A/N: Technically, kinda, sorta, this is going up a week after the last chapter, so it is realllllyyyy late? Anyhow, this chapter came out just under 7k so enjoy! We're approaching the midpoint of this section... and no one's guessed my evil plans yet 👀
Chapter 74 Content Warnings: N/A
Chapter 74: it's still something
Adelaine,
So you have accepted Lady Opheodra's invitation to search the late Lord Belevoz's collection in Ettinsmoor. Your determination is to be commended, though your judgement is not. I seem to remember advising you to stay in the capital, but as you have likely reached Lady Opheodra's manor by now, I will not demand your return. Seek what you must in the north. I only ask that you keep myself and Doctor Cornelius apprised of your progress, however small it may be. A weekly missive will suffice.
I must remind you that Ettinsmoor is not the welcoming land you know Narnia to be, regardless of the graciousness of your host. It is a dangerous country, and you would do well to heed the following:
Firstly: Do not set foot outside the manor after dark. The werewolves may yet return, and they prowl the moors most viciously at night. These are no mere beasts, Adelaine.
Secondly: Travel with a guard when you must leave the manor, preferably two. I am certain Lady Opheodra has already arranged it to be so.
Lastly: You know this, but I must impress again that you do not speak of what you truly seek, even in our correspondence. I trust the royal couriers implicitly, but letters can be lost in transit, or intercepted.
The Doctor and I await your confirmation of these terms.
Cordially,
Caspian X, King of Narnia
Addie
Insufferable ass!
Addie slaps Caspian's cordial letter to the end table. He wrote as if she's an unruly child in need of schooling when he should be thanking her. She's chasing down every crumb of information on the rings so she can get out of his way and out of his life. By removing herself to the northern moors, she's doing him a favour.
He and Lilliandil can court undistracted, now.
Across the sitting room, Opheodra taps her teacup, nail tinging the delicate porcelain. "My dear Addie, what has that letter done to displease you?"
"Scolded me without scolding me," Addie mutters, scowling. Did Caspian expect she'd sit idly in his castle waiting for someone else to find answers?
In fairness, she's mostly obliged him thus far.
Addie sighs away her annoyance and folds the letter neatly. She did go against Caspian's wishes. Kings aren't used to being disobeyed, but she hasn't been used to obeying a king for thirteen years.
"Never mind," Addie says. "He'll get over it."
"He?"
Addie curls up against the couch arm, arms folded and chin resting on top. "Apparently the king is less than pleased one of his royal researchers is researching in the north."
"How regrettable," says Opheodra, the corners of her mouth quirked upward. "Anyone we know?"
"Me, unfortunately." Addie tucks her feet against the couch's back, momentary grin fading. "I should tell you King Caspian and Doctor Cornelius didn't exactly approve of me coming with you."
Opheodra arches an eyebrow, still amused. "You did seem ill at ease until the city was behind us."
Was it that obvious? Addie's face heats. If Opheodra was less accommodating, she would've put her in a difficult position.
"I'm a little sorry," Addie says. "I just didn't want to leave any stone unturned and -"
Opheodra stops her with a hand. "I respect and obey His Majesty the King," she says, a light twinkling in her eyes. "But it is you who are my friend, Addie. If the king writes to me of his displeasure, all he need know is that my late husband's collection may be of some use to Narnia's libraries and I needed experienced hands to catalogue such precious papers properly."
Addie plucks at a loose thread in the upholstery. "I'm not very experienced."
"You are Doctor Cornelius' personal research assistant," Opheodra says. "That is no small thing, surely?"
Addie clasps her own fingers to stop fidgeting. She's not altogether out of her depth. This - cataloguing, sorting, making sense of old papers - she knows how to do this. In England, she worked in a library and a city records center.
"Still," Addie says. "Thank you."
Opheodra waves it off. "No, thank you. Now, show me what you've found today."
"Right." Addie pushes aside Caspian's letter and brings her notes to Opheodra. Today, she found a story of how Jadis, Queen of Ice, raised the Ettins from brutish beasts to a kingdom of her own. The Giant kingdom's capital, now known as the City Ruinous, lies in the northwest across the River Shribble.
Addie's found nothing about the rings yet, but she hasn't parsed even a tenth of the late Lord's personal library.
If something's here, she'll find it. And until then, Opheodra is a lovely hostess.
For one thing, Opheodra appreciates her efforts.
To His Royal Majesty, King Caspian X,
Your terms are respectfully noted and accepted, though weekly reports seem a bit much. Nevertheless, I've found the northern moors very welcoming and I'd be loath to leave so soon.
My findings this week:
- After the Tree of Protection's planting, the White Witch fled to the north. She went as far as Giant Country, which you might know as Witch Country. I think you can deduce the rest from my notes at the castle, but in case you can't, here's the full story. Legend has it that when Aslan sent Digory to the Garden of Youth to fetch a silver apple, Jadis ate one too. Because she stole it, she couldn't stand to be within a hundred miles of any tree like it - including the Tree of Protection. She then fled north.
- In the Wild Lands (north of the the River Shribble and Ettinsmoor proper), the Witch established a kingdom. It must have lasted at least until the Tree of Protection fell and she trapped Narnia in the Hundred-Year Winter.
- The Witch's subjects were almost certainly the Ettin Giants. There appear to be two breeds: human-like Giants similar to Narnian Giants (like Wimbleweather), and mountainous creatures who are indistinguishable from the stony moors unless they move.
- The City of Cloch Moin (now the City Ruinous) was her kingdom's capital. It lies somewhere to the northwest, over a stone bridge that crosses the River Shribble, which the Giants called River Igroch.
In your Ettinsmoor campaign, how far north did you go? Did you see the ruined city? It's rubble by now, but Giant rubble probably looks like cliffs to humans.
Respectfully,
Adelaine
P.S. Any news from Trufflehunter?
P.P.S. Your concerns are duly noted.
Adelaine,
I am glad to know you reached Ettinsmoor safely. It seems the messenger routes between the capital and Lady Opheodra's manor are not so prompt as I hoped.
In my brief military campaign, I did not personally see a Giant city, ruined or otherwise. We routed the Ettins north of the River Shribble and did not pursue them further. That river marks the boundary between Ettinsmoor and the Wild Lands - also known as Witch Country among the more superstitious. Giant Country can refer to the same region, or to the Wild Lands and Ettinsmoor both.
Doctor Cornelius will be fascinated to hear of your findings regarding the White Witch. Her doings before the Long Winter have long been a subject of debate among Narnian scholars. Please speak with Lady Opheodra to ascertain if she would be willing to send these records to the castle archive. If not, copies must be made. I will write to her directly, but the advice of a friend is more dear than a king's order.
Trufflehunter's work continues, but there have been no new discoveries relevant to your interests.
I am soon to depart for Lantern Waste and the Western March with Lady Lilliandil and will not be in the capital to answer your next report on time. In my absence, Doctor Cornelius will receive your letter. Please address it accordingly.
With regards,
Caspian X
To Doctor Cornelius, Lord High Chancellor of Narnia, and To His Most Royal Majesty, King Caspian X of Narnia, the Seafarer, the Navigator, Emperor of the Lone Islands, Lord of Telmara and Cair Paravel,
With this letter, please find attached a summary report of all my research regarding the White Witch and her kingdom of Giants. I have catalogued all books and other archival materials. Please review this list and prioritise your desired copies for the castle archives. Lady Opheodra wishes to keep the original materials here, as they belonged to her late husband.
Respectfully,
Adelaine
Adelaine,
Excellent work. A priority list of records to copy is attached to this letter. For now, let us wait on the books; it is no small task to recreate them. Instead, please provide a summary of their contents and a timeline of the Witch's activity in the Wild Lands no later than Christmas.
Doctor Cornelius
Addie,
The sight of all my titles was most unexpected. I cannot help but wonder if there is some joke I am missing.
Never mind. I have returned from Lantern Waste and the Western March. Should you reach a pause in your research, I would urge you to visit Chippingford and Caldron Pool before autumn. Chippingford is a most charming and welcoming town - I think you would like it, though you might find the market busy in the afternoons. If you enjoy swimming, you will not find Caldron Pool's waters as unpredictable as the sea.
I expect now you will ask if Lilliandil and I found anything useful to you on our sojourn.
In short, we did not. However, the local Narnians told many fascinating oral histories of the Tree of Protection, the lamp-post's origin, and Aslan's councils during the early dynasties. Doctor Cornelius has sent historians to transcribe them. Naturally, you are free to read them at your leisure upon your return.
With cordial regards,
Caspian X
To His Royal Majesty King Caspian X,
I thought kings liked hearing their titles. Surely you take pride in yours?
Thank you for checking at Lantern Waste. I'm sure Doctor Cornelius is pleased to grow the library further.
The Tree of Protection may be of interest. It was an apple tree, yes? I read about Digory's quest into the west for the silver apple. He threw it at Aslan's bidding and the Tree grew on the riverbank. Did anyone tell a different story?
Any news from Trufflehunter?
Respectfully,
Adelaine
To Adelaine, Royal Researcher and Traveller of the Unknown,
There, let us both use titles, if it pleases you so to write mine. Our names alone are too informal, I suppose. I only thought to spare you from wasting Lady Opheodra's parchment.
Trufflehunter's efforts continue. A team found another treasure room, mostly containing items from Queen Swanwhite I's reign. I recall she was of some interest to you a few months ago. Regarding what you seek, he has found nothing more.
All accounts of the Tree of Protection's planting match the tale you described. However, as I said, you are welcome to review the full transcripts at the castle.
On that subject: how long do you expect to stay in Ettinsmoor? I presume you've found something to your liking about the northern territory? The latest supply barge left for Cair Paravel yesterday, and the next will not leave for another month. Moreover, Doctor Cornelius always needs more hands, and I imagine Perla misses your contributions in the kitchen as well.
With Royal Regards,
Caspian X, King of Narnia
To His Most Royal Majesty King Caspian X of Narnia, the Seafarer, the Navigator, Emperor of the Lone Islands, Lord of Telmara and Cair Paravel, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, and Most Gracious Waster of Parchment,
Very well, is this better?
On to business. I've attached a summary report of the books, per Doctor Cornelius' request. The record copies are in progress. Lady Opheodra sort of put me in charge of the project, so expect updates from me. She's busy with other affairs.
It'll take a few months more to finish parsing the collection and transcribing everything; I don't expect I'll leave Ettinsmoor before then. I'm sure Doctor Cornelius and Perla both have many hands at their disposal already. I should put all that in my letter to the Doctor…
The moors are no Narnian meadow or sea shore, but they have their own charm. For one thing, it's not so damned hot and humid. Lady Opheodra and I go out hawking some mornings, and the wind keeps us cool.
With Humble Regards,
Adelaine, Librarian and Record-keeper of Foreign Lands, Royal Researcher, Traveller of the Unknown, Maiden of the Royal Kitchen, and Servant to the Most Noble Order of the Spatula
To Adelaine, Lady of Many Titles,
A few months more, you say? Well, do as you must. Doctor Cornelius greatly appreciates your contributions to the castle archive and library, as do I.
I confess I found little enjoyment in Ettinsmoor when I visited. Battle will sour any impression. Tell me more about the region, if you would. I do not know it as I know Narnia, and you are seeing it with fresh eyes.
As summer draws to a close, the harvest festivals draw near. Will you return for the celebrations? It is a merry time of baking, feasting, and libations. In the city, you will find many wheat figures for sale, as well as harvest cakes. Beruna also celebrates the Bacchus festival, though that might be too raucous for your tastes.
If not for the festivities, surely you have completed enough transcriptions to merit a journey south. I would not wish for you to be trapped through a bitter Ettinsmoor winter.
Warm Regards,
Caspian X, King of Narnia
Addie,
I just received word that the werewolves have struck again. I would urge you to stay in the manor as much as possible. If you must go falconing, be careful and see that Lady Opheodra and yourself take sufficient guards with you.
Caspian
Caspian,
Yes, I heard. The wolves have stayed close to the Giant Bridge, and Lady Opheodra sent more hunting parties to the northwest. She's not worried they'll reach the manor, so I'm not either.
Opheodra's opened her doors and surrounding lands to any villages near the pack's hunting grounds. Thus far, eight families have made the journey. The manor's been quite lively with so many guests.
I'll be spending the harvest festival here. Lola and Alfonso are visiting his family, and of course they're bringing little Cesare. Hopefully, the wolves will be gone by then, or they'll need to delay the trip.
Attached is my progress report on the records. I'd say we're a third of the way through, or close to it. I'm sending the first two boxes by week's end. The courier should arrive just before the harvest festival.
Any news from Cair Paravel?
With all due courtesy,
Adelaine
Addie,
All the same, be careful. As I recall, you have a talent for finding trouble, newfound titles notwithstanding.
Lady Opheodra did not mention to me that she'd opened the manor for sanctuary. It is very good of her to do so.
Where is Alfonso's village located? It must not be in the northwest, if they still intend to travel. I hear the pack has retreated again, but as they've returned before, I'm certain they will again until they are properly eradicated.
In your next letter, if you would, tell me of Ettinsmoor's harvest traditions. All I know is that their festivals commonly feature a large bonfire and stories chanted in the night. I would be fascinated to hear firsthand what else they do. No matter how a king tries to know his people, there is forever more to learn. As I cannot presently travel north, you must be my eyes and ears.
No news from Cair Paravel that would interest you at this time.
Expectantly,
Caspian
Addie
Addie reads the letter again. While no news from Cair Paravel is frustrating, she has enough to keep her busy here. Nothing in Opheodra's husband's collection has so much as mentioned the rings, but there's plenty about the Ettins' long-fallen kingdom, Jadis' magic, and her fierce rule.
Not fierce - cruel. Much like her reign in Narnia, Jadis turned dissenters into stone. Thankfully, those days are long gone.
Jadis also had a love for battle and conquered much of the Wild Lands and Ettinsmoor. Her dark magic warped bats into harpies, birds into humanoid hags, gnomes into boggles. The books are full of stories of her battles and bloody games - tournaments where one either won or died, so unlike Narnia's good-spirited sportsmanship.
Jadis was arrogant, too. If she understood how the rings worked, she might've kept it from her subjects to keep the power to herself - which doesn't make sense, because the rings left Narnia with Digory. Alternatively, if the rings dragged her along, pride might have demanded she say nothing for fear of seeming weak and easily led about.
The odds of learning more about the rings here aren't high. Yet, the odds anywhere appear to be slim to none; what does it matter if she stays in Ettinsmoor?
Addie sighs and sets Caspian's letter aside, rubbing her blackened fingertips. Between her weekly letters to Caspian and Doctor Cornelius and Lola, the catalogues, her own notes, and recovering Mum's diaries under Opheodra's tender-hearted guidance, she's always sporting new ink stains.
Opheodra's given her more of her mother than she would've dared hope at the summer's beginning. They've recreated Mum's first two diaries almost entirely, every letter plucked perfectly from Addie's memory by Opheodra's incense powders and music.
It must be some kind of magic, a different kind than the rings or the Wood or Aslan. Not bad, just different.
She can never remember anything after Opheodra starts playing, but the results are good and she comes out of those nights feeling… not peaceful, exactly, but like a cup carefully filled, satisfied without overflowing. Like an early spring flower opening to dawn's first blush. Whatever Opheodra's magic is - and it must be magic - it works. Mum had eight diaries whose entries spanned more than a decade, and now Addie has her last three years' worth of writings.
Addie ties her hair half-back and puts on a wool dress suitable for riding across the chilly moor. Breakfast was an hour ago, and she's still in her dressing robe. Opheodra rarely dresses in her day gown for the morning meal, so why should she?
Lola and her family arrived in Alfonso's village yesterday, and Lola wrote to hurry her to visit. It's two hours' ride from the manor and well worth the trip, even though Opheodra insists on sending a guard with her. The wolves have crossed the River Shribble into the Wild Lands twice in the last week. Most predators stay close to their dens with the weather growing colder by the day, but werewolves are different.
I can lie a hundred nights on the ice and not freeze.
Addie suppresses a shiver and goes downstairs.
The manor is abuzz with its new guests - refugees from the northern villages near the wolves' hunting grounds. Their thin, pale faces are worn with their hard life in the moors, gloomy with loss. Some are already preparing to leave with a force of Opheodra's guards as guides and scouts, eager to make their villages safe before the harvest. Others are waiting to be sure the werewolves don't circle back, preparing rough cabins on Opheodra's grounds after she gave her blessing.
Still others speak of those who haven't made the journey. Most have lost someone to dark, snapping jaws and bloody fangs. These mourners huddle in groups, murmuring of icy winds and the rapid drumbeat of large paws heralding doom.
"It's not natural," a grizzled man wrapped in worn furs whispers to another. "Not natural, none of it."
"It's the Old Things," the other mutters, wringing his bony, fidgeting hands. "Didn't ol' Fezi say they'd be back? We're too close to Witch Country, that's what I think."
The most recent newcomers were lucky; the pack attacked an old woman and her grandson, but both survived, albeit with gouged scars to remind them every day of their narrow escape. The woman's missing an eye now, relying on her grandson and a cracked cane to walk while she heals. She needs a stronger cane, but good wood is scarce this far west. The forest near Alfonso's village is coniferous, and the Western Wilds lie beyond the Northern Mountains, which will be impassable with snow in less than a fortnight.
The manor grounds are a hive of activity: wagon loads of supplies and provisions are prepared for Lady Opheodra's forces, both to feed her men and the villagers they meet as they hunt the wolves. Horses and men churn the soil beneath them to mud. Addie picks her steps gingerly to avoid the worst of it. A soldier handing off a barrel loses his grip, and the top comes off, spilling dried flowers and shrivelled mushrooms into the dirt at Addie's feet.
He grimaces an apology and rights the barrel. Addie bends down, but the flowers and mushrooms are coated in mud. Still, she hands him the barrel cap, and he smiles appreciatively before returning to work.
She walks on.
At the gates waiting for her are a pair of tall, burly northmen wielding halberds and clad in steel and fur cowls. Though Addie said she'd be alright on her own, Lady Opheodra insisted on at least one guard. Last night, she doubled her escort "just in case."
They mount the horses waiting for them at the stable - two bays and a black mare darker even than Caspian's stallion Destrier - and begin the journey. Addie's companions are a quiet pair, and the road passes quickly. By late morning, they come around a bend to find Alfonso's family's village laid out before them, nestled in a small valley cut by a winding tributary of the River Shribble.
Fields of rippling gold - corn and wheat awash in the late morning sun - cover the valley's western side and stretch along the river. Harvesters work across the field nearest the village, stalks swaying as experienced hands snap off husks of corn. The village itself is a splotch of brown, its streets busy with villagers bundled against the chill carry woven baskets laden with unshucked corn. A well sits in the village square, the heart of the place, where a flock of children chase each other, as fleet as mice.
Addie breathes easier at the sight of the village, which is blessedly distant from the treeline with clear visibility all the way up either side of the valley. She's seen neither hide nor hair of wolves or any beasts, but she's seen the gouges their teeth and claws leave, and she's not keen to be their next victim.
Addie's horse snorts, tossing its head as Addie slows it to a walk. Beside her, the guards match her pace. They haven't said two words put together these last two hours. Addie points to a taller building to the well's right, where men bent with age trickle inside.
"That looks like a tavern," she says. "Pass the time there, if you like. I'll be with my friend's family all day."
The northman to her right grunts. "Our orders are to stay by your side."
Orders, is it?
Addie smiles, saccharine sweet like Josie's honeyed tea, and shrugs. "I just thought you'd rather enjoy a pint than help with village chores."
Neither one argues; they offer the same stoic silence they've had all morning. Addie nudges her horse faster and rides into the village at an easy trot. She pulls the reins when she passes the sixth hut on the left. A wreath of dried leaves and corn silk Lola said to look for hangs from the door.
Addie dismounts, ties her horse to a sturdy pole, and turns to the northmen. "The tavern's not far - easy enough dash if there's trouble. Or you can try your hand at making corn dolls. Up to you."
Their response is two blank, unamused stares.
"Suit yourselves."
Addie goes to knock. She's barely raised her knuckles when the door flies open and Cesare bolts past, a young woman with Alfonso's ringlet curls hot on his trail.
"Cesare, for Tash's sake! When your father hears - oh Addie, you made it," Lola waves distractedly from the door, hair hanging from her bun in frazzled wisps. "Cesare, get back here!"
"Auntie!"
"Oof!" Addie grunts as Cesare slams into her and throws his arms around her hips. "Hello to you too," she says, ruffling his tangled hair.
Cesare giggles and jerks out of reach.
"Rawr, rawwwrrrr!" he shouts, kicking up dirt as he sprints into the street, a whittled dragon held aloft.
Addie's horse tosses its head, ears flicking down. Addie hushes it, pats its coal-black muzzle, and walks after Cesare, careful to keep herself between him and her horse's hooves. Chasing him is as good as egging him on.
"Cesare, come now," Addie calls. "Don't you want to show me your dragon?"
"Catch me fi-i-i-i-rst!"
Cesare loops back toward the house, eyes twinkling as he ignores Lola's call and slips past the young woman's outstretched arms. Lola emerges around the northmen's horses, her gaze darting between Cesare and the animals. The two guards stand behind their beasts, burly arms crossed and faces severe.
"He's been a terror all morning," Lola sighs. "I've half a mind to give him some of my sleeping tea."
"Worth a try," Addie says.
Cesare sprints past, spins around, and darts back across the street. Fortunately, with so many villagers in the fields and the others presumably inside preparing food and decorations, the street is empty but for a few pedestrians.
"Catch me, auntie!"
Cesare sprints for her, his round cheeks ruddy. Addie crouches to meet him, smiling with encouragement, hoping he doesn't try to -
As if he heard her silent prayer for an easy catch, Cesare runs past before she can reach him, and turns.
Right for the horses. One's already tensing, about to rear.
"CESARE!" Lola and Addie yell at once, Lola's voice shrill.
Quick as a blink, one of the northmen scoops Cesare up, broad hands dwarfing the boy's ribcage. Cesare's little legs still pump as the guard holds him aloft. Childish glee crumples into petulant protests.
The bay horse snorts and prances in place, ears pinned, but Cesare is now safely contained.
"None of that, little one," says the soldier in a voice like rolling thunder.
Cesare stills, his eyes widened comically large.
"Listen to your mother. Think you can do that?"
Cesare's mouth gapes open only to snap closed.
The northman shakes him lightly. "Yes or no, boy."
Cesare squeaks, a mouse in a lion's paws. He nods, faster and faster until his head is bobbing frantically.
"Uh huh."
The guard lifts a thick eyebrow and glances at Lola. She nods.
He refocuses on Cesare, who looks as sorry as Addie's ever seen him.
"Behave yourself," he says, and then sets Cesare on the ground.
"Into the house, Cesare," says Lola. Cesare obeys at once, shuffling inside as the young woman chasing him catches up.
"Bless ye," she says to the guard, before following Cesare inside.
"Yes," Lola echoes. "Thank you."
The northman only grunts, though his fellow clears his throat and scratches his moustache, conveniently covering his mouth.
"Right then." Addie stands and brushes the road's dust from her skirt. "Corn dolls?"
"See, it's simpler than you think." Lola folds the last dried husk around the corn doll - an Ettinsmoor harvest festival tradition they're free to enjoy now that Cesare's down for his afternoon nap. "Wrap it behind, then thread it through - no, not there. Let me."
"Thanks."
Addie gladly gives Lola her sad attempt. It's more a lump of split husks and stringy mess than a doll. Her hands are never much good at anything until she's done it a thousand times. The northmen were no help either; they insisted on standing guard, one at the front door and one here at the back, and they've said nothing since. They're so quiet that if Addie doesn't look up, she could almost forget they're here.
Lola fixes the doll as much as it can be fixed. "There."
Addie grins wryly. "Yours is better."
Lola purses her lips, trying and failing to hide a smile. "Yours has… character."
Addie laughs outright and shakes her head. "It looks like the village cat tried to shred it."
"Cats don't like corn." Lola loses the battle with her amusement, a development Addie minds little. At least she can make Lola laugh again.
Lola tilts her head, her brown eyes appraising. "You seem better, Addie."
Addie takes back her pathetic doll and tries to arrange the husk bits sticking up from its head into a semblance of hair. "Not better at these."
"Happier," Lola says. "You like Ettinsmoor?"
Addie sobers and sets the doll aside. "I do. It's… I think I needed a change of scenery. Something new, uncomplicated. Some space."
Opheodra keeps her busy enough to not mind her stalled research, and close enough to her mother's memory that there's little to miss about England other than Josie.
And then there's Caspian's letters. Sometimes two arrive in the same week, and somehow, written correspondence is so much easier than seeing him in person. Here, Caspian is words on a page, treacherously easy to write to. He's still stiff and royal and insufferable, but sometimes, if she thinks about it too much - and she doesn't - she could almost imagine his mouth twitching to hide a smile as he writes.
If she didn't know better - and she does - she might think him a friend again, rather than the shadow of lurking heartbreak.
He's being friendly, that's all. He's curious about Ettinsmoor, and she happens to be a convenient correspondent.
Lola scoots closer, bumping their knees. The packed dirt behind Alfonso's family's home is cool beneath her as village children play by the well, but this could almost be the castle courtyard in autumn, Lola's easy friendship an untainted constant.
"Find anything up here? About… you know."
"No." Addie shrugs and reaches for her mess of a doll, plucking and tugging at the many wayward strings. "But it's still been worth it, to get some air."
Lola takes a wad of corn string and two husk leaves from the woven basket on the stoop between them. Then, she wads the strings into an oblong ball and wraps leaves around it, beginning another doll with fingers quick from practice.
"But you're still looking?"
Addie pulls on a husk string sticking from her doll's neck and almost unravels the whole thing.
They don't need to talk about this. Lola stopped asking when she returned from Cair Paravel, and their tentative peace almost took the shape of acceptance. Or, more likely, hope that she wouldn't find anything. Lola was only a little sad when Addie said her goodbyes and explained Ettinsmoor was the next lead. While Alfonso took Cesare outside to play, Lola hugged her and said only: "Alright. Stay warm up there and write to me. We'll visit Ettinsmoor soon, for the last harvest."
Addie clutched her tight and promised to write, and that was that. They haven't spoken of her search in words or letters since.
"Does it matter?" Addie says. Her thumb catches a sharp edge, a folded husk crimped too tight. "Let's just enjoy today."
Lola purses her lips at her doll, now a half-formed lump of tidy, criss-crossing leaves. "Time with you is always short." She nods at Addie's hands. "Loosen the middle first."
Addie picks at the too-tight folds and ties around the doll's middle to little avail. It might be a lost cause.
"Here." Lola sets her half-formed figure aside and takes Addie's sad excuse of a husk. "Took me a while to get it, too. Tash, you really knotted this, didn't you?"
"Seemed like it needed it." Addie grimaces and sucks the small, stinging cut on her thumb. "That bad, huh?"
"There!" Lola loosens the last knot and the doll opens, bent and broken leaves opening to expose a ball of corn silk. That, at least, is tidily intact. "Anyway, what's it like back… you know."
Addie's thumb slips from her mouth.
"I thought you didn't want to hear anything about it."
"I didn't. But now…" Lola sighs and gives her the doll's unsalvageable remains. "These months, I've been thinking. You leaving was hard on me, but it must've hard on you. Coming back must have been, too."
Addie turns the corn silk ball over in her hands.
"It was," she admits. "Not that it wasn't happy, it was just…"
"Difficult." Lola nods, lips pursed. "I didn't quite understand that before now. Seeing you up here, the light back in your eyes… getting away from the capital, from him, it's been good for you. So England must've been too, in its own way. Right?"
Was it? England was cold and rainy and lonely, London a churning city of industry and impatient people. It made her numb, dulled heartbreak with years and so much distance that everything and everyone in Narnia felt like a dream. But England had Mum, and Josie, and even Ted, all of them important in her life. England was her birthplace, and despite how dreary it could be, some part of her found peace there.
Or something like it.
"Sure," Addie says. "In its own way."
Lola hugs her knees to her chest, the opposite of how she'd stretch her legs in the sunny castle courtyard.
"I've been so busy being angry you want to leave again I didn't stop to think maybe it was better for you. I'd rather it's not, and I'd still love to shake you by the shoulders until you forget all about him and we can be just like we were, but… but that's not… Just help me understand, alright? Just explain why you want to go back, and I'll leave it alone."
"That's just it." Addie blinks against a sudden stinging in her eyes, breathes in the loamy valley air.
You're afraid so you're running away.
The thing is, Lola wasn't wrong.
"It'd make sense if England was better," Addie says. "Daily life can be more convenient, running water and faster travel and all that, and I was born there, but I didn't…" She sniffs, nose running. Bloody hell, why can't she keep herself together? "I didn't settle, not like here. In Narnia, I mean. It doesn't make any sense, not when I spent longer there than I did here, but… If you want me to tell you why I want to go home, I can't. I don't have a good reason for you."
Other than running away, and Lola's made her opinion on that abundantly clear.
Lola scoots closer, her hands covering Addie's fidgeting fingers.
"I think I was angry with you because I could tell it wasn't really what you wanted," Lola says.
Addie stares at their joined hands, tangled corn silk tickling her palms. In Lola's place, how would she feel? Hurt, confused, frustrated, angry - because if Lola was leaving and didn't even want to, then the place and people she was turning her back on must be awful indeed. Or at least, not good enough to make up for one soured first love.
"I don't blame you," Addie says. "In your shoes, I'd be angry with me too."
Lola squeezes her hands. "I don't want to drive you away. Did I?"
"No, Lola, you… no." Addie tucks their joined hands under her chin, aching for this unfairness she's put Lola through just by returning. "You could never. You were never the person I was trying to get away from, not then and not now." Addie bumps Lola's knee, her mouth twisting away from a smile. "Ironically, even up here, I can't."
A frown cuts across Lola's face, the one she only gets when the subject of Caspian comes up.
"What do you mean?"
Addie pokes the corn silk with her thumb. "Let's just say my weekly reports to the crown were a bit tiresome at first."
"Weekly? To the crown?" Lola scowls, her grip tightening. "To Caspian, you mean?"
"And to Doctor Cornelius."
Lola's annoyance stays. "You work for Doctor - Lord Chancellor, sorry - Cornelius, not the king. There's no reason he can't just read what you send the Chancellor. Why should he care what books you read?"
A chill wind reddens Addie's cheeks. Lola doesn't know about the rings, so she also doesn't know that Caspian's investment in her research isn't unfounded. And Addie can't reassure her with that particular truth.
A different truth, then.
Addie shrugs. "He's curious about the moors, I guess. Something about not getting up here much."
Lola drops her hands and takes up her half-finished doll. She folds leaves with sharp, snappish flicks of her wrist, nearly breaking one and cracking another.
"He can damn well read books himself or trade court nonsense with the nobles. He shouldn't be bothering you about it."
Addie sighs; now her corn silk ball is packed too tight. She takes another pinch from the basket at her feet.
"It's not bothering," Addie says as she tries to loosen the silk and work in the new, softer fibres. "He's just…"
Insufferable. Infuriating. Insistent.
Amusing.
Not wholly unpleasant to write to.
Caspian is also soon to be engaged. She's been hearing that for months now.
"Just what?" Lola says.
Addie takes a new leaf from the basket by Lola. "I dunno. It's not the worst thing he could be doing."
Lola's doll drops to the ground, a misshapen, half-formed lump.
"Oh no." Lola's gaze snaps to her, as sharp as Perla's best knife. "No, no, don't you start this. Don't you dare."
Addie opens her mouth, but the force of Lola's flashing eyes silences her.
"He broke your heart," Lola says, harsher than she needs to. "Did you forget that? He broke your heart the same night you thought he was going to -"
"Technically," Addie interrupts. "I broke his. I left."
Lola looks thunderous. At the moment, she could rival even Perla's sourest mood.
"He broke yours first," she counters. "You were a Tash-cursed mess that morning, Addie. I've never seen you cry like that."
"Thanks for the reminder." Addie focuses on the leaf in her hands instead of meeting Lola's eyes.
"That's why you left," Lola continues, as if she never spoke. "You didn't want to until he barged in and snapped you like a twig, and he couldn't even be bothered to stay behind and pick up the pieces. So don't even think about it."
Addie curses as a leaf slips and cuts her knuckle. She'd rather not recall that day. It wasn't all Caspian's fault - she wasn't exactly the most trustworthy person back then - but the way he looked at her…
There's no sense tormenting herself with the memory. It's over now.
"I'm not," Addie says. "I'd be glad to write reports only to Doctor Cornelius."
Lola looks at her closer, then nods to herself. "Then do that."
Addie abandons her doll and sucks at the shallow cut, a trace of copper on her tongue.
"I can't stop replying to his letters out of nowhere. I'm not keen on a guard carting me back to the capital."
Lola's jaw works to the side. "Is it just reports?"
"Mostly."
Lola grabs another leaf and twists it around the first, the doll taking shape. "Then send reports. Address them to the Lord Chancellor and the king both, and write only what you have to. To Tash with anything he writes."
Addie squints down at her doll. She's managed a decent enough oval for the body and a lopsided one for the head. Better than her first attempt.
Lola sighs, ties off her own, and covers Addie's hands.
"I mean it, Addie. Keep your distance. I don't want you to get hurt again."
"I won't." Addie drops the doll into her skirt and takes Lola's hands. "I didn't realise you disliked him so much. Don't you like what he's done with the castle, the work schedules, the servants' quarters?"
"I like King Caspian just fine," Lola says, an eyebrow arched. "But I've wanted to give Caspian your ex-lover a piece - or several - of my mind for a long time."
Warmth twists in Addie's stomach, bittersweet. The thought of Lola defending her is sweet, but it's unearned. The heartbreak was her own fault too, not just Caspian's.
"He did apologise," Addie says.
"If he was really sorry, he'd leave you alone," Lola snaps. "No good can come of him sniffing around. So don't let him."
Addie hums, considering. While Lola means well and her protectiveness is touching, she doesn't know everything. Lola's worried Caspian will drive her out of Narnia again.
He won't. For all his faults, Caspian is bearable at a distance. Moreover, her decision to leave Narnia again belongs to her - Caspian can't change her mind if it's already made up.
Even if sometimes, here in the moor's bracing winds and by Opheodra's warm hearth, she doesn't want to run quite so much.
Maybe Opheodra will know what to do.
"I'll be careful," Addie says, close enough to a promise.
Lola's worried frown doesn't abate, but she pats Addie's hands and takes a wad of corn silk.
"Keep trying," she says, nodding to the doll abandoned in Addie's lap. "You've almost got it."
Addie takes another leaf and sinks gratefully into the rhythm of learning. Soon Cesare will wake, the harvesters will come back from the fields, and the festival will begin.
A/N: So, how are we liking the letters? 😇
Chapter 75 Preview:
The bonfire blazes, throwing sparks high. Addie claps along and joins the chant, breath clouding in the night as Cesare bangs the table slightly off-rhythm.
Movement snags her attention, a passing shadow to her left. Addie trails off.
Her two guards follow her gaze. Their hands go to the hilts at their waist as a chill wind creeps through the square.
Slowly, the village quiets.
The shadows move.