A/N: Ugh, sorry about the mishap last chapter, guys. And sorry this one's so late again—I woke up with a head cold the day after I posted chapter 10, and I've been working on this one as much as I can, but with a headache and doped up on Benadryl, there's not much I can do. :P

BTW—HAPPY EASTER! May Christ bless you and yours this day and every day! :D

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The next day, the rains lessened, subsided, and finally stopped. Lord Dorovan, his wrinkled hands tapping on the polished breakfast table, told the group that the rainy season, while by no means over, seemed to be drawing to a close, and that they ought to take the opportunity to stretch their legs, exercise their horses, and get a feel for the Archenlandian topography.

"I hadn't thought of that," Lucy said, clapping her hands. "Oh, Ed, let's!"

"If our friends Aramir and Enna don't mind," Edmund replied. "I had wanted to take a look at our surroundings…"

Enna tapped her fingers on her knee under the table—if she didn't mind! She would go mad if she were trapped inside the manor house a moment longer. The idea of the sun, the sky, the hills (albeit the mud, too), stirred the dormant wanderlust in her heart.

"Excellent idea, sire," said Lord Dorovan.

"We'll do that, then," said Edmund with finality, folding his napkin and setting it beside his plate. "Would you provide us with enough provisions to last us until supper?"

Lord Dorovan nodded, his white beard bobbing. "It would be my privilege, my honored friends."

And so, an hour later, the four were dressed in their neatly-mended Narnian clothes, sacks of fine cheese and many soft biscuits swaying from their shoulders as they mounted the horses in Lord Dorovan's courtyard. The sky above their heads was a dusky blue, heavy with clouds, but the breeze that ruffled the blossoming trees was warm, and Enna happily followed her three companions onto the muddy pathway leading from the manor.

"We have hours," Edmund announced at last. "What is it we wish to do?"

"I like just riding like this," said Lucy with a happy sigh, tossing her hair.

"We can't just ride, Lu. I want to trace out a few hours' worth of our journey farther south, you know, get to know the terrain."

"Well, why did you ask us, then?" Lucy asked with nettled sniff. "You're going to make us anyway."

Enna turned around to look at the manor house: it was a small blotch on the horizon, and was in danger of being swallowed up completely by the rolling hills surrounding it. "Whatever we do, we had better be sure we don't get lost."

"We won't get lost," Lucy assured her.

"Over there!" said Edmund, pointing. "I think I see chimney smoke. Could that be a town?"

"Lord Dorovan didn't mention anything about nearby villages, Ed."

"That does not mean there isn't one. I'd like to investigate, but we needn't have everyone come along—Enna, would you come with me? Lucy and Aramir might wait here, or go off on their own."

Enna, caught off-guard, stammered, "Well, I—I suppose—"

"I'll go along, too," Aramir said quickly, giving her a pointed look.

"Well, I don't want to be left alone," Lucy pouted. "I want to come along, too!"

Edmund sighed slightly. "It doesn't matter. I didn't really want to go, anyway—now, we can just skip it entirely."

"Skip it!" Enna scoffed. "You can stay here, then—I want to go."

"You can't go by yourself, Enna," Edmund replied. "What if it should be a robbers' den?"

"I'll go with her, then," said Aramir lightly. "Your Majesties then may do whatever you please, and Enna will be safe."

Edmund opened his mouth to refuse, but Lucy shook her head. "Oh, Ed, just let them. I want to take a leisurely ride with my brother, and what better time to do it than now?"

"Very well," Edmund said with a sigh. "We will meet you back here for luncheon, then?"

"Aye," said Enna, relieved. "Luncheon."

Aramir bowed his head to the two monarchs and urged his horse down the slope towards the distant cluster of huts. Enna avoided Edmund's gaze and followed, clinging with her legs to the saddle as her mare slipped and slid down after Aramir's—he was so good to her. She felt wicked for thinking it, but being away from Edmund freed the air and lifted a load from her shoulders.

As soon as the ground was level, Enna spurred her horse to catch up with Aramir's. "I appreciate that," she said, adjusting the reins.

"I told you I'd help as best I can," Aramir replied. "Did you think I'd make you go with His Majesty alone?"

"Well, not necessarily. I just…didn't know you'd…do that."

Their horses' hooves thudded onto a dirt path, so hard-packed it was scarcely muddy. "After all these months, you still don't believe I'm a trustworthy man?"

Enna flushed. "It's not that, Aramir."

"I know what you mean, Enna," he replied with a teasing smile. "Now—what do you suppose is the name of this town?"

Shading her eyes, Enna gazed out at the unfolding prospect before them: a group of thatch-roofed huts with fenced-in livestock yards and a muddy pathway stretching between them. A swollen stream ran close to the huts, rushing so loudly and quickly that Enna and Aramir could hear it from where they stood.

"I can't even begin to guess," she said. "I suppose it has some sort of foreign Archenlandian name."

The horses passed on into the outskirts of the village. A small, freckle-faced child with a hand on the bridle of a small, dirty pony, the boy's face almost as muddy as that of the horse, grinned at them as they went by, and Aramir responded with an amiable wave, drawing his horse in to a halt. "Tell me, boy, what's the name of this town?"

"Ilvernarran, sir," said the boy.

"Ilvernarran…?"

Enna looked at Aramir. "Do you recognize it?"

His freckled brow was furrowed in a pensive manner, but he shook his head. "No. No—tell me, who lives here?"

The boy stuck his finger into his ear and scratched it, his face screwed up in an amusing expression, and said in his thick Archenlandian accent, "Why, m'lord, my grandmammas, my grandpapas, my mama, my papa, my sisters and their men, my brother and his lass, my uncles and my aunts, and my cousins, and my friend Aggie's family, and the old captain, and then the Manor's old seneschal."

"I see," said Aramir. "And what does your family do?"

"We work for the Manor," said the boy. "My papa and mama and sisters and brother farm for the lord."

Aramir nodded. "Thank you. And your name is…?"

"Hamish, sire. Hamish Hammons, son of Thengar, second son of Idris, son of Jovis, son of Jovium." He tugged his forelock and slapped the pony's thick neck.

"'Tis a pleasure to meet you, Hamish," Enna said. "I am Enna, first daughter of Vatorian, son of Ivarian, son of Kilkian, son of Lamian."

"And I am Aramir," said Aramir, "only son of Aranash, son of Ramshin, son of Kuroushid, son of Siyavash."

"You're Calormene?" Hamish said, his eyes wide. "Do you truly take the flesh off people's heads and eat it for breakfast?"

"Only part Calormene," Aramir countered. "And no. But thank you for your help, Harmon, we'll bother you no longer."

"Any time, m'lord n' lady."

Aramir waved and kicked his horse into a walk; Enna followed abreast of him, looking curiously at the approaching village. "He was very friendly, wasn't he?" she asked.

"Aye, and very young. Too young to think Calormenes are really all that horrid."

Enna glanced over at Aramir in time to see the black look on his face. "Oh, really, Aramir, don't let it bother you so. You'll frighten the locals with that glower of yours."

As they rode into the main village, a woman who was bent low over a bucket of sudsy water in front of a hut looked up, her long, grey hair hanging like a dead bird in her face. Her hands, curled with rheumatism, were also shriveled with water, and she drew a fishing net up and down a washboard and watched them pass with dark, deep eyes. Enna returned the curious stare, wondering why the woman found them so interesting.

Just as they were about to round a bend in the path, the woman leapt up from her hunched position and ran after their horses, clutching her long skirts in one hand and panting for breath. "Wait! Wait!" she cried in a rough voice.

Aramir and Enna reined their horses in, looking in alarm at the woman. She threw herself at Aramir's horse, clinging to his leg with her claw-like hands, her dark eyes wan as she rasped for breath. "You…"

The two riders looked at each other with unease.

"How may I help you, my good lady?" Aramir said kindly, touching her wrinkled hand with his.

The woman began to regain her breath, but she still clung to Aramir's leg. "Tell me, youngling—who are you? What is your parentage?"

Aramir glanced at Enna once before replying, "I am of a Calormene sire and an Archenlandian dam."

"And your father's name?"

"The late Aranash Minodaurus, once Tarkhaan of Ishfahan, Calormen."

"And your mother?"

"The late Falina, a lass of Archenland. I never knew her maiden name…"

The woman's eyes fluttered closed, and she clasped her hands to her heart, mouthing words to the sky. "Ah…I had a feeling you would return…"

Aramir glanced again at Enna. "Erm…pardon me, good lady, but…who?"

She opened her dark eyes again. "You have grown to be just like your father…but oh, great Gale, you have your mother's freckles…Thengar! You must come here! Haste! Haste!"

Before Enna or Aramir had a moment to protest, a man came out of the hut that the woman had come from. "This had best be important, Glenna, I'm in the midst of something…"

"Come, come, Thengar," the woman (Glenna) urged. She caught Thengar's hand and pulled him to Aramir's horse, and Enna saw milky blue eyes and a red-tipped nose. "Look at him."

Thengar stared up at Aramir.

"Do you see it?" Glenna whispered.

Nodding, Thengar looked back at Glenna. "Is he…?"

"Aye—he's Falina's boy!"

Aramir's horse snorted and dragged a hoof across the wet dirt; he reined it back in and stared down at the couple. "You know my mother?"

"Know her?" Glenna gave a hoarse laugh. "Know her—she was my sister!"

"Your…"

Enna looked between Aramir and the woman—aunt and nephew? It could hardly be! Aramir had told her he knew of no living family members, Archenlandian or otherwise.

"I last saw you when you were a mere babe," Glenna sighed. "You were wrapped in a mantle, clutched in your mama's arms as she and your father, Aranash, set to ride east to board the boat to Galma…Falina was crying, begging Aranash to let them stay, but Aranash was persistent. Your brother Argo Savas was clinging to your father's legs, wailing for his lost pony. All the while, you were sleeping silently, little Aramir Ilhami…"

Enna saw Aramir's knuckles whiten as he calmly kept his horse in line. "My mother never mentioned you."

"And when did she die, love?" Glenna asked gently. "When you were barely six summers old. I doubt you would have remembered if she had spoken about us."

Aramir looked at Enna, and she raised her eyebrows at him.

"Tell me, then, friends," she said to the couple in front of them. "How old is Aramir?"

Glenna looked at Thengar, her wrinkled brow furrowed. "Oh, Gale…'tis been so long…twenty years, I think. Aye—he is twenty. Nearly twenty-one, I would think, it was summer when he was born."

Twenty years! Enna looked at him—she had always considered him younger than she, just because it was easiest that way, but now…he had the straight shoulders of a man, the intense glint in his eye, the firm jaw. He must be older than she.

"Do you have time?" he asked suddenly.

"Time?" Thengar repeated.

"Aye—I want to know everything."

Glenna's ancient face lit up in a smile, and she held her hands out to him. Enna blinked, and in that time, Aramir had dismounted and was crushing the old woman in his arms, and even Thengar was misty-eyed, patting Aramir's shoulder.

Enna smiled. She had lost her family…but Aramir had found his.