A/N: Firstly, I'd like to give a COLLOSAL thanks to my reviewers! I think we've only got a few chapters to go, an epilogue and an after word…I've even got a sort of 'deleted scenes' and other things in the wings. This story took a lot of editing and preparation, and I thought it might be interesting for you to see what didn't quite make it.
Holy moly, chapter thirty one…I cannot believe how this story has grown. This chapter is dedicated to Sentimental Star, whose work which I recently read inspired me to write even better!
I think I am becoming rapidly obsessed…the other day, in my sports lesson, I ended up muttering to myself:
'For Narnia! And for Aslan!'
Every time I did a particularly good shot, in badminton. I got some pretty strange looks, and I think I disturbed my teacher even more than usual…
Ah well…
This is the witch
This is Toll
Chapter thirty one
"I will do…what must be done..."
Toll raised a clenched hand, the hard leather of the handle cutting into her palm uncomfortably. She stared down at the limp, crumpled form of Lucy Pevensie, and her face grew paler.
My lady! Get up!
I…can't…move…
Toll trembled, biting her lip, the petals which formed her body fluctuating and beginning to tear. Her eyes flickered from pale emerald green to narrowed crimson. The forest clearing grew colder, a fell wind stirring the quiet of the night and bending the elements to its will.
Do it, you wretch! Pierce her heart!
Toll shuddered, petals falling from her and floating to the floor. She watched as they touched the ground, and seemed to stiffen, before frosting over with a light sprinkle of ice.
She swallowed.
A perishing cold surge of agony invaded her senses, and she gasped, as her arm burned with an icy energy. Even as she inwardly screamed, the dagger began to descend with deadly accuracy towards the Daughter of Eve's vulnerable back.
There was a soft swishing sound which joined the ringing sound of the blade's descent, and a blur of metal and wood collided with Toll's hand, and she screamed.
The dagger clattered to the floor, as a feathered arrow embedded itself in a tree nearby. The little flower spirit clutched her arm to her chest, whimpering. A tall, regal figure emerged from the shadows of the trees, skirts billowing in the cold breeze.
Toll raised her head slowly, and met the narrowed, enraged orbs of dark rosewood. She moaned as Susan Pevensie approached, her bow clutched tightly in a hand clenched with rage.
"Get away, you beast! Get away from her!"
Toll scrambled upright, shriveled, brown, crumpled petals and leaves falling to the ground like autumn harvest. The lingering cold simmered at the back of her mind, quietly awaiting the opportune moment.
The eldest Daughter of Eve fell gracelessly to her knees beside her younger sister, her eyes widening in fear, the fire of anger becoming overwhelmed with terror. She placed her bow down, leaning down to check her sister's breathing and heartbeat.
Toll struggled to draw breath, the pain in her arm dulling to a numb tingling. She glanced down, to see the shattered shell of her petalled hand dark and coarse. She let out a harsh gasp, curlingup and burrowing into the earth beneath her.
"Lu?"
The youngest Pevensie moaned, and her sea green eyes fluttered open. She struggled up, her hand going to the gash which spilled blood down her cheek. The two sisters shared a concerned look, then a wavering smile.
Susan brushed her sister's hair away from the gash and studied it, eyes narrowing in anger once more.
"Does it hurt? Do you feel dizzy at all, sick?"
Lucy gave her older sister a reassuring smile, sitting up straighter, then bringing her legs around to kneel up.
"No, it just stings a little. I'm okay, really."
She frowned at her sister, then looked to Toll, curled on the ground in a shuddering, whimpering ball. Then her gaze lowered to see the fallen dagger, and she reached out to take it.
"You…followed me?"
Susan smiled sheepishly, and shrugged, helping her sister to her feet and retrieving her bow. Lucy mock-glowered, then rolled her eyes and turned to face Toll, her expression growing troubled. Susan followed her gaze, her own eyes flashing and growing clouded with anger.
"Traitor! Spirit, how could you!"
Susan made to raise her bow, but Lucy laid a gentle hand on her sister's arm, her brow furrowing. She stared at the shuddering flower spirit, feeling no anger. Only disappointment, hurt, and perhaps a little confusion.
My Lady…please…help me…there is something-
The echoing, tinny voice was cut off abruptly, and a strong northern wind suddenly picked up. Lucy glanced up, her eyes narrowing further, suspicion growing. She took Susan's hand and cautiously approached the small figure, lying sprawled on the ground.
"I thought I heard…"
She blinked, as Toll raised her head, and Lucy gasped as she saw a flickering spark of emerald green pollute the wretched crimson with despair. Her hand tightened about Susan's.
"Lucy? What is it?"
Lucy raised a hand to indicate for them to halt. She leant down, watching intently as the fearsome dispute in the snowdrop spirit's eyes conflicted violently.
One last flicker of green, and crimson triumphed.
Toll let out an animalistic hiss and suddenly leapt to her feet. Lucy and Susan watched in horror as Toll snarled, and shook her body, the cascade of petals and leaves frosted over with a sheen of ice. A cruel smile curled the little spirit's lips, and a harsh voice which seemed strangely detached sounded from her open mouth.
"Mark my words, Daughters of Eve…"
Toll laughed a sharp, ringing, mocking laugh which struck unease into the two sister's hearts. Lucy winced, and moved back slightly as Toll shuddered, and fixed cold red eyes on her.
"Though you thwart me here, you shall not escape me a second time. Events are now in motion which cannot be turned…and your pitiful plight is beginning to bore me."
Toll cocked her head to the side, the sick smile fading from her face to form a blank, glowering expression.
'This is far from over.'
There was a shrieking, crackling sound, and Toll was submerged in an explosion of crystalline shards of ice. A bitter surge of cold air was thrust outwards across the clearing, and the two sisters fell to their knees as it stung their bare skin.
There was a ringing silence, as the wind sighed and fell.
"…Lady…Lucy…?"
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"What…what do you mean? I-"
A warm, sunset breeze ruffled Edmund's hair as Cifel fixed him with a grim frown. The shadows cast by the sun bathed them both in a glowing yellow light, dapple shade from the trees above casting disfigured shapes about them.
"Son of Adam…"
Cifel sighed and lowered his head, seeming suddenly very tired to Edmund. He stared as the other pinched the bridge of his nose in aseemingattempt to gather his scattered wits.
"I understand that you want to help your brother, but-"
Edmund felt anger rise in his chest.
"How could you possibly understand! You…your…"
Edmund trailed off and turned away, watching the dirt track where Peter and the dwarf had left. He was so tired…he just wanted them to be safe. And together. That was all he had wanted for a while now…
But more than anything, he wanted Peter to smile again.
"I too have suffered, and still suffer, for the sake of love. It is part of what makes it so sweet, and yet so bitter."
Edmund felt rather than heard Cifel come to stand beside him, clothing shifting as the other folded his arms and drew a deep breath which sounded just as exhausted as Edmund felt.
"I too wish for my loved ones to be safe…"
Edmund glanced up at the other through dark strands of hair which danced in front of his eyes, obscuring his vision. Cifel appeared impassive, but a small quirk at the corner of his mouth and a glimmering in his eyes told Edmund he was not completely unmoved.
"Understand, Edmund Pevensie. There is more than one way to kill a man."
Edmund jumped as though he had been struck, his head snapping around to look at Cifel skeptically, eyes narrowing. His heart began to pound against his ribcage.
"What do you mean by that?"
His own voice came out slightly less steady than he would have liked, but he brushed his own dignity aside, choosing to favour his incomprehension above his pride.
Cifel turned smoldering, stormy green eyes on Edmund, shifting hues of grey signifying a gathering storm.
"You are breaking his heart."
Edmund drew a sharp breath, his hands balling into fists at his sides. He swallowed as his mouth grew dry, and his defenses wavered as his eyes began to sting. He had resolved to grow stronger. He had to.
"It is not the way; by distancing him in order to concentrate only on reality, you are condemning him to a slow, agonizing death."
Edmund stiffened as Cifel turned his gaze back to the darkening horizon, the wind picking up, growing colder as the night drew closer.
"I realize you act with noble intent, but you are not helping either of you. Nor me, or Narnia, for that matter."
They stared unblinkingly at each other, Edmund now listening intently. He did feel, somehow, that he was acting only on an instinctive defensive response…but what else could he do?
"He loves you."
Edmund blinked.
"And you love him. Both as deeply and as truly as the other. And I cannot see how you could have created such chaos from lack of comprehension on that simple fact."
Edmund lowered his head, his heart racing painfully fast as the emotions he had suppressed threatened to overwhelm him. He stood on stiff legs, his whole upper body shaking.
"Tell me how."
He turned sincere, serious eyes upon the elder.
"I don't know what to do. Please."
Cifel looked at him with an apprehensive, wavering expression bordering on pity. He turned away, breaking Edmund's desperate gaze.
"You must have faith in yourself; and find the strength for both of you."
Cifel looked back over his shoulder and fixed Edmund with a piercing stare.
"You are Edmund Pevensie; slayer of Galgorus and Fenris Bane. Knight, and future King of Narnia, the Just of Heart."
He turned again, his dark hair shifting slightly in the dying breeze. His shoulders stood squared, resigned.
"Either accept your destiny, and gain strength as you grow…or perish, with all that is left of your kin."
Edmund thought of Peter; of Susan, and Lucy. His mother, his father. Everything he had ever held dear to him. There were forces in this world which threatened to snatch it all away from him in a heartbeat.
"Believe, Edmund.Trust in yourself, have faith in your heart, and find strength in your love."
The sun slipped below the horizon, the trees casting long shadows over the warmth of the day, and Edmund watched in quiet reflection as Cifel walked away to tend to the packs.
And he smiled.
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Dear Daddy,
I know I said I wouldn't write; and I'm sorry. I don't mean to be such a beast all the time, I just…can't stop myself. It's who I am. I'm not sweet hearted, like Lucy. I'm not gentle or beautiful, like Susan. And I'm not perfect, like Peter.
I'm just Edmund. And I'm sorry that's all I'll ever be. I'm sorry it's not enough. I'm sorry I haven't been a good son, or a good brother. I'm trying, I really am. I'm sorry I can't try hard enough.
Sometimes my best is just not good enough.
I didn't want to burden you with this, but I feel it is my own shame to bear; and I cannot lay the blame at any of the other's feet. That would be just too cruel.
Susan and Peter keep arguing; it's horrible. They've never fought before. Susan is so cold, so distant. And Peter…well, he's afraid. For himself. For all of us. And that makes me frightened. If Peter can't find the strength, how on earth can I?
Even Lucy isn't as happy nor cheerful as she usually is; and me being me, I lashed out at her as I always do instead of putting my arms around her like I want to. Oh, Daddy. Why can't I be strong?
I want so hard to be strong.
Peter's fallen asleep at the desk; his head is buried in his arms and he keeps muttering and shifting. I think he's having a nightmare. I want so much to just go over and ward them away…provide shelter, salvation, something to stop him from hurting.
But I can't.
I can't even gather the courage to drape the picnic blanket over him, even though it's covering my own perfectly warm torso, while he is shivering. Because I'm just Edmund.
He has them every night, tossing and turning. I can hear him from my room. Neither of us ever sleep much. We both see the dark smudges beneath the others eyes, but never say anything.
Oh, Daddy. I wish so much that you were here, could hold us like you used to. Make all the hurt and the pain seep away in your warmth.
But you're not.
And you can't.
And I hate you, but then hate myself, because of it. I'm so tired. I'm so confused. I feel so cold, sometimes I wonder whether the world would lift a finger if I just didn't bother to draw another breath.
I will never send this letter, because I don't know where you are, or how to get to you. You could be dead, you could be sleeping. But I hope that, wherever you are, you will remember your wayward son who was simply not good enough to be strong.
I love you Daddy.
The cold, dead ashes of burnt paper and ink lingered about the fireplace; the room was dark, the discarded toys and books on the floor untouched. Thin, thread like curls of smoke rose gently from the still glowing coals in the grate.
And as the shattered, soot blackened fragments of Edmund's plea for help curled and shriveled, somewhere in a world far away a little boy became a man, and found a shelter from the endless storm.
And Edmund felt more at peace than he had in years.
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In case the last section was confusing, I will explain: the letter was written by Edmund when he was feeling down, the night before he follows Lucy into the wardrobe. He was sitting in the small room we see them in on the rainy day in the film, and Peter had been trying to study and fell asleep. Once Edmund finished the letter, he waited a few moments, then tossed it into the fire.
The idea here is that he wants so desperately for somebody to understand, and to understand others, that he feels he needs release. He doesn't know how to say it, so he wrote it down. But his pride means he will never allow anybody to read it. He would feel too vulnerable.
Anyway, after his little 'talk' with Cifel, he understands a little better.
Did that make sense?
A/N: Yay, go Susan! I've wanted to give her some action for ages. I love archery, though I'm not terribly good at it. Edmund is feeling a bit better now, but as for Peter…hmmm…angst for a bit longer, I think.
After all, we want lots of pent up pain ready for-
Oops, that's a secret (sticks tongue out).
Cifel: You're really evil. I think I'm beginning to like you.
Thanks for all the help with quotes and feedback on the sequel hint! You guys are the best.
Review for Narnia! And for Aslan! (not to mention Peter, Edmund, Cifel and all the others, and of course…me!)