Dearest Reviewers,

You all have been given mental hugs and internet cookies! Responses to individuals located at the end of the chapter. I love you all.

Sincerely,

Pippin

PS: Bits and snatches of the dialogue are taken from the book. I intend to be as accurate to Lewis as possible. The movie was heartily enjoyable but took too many liberties, if you ask me. There will be no green mist in this story.

…

Strange Things Happen

…

Chapter Twelve,

Through Magical Paintings In the Sky

…

Redhaven's spiced air, warm sands, and musical jungles were left far, far behind. They were nothing but pleasant memories that caused many a smile whenever someone felt a wave too rough or a wind too cold. I wouldn't be surprised if a few sailors left with broken hearts—I won't say names, but some of them wanted to stay and be married and never go sailing again. (Cough, Geoff, Flanagan, Robin, cough).

Now, it was only ocean. There was a bit of rain, but nothing too chilly. The salt of the air, bleaching sun, the creak of the sail ropes, and the dash of the prow cutting through the waves was all that existed. A certain quiet settled among the ship—not among the people, though. The sailors joked, laughed, and sang as much as ever. But the ship itself sailed without any problems and hardly seemed to need any handling.

On the third day out, Geoff invited me to stay up one night and observe the night crawlers at work, convinced that there was some rivalry and they should prove they are the better workers. I went to sleep just after noon, and woke up sometime in the bitter bleak of night. I stumbled out of the cabins, blinked in the torchlight, and saw that the ship did indeed seem to be "crawling" with spidery sailors. They were up the rigging, in the nest, at the helm—making sure that we were on course at all times.

"So am I just supposed to sit here?" I said doubtfully to a passing shadow.

Geoff's face peered into the orange sphere of firelight, considering my question. "Crows nest?" he asked.

"Fear of heights!" I bemoaned.

"Helm, then," he grinned. "Olan will tell you anything you want to know."

I clambered up the stairs and greeted Olan, who instantly boomed "GOOD EVENING!" and shook my hand so hard I felt seasick. The man was so smiley and, despite Orpheus being the biggest person on the ship, he seemed to take up so much space. I felt like I was Reepicheep's size.

"So you're the navigator," I attempted to start a conversation.

"Ah, helmsman!" corrected Olan. "I go where he tells me!" he gestured behind us. Sitting in the darkness on the bench was Herring, the man who looked like everyone's favorite dad who turned out to be a sword-wielding wizard. Herring gave me a polite, respectful nod.

"Is that the King's new toy?" jibed a voice somewhere above.

"That is very rude," Olan said slowly, "Unless of course, I mistake your meaning? In which case I apologize!"

I looked around, and saw someone lounging on one of the rope ladders spanning the distance between the railing and the crow's nest.

"If thy tongue be a rudder, it determines thy ship," snapped Zacharius, from the galley door. "And thy ship run a black flag if thy rudder directs you to foulness."

"Ugh, someone translate?" said the person above.

"It means shut your idiotic mouth," said Herring, sternly. "Persus, I've been more than forgiving about your so-called humor…"

"Alright, alright," Persus, on the ropes, back-peddled. "I retract."

"Uh—so—Zacharius cooks for our crew," Olan explained, trying to smooth over the tension. "He is the wisest person on ship."

"Do me a favor, Miss Pippin?" asked Zacharius, peering out from the galley again. His white and silver beard seems to display all his years of mentoring. "When you see His Majesty, would you remind him that I am available as his advisee whenever he requires, even if it's during the day shift?"

"I'll remind him, definitely," I promised.

"Thank-you."

"Midge is up in the crow's nest," Olan continued, "And you've—uh—met Persus."

"Pleasure," Persus said, sourly.

"He's from Galma," Olan whispered, as if that explained his behavior.

"Narnian or not," Herring said sternly, "We abide by a code of honor, set forth by Reepicheep—the respected knight of Narnia was entrusted to provide regulation for behavior. Remember that, Persus."

"Aye aye, Herring," Persus replied, sounding genuinely chided.

"Now, that's Teeth, down there," Olan pointed to the chicken coop. Teeth was pulling out fresh eggs, and handing them off to Thornton, the other muscular one who didn't say much.

"Teeth and Thornton are awfully quiet," I said.

Olan chuckled. "Teeth is a mute, Miss Pippin. He cannot hear or speak anything."

"Isn't that dangerous, not hearing commands?" I said, feeling very sorry for him.

"Well, that is what Thornton is for. He's a big quiet chap, you see. But he communicates with Teeth. They have got a body language and they are always together. Teeth cannot get along without him—but he works for Zacharius, in the galley. He's got young Aemon's job when he's sleeping."

"Is Zacharius an apothecary, too?"

"Naw, just Tusk. If we need a physician, we have to wake him up."

"Hopefully not too often, then," I replied, smiling.

"Only when Midge fell on me from the crows nest," said Geoff's voice. He popped up out of the keel, waving a small piece of parchment around. "I've got some instructions from Captain Drinian—he's heard about Persus, apparently."

"What's that, eh?" Persus asked.

"You're to mop all the decks tonight," Geoff grinned.

"That's not fair," Persus moaned.

"Are you questioning the Captain?" Herring said, sternly.

"No disrespect intended," Persus grumbled.

"For the record," said Midge's voice from the crow's nest. "I didn't fall on you, I jumped, and you deserved a sore arm for flirting with that Redhaven girl. Especially since that Robin had made it clear he would stop in for a visit with 'er on the way back."

"Why, Geoff," I scoffed, "You and Robin were fighting over the same girl?"

Geoff laughed. "Oh, we thought we stood a chance. Then Olan walked by."

Olan grinned. "You jest. She had no interest in me."

Zacharius's voice suddenly boomed from the galley. "Think not on trivial flirtations that go not past the eyes and what the eyes see! Rather think on what makes you holy, and a vessel for Aslan's will and bidding!"

"Amen!" I exclaimed.

…

I finally went to bed an hour or so later, having spent my time just sitting by the helm and talking with Herring and Olan. They were the most friendly and comfortable of the night crawlers, and while Zacharius would have been fun to chat with—I was a little sick of spending so much time in the galley with Tusk and Aemon that I welcomed a break where I wasn't chopping potatoes and boiling the salt out of the seawater.

…

I flew out of bed in the type of panic one has when late for work. I wasn't exactly late, but I had slept in a little longer than usual, which means instead of waking up around six a.m. my time, I woke up at sevenish. How lazy of me.

I changed out of my oversized shirt, threw on the breeches and the flowy white shirt that made me feel like a nicer version of the Dread Pirate Roberts. I was relieved to find that I had slimmed out some—not too much, mind you, but college certainly enjoyed imposing three extra pounds whenever it could.

My hair was a mop. Fluff and frizz were everywhere. My eighties haircut was cool enough if I had a straightener, but nothing but sea-water treatment had turned me into David Bowie's Goblin King.

"As the paaaain seeps through, makes no sense for you, everything has gone, wasn't too much fun at all—but I'll be there for yoooou OOO-HOO! AS THE WORLD FALLS DOOOOOWN…" I sang my favorite from Jim Henson's Labyrinth as I threw open the cabin door and took a deep breath.

Nothing smells quite like a clean horizon, fluffy gray clouds threatening rain, a fresh chill in the air made bearable by a warm western wind, coming from somewhere in Narnia where it was summertime.

We were now six days out to sea since Redhaven, and the ocean seemed to betray this in its colors. It wasn't just a deep blue, reflecting the sky, it had an undercurrent of gray and an unfathomable green, as if to say There are entire worlds under here, too.

…

The rain threat seemed to clear a little by lunch hour. When I came out to announce that the rice & salted fish thing was ready for their munching, a yellow sun had pierced the low set of fluffy clouds, allowing a long ribbon of light to spill through from east to west. We sailed parallel to this strip of light, a light that seemed almost as if it was a crack between worlds. Well, okay, either a crack between worlds, or when your Mom nudges your door open slightly at night, letting the hall light blind you to death, double-checking to make sure you aren't up all night reading that darn book. And even if you did, you heard her coming and had stuffed your book and booklight under the covers. What? It's difficult to read Prisoner of Azkaban in a house that doesn't approve of the boy wizard, okay?

Tangent, sorry, it was one of the most rebellious things that I've done. To continue.

Have you ever come to a moment in your life when you've stopping expecting magic? Where everything is hard work and it's ordinary and you'll get a job and make money and go to school and nothing really magical happens because that's not real life? And suddenly you find yourself at your most stressful, or just busiest in general, and suddenly you see something, natural and unassuming, and think; "Now, this is something really beautiful and magical"?

I had a moment like that, one of those pre-finals weeks. Campus was cold and nasty. People were cold and nasty. Life was nasty and I felt cold. College was just, to put it simply, a big bummer. Then it began snowing and the entire campus was transformed into something magical. The orange light from the street lamps made everything glow, from the icicles to the sparkling parking lot and the indentations of footprints. Every lamppost (the college attempts, half-heartedly, to look more classy than it really is, and the lampposts are the only ones that succeed) lit up a grouping of trees and the paths to the dorms. And then I remembered that magic will still happen, sometimes when everything stops, and creation reminds you that it is there.

Was that long winded? Sorry, I only meant to explain the lack of magic on the ship. Sure, we sailed from Narnia, yes, there was a Talking Mouse, a faun, and a minotaur—but we were working. This was a very real ocean with very real duties on board the ship. I sweated and chopped vegetables in the galley. I smelled like smoke at all times. But I remembered something—the Pevensies came to Narnia during the Hundred Year Winter, and with them, Aslan was on the move. That is when magic was really there.

And suddenly, I knew Aslan was on the move again.

Magic was being restored to the Dawn Treader.

And how do I know this? Because through the crack of sunlight in the sky, three small figures—at first, I thought they were birds—fell through, and landed with anti-climactic splashes nearby. And I think where any of the Monarchs are—Aslan is near, and Aslan is moving to do something significant.

…

"Bloody barnacles!" I exclaimed, earning a critical look from Jekyll. "Did you see that?"

"See what?" he leaned over the side, looking about. "I see nuthin'!"

"Three—things—fell," I was gesturing wildly. "DID YOU SEE THAT?"

"Hey!" Jekyll shouted. "Klaire! Somethin' in the south?"

Klaire's head jerked around as he examined the horizon. "What? What?"

"What's going on?" Caspian's voice came from the helm.

"Answer your King," Drinian added sternly, when no one replied.

"I see nothing!" Jekyll exclaimed.

"I saw SOMETHING!" I screeched.

"Wolf's bane," cursed Klaire, finally zeroing in on three figures in the water. "MAN OVERBOARD! MAN OVERBOARD!"

"Fetch the ropes," Drinian commanded, and Caspian darted away from the helm. Drinian calmly stepped in and took his place, steering the ship a wee bit to the right. Caspian brushed past me, jumped onto the bench, and held onto one of the rope-ladders. "Show me!" he said loudly.

I pointed. It looked like three basketballs bouncing in the water. One of them went down, and then another flailed, and went under as well.

"Bring her about," commanded Drinian, gesturing to Baron and Ave to work the ropes and maneuver the sail so that we drew closer to the figures. The Treader cast a huge shadow over them.

The ribbon of light, the crack, had shut. The clouds had merged together, like closing the door between universes.

Caspian pulled off his jacket, and handed it off to me. Straightening his arms, stretching, and pointing—he dove right off the side, joining the three swimmers below.

I was beginning to hear their voices. Someone was screaming like a little girl, and it certainly wasn't Lucy. A blond head of hair kept dipping under, till the two older grasped his arms and held him aloft as they treaded water.

There was a chaotic storm of sailors working, shouting, throwing ropes overboard to draw them in after attaching them to a pulley, and cries of "Heave!" as the ropes were being drawn in.

Suddenly, shivering and shaking, Lucy Pevensie—Queen Lucy, the Valiant—was being helped over the railing. She looked about fourteen or fifteen, as radiant and beautiful as ever, having lost the child-age shape of the face and gained another five or more inches in height. Her adorable school-girl jumper, skirt, and headband were soaked through and she was staring, wide-eyed, at the ship. She hadn't seemed to quite compute what she was looking at yet.

I rushed forward unceremoniously and threw Caspian's coat around her. "Don' wantti to c'tch caeld noeew, do we?" I shrieked in a Cockney accent, far too excited to see her to keep my composure. My bebies! I thought.

"Pippin?" she gasped. "Is that you?"

"Hector!" I exclaimed, as if just now recognizing her. "Your Highness!"

"What…?" drawled two or three voices, unbelievingly. Aemon's mouth was hanging open, wondering why I was referring to her as Highness. Or, maybe it was because I called her Hector.

"This is Queen Lucy, the Valiant," I said loudly, holding Lucy like she was one of my wee children at the middle-school youth group. She was shivering and wide-eyed with shock.

"What!" exclaimed more of the sailors.

The rope came up again, and this time, Neil was pulling Edmund over the side. He clambered down, clumsily and wild-looking. His dark hair was sticking up in all directions and his school-clothes looked unsuited for him, being of course, more Narnian than English.

"King Edmund the Just!" I said casually, giving Aemon a glance. Aemon looked like he was about to pass out.

"Is this? What is this? Is this Nar…" Edmund trailed off and made eye-contact with me. "You look familiar," he said slowly. "Is that…?"

"It's me!" I released Lucy of my coddling and ran up to him. Lucy slowly sat down on the bench, nursing a knee where she bumped it against the side of the ship.

"P-P-PIPPIN!" Edmund blurted, his eyes working crazily over the whole scene. "What? How?" Neil was suddenly throwing a large blanket over Edmund's shoulders. "Oh, uh, thank-you," Edmund said quickly. "But—but…"

Then, a younger boy—squirming and wailing like a cat getting bath—was pulled over the sad. And behind him, Caspian jumped over the railing with ease and brought the last of the rope with him.

"C-C-Caspian!" exclaimed Lucy.

"Queen Lucy!" He sat down beside her and gave her a hearty hug. Eustace practically lost all sense of coherency when he saw the strange man hugging his cousin and calling her Queen.

"That must be Eustace?" I asked, laughing.

"Forget the weasel!" Edmund said crossly, snatching me from my observation into a tight, glad embrace. I hugged him back happily, feeling how tall he'd gotten in the past three years or so, (though I was not sure how much time had passed in England, as opposed to the three years in Narnia or the two-and-a-half in the USA).

"I am so glad to see you!" Edmund said, pulling back. "When I—well, this is Narnia, isn't it? Oh—never mind—when there was magic, and the picture came to life, I thought maybe we were coming back—but I never dreamed! But, but—Pippin! I can't believe it's you!"

Lucy came running up then, and the three of us group-hugged like a club of juvenile detectives from famous books.

"Uh—ahem," Caspian's voice interrupted. We parted, and he grabbed Edmund for a handshake, which turned into a brotherly hug as well. "Uh, so, men," Caspian announced loudly, pulling back and keeping a hand on either of the Pevensies' shoulders. "Behold—your Monarchs. This is King Edmund and Queen Lucy—magically brought to us out of the waters—once again!"

In awe and stupor, the crew slowly got down on their knees. Aemon glared at me, till I remembered that I, too, should get down on my knees. I was half-successful, for by the time I was lowering, they were all standing again.

The moment of recognition and respect was cut short all too soon. The sound of blubbering and wailing came from the back of the crowd. The whole crew turned slowly to have a look, nearly forgetting about the third person they'd rescued from drowning.

"Who is your friend?" Caspian asked, not quite believing his eyes—the boy was crying like a hungry toddler, but was more likely about twelve years old.

Eustace was crying dreadfully hard, scrubbing at his eyes with his fists and shouting "I don't like it! It's not real! Wake up, wake up! Take me back!"

"Take you back where?" Caspian asked, giving Neil a nod. Neil put another blanket around Eustace's shoulders, but Eustace shook it off and began scrambling all over the deck, looking over the railings for sign of land—or perhaps for the crack of light that let them in. Or, of course, as he knew—a painting that came to life in the bedroom.

Then, he spewed against the side, howling about how unsanitary vomit is, as it was flying forth. "UUUGGGHH!" He screeched.

"Good heavens," I said quietly.

"There, there, lad!" said Zacharius, stepping towards him and patting his back comfortingly. After hearing all the kerfuffle and craziness, the night crawlers had come up from their bunks and watched the entire goings-on.

"Uh—Rynelf?" Caspian chuckled. "Bring spiced wine for their Majesties. It'll warm them up."

"You and the crying one, as well, Sire?" asked Rynelf.

"Yes, please, and thank-you."

Rynelf followed Tusk into the galley, and Aemon dutifully followed, but not before making a motion towards me—a gesture that seemed to say, You've got a lot of explaining to do. I had mentioned that I was kind of like their assistant during the battles against Miraz, but he must not have believed me. Or maybe he hadn't paid attention—after all, he and Ave were wrestling when I was discussing it with Flanagan and the rest.

"Back to your duties, men," commanded Drinian. Grumbling about missing out on the fun, the men dispersed to their places, and the night crawlers returned to their beauty sleep. Zacharius stayed beside Eustace, who slumped against the bench and zoned out entirely.

"I am so glad to see you all," Caspian was gushing. It was kind of hilarious. "Pippin said that—well—I mean she hinted that something was going to happen, before we started—but I never in my wildest dreams thought that you'd really return. And in the middle of the sea. This is—fantastic."

"You knew we were coming?" Lucy exclaimed. "Is there anything you don't know?"

I tapped my head. "I'm full of secrets."

"Did you know Eustace was coming too?" Lucy added. We all glanced over at poor Eustace.

"Uh, possibly?" I winced.

"So—Eustace," repeated Caspian. "Relation? Friend?"

"Relation," Edmund said very quickly. "Not a friend. I'm afraid we've brought a bit of trouble to your ship…"

"A ship, a ship!" shrieked Eustace. "We're on a ship! I bloody well need real food! Or vitamins! I must be hallucinating!"

"Calm down, Eustace," Edmund said, annoyed.

"This really is traumatic for him," Lucy said kindly. "He's never been anywhere with magic before."

Rynelf returned with a tray, and on the tray were four silver flagons. We'd never used them for any occasion before, and I assume they were kept under lock and key for special events. He handed each to the royals, and one for Eustace. Eustace took one sip and turned, vomiting over the side of the ship again.

"Good lord," I exclaimed. "Poor kid. Bad wine?"

"Bad kid?" grumbled Ed.

Eustace was crying again, spluttering and whipping his mouth on his sleeve. "Don't you lot have any of Plumptree's Vitaminized Nerve Food?" he shrieked. "My nerves are shattered! Absolutely shattered!"

"This is a merry shipmate you've brought us, brother," Caspian snickered. I loved the change that came over Caspian. The magic was back—he was relaxed, he was grinning widely, his mood had lifted considerably. His friendship and loyalty to the Pevensies kept his heart open and his spirits high.

"I'm fairly certain Eustace came along on accident," I suggested. Edmund could only nod emphatically and watch his poor cousin with a mixture of contempt and pity.

Not wanting to get involved in the mess, Rynelf slowly backed away. Reepicheep leapt out from the cabins, where he had been unsuccessfully trying to fetch blankets for them, but by the time he got one down from the shelf, they'd all been rescued and Neil had provided towels for all.

"Dear boy!" Reep exclaimed, stepping in Rynelf's place. "Take a deep breath!"

"ACK!" screamed Eustace. "TAKE IT AWAY! It's horrid! Ugh! Go away you filthy creature! Help! Help!"

Reepicheep slowly turned away from him, as one might try to avoid a stand selling Girl Scout cookies and carefully ignore their pleas to come back and buy the expensive things. He darted up to us, instead, and swept off his small feather as a bowing gesture to the Pevensies.

"Oh, Reepicheep!" exclaimed Lucy. "You're here too! It is so good to see you!"

"My humble duties to you both," Reepicheep bowed, "Your presence was the only thing lacking from this glorious venture!"

"Go away! Go away!" Eustace kept on. "I can't bear performing circus animals! They're silly and vulgar and… sentimental!"

I failed to see how sentimental was any kind of justification. "You know what else is vulgar?" I muttered to Edmund. "Being seasick and screaming simultaneously…"

Edmund practically snorted, while I felt Drinian's eyes stabbing me in the back. Apparently it was stepping over a line to insult Their Majesty's Cousin, but I figured—they know me. They can deal with it.

"Am I to understand," Reepicheep hesitated, giving Eustace a good look-over with critical, beady eyes. "That this singularly discourteous person is under your Majesty's protection? Because if not…"

Suddenly Lucy sneezed loudly.

"Oh, bother," Edmund squinted, and then he sneezed too.

"What a fool I am, keeping you about in your wet things!" Caspian exclaimed, mentally facepalming. "Come on below and get changed, Edmund. Uh, Pippin, can you see to Lucy? I'm sure…"

"She shall stay in with me," I nodded eagerly. "She can wear the things your dear nan packed for me. No worries."

Caspian nodded, grateful that his old Nanny had thought of everything—even, unwittingly, providing for Lucy while she was here.

"We'll take Eustace down below," Edmund said gloomily, popping his neck and stretching his arms, as if preparing for wrestling with Orpheus. "He ought to go to bed looking like that."

"Why don't you meet us in the Captain's cabin when you are finished?" Caspian requested.

"Aye Aye, Sire," I replied. Lucy looked at me, beaming with pure excitement at being in her magical country again. I can only imagine what this was like for her—a Queen returned, for her third time, Aslan making good on his promise to being her back.

I grinned, grabbed her hand, and began pulling her towards the entrance to the cabins under the poop deck, which of course the hall that led to them was open to the main deck. "You are going to love this," I chattered excitedly, "I fell into Narnia nearly a month ago—and I begged them to let me come—Caspian gave me his cabin—but I knew you were coming, so it's like a sleepover—it's so cool—I help in the kitchen—we went to a tournament—I'll let them tell you."

"I just can't believe I'm here," Lucy murmured, as we passed into the tiny hall and I threw the door open for Caspian's cabin. "I feel like I'm dreaming! Or just waking up! I don't know! One minute we were reading a letter from Susan, she's in America, you know… and arguing with Eustace about limericks… and then we're looking at a painting. The painting was of this ship, you know!"

"I wonder who painted the ship?" I mused, closing the door behind us and gesturing widely with my arm. "Uh—so—here it is! But no, seriously—that wardrobe you all went through? It was made of the wood from the trees that grew from Digory Kirke's magic apple and—that's another story, I guess. But who painted the picture?"

"Eustace said it was junk, or something, an old wedding present—I can't imagine who could paint it so accurately and not be from Narnia," Lucy spoke quickly, looking around the room in awe. "Can you believe a painting of this glorious ship wasn't hanging in a gallery somewhere? I mean—look at this! Dwarf craftsmanship!" she tapped the tiny lamp hanging above the table. "And… and… these markings on the wall, the paintings, the gold head of Aslan hanging here…"

"Isn't it wonderful?" I agreed. "The bed's big enough for both of us, if you don't mind."

"Not at all!"

"Dry clothes are right here," I threw open my trunk. "I recommend the shirts and trousers. The dresses are a bit… um…"

"Over the top?" Lucy suggested, grinning. "Why'd you have them, anyway?"

"I was borrowing them while at Cair Paravel, I was dumped here in summer clothes that were a bit indecent," I chuckled savagely. "And I used one to impersonate Caspian's woman-of-choice at the tournament. He probably won't mention that in front of Edmund, but you get my version."

"You DIDN'T!" gasped Lucy in horror.

"His idea, not mine," I giggled. "He was trying to avoid the attentions of the Duke's daughter. I agreed to go along to keep him saving face, but it was a disaster. I wish you were there! You would have loved it!"

"Well, I'm here now," Lucy glanced around again, basking in the awe of the place. "And I couldn't be more pleased. Better later rather than later, eh?"

"Yes of course," I said. "I'll leave you to change. May I add that you look absolutely lovely? You've grown up so much!"

"So have you!" Lucy returned. "I mean, I hardly recognized you. You look older than me now. But…"

"I know, I know," I laughed. "I'm still short. That'll never change."

"I'm glad, you carry it well," Lucy replied. "I'll be out soon."

"See ya, your Majesty," I winked and shut the door behind me, following voices out, past the door, and into the door on the other side of the hall. This was Drinian's cabin (when Caspian insisted on giving me his cabin, I'm pretty sure Drinian made a fuss and asked him to take his, but Caspian assured him that his duties as Captain granted him a deck-room. Which is why Edmund and Eustace were going to stay with Caspian below).

I knocked a few times. Edmund threw open the door, and caught me in another airtight bear hug.

"Oh, hi," I squeaked. Caspian and Drinian stood at the table, pulling maps out to show the Pevensies. Reepicheep sat on the table, trying to keep his tail out of their way.

"I'm so happy you're here too!" Edmund said happily. "When our train took that magical detour to America—I really never thought I'd see you again. When we arrived at school it was back to 1940s England. I didn't know how'd you'd manage to meet up with us again."

"Train?" said Drinian's voice.

"It's a chain of wagons, all hooked together, that don't use horses," I said, detaching myself from Edmund's over-eager (though I admit, adorable) embrace. "They run on a set of tracks."

"What pulls them?" Drinian asked, amused. He didn't believe me.

"It runs on…" I looked towards Edmund for assistance. He knew what electricity was, they didn't.

"The same substance in a lightening fork," Edmund provided.

Drinian laughed heartily, but Caspian only smiled. He knew our circumstances.

"It's true," Edmund said slowly. "I mean, we are from the future, after all."

"I thought you were from the past?" Drinian chortled.

"Narnia's past," Edmund replied, mysteriously.

"Think on it this way," I attempted, "Someone in my world would probably faint if they saw real talking animals. We're a world of advanced science and machinery. No magic. No talking animals."

"Imagine a world without that!" Drinian sighed.

"It breaks the heart," Reepicheep agreed. "Imagine if I couldn't speak!"

Drinian looked like that would be relieving. Caspian snickered.

"It breaks my heart, too," I grinned.

…

Edmund wanted to know, straight-away, what the entire voyage was for and if there were any theories about why Aslan wanted us other-worlders here. Caspian, being so very polite, dodged questions till a timid tap sounded at the door.

I opened it up for Lucy. Caspian introduced Drinian to her, and Drinian was very gallant, knelt, and kissed her hand. Lucy was used to such treatment, but it was clear it had been awhile. She blushed and muttered that it wasn't necessary—after all, we weren't technically in Narnia.

Lucy glanced around his cabin. "Oh, where's Eustace?" she asked.

"In bed," Edmund sighed. "Don't bother trying to be nice to him, it only makes him hate you more. I'm afraid we can't do anything for him right now."

"We need to talk, anyway," Caspian touched Lucy's shoulder kindly. "We'll see to your cousin when we've concluded matters' here."

"I should say we need to talk!" blurted Edmund. "How long has it been since your coronation?"

"Three years," Caspian answered.

"It's only been a little more than a year for us," Edmund said. "How's it going in Narnia?"

"You don't suppose I'd have left my kingdom if all wasn't well," grinned Caspian. He began to relate the events that guaranteed peace—the giant's tribute, Trumpkin's guardianship, and the rest. When Edmund's wide-eyed curiosity was satisfied about Narnia (I wonder if he wasn't a bit disappointed he landed on a ship instead of on his own, beloved shores?) Caspian relayed the story of the seven lords.

Oh, those seven lords. When Miraz took over, he was fairly certain these seven men would rise against him (they supported Caspian's father). He sent them to the sea. My cynical mind couldn't remember how many actually lived. It'd been so long since I'd read the book, was it possible we'd only find two or three alive, and the rest would be dead? Would Caspian consider it a small blessing, or a failure?

"But Reepicheep has a higher hope in this voyage," Caspian added. "Seven lords, and perhaps Aslan's country itself."

"Why should we not come to the very edge of the eastern world?" Reepicheep piped up. "It is always from the East that the Lion comes to us."

Edmund whistled. "That is an idea."

"Is Aslan's country the sort of place you can, um, sail to?" Lucy asked doubtfully.

"I do not know, Madam," said Reepicheep, "But when I was but a wee mouse in my cradle, a Dryad spoke a lullaby over me—

Where sky and water meet,

Where the waves grow sweet,

Doubt not, Reepicheep,

To find all you seek,

There is the utter east.

I don't know what it means. But the spell has been on me all my life." His tail flickered with anticipation.

"So, we should drink saltwater every few miles to see if it's sweet," I said, deadpan.

Drinian and Caspian stared at me as if I had suddenly sprouted purple antlers and had Beanie Babies jumping out of my pockets.

"I was joking," I added.

Edmund laughed loudly, but he was the only one.

"Thanks, Ed," I said sourly. "You watch my back."

"Always."

…

Thank-you all for reading! I can't wait to hear what you think! Please review!

Locked in a Stony Tower: Well, well, well, Edmund and Lucy are back, and there is no escaping them now. =) I'm half-sick of set up and I'm grateful I've come to my favorite parts of the adventure—more antics to come!

Jewel in a Crown: Aw, no, Caspian doesn't have a drinking problem. He was just so flummoxed that they didn't find at least one of the seven lords at Redhaven. He thought he'd have a little drink and go to sleep instead of enjoying the feast. I don't treat any kind of alcoholism lightly (it has, and had, a very tight grip on people that I know) and I hoped by pouring out his drink that my disproval of having "just one drink coz of a bad day" would be clear.

Softballgirl: Oh yes, Avengers for the win. I am a Loki fan girl. He just needs a hug and acceptance from Odin and all his violence will probably stop. Hehe.

Strawberrypi: I agree that adding romance in to a self-insert story is just Mary-Sueish and somewhat pathetic. If anything ever seems too romantic, do give me a heads up. But I don't write relations with male characters in this story any differently than my real friendships =)

Madfantic: You are very welcome!

The Red Crayon: I love your reviews! They're crazy! And I'm glad my British swears don't offend you. Most of what I use is British anyhow—I use the Oxford comma, include the u in colour just to confuse people on facebook, say "lie-in" instead of nap… It's deliciously fun. AND OMG YOUR FRIEND LOOKS LIKE HARRY? I'm jealous. That's awesome. I have a friend who looks like Ian Somerhalder who plays Damon from the Vampire Diaries, but that's not quite as cool as the boy wizard. That's so awesome you get to work in a coffee shop. Most of the American population wants to work in coffee shops but the management won't hire more than two or three, hehe.

Silimaira: The Pevensies and the Scrubbs will be the spark that initiate the adventures we are all more familiar with =)

Colbub: Actually my grandmother is German. My godmother is Australian. I grew up with a lot of "GEEEEHRLS! GET EN THE CAH!" and "That's stew-pid!" Hehe. So I don't actually have any Australian in my blood, but I do have Scottish on my grandfather's side! My ancestor was Sir Richard Cobb, a brave knight who served the Queen. While this is a very distant relation, I've taken ownership of that little smidgen of scot blood and wear it proudly =)