a/n last chapter was short because i was completely blocked up and just forced myself to write something, anything, even if it was short and kind of a dodge. Let's hang out with Peter!
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Peter held a rag against his nose to staunch the blood. Through his swelling eye he could see a boy, dark-haired and about his age, begin to stir from the rain spattering against his face. The snapping twig was a fortuitous mistake, giving Peter just enough time to knock the sword from the youth's hand before throwing them both into a fist fight. The Narnian air really had made the Finchley native stronger, his old tricks remembered by by his limbs. That, paired with the frustrations of the past day, had made the High King vicious enough to compete against the stranger.
The youth sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his head gingerly where it had made contact with a hidden stone. Peter coughed out a clump of blood-snot, alerting the stranger of his presence. The boy got to his feet quickly, swinging this way and that looking for his sword until Peter held it aloft and shook it clear of the rain collected on the shiny metal. The boy froze, sizing up Pete's injuries versus his chance of getting away, he decided that words might work better than running.
The boy straightened to his tallest height, pushing his black hair from his face. "I haven't any money." He stomped his foot to emphasize his statement, causing his boot to squelch in the soft ground.
Peter regretted scrunching his eyebrows together in confusing, wincing, his turned his good eye toward the boy in a piercing manner. "Well, that makes two of us. Is that why you attacked me? Looking for coin?" The boy did have the look of a thief, even once you discounted the mud and rain, he was too thin by half, ripped clothes and dented armor. Peter had never heard of scuff-laws in Narnia and could barely get his mind around the idea.
"A thief! You think I'm a thief? I am no thief! I only attacked because you are so well armored. No one wonders the forest wearing gold chain mail and golden plate. You're probably here at my Uncle's behest." Now the boy began shuffling back and forth, weighing his options of escape. So distraught, he misstepped, falling hard.
Something clicked in Peter's mind, the story that Trumpkin had told the Pevensies, Caspian and his wicked uncle. Completely forgetting that he, himself, was only fifteen when he was placed as High King over Narnia, Peter uncharitably thought how ridiculous it was that this unkempt, impertinent boy was looking to rule the country. He spoke his mind with a snort, "So you're Caspian, are you? Seems like I've troubled myself quite a bit to get my nose drummed in."
Caspian was surprised to be addressed by name, but hoping that it was a good sign he shared more of his position, "Yes, stranger, you are correct, I am Caspian, the Tenth of that name, and rightful ruler of this land. I am leading the rebellion, against the usurper Miraz, who has stolen my throne. I am going to get it back and use my influence to return Narnia to its former glory."
Throughly unimpressed, Peter let Caspian ply a very pretty speech. While waiting for the boy to run out of air, Peter dipped his rag in a shallow puddle. Rinsing his blood from the cloth, he wiped his face one last time and stowed the scrap on his person.
Caspian just beginning what was sure to be a deeply affecting monologue about his courageous father when Peter cut him off, "Yes, Yes. Thank you for all of that." Caspian's oration ground to a halt, his words almost visible as he stopped to listen to Peter. "Revenge, family honor, I can see why you're so motivated. Do you have a plan? Or are you going to keep attacking strangers randomly?"
Caspian pushed a dark hank of sodden hair off his face, not knowing what to say. "Well, we've been fighting..." he tapered off as Peter took up all the supplies and started back to his family's hiding hole.
Now that Peter was standing, Caspian realized that they were nearly the same age, that Peter wasn't the adult he had mistaken him for. "Why, you're just a child!" Peter gave the prince a scathing look, "I mean you're just like me. You're not yet a man or a real soldier."
Resisting the urge to pummel Caspian, Peter turned around slowly and coldly spoke, "But I do have your sword." Peter rested his hand on the pommel of Caspian's sword which he had secured with his belt.
When Caspian reached out as if to take the sword back, Peter swatted his hand away in exasperation, "A sword is a tool, not a toy, Caspian. As luck would have it, I've been brought here to find and help you. If I was anyone else, you'd be laying dead in this mud, the rain the only tears cried over you. For now, I am going back to my family who are waiting for me to return. I've been gone far too long and they are close by. You can come with me or make your way back to Aslan's How on your own."
Peter stomped along the squishy trail, rain running down his collar, he could feel his chain mail rubbing a welt into his shoulder-blade. The High King almost felt himself again, he had a few bumps and bruises, and won a fist fight. It was strangely comforting and reassuring to bleed again in Narnia.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Caspian crashed along in his wake, still unaccustomed to trucking through the undergrowth. The lad had been unhorsed in his last confrontation with a small band of Telmarine soldiers. When he had gotten his bearings, his compatriots had moved away along with the battle.
Now, still dizzy from receiving another head injury, he followed this...Caspian didn't know his name. "Hey! Who are you? What may I call you?" Caspian called out as Peter jumped down to the opening of the Pevensies' shelter.
A girl's voice came from inside, "Peter! We were beginning to worry. You've been gone ever so long. Do you want to rest or shall we head out again?"
His eyes adjusting to the light, Caspian could make out four more people beyond his guide. Nerves hit him at being so blatantly out-numbered, but he stood his ground.
Peter felt the shift in Caspian and made introductions quickly, "As you heard, I am Peter. Edmund. Susan. Lucy. And our friend..."
Caspian's face lit up, "Trumpkin!"
The dwarf, who had uncurled from the nest he had made for them all in the hollow, was knocked over as Caspian flung his sodden shape at the DLF. "Trumpkin, we had almost lost hope! Trufflehunter will be so pleased to find you well. And Nikabrik...well, I'm sure he'll be excited in his own fashion. You must tell me of your mission to the east and how you fell in with this good folk. For I now know that they must be good folk, since you are in one piece and so nearly reunited with our company."
Trumpkin made a valiant effort to tell the story to his King, but was interrupted so often it became a tangle of thoughts. Enough to make the DLF burn with annoyance at all of Caspian's questions. The Pevensies' could hardly follow it and they had experienced most of the tale firsthand.
In the end, though Trumpkin was a gifted storyteller as all dwarfs are, he could not overcome Caspian's sudden bouts of joyous hugging stemming from seeing the DLF again.
"Misfits and misery!" The DLF extracted himself from the last of Caspian's muddy embraces. The Pevensies all red-faced from holding back laughter at Trumpkin's plight "You lot are hopeless. We should use all the energy you have, put it to good use slogging through the muck. If we're lucky we should make Aslan's How in a few hours." Even though he mentioned luck, the DLF looked noting like a lucky dwarf covered as he was head to toe in mud and grime.
The DLF was first to leave the hollow and did not hear Lucy stifle a laugh to say how upset she'd be if she had that much mud in her beard. In better spirits than before, the Pevensies, Caspian and Trumpkin set out for Aslan's How. The rain and cold not as horrible to face with such comical memories to entertain their minds.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
a/n Thanks to kaia for pointing out Lucy's age, fixed it in the last chapter, as to your question of why Rhea calls him 'Ned'...cause i couldn't convince myself to nickname him 'pookie' or 'sugardumpling'. let's assume, in an unwritten chapter, that Muck told Rhea the story of Ned and the football game. so then E & R kept calling each other by the first name they had heard for one another, Ned and Rheatline, and it annoyed Eliandra, which is a nice bonus. so shall it be.
as per usual appreciate any and all questions/concerns
PS my Caspian is younger than movie Caspian but still has a proclivity for head injuries.
Thanks for reading everybody!