Chapter 36: Nalbinding

I lingered in my seat after the evening meal, reluctant to put any weight on my feet just yet. Baia fetched the satchel holding my stationary and books for me, and as I wrote a letter to my siblings, she took a sheet of paper and started learning to write her letters with a quill, Batina propped up against a pitcher to supervise. We shared the little bottle of brown ink between us and she set her hornbook close by so she could copy it – or try to copy it. Writing with a quill is undoubtedly an acquired skill, and she had a great deal of fun making a splotchy mess of the paper, her hands, and the table. At my suggestion she gave up on forming letters and just practiced squiggles and whorls, upstrokes and downstrokes, which was exactly how I had learned. Her abilities immediately improved and her delight knew no bounds, especially when I took her quill and wrote her name out in the fanciest calligraphy I could manage.

I debated over which details of my adventures in the Linden Run to include to my hovering kin, knowing one misused or overly accurate word would set Susan's eyes to slits and she would see right through my evasions. She could read between the lines like no one else I knew, and extract information from the least clue. I knew the next letter I received would include descriptions of Peter's indignation and anxieties and how she had to keep him from riding to my rescue, Lucy's wide-eyed worries before bed, and her own demands for every minute detail. All that after their inevitable high dudgeon over Biss' conduct and language towards me and Belana, and the privations endured at Moonspring . . . perhaps it might be best to just tell them about Cordata's wedding. So, I did, stressing the amusing and interesting aspects and how an orange was contributing to a romance. I would tell the rest in person. The wedding and news of the Lithin School coming to the smithy was enough to fill two pages, wrote small, which would keep even Susan satisfied.

"Baia, might you know if we have any couriers about who can go to Cair Paravel?" I asked.

She gave off her loops a moment to think. "Sultana should be back by now, but if she's not, Goldie and Monukka told me they wanted a chance to go. I think they want to see your castle and the ocean."

"They're worth seeing," I said, folding the paper tightly. "I haven't met Goldie or Monukka, that I know. Could you ask them if they could take a letter for me?"

She smiled and slid off the bench. "I'll ask one of the Robins to fetch them. They'd like to be couriers like the Bats, but they can't fly far carrying things. This way they feel like they work for you."

I smiled at the very Narnian desire to help. "Thank them for me, would you?"

After she left, I was mostly alone in the longhouse, dinner having been cleared away and the Dwarfs returning to their cottages to spend the evening with their families. Brickit and Gran had been called away to make sure of which fields were to be left fallow this year. Briefly I wondered if Brint ever intended to return for me, and I decided I didn't much care either way. Lion knows I'd slept here well enough in the past. I pulled the letter and books Cheroom had sent me out of the bag, unfolding the heavy paper to ponder his message.

. . . concerning the matrimonial prospects of Black Dwarf clan chiefs . . .

I stared at the words, willing them to give me the answers I needed. A large part of me wished that Cheroom had been more exact with his advice, but I knew he had told me all that he could and provided as much information as he had available. I wandered so deeply in my thoughts that I was startled when Baia returned, leaving the door open behind her.

"They're coming now," she said, "and they're very excited you asked for them." Sure enough, two Flying Foxes swooped into the longhouse a moment later and landed in the rafters. I looked up at them with interest.

"Greetings, cousins," I said. "I fear I've injured my feet so I can't stand right now to show proper respect, but I'm Edmund."

They had the fuzzy bodies and elegant black wings typical of their kind, but the larger bat was a paler shade than her companion, almost gold. Wide-eyed and staring, they were positively wriggling with delight at the prospect of being couriers for me, and I could not help but smile.

"This is Goldie and this is Monukka," Baia provided when the Bats proved too overwhelmed to introduce themselves. "They're cousins to Sultana and Zante."

"Well met," I said, trying to drag a single word out of them. I was doomed to failure.

"They know what landmarks to follow to Cair Paravel," prodded Baia, likewise looking for an intelligent response. Monukka blinked, which I decided to interpret as agreement.

"Good!" I replied, sounding enthused to the point of manic. I held out my folded and sealed letter. "Thank you for taking this for me. This is for King Peter and Queens Susan and Lucy. Look for a soldier, tell them you have a message from me, and they'll arrange an escort to deliver it. You'll be welcome if you'd like to stay at the Cair for a few days and see the sites."

They were too hopelessly gobsmacked to form a reply between them. I found myself staring right back at them.

"I hope you have a good flight, cousins. Aslan between you and danger."

Goldie took the letter, still overawed. Baia gave up and scooped up Monukka first, then Goldie, going outside to toss them bodily into the evening sky to get a move on. She was shaking her head in disgust as she returned, every inch a Black Dwarf.

"They are silly," she declared, sweeping Batina into her arms. "I have to go home and help with carding now."

"Remind your father I'm here, please," I said, passing her the hornbook. "I'm going to read a bit more."

She nodded and hurried off. I could hear her singing her ABC's again. Smiling, I picked up Cheroom's letter once again, trying to wring the solution I needed out of the words. I looked up again as Brickit's heavy boots clomped on the steps. He was back from the fields. So muddy were his shoes that he kicked them off at the door and finished the journey in stockinged feet. He didn't come right to me, but fetched an oil lamp first that he set before us. He plunked a shapeless bundle next to the lamp before dropping into his seat, giving me a pleased smile before saying,

"Fisher Darun sent word that Conrad Boukar arrived at the Linden Run this morn. His lieutenant at the tower interpreted your furlough liberally and sent along two Fauns, a Cougar, and a Llama to carry surplus supplies and help get the family settled." As he spoke he unraveled the bundle, revealing a length of knitting and a fuzzy skein of undyed wool. "They've established a new home inland a bit from the run, and the ladies old and young and the littles are doing well. Darun said Conrad and Penelope are extremely grateful to you and the Swansons and the Ivies. But most especially to you."

It was a relief to hear the family was together. I watched with great interest as Brickit measured and cut a length of wool which he tied off to the piece he was working. The wool was threaded through a single needle made of bone, a wide and heavy affair with a large eye. He wrapped the wool a few times around his finger before drawing the needle through the loops this way and that, catching the rows already worked for a finished result much like knitting, achieved with but one needle.

"What is that you're doing?" I asked, almost speechless with delight to see the clan chief doing needlework. I could not help but stare as he worked. It was as astonishing to me as watching Peter sew, a skill at which he quite excelled.

"Needle binding," Brickit said, continuing with his wrapping and looping.

"You're sewing and knitting at once?" I pressed, leaning closer for a look.

"La, in essence."

"What are you making?"

He held up his project. "Socks. It falls to a parent to clothe the child, does it not?"

"Socks - for me?" I asked, realizing what he had said.

"I haven't another child now, have I?" he wondered wryly, resuming his sewing.

I could not help but smile with pleasure. "Who taught you that?"

"My mother, back when I was younger than you. She had three sons and a smithy to care for. During the Winter especially it did not do to let oneself be idle. There was too much chance for darkness moving in if a body had naught to do but think. So, we kept busy always, teasing what warmth and learning we could from what resources we had."

There was wisdom there. I was reminded of my old school, that grim and miserable place with its creeping depression and sense of helplessness. I had endured a Winter of my own, however brief. "No," I said thoughtfully, "it would not do. Sometimes being alone in one's head is the worst place in the world to be."

"There's many in this smithy that feel that tonight. There will be precious little sleep to be had in some households." He looked thoughtful, then added, "Most households."

"Have you spoken to Belana?"

He nodded. "Aye. Twice. She knows she always has a home here."

"If I could walk so far, I'd speak to her as well."

"Oh? And what would you say?"

"I'd remind her we don't get to choose our families, but we do get to choose the people we love."

"Well said, lad. What else?"

"And I'd tell her that I love her as well, and dearly wish for her happiness and content."

"Mmm?" he prompted.

"And I wish . . . I wish there was more I could do."

I heard a rustle of skirts and a light step behind me and then Belana leaned around the chair to hug me from behind. "You've done a great deal already, Edmund Pevensie," she whispered softly, kissing my cheek. "Thank you."

I glared at Brickit. "You did that deliberately."

The chief of the clan was grinning, hugely satisfied with himself as he carried on his needle binding. "Pure coincidence."