A/N: Hey guys! Happy New Year to everyone! I hope you haven't forogtten about Farford ... I must apologise for letting you wait so long! I got a little sidetracked by another fandom that reminds much much of my childhood ... But here is chapter 8 – finally! – edited as always by realismandromance (Thank you so much!)

Enjoy ... and let me know what you think!

X

Surreptitiously, Edmund glanced over at Peter while chewing on a pastry, wondering if the old dafty would ever stop watching him. He'd already eaten more than he'd thought possible, and he'd certainly have to stop after the next bite or his stomach might burst – but Peter's attentive eyes were still fixated on him.

Of course, when he saw his brother glancing back at him, the High King quickly averted his gaze to somewhere else, making Edmund want to snort. As if I didn't notice, he thought, half amused and half annoyed.

The evening meal was held in a peaceable gathering around the fire. The three sovereigns were perched close to the warming flames with their soldiers surrounding them. Everyone was calm and quiet.

The calm before the storm … Edmund reminded himself again that their adventure was far from over.

Orieus had decided to postpone all further planning until after they had eaten, arguing that they would all be able to think more clearly if they were supplied with enough energy. However, Edmund had his doubts about the general's arguments; the unfamiliar fullness of his stomach was making him feel tired instead of alert.

Peter, on the other hand, seemed enviably energetic. He had just put away an impressive amount of food, and now he was almost vibrating with the urge to get on with the battle planning. In comparison, Edmund felt a little inadequate. He thought back to when they left Cair Paravel, remembering clearly how much Peter had still been affected by his recent illness. Although their captivity should have made it all worse, at this moment it didn't seem to be the case. Or maybe Peter just hid it better than ever before.

Lucky fool might end up being in better shape by the time we get home than he was when we left, Edmund thought, and bit his lip to suppress yet another snort.

Finally, after everyone had finished eating, Orieus sent all but the higher-ranking officers back to their various duties or to get some rest. Those who remained were informed, through a detailed report from Skygrace, that the eagle had found the human settlement easily enough, thanks to the directions Peter had given him – and he had determined how to get the full strength of the army there without having to leave behind the horses and centaurs because of small, narrow caves.

According to Skygrace's assessment, Enzomian hadn't pursued the kings any further than to the cliff they had climbed down to escape him. Instead, it seemed as he had made his men return to their settlement and get ready to defend themselves against the Narnian attack – which he knew was sure to come thundering upon them.

"They had better be prepared," muttered Edmund, after the eagle had ended. He couldn't help the venomous tone that crept into his voice; he would have had more to say about it, but as the words required for that did not befit a king, he swallowed them down.

"Indeed," agreed Peter, sounding just as vicious as his brother. He had scrunched his face up in anger and his eyes seemed a darker shade of blue than usual. As their gazes met, Edmund almost smiled at the bitter look Peter wore; thanks to his jolly nature, Narnia's High King very rarely came to the point of despising people as much as he had come to despise Enzomian.

"Is there any way to get out of this mess without shedding more blood?" said Orieus into the silence that had followed after the kings' vicious muttering.

Thinking it through, Edmund had to admit that he had little hope that Enzomian wanted an agreement between his people and the Narnians. Of course, they would have to try taking the diplomatic path anyway. After all, they were Narnians, not barbaric savages!

It was quite simple, in Edmund's eyes; if he could get their enemy to give in and free the remaining prisoners either through negotiations or – as was the more likely scenario – through the threat their army posed, fine. If not, the Narnian army would run over their settlement and the Just King was quite prepared to do whatever it might take to free his subjects. A plan was beginning to form in his mind.

"I can't promise there won't be a battle fought, but I'll talk to Enzomian first," he announced. "To do so, I'll have to exchange myself for one of the Narnians still being held captive. Then, I'll try to negotiate."

At once, many pairs of eyes were directed at Edmund, most of them looking very worried. But it was Lucy who loudly spoke what the others were thinking.

"No! You can't let yourself be taken prisoner again," she exclaimed, bending forward and grabbing hold of his forearm. "I won't let you!"

For a hand as small as hers, her grip was unpleasantly tight, but Edmund shook it off. "I'll have to try to convince them to give in. I'm not sure yet how I can achieve that, but I think he might relent when he sees the strength of our army."

"He won't, Ed," said Peter. "You saw what kind of a person he is: all vicious and power-hungry. And as dumb as an ass." He paused, looking thoughtful. "But, I do agree about offering him a valuable hostage. If they have either one of us in their hands again, they might be misled to the conclusion that our army won't attack them – which we will still do, of course." He paused again and sighed, then added in a serious tone, "But I'm just as valuable a hostage as you are, Edmund. Why don't I go?"

Edmund rolled his eyes indignantly. "Because, Peter, you'd only manage to get him to kill the remaining prisoners if you tried to negotiate, that's why. You'd get yourself killed, too. Besides, you're my advisor on this mission – I'm in command."

Orieus cleared his throat. "Meaning no disrespect, Sire, but at the moment I am the one in command, until you're declared healthy by a healer." He nodded at Lucy.

Edmund directed his attention at his younger sister. Lucy looked back, a little uncertain about what to say. She wasn't a fully trained healer – not yet, anyway – but of course it was she who knew her brothers best. If anyone could be trusted to determine if Narnia's kings were fit for battle or not, it was she.

Tentatively, Lucy cleared her throat and turned to face the eagle. "Skygrace?"

"Majesty?"

"Before we make any further decisions, how much time will we need to position our troops in reach of these men? Using the way you found for us, how long will it take to get there, up into the mountains?"

"About four days, Your Majesty," replied Skygrace. "We will have to travel south from here for at least half a day, then we can follow a path that winds its way up along the cliffs. It's a rocky, partially overgrown path, and it's steep in some places; it will require much of our soldiers' strength. They will need a day of rest before fighting a battle."

Lucy nodded. "I shall postpone my decision on declaring you and Peter fit until we reach the place where we shall rest for a day, Edmund," she said. "If, by that point, I think you're well enough, it will be you back in command. If I decide you're still too affected by what you've been through, Orieus will be the one who will make all further decisions." She turned to her eldest brother. "I'll make my decision if you shall fight or not at the same time, Peter."

Both kings were about to object, but secretly Edmund saw sense in Lucy's words. Biting back a snide comment, he finally sighed and announced, "So be it, then." And Peter reluctantly agreed.

After their council was over, Edmund turned to his friend Philip and suggested that they go for a little trip through the forest. Skygrace had confirmed that woods around the camp were clear; Enzomian's men were gathered together in the settlement, preparing for the expected attack and posing no danger within Narnian territory.

Philip whinnied joyfully in agreement to Edmund's suggestion. Chuckling lightly, Edmund patted the horse's neck and swung himself onto his back, not bothering to use a saddle or reins.

Philip fell into a comfortable gallop as soon as they had left the camp. Edmund was glad to see that his friend was fully healed and bursting with energy. The king clung to the thick mane, and soon he relaxed, thinking that for once he enjoyed being declared not-quite-healthy-yet by his younger sister. Her decision offered him the opportunity to ride through his beloved Western Woods and enjoy a chat with his closest Narnian friend while the soldiers were preparing for their departure under the stern eyes of Orieus.

X

"Excuse me, Sire?"

An unfamiliar voice made Peter look up from the bowl of porridge he was having for breakfast. A tall and very slender black stallion had positioned himself right in front of the High King, his neck bowed respectfully. He was blocking Peter from what little light the early morning sun was offering. Nevertheless, the High King smiled up at him. "Yes, my good horse. What can I do for you?"

"It's more of a question of what I might be able to do for you, Your Majesty," replied the horse. "I would like to offer you my services as your mount. According to my knowledge, you are in need of a horse, seeing as Adel unfortunately fell at the Battle of Farford."

Curiously, Peter got to his feet to have a closer look at the stallion. While he rounded him, he couldn't help patting him a couple of times; he was gorgeous! Talking Horses usually didn't take very well to being patted (except for Philip, if Edmund was the one patting him), but the stallion showed no signs of disagreement at Peter's treatment.

"You look young. I do wonder if you're strong enough to carry me," said Peter thoughtfully. "What is your name?"

"My name is Emil, Sire."

"Are you a fully trained soldier yet, Emil?"

"No, Sire; for now, I am merely Philip's apprentice. But I can carry you all the same. And, of course, I'll always be where Philip is."

Which meant that Peter could keep a close eye on his brother while they travelled. That seemed to be a bonus he couldn't renounce, so he nodded in agreement. "Very well then, Emil. At least while we're travelling, you may serve as my mount. But Philip shall decide if you're to take me into the battle or not – if a battle is to be fought, that is."

And if I'm to attend, he added in his thoughts, reminding himself that Lucy would be the judge of that.

Half an hour later, everyone was ready for departure, including the three sovereigns. If truth be told, Peter would have preferred to send Lucy back to Cair Paravel instead of having her join the troops into the mountains. But access to her cordial was too important for them all, considering what might lie in wait, and she never let it out of her hands. So, Lucy rode with them, carried by Chalzedon, the unicorn who had once carried Peter into battles – years ago when the High King was younger and less experienced. Peter was glad to know that the unicorn would be a fierce protector for his little sister, should they be attacked on their way.

Lucy looked very calm and relaxed as she sat Chalzedon's back, taking in the view of the mountains that were rising spectacularly against the blue sky to the west. Every now and then, she would bend forward to whisper something into Chalzedon's ear and the unicorn would reply quietly. Then they would both share a laugh.

The troops moved south until noon and stopped for a short break before starting the ascent. The path wound its way upwards in many loops. It was rocky and overgrown with grass and vines, and they had to be careful not to stumble. To their left, the hillside sloped steeply downwards, while to their right, the rocks towered far above their heads. Sure-footed as he was, Orieus was in the lead, followed closely by a group of fauns, who were armed with bows and arrows.

Emil was a nervous horse, as Peter very quickly discovered. He could do with that while they travelled, but dreaded having to ride into battle on the young stallion's back. To make things worse, he had to ride bareback. There had been no saddle that fitted the slender horse properly. At the look of uneasiness on their brother's face while riding on Emil, both Edmund and Lucy were openly amused. Peter was sure they would be taking the mickey out of him if it weren't for Orieus' presence; luckily, the centaur general had very little sense of humour!

On the second morning at departure, Peter announced, "I'm going to walk for a bit this morning, Emil. The ascent is not nearly as steep as the way through the canyon we had to take with Enzomian. I'll do all right, I should think."

It was true; this part of the way was easy enough, and the High King saw no harm in using his own two legs for a while. He was certain that he wouldn't tire himself out too much by walking. After all, he was feeling better than he ever had since they had left Cair Paravel in the first place. Secretly, he wondered if Lucy had slipped a drop of cordial into his food or drink at some point, for he was no longer as bothered by his illness as he had been upon setting out all those days ago.

He glanced at Edmund, who also seemed to have recovered from the ordeal of being Enzomian's prisoner. However, Peter wondered if Edmund could keep up the good shape he was in. The High King had had the impression, during night-time, that once more his younger brother hadn't slept very well, and if this continued, it would soon have an impact.

As they moved higher and higher into the mountains, the two kings kept going through their battle plans; Edmund was still adamant that he should exchange himself for one or – if possible – two of the prisoners. Peter suspected that he was thinking about Aisikke and Ehmi, the two black dwarfs who belonged to Fritjof and Elka's clan.

The High King himself was torn between seeing sense in the plan and hating it at the same time. For one thing, he was quite sure that Enzomian was not the kind of man who negotiated. And then there was another thought that bothered Peter; what would Enzomian do with Edmund if the Just King of Narnia turned himself into his hands again? Would he want to take revenge for the men Peter and Edmund had killed or wounded before fleeing? Would he become violent and take his anger out on the young king? It was very likely.

"But – oh, bother, it can't be helped," Peter mumbled to himself, thinking it through once more.

"Huh?"

The High King looked up at Emil's curious voice, and forced himself to give a reassuring smile. "It's nothing for you to worry about, Emil."

The horse whinnied and directed his attention elsewhere, but Peter couldn't take his mind off his dark thoughts. Part of him wanted to just attack, but Enzomian would be quite prepared for that. An attack that the enemy wasn't expecting would give them a higher chance of winning the battle, and Peter wanted the Narnian hostages to be informed as well. Edmund would have to go in and get in contact with the other side.

Peter surely would have preferred to go in his brother's stead, but he had to admit to himself that he was not nearly as good at negotiating as Edmund. Manipulating Enzomian into considering himself safe was also something that only Edmund could pull off successfully.

If only Peter could spare him from turning himself in, but there seemed to be no way.

X

After travelling for days, the army finally reached the place where Peter and Edmund had spent the night after their escape. While they put up a camp, hidden in the rocks, Skygrace flew out once more to make sure that Enzomian and his men were unaware of their arrival. Meanwhile, Orieus positioned Anjus, the faun, and Fizz, the cheetah, high up in the cliffs so they could see all the way across the grassy plain to where the enemy's huts lay in the distance.

The three royal siblings gathered around the fire to rest. While eating a hearty meal, Edmund couldn't help glancing at Lucy every so often, wondering if she would declare him fit for command; for the past three days, he had followed every rule and obeyed every order she had given him – there should be some reward for him, he thought. He had eaten very well during their journey, almost as much as Peter – and that meant something. He hadn't tired himself out, either; Philip had carried him up into the mountains all the way.

But, unfortunately, Edmund's sleeping troubles had returned. After being unconscious for over twelve hours just after their escape, sleep had eluded Narnia's Just King once more for the past three nights, and he knew that this had not gone unnoticed by either of his siblings. He couldn't seem to do anything about it, either.

Orieus interrupted Edmund's thoughts. "Majesties, I would recommend that we all turn in early for the night and plan out our next steps in the morning."

The three sovereigns agreed. Edmund was just about to retire to his tent when Lucy held him back by grabbing his forearm. "Hang on, Ed – before you go, I'd like to have a word with you."

Here we go, thought Edmund, but he nodded and sat back down by the fire.

Lucy gave him one of her famous sweet smiles before rummaging through her little pouch, clearly searching for something. A moment later, she was holding a small bundle of herbs. "I found these on our way here," she explained. "It's a very rare plant called … oh dear, I forgot the name …" She scrunched up her nose thoughtfully.

"Never mind what it's called," said Edmund. "What about it?"

"I can brew some tea from those herbs that will make you sleep. Tomorrow you will need to be well rested if you want to be declared healthy by me."

Edmund smiled. "I was almost sure you'd decide against it."

Putting on her most serious face, Lucy replied, "I was rather tempted … To tell you the truth, I don't like your idea of you turning yourself back into their hands."

"Neither do I," said Edmund with a sigh. "I'm all ears, if you have a better plan."

Lucy didn't; that much was obvious. Edmund hadn't expected it, either, although he had secretly hoped for it; it seemed like such a dishonourable plan they had, based on manipulation and deceit. But it wasn't as if Enzomian didn't deserve it if he refused to negotiate. If only Edmund could talk some sense into the man – then there would be no more bloodshed.

"Ed?"

"Huh?" He looked up to find Lucy standing in front of him with a mug of steaming hot, strong-smelling liquid in her hand. He felt a sudden reluctance to drink the concoction she had brewed for him. But his sister remained quite firm on the topic.

"Either you drink it, or you can forget about being back in command in the morning," she told him.

"You can be worse than our dear Gentle Queen, Lu," he grumbled, before taking the mug from her. Holding his nose with two fingers, he carefully began sipping his tea. He had barely drunk half of it when suddenly a heavy weariness overcame him, and, in a slurred voice, he excused himself to stumble into his tent.

Morning came before he even realised he had fallen asleep.

X

TBC