Chapter Nine: The Dreamsinger

Dinner was a solemn affair, contrary to Peter's hopes. He had been thrilled to see Rhianna and Susan approach together and the sound of Rhianna's bell-like laughter was like music to his ears. But that was before Jadis had come into their camp, waving a white flag of peace, and declared that Edmund was a traitor and bound by ancient law to be slain by her on an altar of sacrifice. Aslan had drawn her aside and had apparently negotiated a different bargain with her. She had withdrawn her demands and left, gloating. Since then, Aslan had grown increasingly sad and quiet, turning most of the army's affairs over to Peter with no explanation whatsoever.

Despite his efforts to maintain a cheerful mood at the table, the sense of dark foreboding had settled over all of them and, by popular consensus, they had all retired early to sleep.

Peter lay awake in his bed, tossing and turning anxiously. No matter how hard he tried, sleep would not come. Edmund had fallen asleep immediately after dinner and now snored softly. Beyond the partition that divided the boys' quarters from the girls' quarters, he could hear the soft, rhythmic breathing of Susan, Lucy and Rhianna. At last, he rolled over and dozed off, but his sleep was far from restful. Nightmares haunted his dreams, flashing horrible images of Susan, Lucy, Edmund, Rhianna, Aslan, and Oreius lying in blood – dead or dying. Sometime in the middle of the night, he woke, pouring sweat and breathing hard. His covers were hopelessly tangled around his legs and he had thrown his pillow to the floor. As he bent to retrieve it with tired hands, he became aware of a shadow moving toward him.

"Peter? Are you all right?" It was Rhianna. His movements must have roused her.

"Just a… bad dream," he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

She moved closer and touched his forehead with the back of her hand, then found a cloth in the dark and handed it to him. He took it gratefully and dried his face. She sat carefully on the edge of his bed. "It's alright, Peter, I understand…" She went silent for a moment. "I have them all the time. Dreams of my family."

"I'm sorry I woke you," he said quietly.

"I wasn't asleep," she corrected gently. "I never sleep."

"Oh." He pondered this for a moment and was about to ask her what she meant when he heard a soft, soothing sound, rising and falling as gently as the waves of the sea. It took him a moment to realize that Rhianna was singing. He tried hard to listen to the beautiful melody, but the power of her voice did not permit him. Within seconds, blackness wrapped its comforting arms around him and sent him into a deep, peaceful sleep, filled with soothing dreams. He was unaware that Rhianna had ceased singing and returned to her own room.

Peter woke early, hoping to find Rhianna and ask her about the night before, but she had dressed and gone. He wanted to ask her about the lilting tune she'd sung and why he had fallen asleep so quickly. He also had one more thing to ask her, something he'd debated over for several days. He had already made it clear that he did not want Susan and Lucy involved in the battle – he couldn't bear it if something happened to them. He had even tried to convince Edmund to go home with them while he stayed to fight. Rhianna had been a different matter. She was strong, skilled, and charismatic. Despite her claim that she had no experience in leadership, his travels with her had proven otherwise. And yet, somehow, through all of their journeying together, he had considered her to be a hardened, mysterious, powerful, and dangerous fighter, immune to the weaknesses of human emotion. Last night had revealed some startling discoveries. First, her offhand remark that she had recurring nightmares forced him to realize that she, too, understood fear, loss, doubt, and loneliness. Susan had mentioned what she had learned about Rhianna before he went to sleep, which opened his eyes to a different side of her. Second, she had literally sung him to sleep, which, in and of itself was something he had not expected. She carefully maintained an illusion of cool indifference most of the time, but now he knew that under that rough, emotionless shell, something beautiful, gentle and tender lay hidden, buried beneath a tragic past and a lifetime of fleeing from her enemies. In one night, she had suddenly become as dear to him as either of his sisters and he did not want her to get hurt.
Dressing quickly, he went to the training yards, suspecting her to be there. He was not disappointed. She was sparring with Oreius, who continued to give her pointers on her footwork and hand-positioning. In spite of the fact that she was still learning, her style was already well-developed and she moved with a fluid grace that even Oreius could not attempt to match. Peter stood, mesmerized by her movements until he realized that she had finished her duel and walked toward him.

She raised one eyebrow inquisitively. "Do you need something?"

He offered his arm. "Care to walk with me?"

She looked surprised and a little puzzled, but she nodded and took his arm, almost shyly. They walked in silence through the training grounds, the campsite, and into the woods just west of the tents before Rhianna glanced up at him, her dark blue eyes questioning. "Is this all you wanted, Your Highness? Because we both have things we should be doing. You especially."

"It's Peter," he corrected. "I'm not the King yet. And no, this is not all I wanted to do. We need to talk."

"About what?" She had dropped her arm from his and turned to face him fully.

"I had a question about last night." She raised an eyebrow, but otherwise said nothing. "That song, the one you sang to me last night, what was it?"

She smiled. "Oh that. It's an elven lullaby; about a little elfling wandering in the world of dreams. It's a sweet and poetic story. My parents used to sing me to sleep with it on dark, cold nights."

"Does it really make a person fall asleep that quickly?"

Rhianna blushed, her cheeks turning a light rosy pink. "Well, no, it's the power of the voice that sings it that does that. Only a few Narnians have ever achieved the ability to sing others to sleep. Most just sing it as a soothing lullaby, one that you can stay awake to hear to the end."

Peter's clear blue eyes sparkled at her modesty. "You being one of those few Narnians. But my dreams afterward… those were peaceful too. Why?"

She nodded. "An additional boon given by those who have the Gift of Song – the gift of restful dreams. That is why they are often called Dreamsingers." She cocked her head to one side. "Is that all you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Well, no." Peter stared into the distance for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. "You know that I've forbidden Susan and Lucy to ride with us in battle." She nodded, clearly wondering where this was leading. "Well, I know I can't forbid you, but I've come to ask you… not to fight."

"Why?" she said, looking affronted and a little hurt.

"I don't want anything to happen to you," he replied heavily. "You mean too much to Susan and Lucy and Edmund… and me."

"Peter." It was not a question, nor a plea, but her eyes were filled with a deep pain. Carefully, she stepped forward and laid a hand on his arm. "Please don't ask me to do that. You have to understand what this war means to me. It is my duty to stand out on that field and fight the forces that destroyed everything I've ever loved. I am also sworn to protect my monarchs. I can't do that if you refuse to let me ride." With that, she turned and walked away slowly, leaving Peter to stare sadly after her. He knew she was right and hated it. She treated him with such reverence and respect that it made him ache all over for her. She had saved his life on several occasions and he had saved hers, yet she still insisted on acting as his subject, rather than his friend.