P.E
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Paths Entwined
By Tonzura123
Disclaimer: I am one step closer to never owning the Pevensies or any of their accouterments.
"Because narrow is the gate and difficult is the way which leads to life, and there are few who find it," Matthew 7:14
Edmund was late.
I knew, because I'd been scribbling away with one hand while ravenously beginning to feed myself with the other, and had somehow managed to subconsciously train myself into looking up at the clock every thirty seconds on the dot. As of that moment, the time keeper above the pub bar stretched its arms out over the ten and the fifteen, lazily clucking at the hustle and bustle of the Saturday morning breakfast rush.
Lately, of course, Edmund had been far more prone to lateness, so I honestly couldn't dredge up the irritation with my brother that such a case would normally merit. In fact, I would be surprised if my fellow king were to make it in another fifteen minutes. The roads were terrible, awash with muddy slush from the recent thaw and children working their way through it to the park or cinema. It'd been difficult enough for me to venture outside- who knew how Ed was faring? I could hardly impetrate more from him than from myself.
Perhaps I should have met up with him at a different location...
"Here you are, sir," a waiter slipped the mug of steaming black coffee in front of me with a polite smile, which I easily returned as I pushed away the half-finished plate of toast and salted eggs. I finished a side note on hyssop and set aside the black book to focus on stirring the placid surface of my drink. Edmund had told me the coffee here was the best in London, and upon sipping a scalding taste, I'd have to say that he was right. It was good, strong stuff and I needed it desperately.
After another thirty-second increment glance at the clock, my eyes refocused on the newsprint splayed out atop the wooden table.
MURDERER DETAINED BY EMPLOYERS AND AWAITING TRIAL: FAMILIES SCANDALIZED!
23 January 1945
by John Robert Hatch, journalist.
Last Sunday, after the scandal of Hartbee's School for Young Men, where one staff member was burned alive, another stabbed, and a child kidnapped by the Headmaster ( a Mr. James Collins) the Board of Trustees for the private institution spotted Collins as he was boarding a ship to Ellis Island. They had been making a trip to the school and as soon as they recognized the criminal they called the police, setting out to detain the murderer. The ex-headmaster was soon overwhelmed and kept from boarding the ship as crew members and other passengers were quick to give additional aid.
'One bystander commented that the villain looked "Quite roughed up by the end of it, though' I don' be thinkin' that was the doin' of any trustee; it looked like somethin' had clean bit through his shoulder!'
Indeed, upon arrest, a wound much like a monstrous bite was reported by the medical examiner. The teeth marks were later identified and reported to the media by an astounded zoologist, who admitted that they were strangely identical to the Asiatic lion, though the size of the bite was three times too large. (The London Zoo has not been available for comment on the whereabouts of its main attraction to the Grasslands Exhibit. Parents are warned to keep their children indoors, in the event the beast has not been reclaimed.)
With the criminal behind bars, it now becomes an issue of securing proper management and weal for the school. One of the board and founder of the school, Mr. Fredrick Hartbee announced that, "We will be closing the school until Mr. Hamilton has fully recovered from the attack so that he may begin his career as the new Head. We will also renew the scholarship presented to Mr. Peter and Edmund Pevensie, and have made conciliations for the outrage that has occurred here." Unfortunately, both Peter and Edmund Pevensie were unavailable for comment as to whether or not they will be returning to finish the second term at Hartbee's School for Young Men.
The King's College Hospital, however, has promised Mr. Hamilton will make a full recovery and be back to coach the season's winning team by late Febr-
"-You're early," a vaguely irritated voice broke into my thoughts. I looked up at that, with an infernal happiness welling in me when my eyes caught on the recovering form of my best friend and champion. He was bundled so securely that I knew it had been Lucy who had helped him get out of the house that morning. A wool hat capped dark ringlets, a wool scarf was tied tightly to his throat, a black wool coat swamped him with its heavy down lining. The one thing he lacked were gloves, but that was because he needed to feel the crook of the cane that held him upright.
"You said meet at ten o'clock. I was here at nine-fifty."
"I said I could get away at ten o'clock. Not for you to meet me at ten o'clock," Edmund retorted, limping the remaining steps over to the seat across from me, and propping his cane against the chair back as he fairly collapsed down into it. I felt my gut jump a little with concern, urging me to half-rise from my own chair.
"Are you all right? I know the roads must have been murder out there. I should have-"
"-Shut up, Peter," Edmund told me abruptly. He had already shed his black wool coat and was pulling off his woolen noose even as he snagged my abandoned fork to stab at the toast crusts littering the plate edges, "I'm starved."
"You're always starved." But I made sure that the plate found its way closer to the new arrival, and it was quickly relieved of all edible substance.
Around a mouthful of soggy toast and over-salted eggs, a pair of onyx eyes lit on the folded newsprint I had been reading. Edmund swallowed, brow contracting for only a moment before he stole the mug of coffee as well and helped himself to a sip of bitter caffeine. I wonder if he knew I could see the flicker of mental back-tracking in his eyes- just before I also saw a darker flicker signal an imperious foot of Edmund's Justice slamming down. My younger brother wiped his mouth and folded his fingers into the smudged cloth, turning his heavy gaze upon me. Something in my heart strained to reach across the table.
"I was just trying to see if anything else had been dug up about what happened, Ed."
Edmund sighed and threw the napkin away from him, pulling the article into his lap and scanning the lines. He scowled, "This says even less than the one they circulated last week."
The front cover of my black book flapped open and fell loosely shut again. "It says he's been imprisoned," I offered.
"To be tried by his peers," Edmund murmured reverently, "Aslan told us as much. I suppose it is a relief to know it's happening now rather than a year or so from now."
I said nothing, but observed my sibling openly. I stroked my thumb across the spine of the black book, the front cover flapping open and shut and open again.
"Well, no need to deafen me," my little brother said, peering at me closely, though I did not feel entitled to close off my expression, "You're worried about what I've been up to lately, huh? What my plans are?"
"I know you won't go back," I answered simply. When had my brother ever gone back to the way things were? "You won't return to Hartbee's next term. And I know you've been cooking up something that involves Lucy, too."
Edmund snorted and threw back a gulp of coffee as though it were a refreshing glass of chilled lemonade.
"It was Lucy's idea," he told me, smirking as I tried to pull the mug back towards me and his grip didn't relinquish it, "We were talking about temptation and how beautiful it is."
"Seems a strange conversation."
"Well, it wouldn't exactly be tempting if it was disgusting, would it?" he asked me, "Do you think I would have gone to Jadis if she'd had a hooked nose and warts?"
The image presented a smug sense of justice served to those who deserved it, and I laughed while Edmund smiled back and distractedly turned his head in search of the waiter.
"I suppose not."
"Definitely not," my brother assured me, "There's no 'suppose' about it; I would have run screaming into the woods."
"So you're saying," I teased innocently, "that if a perfectly sweet girl who just happened to be born with a hooked nose and had a few unfortunate warts were to walk up to you-"
"-I'm saying, Mr. Magnificent," my brother interrupted smoothly, if with some annoyance, and turning to face me head-on, "That it's often the case things that are very, very bad for you are the things that look the most appealing at the time. I mean, Jadis was easily the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen."
He paused, nose wrinkling slightly in thought, "She's still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."
And the most terrifying.
"Don't tell that to Susan," I warned, "She's gone off the deep end about cosmetics lately."
"And I have a bad feeling it's not the last of it, either," Edmund muttered, waving as he finally succeeded in hailing down the waiter.
"What d'you mean by that, Ed?" A stone, roughly half a cubit cubed, settled in the pit of my gut and sat there, crushing my breakfast with its weight and threatening to displace it up my throat. My brother's dark eyes shuttered with a grim look, but even as he opened his mouth to answer, the waiter swept down on us, a pad ready and a towel flung over his shoulder, stained from where he'd been mopping up a table only moments before.
"Can I help you, sir?"
Edmund turned a cordial smile up at the man, but his hand was drumming the table top, "Another coffee for my brother and an extra for me."
The waiter nodded, jotting something down as he turned away, and Edmund called after him, "And a proper utensil would be nice!"
The waiter stilled, turning back with a far brighter and honest smile than before.
"Right away, sir!" he said cheerfully, practically running away from us in his haste.
"What was that about?" I wondered in bemusement.
I swear the lopsided grin my brother flashed at me could have been considered coy. With teeth stilled bared, he picked up the book I'd been writing in and flipped idly through the pages. I could tell by the way his mouth was set, he was fairly bursting to tell me anyway, and I resolved to let things that didn't require prodding to ferment on their own.
"Fine," there was still the subject of our beloved Gentle Queen, however, "Then what were you saying about Susan just getting started with this whole appearance obsession?"
"It's Collin's curse still in action," Edmund said after a time. He sounded just as worn as he had in the aftermath of that nightmarish ordeal. Just after he had been- But I couldn't think of that now that he was sitting across from me, breathing and speaking and talking just as he always had.
"You said that curse was broken when Aslan took away his Dark Magic."
"I said that we could throw it off if we wanted to. Collins was stripped of his power to cast more spells, and we were able to end the one over us if we trusted Aslan to do it. My faith was replaced, as was yours. My Gift was restored, as was yours. But I- I can't be sure that Susan... for whatever reason, still hasn't been put right."
"You think Susan doesn't want to be put right?" The very idea was ludicrous but Ed was nodding gravely before I could even finish the question, "But why wouldn't she?"
Edmund stared at my writings, looking for inspiration in my hand, searching for answers in what I had researched and studied.
"...Temptation is a beautiful thing," he whispered, so softly I had to strain to hear him. He snapped my book closed and set it in front of me again, looking up to capture my attention as it tripped into the depth of his dark gaze, "It's about freedom for some. Independence. Others want security- just one or two things that they're convinced they can't survive without, yet can't stand depending on someone else for. You have to be the one to get it, or to take it. The only person you feel you can trust is yourself. You don't trust anyone else to take care of what you treasure above all else. And you'll do whatever it takes, Peter," he strained, eyes intense, "You'll do anything to ignore that small voice telling you to let go of your pride and rely on someone else."
"...Edmund," I breathed, wonder striking me as I began to realize, "You-"
"-Your coffee, sir!" The waiter was back, practically rocking on his heels as he set the two cups down with an extra pair of silver spoons and what appeared to be a small, rolled-up piece of paper in front of Edmund.
The placid surface of our drinks had nothing on the blank look my brother summoned to greet the waiter with. With a smile that was all politeness and only partial sincerity, he pulled out his wallet and dispensed several bills into the waiter's open palm (which was quick to close around them) and turned to pocket the paper. The waiter was gone before I could blink. Somehow, I didn't think we'd be receiving the change back. I looked to my brother for explanation, but he was looking into his cup as he carefully sipped it, his countenance not forthcoming with any information.
"What in Aslan's name is going on here, Ed?" I demanded, "Why the subterfuge?"
He bothered to glance up at me, but was otherwise unruffled.
"Jack is my informant. I usually have to pay more."
"What in Aslan's name you do mean he's your infor-?"
A swift kick was delivered to my shin and I yelped, reaching below the table to rub at the surely forming bruise.
"Honestly, Peter," my brother mumbled with exasperation over the rim of his cup, "There was a reason I was in charge of stealth missions and you were not."
"Edmund," my expression should have been warning enough, let alone my tone. But threats had never done anything to my brother but make him more obstinate. I leaned across the table instead, making sure my voice was filled with nothing but love- from one brother to another, "Tell me what's going on."
China clinked and the soft pads of pale fingers were back to drumming a war cadence on the table. I felt a distinct pull on the warrior part of my brain at the sound of the Narnian battle rhythm. My blood knew I was supposed to be taking up my position on the frontline. It shifted, and I knew I was supposed to be retreating.
Twin onyx flickered knowingly, and the drumming ceased, releasing me from its spell and making me dizzily reach for my own cup of coffee.
"It's hard to let go of habit when it's been drilled into you. When it makes you," he glanced at the newspaper again, a sneer passed through his features, before he calmed again, "Being a King is almost everything I've ever known. Before that is blurrier with each day. But Narnia only seems to become clearer with every passing moment. We were the most powerful family in that world. We would have done anything to protect one another. You've almost died protecting me. I've always tried to return the favor."
Something about the way he said that caused a chill to rattle down my spine, and I cupped my hands around my mug in order to ward it off.
"It's goes beyond being named the Protector of our family. I think that Aslan could have done just as well by never telling me about what my name meant. Once I had been put in His good graces, and once I had been reunited with you three, I think I was prepared to do anything to make up for what I had done. Temptation is a beautiful thing... But once I had seen it for what it really was I was appalled. I was determined. I would never fall to that same temptation again. I would never give up my family for anything. Not for anything or anyone. For years I protected you all from Death. For years I accepted that I was able to because of Aslan's Gift to me."
The laughs of a group of older men from the back corner of the shop filled my ears, and Edmund and I patiently waited for the rabble to die down. He was looking at the handle of his cup, fiddling with his napkin with one fidgety hand. I was not able to watch anything but him.
"So, what changed?"
Edmund's dark head shot up and he looked at me, aghast, "Everything changed, Peter. We changed! We came back and we were kids again! One minute my Gift was at its full power- I could see the sins of people who tried to kill you- and the next it'd be so weak that the most I could feel while any of you were in danger would be a slight stomach ache! It scared me. More than you getting temperamental for the first time in your life. More than Lucy worrying about being as pretty as Susan. I didn't know how I was supposed to save your life anymore, so I figured it was safe here. That I wouldn't have to anymore. It was-"
He made a sharp gesture with his hand, pulling at his hair with the other in an image of wordless frustration. I could imagine how he felt. When I first came back, I found out it was harder to hold my temper than in Narnia- my first hint that my Gift was weaker here than there. There I had to keep sane in light of massacres. Here I only had enough of a Gift to battle extreme irritation. Even then, though, I had had Edmund to straighten me out when I'd gotten too rough.
"I was used to stomach aches, by then, though," Edmund continued, "I began to feel them more and more often. Even after you'd calmed down and Lucy and I saw Aslan for the last time. I started to have this building pain in my stomach one day and it just didn't stop. I couldn't understand it. You weren't picking fights. Lucy wasn't sick. Susan was as rational as ever. None of you were in any danger that I could sense. It nearly drove me insane, trying to ignore it. But it became impossible to ignore anymore. I started throwing up after lunch while we were still at Hendon House. People thought I was bulimic. I didn't know what I was doing wrong. I began looking into the friends and enemies of each of you. I tried to talk to them, to see if any of them made me sicker."
"They didn't?"
He shook his head slowly, his mind elsewhere. His cup was slowly revolving between his palms, the liquid never moving.
"One day, our teacher decided to show us a picture from the Great War. A painting. He said it was an accurate depiction of the effects of war. He said we should be against any war between any nations. I don't even remember the man's name. He was very liberal, though. He'd never fought in a war before, but I had. When he offered to pass the copy of the picture around I looked at it. I hadn't thought- But once I'd looked I couldn't' look away, you understand. I felt...so..."
Lost. He sounded lost. I reached out and grabbed at one of his hands, firmly wrapping it in my own.
"What did you see?"
My little brother turned his face up, expression breaking something inside of my heart.
"You," he whispered, "I saw you. Tall and magnificent and- You were surrounded by other men, holding onto a man's pack with one hand. You were facing up, like you were still trying to see but your eyes-"
'There weren't eyes...' I knew.
The hand in my hold spasmed, the muscles jerking with revulsion and terror, tendons straining against such a reality, consanguineous blood throbbing with heartache. It was Life daring Death to deface something it so cherished. It was his life in my hand.
"My teacher thought I was having a fit. I don't even remember running, if I'm honest. The next thing I know, I'm sitting outside under some statue and a boy from my class is bringing me my books and something to wipe my mouth off with because I'd apparently thrown up again- all over that horrible picture. My teacher assumed I knew someone that had happened to and excused me for the day."
He shook his head to derail a thought, much like a horse bucking an incompetent rider, before he rushed into the next part of this horror story;
"I tried to calm myself down. Dad was already enlisted, right? I couldn't believe I'd missed how old you were getting. Almost eighteen again. College was looking impossible in light of mum's financial hardships. Dad had only gotten back and his leg was still gimp and needed a doctor. He seemed confident the whole thing would be over in another year, but I knew how vicious could be in its final year. It's all the last, desperate, reckless attempts to win. It's the most dangerous. My friends who had older brothers had them be enlisted left and right. I began to panic."
"When was all this?" And where was I?
Dry though my throat was, I couldn't bear to do more than move my lips. A sort of stillness had descended on my brother and I- the only sounds were words, the only movements of our voices. Anything more could disrupt the awry balance. I was breathless before the heavy truths unloading themselves from my brother's lips. At long last, he was confiding in me again.
"Last spring. 1944."
"So that was when you met Collins?"
Edmund grimaced, "Not quite. Before Collins showed up, I'd been sure that you would end up in Her Majesty's service, so I... Well-" He gave a short laugh, red building in his cheekbones, "It seems very ridiculous now."
I tilted my head a little in offering.
"They wanted Peter Pevensie for service, right?" he asked me with a tiny sort of smirk, "They wanted his papers, a birth certificate for him, and a chap that looked like the description. So... I figured I'd just-"
With one hand, he weighed the air, flicking imaginary dust off of his palm as he resettled it on the table, "I'd become you."
"You'd what?" I exclaimed, and it wasn't until Edmund shot me a fierce look that I realized I'd been making as if to stand up and my voice had carried clear throughout the cafe. Strangers looked up in curiosity and one or two frowned at the disruption. I abruptly sat back down, turning my voice to a threatening hiss, "Are you out of your mind? You'd just become me and fight in my place?"
"I was thinking a little irrationally at the time," Edmund shot back, "I was desperate and having my feeling constantly gnawing at me wasn't exactly helping."
"You should have come to me, Edmund. I could have helped you figure something out!"
"What part of 'irrational' escapes you, mo provis?"
"Ed, you know you can always come to me for help!" I reminded him, distraught.
"I know that. But then, I'd been so concerned with saving you, that I didn't even consider asking you for help. I was desperate. I would have done anyth-" he swallowed and blinked, face twisting to right itself. In a far calmer tone, he told me, "I would have done anything, Peter."
"I know you would," I assured him, wondering for the first time if I really did. But, after all... "That's how Collins found you?"
"Desperation and Pride are not a good combination," he intoned, "Collins sensed both and snatched me up like a shiny shilling on the sidewalk."
I collapsed backwards into my chair, "Aslan, Ed," I said breathlessly.
"I wasn't thinking about Aslan. I was thinking about being a protector and saving you from dying in an unfamiliar war. Collins promised me the one thing I couldn't seem to find anywhere else- a future for you besides war and death."
"The scholarship," my mouth said. My mind was still catching up.
"The scholarship. The only reason he let you go to Hartbee's School was because I wouldn't go without you. And he really wanted me, as you recall, so he let you come along as well."
"Did you- Did you know what he really wanted? Back then?"
Edmund looked at me. A slant was forming between his eyes, drawing the slightest crease in his brow.
"Edmund, tell me you didn't know."
His eyes were glassy, like polished marble. From the corner of one, a drip of water flowed over, gravity spreading it downwards until a path was formed from it, and the remainder fell, hitting the placid surface of his coffee with a gentle plink.
"Edmund," my voice was pleading from the end of a very long tunnel, echoing in my ears, "You didn't..."
"Temptation," he murmured, "is a beautiful thing."
My stomach's bottom dropped out and I was suddenly very glad to be sitting down. I couldn't even begin to think about what my own brother was implying. I couldn't bear to think that he would have-
"I didn't know he was the Witch's servant," he comforted, watching me carefully, though not making a move to touch my hand with his own, "I didn't know that he meant to harm you or the girls. I only knew that he was serious about giving you a scholarship and getting you into any college of your choice. He made it seem like I was only there to promote a good public opinion of the school, but I could sense it was much more than that. I didn't care about what happened to me as long as you were safe."
"Ed-" my voice was weak and broke off before a thought could even be formed. What did one say to something like that? How did one respond to such unabashed devotion? Such stupidity?
"It wasn't until things began to happen that I realized what I'd done to Aslan," Edmund wiped at his eyes, "I hurt my back and you talked to me about not facing things by myself and it was like I just... Woke up. When Collins came to see me I told him I quit on the spot."
"Bet he took that well," I said automatically. I could remember the conversation my brother spoke of frighteningly well.
Edmund snorted, "Oh, yes. I believe that was the closest to openly threatening me that he'd ever come before. It actually made it easier to come clean the same way that he was."
Somehow, I knew that Edmund's idea of "coming clean" involved invoking the cripplingly presence of King Edmund the Just to its full potential, and the image of my fearsome brother facing down a cowering snake filled my mind. My awe doubled when I reminded myself that it was due to my bedside speech that my little brother had found the strength to break with evil a second time.
A hand gripped my wrist, and I faced its owner.
"I was going to tell you, Peter, after that. I swear it. I was going to tell you everything before-"
"I know." And, this time, I did know. Edmund had changed after that encounter. He'd become more like himself. More like my brother. And my brother told me everything. "I believe you."
Edmund didn't pull away, "So you want to know what's going on."
"Going on?"
Edmund reached into his pocket for the rolled up piece of paper and handed it out to me.
I looked at it, but did not stretch out my hand to accept it.
"The high road is narrow and dangerous," Edmund spoke as though he was remembering something from a different place and time, "A steep fall waits for those who trip or stray. Monsters lay in wait to knock travelers off. Snakes lay in the rocks, prepared to poison anyone who takes a misstep. Anyone who is too proud to ask for help will surely fall. Without a companion, no one will be there to help them up."
"You're talking about the road to Salvation, Ed," I said, with some surprise.
"Peter- We've grown up fighting monsters and snakes, haven't we?"
"Is this literal or figurative?"
"It doesn't matter," Edmund was grinning widely, nearly blinding me with the utter brilliance and happiness that was radiating out of him, "We've taken on both, haven't we? With Aslan's blessing?"
"All right."
"All right. So, what about people who haven't?" He was leaning across the table and an infectious power seemed to flow between us, rebounding and building, "Or better yet- What about the dragons that can be UN-dragoned? What about the people under spells that make them monsters? What about the people that can't be cured because they don't know there is one? What if we can watch out for people who might be taken up by Temptation like we have?"
"You're talking about helping people make the right decisions? Are these people we know or people we don't know?"
"Anyone who needs it, Peter. Anyone. Everyone. We face them and help them."
"Dragons can be brutal," I reminded him.
"They can be greedy, too. But maybe all of them are really lonely."
"It was Aslan that undragoned Eustace, Ed. Not people like us." I was hesitant to correct him. I was also hesitant to let him repeat the same mistakes.
Both of my brother's hands were covering mine now, and he pulled them towards his lips, face splitting with an unnameable emotion. It was hard to deny him a smile in return. It was hard to deny him anything.
"We bring them to Him, then. We bring them to Him, we let Him work as He will, and we let Him work through us to be an example for others."
"Like an ambassador."
"Exactly like an ambassador. Come' on Peter," he wheedled, "Lucy and Eustace are already a part of it. In fact, it was Lucy's idea. We can get Cain and Thomas to be a part of it, or any number of boys from Hartbee's. Maybe even Hamilton would be interested, eh? That way we can all keep in touch, even when you go off to Oxford this autumn. What d'you say?"
"You know Hamilton will want to help you with your physical training," I warned him.
"It'll give you a chance to record my medical progress in your book, then," my brother said snarkily, eying my black notebook with some distaste, "You should jump at such an opportunity."
I grinned, twisting my hand around in his so that I clasped him, palm to palm, and shook our joined hands from side to side rather than up and down. In response, Edmund kissed his free palm and fairly smacked it against my forehead in blessing, the warm of his skin sinking into my own and causing a small light to breathe up in my chest. Within seconds, I felt filled by it.
"Then welcome to the Friends of Narnia, mo Syr," said my brother and king, "and be prepared: we have work to do."
A/N: The picture Edmund talked about in this chapter actually exists. It's called "Gassed" and it was painted by Robert Singer. When I saw it for the first time last year, I saw Peter standing in the center and immediately thought of Edmund. If you look closely, the boy holding onto the blond man in the center actually looks like Edmund.
I took liberties with starting the Friends of Narnia as a sort of underground mission to help the people of England, but if I can get around to writing a few oneshots about it, you'll find that the first Seven are the seven that appear in the Narnia series (Diggory, Polly, Peter, Edmund, Lucy, Eustace, and Jill). The Friends manage to find quite a few adventures as well, even though most of them are bound to Earth. But, as Edmund said, there are plenty of dragons in our world that need undragoning. So sorry that I didn't put Eustace in this chapter. I dearly wanted to, but I also dearly wanted to finish the chapter and give it to you. Guess which one took priority?
Saw a grammar mistake or misspelling? Feel the characters were OOC? Want to know what happened to other characters? Review! I'd be more than happy to answer your questions or address your concerns.
Hope you all had a terrific Thanksgiving (or at leas the weekend, if you don't celebrate that particular holiday).
As Always,
-Tonzura123
New Vocabulary:
impetrate: to ask for, entreat
consanguineous- of the same blood, related through blood.
weal- prosperity (but also a raised bump on the surface of the body from a physical blow)
