Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia… usual depressing crap.

Borders

Chapter 4

"I don't know why I have to feed the stupid barbarian." A sailor grumbled stomping down the small hallway and throwing open a door, revealing a man kneeling in the muck.

"Enjoy your dinner, your highness!" He sneered, tossing the slop down in front of the man and turned to stalk away.

"Begging your pardon," the man said, lowly "But if you don't mind, could you unbind my arms?"

"And let you escape?" the sailor scoffed "What do you take me for, an idiot?"

"Well, then I suppose you could feed me." The prisoner suggested sarcastically. "I really can't eat any of this wonderful mess you've been giving me the last few days in this position, can I?"

"Deal with it." The sailor snapped slamming the door.

Peter glared after him, and tugged at his bound wrists again. If they don't feed me soon I'm going to get cranky. He thought grumpily. He shifted positions and tried to reach the bowl of stew (or so they called it) but his arms, restrained to the wall of the ship, were just shy of their goal.

Aslan…I can't keep this up. He prayed silently Can't you do something?

Almost instantly, the door slammed back open, and the sailor who had brought his food glared at him.

"Can I help you?" Peter said, pleasantly, earning another glare.

The sailor walked over and unlocked the chains around his wrists.

"Shut up and eat." He said shortly "You have an hour."

"Thank you." Peter said, rubbing his wrists. His captor ignored him and slammed the door on his way out.

Aslan, you always provide. Thank you. Now where am I, and what's going on?

"Support the left flank!" Edmund ordered, as he dodged a boulder. "Push them against the rocks!"

The birds swept in, dancing and swirling about the giant's heads, pecking at their eyes, forcing them back and away from the Narnian army. The centaurs surged forward, some jabbing spears at their foes legs, others fired off arrows rapidly. Fauns danced in and out gracefully, slashing at the giant's ankles. Slowly they beat the giants back to the rocks where several of Narnia's own giants (mainly the Buffins), pushed rocks down the steep cliffs greatly reducing their foes numbers.

Edmund fought on grimly, his sword becoming an extension of his arm, rather than a separate piece. He moved flawlessly, ducking, stabbing, slashing, and taunting death with every breath.

A horn blew, and it jerked Edmund out of his frenzied pace. He stared around and Oreius galloped toward him.

"They've surrendered, King Edmund!" He called "They want to negotiate!"

Edmund sagged in relief. Thank you, Aslan. This I can handle. He would much rather negotiate the end of the war, rather than plan the battles. That was Peter's forte…a stab of pain shot through Edmund's chest as his thoughts returned to his brother. They had found his shield discarded a little past his sword and shortly thereafter no trace of the High King could be found.

Aslan, where is he?

AN: Alright, I've got a few ideas twisting around in my head, and I really can't decide…we'll see. I'm beginning to feel very bad for Peter though…and any Peter lovers really won't like me…