Author's Note: My apologies, once again, for the lateness of the update. I have not had an abundance of free time. Ah, the joys of college.
Disclaimer: Narnia, Archenland, and other related things do not belong to me. Unfamiliar characters and names that I do not expressly credit to someone else do belong to me, please use them only with permission.
Chapter the Eighth: Bandages, Gossip, and Ballads
The crowd in Anvard's courtyard began to disperse and resume their business. Galen stood marveling at what had just transpired, still holding the sheathed sword in his hand. Nothing he had ever experienced in the years of hiding in Narnia's forests could compare.
"Well done, young one," Aiolos said, pride evident in his voice.
"Thanks, Aiolos," Galen said with a smile.
"You do have a way for getting yourself into trouble," Aiolos said, and Galen chuckled with him. "I think the king wishes to speak to you," Aiolos spoke softly, nudging his young companion.
"Sir Galen," King Lorn began, clasping Galen's arm, "such happenings could not have been of evil designs. I no longer hold reservations concerning the truth of your tale and identity. You have proved your mettle to both me and the whole of Archenland. Once again Archenland will stand with Narnia and aid you as we are able."
"It is an honor to accept Archenland's aid," Galen replied, inclining his head and grasping the king's arm in return.
The solemn grip of a sealed agreement turned into a grip to counter gravity as the weakened knight's legs failed him for a moment and Galen again began to feel the throbbing reminders that the black knight had been no phantom. With the king's assistance Galen regained his footing.
"Come, sir. Your injuries must be treated," Princess Lyra admonished before turning to King Lorn. "Father, by your leave?"
"Of course, Lyra. Take him to the healer's wing with no further delay," Lorn replied as a page hurried up to the inform him of some business that needed his attention.
Lyra led Galen back into the castle and up the central staircase. A little ways up the staircase Galen stumbled and caught himself on the railing. Lyra turned back and helped him up.
"Thank you, my lady, but I am capable of walking on my own," Galen protested.
"Alright, then, carry on," Lyra replied, turning away and continuing up the steps.
"Blast!"
The softly uttered exclamation caused a knowing smile to pass quickly across Lyra's face. She turned around again and descended a few steps to where Galen was once again holding onto the railing.
"Now will you accept my assistance, sir?"
Galen grudgingly nodded. Lyra placed her hand firmly around Galen's arm and helped him up the stairs and into the corridor. A few minutes later the two turned down another corridor and progressed into the southern wing of the castle. After passing through a stone archway into a large room with many cots, Lyra turned and led Galen into a smaller room and helped him sit on the white-clothed cot that stood on one side. She then turned to the various shelves lining the walls and laid out an assortment of bandages and bottles along with a pitcher and a bowl on the empty shelf beside the bed. Galen sat, unmoving, and observed. Lyra finished and pulled a low stool next to the bed before turning back to him.
"Here, let me help you with the tabard."
"That's alright," Galen replied, gingerly removing the now rather ragged green tabard. Lyra took the tabard from him and instructed Galen to get rid of the shirt and lay down while she filled the pitcher with water from the hand pump in the corner.
"Oh," was all Galen could muster. Lyra turned to face him and looked him in the eye.
"Sir Galen, I am not a tittering tarkheena who faints at seeing a drop of blood. I have tended Archenland's wounded soldiers for quite some time and have seen far worse upon my country's battlefields. If you would rather treat your injuries yourself, you have but to say the word and I will leave you to it."
Galen, quite cowed, did as she instructed.
Lyra sat down and peeled away the old bandage, then took stock of what needed mending. She picked up a clean cloth and dipped it in some cool water. After wringing it out, Lyra gently began to wipe the blood from Galen's back.
"Aslan smiled upon you this day, Sir Galen. The gash left by the black knight's sword is not kind, but neither is it deep enough to cause worry."
Lyra paused to wet a fresh cloth, then continued working. After a few minutes, she picked up another cloth and a red glass bottle from the shelf beside her.
"I must warn you, Sir Galen, this will cause you a fair amount of pain."
"I understand, my lady," he replied.
Lyra opened the bottle and poured some of its contents onto Galen's wounded back.
A soft hiss escaped Galen's clenched teeth.
"I am sorry, but there is no other way to ensure that your wounds are properly treated," Lyra spoke sincerely as she gently pressed a cloth to Galen's still-bleeding back.
"No need to apologize, Lady," Galen replied tersely.
Lyra instructed Galen to sit up so she could properly bandage his wounds. As she wrapped the bandages around his torso, Lyra noticed Galen take a sharp breath.
"Is anything else the matter, sir?"
"Nothing significant, my lady," Galen replied. Lyra arched an eyebrow, frowning slightly.
"The black knight gave you quite a kick earlier, and your side is taking on a decidedly purple tone. Does breathing cause you pain?"
"Well…"
"Answer me directly."
"Yes."
"I see. You probably have bruised a rib or two. There is little I can do for such an injury. It will heal with time."
After finishing with the bandages, Lyra moved on to tend Galen's shoulder and other wounds.
"Where do you suppose that Thing came from, sir?" Lyra asked as she worked.
"I do not know, my lady."
"Such curious goings-on. I daresay that word will spread throughout the whole of Archenland within two day's time," Lyra remarked. Galen chuckled slightly, but did not reply.
"Think you any more knights like that one will appear?"
"I certainly hope not, Lady. One was more than sufficient."
"Indeed," Lyra smiled.
Once finished, Lyra stood and returned her assorted bottles to their proper places, then tossed the once-clean cloths along with Galen's ruined shirt and tabard into a hamper in the corner.
"If you will kindly wait here, sir, I will retrieve you a fresh shirt."
"I would very much appreciate that, m'lady."
Lyra left the room and returned a few minutes later with a clean linen shirt, which she handed to Galen. She also handed him another sling, which, despite Galen's protests, Lyra insisted that he wear.
After donning the article of clothing, Galen stood and gingerly bowed.
"I owe you my thanks once again, Your Highness."
"You are most welcome, sir," Lyra replied, inclining her head. "If you feel well enough, I will show you back to your room."
"I am feeling much improved, and I will appreciate your kind guidance. I am afraid these corridors are far from familiar."
Galen spent the rest of the afternoon resting as Lyra instructed (the breaking of which carried the dire consequence of restriction to bread and broth for a week). As the shadows began to lengthen, a knock sounded at the door. Galen was sitting in the armchair by the fire and ruminating on the happenings of the day. He got up and opened the door to reveal Princess Lyra standing outside in the corridor with a young man a few years older than she.
"Good evening, Sir Galen," she greeted. "I trust I will not have to instruct the cooks with respect to your meals."
"No, my lady, that will be unnecessary."
"Good," Lyra replied, smiling. "May I introduce my elder brother Prince Ayden."
"A pleasure to meet you sir," Galen replied, inclining his head.
"The pleasure is mine, sir. Lyra and I were passing by on our way to supper and would be honored if you would care to join us."
"Thank you, Prince Ayden. I believe I can muster a hearty appetite indeed."
Galen followed Lyra and Ayden through the corridors and down another staircase. There they turned a corner and entered Anvard's great hall. A sturdy, well polished table stretched a good length of the hall, and was filled with a feast the likes of which Galen had never seen. All sorts of meats, fruits, pies, and a hundred other things covered the table. The lords and ladies of the court sat around the table eating and talking merrily, and the sweet strains of a harp reached Galen's ears above the chatter. The king and queen sat at the far end, and Ayden and Lyra took seats beside them. Ayden motioned for Galen to have a seat next to him.
"Good evening, Sir Galen!" King Lorn greeted him. "I trust you are feeling better?"
"Very much so, Sir. My compliments for your well-set table. Never have I seen such bounty," Galen replied.
"Please," said the queen, motioning to the food in front of them, "do not hesitate to eat whatever you wish."
"Thank you, my lady," Galen replied and began to do so. A moment or two later a servant in green livery offered him several rolls of the most delicious smelling bread Galen had ever seen.
As everyone ate, the hum of voices continued, and soon it became apparent to Galen that his morning's adventure dominated the conversations (although talk of the Duke of Winding Arrow's wedding to Lady Miranda ran a close second).
"What was the meaning of the phantom knight, Sir Galen?" A dark haired lady clothed in purple and silver inquired.
"Of that I am not altogether sure, my lady," Galen replied. "From the inscription on the stone and blade I can surmise that it was a test concerning the matter that brings me to Archenland."
"What matter would that be, sir, if I may be so bold?"
The hum of voices lowered, and Galen noticed a great many eyes fixed upon him.
"That, my lady, is a rather a dull tale."
"I am sure you underestimate your story, sir," Prince Ayden interjected. "Would you do us the honor of telling it?"
Galen thought a moment, and decided that it need not remain secret.
"If you will bear with me for a little while, good sirs and ladies all, I shall endeavor to keep from boring you."
The chatter turned to laughter to a moment, then subsided as everyone in the hall listened intently.
"On the ill-fated day when Castle Cair Paravel fell to the Telmarines, my grandfather was one of the few who escaped alive. He was a knight of Narnia's Order of the Lion's Redemption, as am I. 'Twas he who took and safeguarded the Stone Knife that day and every day after until he was slain by Telmarine soldiers. I have vowed to take the Stone Knife to safety, away from the Telmarines' reach. Several days ago I left the Shuddering Wood with the blessing of those Narnians who remain, the Stone Knife in my keeping. Aiolos, my companion, guide, and friend, traveled through the southern countryside until we reached the fortified border town of Southton. There we became trapped, cut off from the Southern Pass. The Telmarines captured us briefly, but we were able to break free and flee. Aslan showed us the way to escape, and we made it to the mountains largely unscathed. From there it was a simple matter to cross the mountains and find the gracious hospitality of Anvard."
The hall rustled with whispers as he finished.
"You mean you have brought the Stone Knife with you? It is here?" a young lord asked, wide-eyed.
"Yes."
Exclamations of surprise and awe filled the hall.
"Was the phantom going to try to steal it?" a lady in blue asked.
"I do not know."
"Come!" King Lorn interrupted. "Let us leave Sir Galen a moment's peace. He has entertained us with a tale, now let us return the favor with one of our own. Good minstrel, strike up a cheery ballad!"
The bright notes of a lyre filled the air, and several brightly colored minstrels began to sing of the tale of Fair Olvin and Lady Liln.**
"In the olden days of Archenland
There lived a prince named Olvin the Fair…"
After the ballad and another had finished, Galen excused himself and began to walk along the parapet in the fresh air. Galen found himself staring into the deep hues of the Eastern sky painted by the sun set. Aravir shone brightly beside the sliver of a moon and the green forest below began to become dark. Galen leaned against the wall and breathed the cooling air in deeply, musing on a hundred things and nothing. After a little while, he heard light footsteps behind beside him, and a white flowing sleeve caught the corner of Galen's eye. Princess Lyra stood beside him and joined him in gazing at the horizon.
"What do you think of Archenland?" Lyra inquired after a moment.
"I think Archenland is a beautiful country, my lady," Galen replied. 'Tis its freedom, I suppose, that makes it so," he added quietly.
"Indeed?"
"Narnia is a lovely land, but she is darkened by the evil of iron-fisted oppression. Her forests no longer dance, her rivers no longer sing," Galen sighed.
"Have the Telmarines destroyed so much of the land?"
"Narnia's land still retains its aesthetic beauty, yes, but her spirit trembles and cowers. She is silent and held fast in the bitter tortures of slavery. Nay, Princess Lyra, 'tis Liberty that brings a country its beauty, and my heart aches for what Narnia has lost."
"How sad indeed," Lyra softly remarked, averting her eyes to the stonework upon which she leaned. "Why do not all the Narnians come to Archenland? Freedom have we here in plenty," Lyra asked after a moment.
"The remaining Narnians will not abandon their country. Indeed, but for a promise I would gladly stay and fight beside them."
"The Knife?"
"Yes. I promised my father I would take it where it would be safe, and there protect it for all my days."
"Then be of good cheer, sir. You have kept your promise, and so will your Archen brothers keep our promise of sanctuary to you."
"What, then, was the adventure of this morning? What purpose did it serve?"
"Perhaps the phantom was sent by Aslan to convince my parents of the truth of your words by giving you a chance to prove yourself."
"Perhaps," Galen replied quietly. "Perhaps not."
Lyra looked at him inquiringly. Galen drew the sword that hung by his side and showed the flat to Lyra.
"Do you see this inscription, my lady?"
"Yes-'Courage in Faith, Mercy in Strength. Perseverance in Duty, for Aslan's Glory.' It is a wise saying."
"It is the motto of the Order of the Lion's Redemption—my order."
The princess looked at him in wonder.
"I do not think that I have completed my task, my lady. I believe my adventure is only just beginning."
**I have my rendition of the entire ballad of Fair Olvin and Lady Liln published as a separate story that you can find under my profile.
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