Dear Susan,
As soon as I got your letter I followed Edmund all around camp reading your note to him. Eventually I either humiliated him or intrigued him enough to get him to write something. Since I don't think he'll stay long (he won't even address his own letter to you but insists on writing in mine), I'll let him write first.
Peter
Dear Susan,
Peter has said you're simply pining for a letter from me, so here you go. Don't get all soppy and cry over it when you read it or anything. The battle was brilliant. You should have seen Peter—his sword was flashing and his armor shining and it was really quite incredible. He even came to my rescue—not that I needed it. I was holding my own against two minotaurs and an ogre, but then a werewolf came along and he leapt on me by surprise. I went down, but all of sudden Peter was there. If you're worried about me you shouldn't be, I'm fine. I've hurt my ankle and there's a gash on my arm, but the doctors say it's not from the werewolf, so I'll be alright. They've put a paste on it and that feels better.
Anyway, you missed your chance. I already let Peter hug me after the battle. He was quite emotional about everything and very carried away (don't let him tell you otherwise) so I let him hug me. Otherwise I think he might have burst into tears, which is far less manly and becoming of a king.
I'm very careful and did exactly as Peter said in battle. He can tell you himself. Of course, you'd do well to remember that I'm a king too, and I'm perfectly capable of seeing clearly in a situation and taking care of myself. I don't need Peter around to do it for me all the time. And don't think I don't see through your tricks. You're trying to wheedle me by saying Peter compliments me and pretending that you care all about the battle plans, as if you care two figs for that sort of stuff. If you're so keen on it, we'll go riding or something once we get home; there's no need to pretend.
I hope you're satisfied. Now I'm off. There's a lot to do around here, and if Peter's going to spend all evening in the tent writing letters, someone's got to see that it gets done. Good thing Narnia's got two kings. Say hello to Lucy if you like, and you can tell her I've got a surprise for her.
Love (Peter made me write that!)
Edmund
There you go! I hope that satisfies your longing for news from Edmund, as that's the best I can get out of him. Don't be alarmed by what he said in his letter; he really is just fine. The wound on his arm is not nearly as serious as it could be, and they've wrapped his ankle so he can ride. There was a moment in battle when I was terrified for him. He told you himself it was two minotaurs and an ogre and a werewolf, but though he seems to think it's very exciting I saw the whole thing from a very different perspective. They all set on him at once, and I could see him swinging his sword and fighting with all his might, but I thought they were just going to swallow him up. I fought as hard as I could to get to his side. I can't even remember what happened very clearly. All I know is that one moment I saw Edmund in danger and the next thing I can say for certain I was kneeling over him making sure he was safe. Aslan was with him that he only has that cut and the sprained ankle.
That's really how it is in battle. I can't think. I've just got to go forward and fight for Narnia. Edmund recounted a blow by blow of the skirmish today, and I honestly can't remember doing any of the things he told me about. That's why I practice so hard at home; I know I'll barely have my head about me when the battle comes. Now you know better than to chide me for it next time! When I lead the charge, there's this strange moment of peace when my mind clears and the world falls away. Afterwards, I stand among the bodies and it's awful. I won't lie to you, Susan. I have no stomach for killing, even if it is a bunch of monsters who would soon as slay us as look at us. Aslan has charged me to protect Narnia, but is this really the path he had in mind? It must be, and I shouldn't complain or question but shoulder up and do the job I was meant for.
To that end, I am very pleased to report that today was the last of the skirmishes. We surrounded the last of the Witch's supporters, and after some resistance, they surrendered to the last man. It will be no easy task taking the prisoners to some place where we can keep them, but my mind is at rest knowing they will no longer terrorize Narnia.
Do not take my teasing about the tapestry too seriously. Beruna was a glorious battle; we all discovered things about ourselves we didn't know we could do. Of course the image of Edmund with that terrible wound is horrible, and it haunts me all the time. What if I fail him again? But perhaps we ought not dwell on the mistakes but the victories. Edmund was in grave danger, yes, but he did something incredible, something I myself could not do. We emerged victorious when I barely knew how to swing a sword. You came with Aslan at exactly the right time. Maybe he is always with us. That's what Lucy would say anyway.
I was very glad to hear your stories about Lucy and life at Cair Paravel. They cheered me up immensely. I can see her wandering around with yards of scarf smothering her, and the picture of it makes me laugh. I don't think even I could get her out of the scarf now, but I'm very pleased that you knit it for her. It's good to know you're watching over her. Don't let her get too ridiculous with the stories. I don't want the Narnians getting strange ideas about me being some kind of larger-than-life hero. It might be alright if she told stories about Edmund, though. He could probably use the ego boost.
We ride for home tomorrow, and I'm so glad to be on the way! Do not expect us for a week and a half at least, since we have to see about the prisoners, but when we do come expect us hungry. I find myself looking forward to the merriment of a feast after weeks of camp food and days of battle. It will be so good to come home. You're right—Cair Paravel is home, and in some ways the best home I have ever known. Is that because I feel somehow responsible for it? It's so strange. Here I am writing letters from the battlefield to you at home keeping the castle. There's some irony in the fact that we were sent away from this in England, yet I wouldn't have it any other way. I love being here. I love this country and the castle and the people. The Narnians think they are lucky, but there are moments when I think the prophecy was as much for us as it was for them.
I'm very comforted to know I'm coming home to you and Lucy and a grand feast. Although your talk of clothes reminds me—are my court clothes in order? Do you think you could check and get me anything I need? I'm all at odds when it comes to those things, and yet I feel like I have to be properly dressed.
Stay happy and well and don't worry anymore: we are on our way home, and we are whole and, luckier still, victorious. But just because the battle is over, don't feel the need to stop sending letters. The road is long and I need your company on the way, even if it is only through letters.
Your brother,
Peter