats and fabrics. After looking through everything, they bought two lemon ices and sat down on a bench together. The girls chatted for a long time, watching the people who walked by. Lucy was feeling better and better by the minute, closing her eyes and tilting her face up to the sun, breathing in the aromas in the warm afternoon air.
A good bit of the afternoon was gone, and Lucy was beginning wonder if they should start home, when Jill grabbed her arm and pulled her off the bench and behind a nearby tree. "Jill, what's wrong?" she yelped.
"Look!" Jill said, and together they peered around the tree. Lucy didn't see anything for a moment, but then she saw him: the stranger was standing in front of the fruit seller, haggling over a bag of apples.
"Do you think he spotted us?" Lucy breathed.
"No," said Jill. "We can circle around and start back. He won't see us."
But Lucy had another idea. "No, Jill, let's follow him," she said. Jill's eyes grew wide, but Lucy pressed, "We can stay out of sight, and if we follow him, we may be able to find where he lives. He has to be heading home, if he's out buying fruit."
Jill could see the logic in this, but she bit her lip. She looked worriedly between Lucy and the stranger, unsure of what to do. Walking around together was one thing, but following the man . . . he did attack Edmund, after all. The stranger finally bought his items and started back up the street. Lucy started to follow, and after just a moment's hesitation, Jill tagged along behind.
A/N: I feel as though this chapter was forever in coming! My apologies for keeping everyone waiting so long, and for not responding to the messages sent to me after the last chapter. I caught the flu the day I posted last, and then after spending a week in a haze of NyQuil, woke up to a week's worth of dishes and laundry and emails and phone messages and paperwork on my desk.
Not completely happy with this chapter, it doesn't feel done, but I've been revising for four days and can't take it anymore.