A/N: Happy 2009, everybody! Now, this chapter is short, but I'm too tired from last night to think hard and write another 6-pager like last chapter. At least you're getting timely updates! :D Anyhow, it may seem like a bit of a filler, but it leads nicely into next chapter's conflicts. Bwahaha!

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By the next morn, most of the snow blanketing the ground around the castle had melted, and the river was flooding its banks. The new year dawned bright and unseasonably warm, and Enna was able to sit on a bench in the courtyard in the middle of January with the hood of her cloak thrown back while Peter and Aramir practiced fencing in front of her. The clang of clashing steel echoed off the stone walls of the towers surrounding the courtyard, broken occasionally by hisses of pain, mainly on Peter's part as Aramir got used to aiming his new weapon. The two made an impressive pair, Peter in a leather jerkin and Aramir trying to get accustomed to a chain mail shirt.

"And always remember—it is essential to block. Keep your opponent's strike away from your body, or you'll regret it—like that. Excellent. Parry four. One, two, three, four. Good. Keep your shield up."

Enna sat on her hands, her bow and quiver slung over her shoulder to keep them dry. "Watch your lower right!"

Just in time, Aramir blocked Peter's low strike, and splinters flew from his shield. "Ace!" Peter exclaimed. "Good work. Are you ready to stop?"

Aramir, red-faced and tugging at the hot mail, nodded. "Aye, sire…for a bit." The two young men shook hands before returning their swords to their scabbards and dropping their scarred shields to the ground.

"You're really improving, Aramir," Enna said as they came towards her. "A few days ago, you could scarcely lift your buckler after a few minutes of parrying."

"Thank you for the reminder," he said, flopping down to lie on the cool cobblestones, resting his back against the bench.

"No, really, Aramir, you have," Peter said, sitting in a bit more dignified manner next to her. "I'm a bit sore, myself. You're a quick learner, and I'm sure all those years working on a ship have helped."

Aramir groaned. "I hope this comes in useful some day."

"I do, too," Peter said, stretching his shoulders with a pained grimace. "I ought to practice more often, myself."

"What I'd like now is to see Enna give her bow a whirl, by herself," Aramir replied. "She does all right when you help her, sire, but I want to see if she can do it alone."

Enna flushed. "I don't think I can…"

"No, it's a good idea!" Peter said, getting up and extending a hand. "Here, Enna, I'll go set up the targets."

She accepted his hand and stood up. "Well, all right…"

Peter smiled and went off to drag out the hay-stuffed targets, setting them up at alternating distances against the castle walls. Enna shrugged her cloak back over her shoulders, removing her bow from her quiver and fitting it with a white-fletched arrow.

"All right, then, remember to keep your elbow straight, and let the body of the bow rest in your hand, not in your fingers."

Enna saw a list of everything she'd learned scroll in front of her eyes as she stepped up into position. She lifted the bow and sighted down the arrow at the first target, remembering exactly how Peter'd held her arms in the right location.

"Whenever you're ready," he called.

She took a deep breath and loosed the arrow, and it whistled into the second circle from the bull's-eye.

"Fantastic!" Aramir said, leaping to his feet and hurrying to her side. "That was fantastic!"

"I ought to call Susan to come down and help," Peter said with a grin. "I daresay you're getting too good for my teaching."

Enna shook her head, smiling. "You know better than I that I have plenty of practice ahead of me before I'm nearly as good as you."

"But at the rate you're going, you might just get there in a timely fashion. Here, try the next—it's a bit farther away."

A little more confidently this time, Enna fitted another arrow to her bow, aligned it with the target, and let it loose, sending it flying into the same position as before.

"Excellent!" Peter said. "You have your stance down perfectly. The only thing you need to work on is your aim, and that really just comes with practice. Get the feel of your bow, and always take into account wind direction."

Enna moistened the tip of her finger and held it up exaggeratedly, feeling for a breeze. "Like this, sire?"

"I shan't dignify that with a response."

"I'd best be careful, Aramir," Enna said, "or His Highness will have my head!"

"Don't tempt His Highness, lass, he's got a longsword at his side."

Enna smiled and tucked a curl behind her ear. "Luckily, I've got a tall, strapping sailor to protect me."

"Unluckily, this tall, strapping sailor is too tired to defend your honor," Aramir said mournfully.

At this, Peter drew his sword from its sheath. "An excellent learning opportunity, Aramir. What will you do if your foe tires more slowly than you? Will you lay down your sword and let him kill you, just because you're bushed?"

"I hope not." Aramir drew Arondight again, and the two men took their positions. Enna wisely got out of the way.

"Ready," Peter said, "steady, and—now!"

There was a jarring clang of metal on metal as Peter and Aramir went at each other with a ferocity that Enna hadn't seen either of them display before. The swords flashed up and down at an almost astonishing rate of speed, the scrape of the young men's boots on the hard stone and their strained, laboring grunts echoing off the surrounding walls. Enna vaguely wondered if she should ask them to stop—their movements were so quick and calculated that she feared one of them would misstep and lose a finger.

A loud, dull thud announced the contact of Aramir's sword with Peter's shield. Peter stumbled back a step before renewing his fierce assault, rapidly regaining any ground he'd previously lost. Aramir faltered under Peter's intensity, his shield shuddering with the might of the high king's blows.

"That's quite enough," Enna announced quickly, taking a step forward as Peter forced Aramir towards a set of low stone steps, his shoulders back and eyes ablaze. Both adrenaline-charged youths ignored her, however, and sparks flew as they both put their full weights behind mighty strokes.

The swords locked in midair, Peter's blade caught on Aramir's hilt. Sweat streamed down their red faces as their shields jostled together, and both young men shifted their feet, trying to gain enough strength to push their opponent off. Enna bit her lip in agitation.

"Give up—Minodaurus!" Peter grunted. "I've—won!"

"Not—yet," Aramir rejoined, breathing hard and grimacing as sweat ran into his eyes.

They struggled vainly for a few more moments. Then, suddenly, Peter gathered his strength and gave a monumental shove. Aramir stumbled backwards, caught his heel on a step, and fell with a painful-sounding crash to the ground; his sword flew out of his hand and clattered to the stones several meters away.

Peter leapt up the stairs and pressed the point of his blade to Aramir's chest, his breath coming in ragged huffs. "I've won."

Aramir groaned. "Yes, sire."

With a satisfied nod, Peter's battle stance loosened into a more relaxed one, and he slid Rhindon back into its sheath. "Very good, then."

Aramir rolled stiffly over and got wearily to his feet, retrieving his sword and returning it to the scabbard. "By the lion."

"Well, I hope you're happy," Enna said, stalking over and putting her hands at her hips. Her heart was thundering away in her ears, almost as if she'd done the fight herself. What if one of them had been killed? What if Aramir had murdered the high king? Or Peter a foreign guest? "You're injured, the both of you."

"What? Where?"

Enna pointed at Peter's hand and at Aramir's cheek, where long but superficial cuts were leaking blood. "There was no reason to engage him so viciously, Peter," she scolded. "And Aramir, you should not have retaliated in that manner."

"Ah, Enna," Aramir said lightly, "what's another scar to me? At least you and I match, now." He pointed to the faint scar under her eye, the only physical mark left from her trip in the brig.

"And we correspond, as well," Peter said, holding his hand up next to hers, where the skin on her palms was still slightly raised from the burns.

"That's no reason to try to kill each other," Enna insisted, folding her arms. "What if you had died, Peter? What would Narnia have done?"

"I wouldn't have died, Enna, don't be a goose."

"'I wouldn't have died, Enna, don't be a goose,'" Enna mimicked, much to Aramir's amusement. "He managed to cut your hand, what if he'd cut your neck instead?"

"Have you no faith in my ability?"

"I have no faith in any silly boys who have sharp weapons in their hands," Enna retorted. "Able or not."

"Fine," Aramir said gently. "We'll only try to murder each other when you're not looking. Does that suit you better?"

Enna gave him a dark look. "I'd be suited best if you two didn't attack each other so violently."

"Oh, Enna, you take all the fun out of teaching," Peter teased. "But, Aramir, my friend, the lady has spoken. Shall we heed her pleas?"

"Tell you the truth, sire, I'm afraid to see what she'd do if we didn't."

Peter laughed. "Well spoken. Enna, we'll mind your word."

Light snowflakes began to fall from the sky as Enna sighed, uncertain as to trust the pair or not. "I'll hold you to that."

"I would expect nothing less," Peter said with a bow.

Biting her lip a moment, she couldn't resist adding, "You two did look in fine form, however."

Aramir laughed. "And so it comes out. She is angry with us at our seeming foolishness, but also pleased by our skill."

"Oh, but can we blame her?" Peter said. "We are outstanding specimens of the male persuasion, are we not?"

Enna felt her face grow hot. "Don't overreckon yourselves so, my lords."

They laughed, and Peter bowed again. "Let us go in to dinner, then, my lady."

Shaking her head and hiding a smile, Enna agreed and followed the two teasing youths back into the castle just as a cool breeze swept in from over the Sea, bearing with it a rush of silent snowflakes and the smell of a storm.

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A/N: Hey, thanks for that wonderful response about what you guys think Enna looks like! Most of you guys were pretty dead-on when I compared your ideas to mine. D'you want to hear what I think she looks like? …Well, I guess you don't have a choice. XD

Anyway, I think of her as somewhat tall, maybe five-eight (not as tall as I am, though, haha!), with a kind of subtle, earthy prettiness (the kind that at first glance isn't really there, and then when you start to notice it, it's not at all supermodel pretty…you know what I mean?). She's got eyes that are hazel-y but have undertones of green, and fair-colored skin with a good amount of freckles, perhaps easily sunburned. Not skinny, but strong. Her hair is longish, to her middle back, at least (though it's always back in a braid), and is a light, slightly reddish, brown. Overall, she's not all that special at first glance.

So, I hope that all you who didn't in the first place will jump on the bandwagon and tell me what they think, too, because I get a perverse sort of satisfaction when I learn how people see my characters. :D Until next time, then!