Dear Reviewers:
Wow, I'm actually at…..CHAPTER 50!!!! This has been an amazing journey…seriously. I started with only three reviewers, Capegio, elektrum, and Reepicheepet, and now it has increased so much I can't personally reply anymore! Its crazy! This has been so much fun, and I hope all of you continue to read and review and enjoy my story. There's so much more I want to tell.
I think a few of you were hinting you wanted another adventure before they return to England. Well, I can't exactly think of any more "adventures" while I have that SPECIAL ONE brewing, so I'll put in a little excitement instead. I researched in Prince Caspian for a little background, and they mentioned a Tournament in the Lone Islands. What's this? A TOURNAMENT? Well, as long as it has swords, emotion, a little battle…I can write it! So here it is! Please enjoy! (also, in the scene in the movie "the Hunt for the White Stag" it looked all orangy in the forest and stuff, so I'm moving on a few months from winter/spring to autumn. Just a few months later).
Always His, (um, as in Jesus if that sounds weird to some of you)
The PIP!
Chapter 50, Tournament of the Lone Islands
The morning dawned clear and fresh, one of those perfect September mornings. The sky was blue with not a cloud in the sky, and every tree was orange and red. The green grass glistened with dew, and the chilled wind blew over the rich earth. It felt good to be living.
I felt adrenaline pumping through me for the Tournament I was going to be participating in today. The Lone Islands, a few days journey from the Narnian port (by sea), was hosting a Grand Tournament and invited all to participate; Viziers from Calormene (though I wondered if any were going to have the courage to participate from last springs defeat), Knights from Archenland, Ambassadors from other isles, and most specifically—Edmund and I of Narnia.
I dressed and went outdoors, stretching in the beautiful sun and feeling the wind whip my hair backwards when I nearly tripped over a mole.
"Sir," I said, "I am terribly sorry."
"No worrehs', y'Majesty," he said, beaming. "Jest don't squish meh apples. I plantin' em for you."
"Weren't these planted the day the Ambassadors came from Calormene?"
"Yes'm, I've been tending to them tenderly like they were meh own molings," Mr. Mole said happily. "Best kinda apples around."
I surveyed the tiny garden, planted right against the gravel road. "I do hope they aren't trampled," I admitted. "They're a little close to the road."
"One day, y'Majesty, you'll be glad of them apples!" laughed the Mole, leaning on his little spade and squinting up at me. "Very glad, indeed! You'll be riding by t'fetch sumthin', and not 'ave any time to grab a morsel, and lo and behold! An apple an arms length from yer horse!"
"You are absolutely right, sir," I agreed, reaching down and removing a stone from a painful death from his spade. "Well done." I turned and found Susan watching me, her arms crossed over her chest.
"I'm on my way, Madam," I said quickly.
"You are daft," joked Susan. "You would lounge about this court all day if ye had a mind, now let us go now! We don't want to be late!"
I shall skip the narrative of the ocean voyage, it was hot, and dry, with a crisp wind, and we arrived in the Lone Islands port hours early.
We went and left our luggage and courtiers at the Oceana Inn, and went to the Tournament grounds where we could view the splendour. Susan and Lucy were escorted by Tumnus to go view things that…well, Lady's like to look at, like ribbons and fashions and such. Edmund and I went to go meet our future opponents.
We met many a lad from Archenland, eager to try knightly skills or admire the participants. We were a bit surprised to see a few men of Calormene, but they were quiet and kind, and probably only the age of seventeen, for the most. We shook hands and shared a drink all around, and generally made a few friends to cheer each other on for the games tomorrow.
The next day dawned after a light shower, a low overhang of gray clouds. We were thankful for the lack of rain in the afternoon, and we were glad of the shelter from the sun—it is a disadvantage to gallop towards one opponent while being blinded by a sunray.
The first round was to be played by Edmund, against a delightful Archenlander named Zorrado, (whose faithful servant was none other than Capegio, the messenger who befriended us in the very beginning of our reign).
We lined the sides and cheered as Ed positioned Philip, his horse, on one end of the green strip of grass. Zorrado was at the other. At the drop of the flag, they galloped madly to each other. With shouts, everyone began to cheer for their favorite. Edmund was a hero with his blunt lance and knocked Zorrado from his mount. Edmund dismounted, helped him up, and they shook hands. Narnia received a copper coin (by way of keep score).
I was next against Calormene. I mounted my horse, a feisty black mare named Berry, and readied my lance.
At the drop of the flag, the crowd erupted and I spurred Berry into action, thundering across the turf towards the Calormen boy.
As soon as he began to gallop, I noticed something a bit strange. He couldn't seem to get his lance in the right position. He pulled it in, brought it close, and did something to its tip.
We were almost to the center point when I realized, horrified, that he had taken the soft cover from the sharp tip of the lance. He didn't plan to knock me from my mount—he planned to hurt me.
We clashed. I tried to wheel from the point and lurched sharply to the left, knocking him almost half-off his horse. He shoved his lance forward and thankfully broke its tip against my breastplate. I fell from Berry and braced myself from the fall. I crashed to the ground, and the crowd erupted into a few cheers and scattered sounds of disappointed. A few called for a retry, some said the Calormene cheated, others insisted it was a mistake. No one could really decide.
Calormen received a copper coin.
"It's alright, Ed," I said as I brushed myself off. "We'll keep an eye on them, though, won't we?"
Ed didn't say much, but his sharp looks towards the Southern opponents were enough to melt ice.
Calormene and Archenland went against each other next, Archenland won brilliantly. It was Ed's turn to go with Calormen.
"Go on, Ed!" I cheered. Everyone yelled for theirs and Ed spurred his mount down the runway. Lucy and Susan waved their handkerchiefs politely from the stands—rather than screaming like a few frivolous girls.
I concentrated on the Calormene. His lance seemed in proper order—the protective tip covered the sharp end.
The two riders clashed. Edmund used his lance and almost shoved the Calormene from his mount, but he still clung on. The Calormene glared and shouted something, then hit Edmund's horse in the knees with the blunt handle. Philip made a terrible noise, stumbled, and began limping.
Whistles began blowing, the Calormene was announced disqualified for Mild Violence to Opponents Mount. Ed dismounted, curled his fists once, or twice, then let it go. Sadly, he led poor Philip to the sidelines where I met him.
"You alright, Philip?" I called, leaning down and inspecting the damage.
"I was planning on using these for a hard gallop at home," Philip mourned, pinning his ears back when the Calormene men walked by, shouldering their bags and heading for the harbor.
"What think you, Edmund?" I asked. "After the war they came to exercise the sin of sabotage?"
"I agree," Edmund nodded, wrapping rags around Philips injuries. "A lance is meant to knock a rider down, not injure the horse."
"I know this better than anyone," Philip cried disdainfully.
Susan and Lucy came trotting through the mud, their faces anxious. "I am glad they are disqualified," Susan said sympathetically. "Everyone well?"
"As well as can be expected," moped Philip.
For the next two days, Philip recovered, and Ed and I shared Berry and participated in a few more sports that required only one of us. However, those were few. With the Calormene's gone, who are excellent horsemen, the main challenge was removed from the competition. However, a few ambassadors from the Lone Islands agreed to participate (under the name of the Lone Islands, though they are a province of Narnia). We had a few fencing rounds as well, one that did not require a horse but slightly more dangerous—if one couldn't handle the sword well, you could lose a finger, an eye, or worse. Edmund won second place, Archenland first.
For the main part of the tournament, the Championship, the copper coins collected through the three days were totaled, and Narnia won by a mile.
The voyage home was happy, with starlit nights and dancing on the deck, and proud Berry and dismal Philip, in the stables below, while Philip muttered, "I know you can't talk to me, Berry, but how I wish you'd say how sorry you feel for me." (Horses ARE known for a bit of vanity and over-concern.) Berry nickered in a lovable sort of way, but only thought Philip was agreeing that the oats were indeed lovely--and how nice it was returning to their favorite pasture.
Here is goes, everyone! The beginning of the end! WHOOPPEEE!!!!!
Read and REview!
Fasten your seatbelts!
