I would apologize for the long wait. But I think it's been like 3 years since I've even touched this and those apologies would be meaningless when compared with that vast expanse of time. Please enjoy this installment. Please add your prayers for completion of this story to my own.
Standard disclaimers apply: I do not own Narnia and related concepts. No profit is being made. All errors are my own.
Lucy leant into the spray off the bow of the NightSkimmer and smiled. All her ladies were down below in their cabins, victim of the choppy seas they had encountered the day before. Lucy remained at the railing as the crew went about their business behind her. Lost in her thoughts, she failed to hear the captain clearing his throat behind her.
"Er, Your Majesty," he said. "We'll be arriving in Narrowhaven just at nightfall, so if your ladies'll be wishing ta tidy themselves you'll have about three hours afore we tie up at the docks."
"Fair winds, Captain?" Lucy said sardonically. She sighed. "I'll tell them. They'll have to get out into the air or they'll smell of sick when we arrive. Any chance of a bath?"
"Not unless they fancy cold saltwater," he replied dryly. With a long suffering sigh, Lucy turned from the railing and moved skillfully across the rolling deck of the ship and went below.
Her "ladies" had been hastily assembled by Susan from the few suitable families in Narnia. Lucy had argued against there being any need for attendants at all, but Susan applied to Peter, who agreed that it would be quite impossible to travel alone. It was all about keeping up appearances, after all, and forging useful connections with the other young leaders and, Susan ventured to add, having fun. Which was how Lucy found herself accompanied by four girls roughly her own age, none of whom she had met above three times in all their lives.
The stench of vomit and sweat wafted up the stairs and Lucy wrinkled her nose, trying not to gag. She kicked open the door to the cramped room her four ladies in waiting shared. The sight that met her eyes would have been comical if not for the smell.
"Your Majesty!" croaked a thin, dark-haired girl named Drumelsda. A pale, red headed girl named Lavender, one of the twin daughters of the Minister for Forestry and Agriculture pulled herself into a standing position from the low bunk and managed a shaky curtsy. Her twin stood up quickly, banging her head on the low hanging lantern. The final person in the room took no notice of Lucy's entrance, but continued emptying her stomach into the porcelain chamberpot.
"We'll be at Narrowhaven in a few hours. Best get yourselves as neat as you can before we get there. No tub, I'm afraid, so we'll have to wait until we arrive for a bath." Drumelsda dropped a little curtsy and began to gather up the things scattered around the little room. Lucy backed out of the door. Behind her she could hear Drumelsda chivying the others into action.
"Get up, Besela. You can't have anything left in there, anyway. Viola, stop moping about and let's get this all packed away. The sooner we get it done the sooner we can get off this wretched boat." This last was met with a renewed bout of wretching from the miserable Besela. Lucy grimaced and entered her own cabin to pack.
Hours later, the delegation from the court of Doorn met the five women at the dock. Besela and Lavender looked rather pale and drawn and smelled heavily of the rose water they had washed with to cover the smell of sick. Viola was nursing a large bruise on her forehead, although she had combed her hair to cover it as best she could. Drumelsda and Lucy looked almost normal, but for the large shadows under Drumelsda's eyes and the fact that Lucy's hair was heavy with salt beneath the delicate lace cap she wore.
"Welcome, Queen Lucy," said a kindly lady, taking in their appearance and smiling sympathetically. "I expect you and your ladies would like a bath and a warm bed." The five girls looked at her with thankful eyes and faint, flickering smiles.
"Thank you for your thoughtfulness, Lady-"
"Sedgeton," the woman supplied helpfully.
"Lady Sedgeton, of course. We are quite worn out from our journey and would enjoy a brief respite before reentering court life," Lucy's smile was fatigued but genuinely grateful as a footman helped her into a carriage and they set off for the palace.
The ride was fairly silent; Lady Sedgeton seemed to understand the fatigue behind their silence and did not press them for conversation. Fifteen minutes later they rolled into a small courtyard and were ushered quickly through a small entrance hall and into a long, low room full of screens and baskets of towelling.
"Undress," Lady Sedgeton instructed them. "And a maid will show you through to the bathing chamber, there." She indicated a door at the far end of the room then swept back out the way they had come, leaving the five girls standing dazed in the middle of the room.
"Bath?" Viola asked faintly. As if her voice broke some spell, they all began to pull their hair from its pins and help each other out of their dresses. A maid came in to help loosen their laces and carry a basket of towelling into the bathing chamber. The girls raced after her and plunged into the steaming pool of water set in the floor of the vast room.
They took no notice of how the water was constantly clear, of the mere idea of such vast quantities of water, but instead set about scrubbing their hair and bodies with handfuls of scented soaps, sloughing off the salt that three weeks at sea had ingrained into their cells. Time enough later to marvel at the technology, but now the presence of the water melting the aches from their bones was enough for them all.
Half an hour's time found Lucy comfortably ensconced before a fire, drowsing over a letter she had been attempting to write to Edmund. Several crumpled, torn sheets of paper lay strewn about the ground at her feet. Most began with "Tumnus" or "Dear Mr. Tumnus" or "My Dearest Tumnus" and bore many scratchings out. The letter in her lap bore far fewer scratchings out and was almost entirely free of desperate declarations of love.
Dear Edmund,
How trying have been these last weeks onboard! Besela, Viola, even sturdy Lavender all succumbed to sea sickness. Drumelsda seems to have been the least affected, but as such - and in what (I am discovering) is her usual manner- assigned herself as nurse to the others.
I have not yet been on land three hours, yet already I feel as if the sea air is washing away the malaise that had begun to shroud me in Caer Paravel. Doorn is a beautiful island, though I have only yet seen it through the window of a carriage. Lady Sedgeton-a friend of Susan's, I believe-was most kind in welcoming us, but I have not yet seen my host. It seems the old duke is indisposed, though I have not been able to glean any news of what ails him from the maids.
(several lines were marked out and crossed through here)
I hope all is well at home. Although I am enjoying my adventure, I cannot help but feel some homesickness. Have you heard anything about the state of the kingdom? How are the forests? And what of matters of Foreign policy? How is Tumnus (crossed out) How is the new minister taking to his job? I only ask out of
Lucy chewed the end of her quill, slowly, muttering to herself.
"...ask out of curiosity. -idle-curiosity. No..." In the end she scratched through most of the last paragraph and ended the letter with "My heart's dearest wishes for peace and happiness," which she thought, in retrospect, might be a tad overdone.
Setting the letter to Edmund aside, she began a new page with no salutation.
I miss you. I feel the seas between us and wish that Aslan would dry them up so I could come to you and see your face. I would be deaf through all my life hereafter if I might hear your voice for just an hour.
What I mean is, I love you.
And she signed it "Your Lucy."
Before she could cross out this letter too, or throw it aside, there was a sharp knock on the door and a plump lady's maid came in, laying out clothes for the night's coming gala.
"I'm sorry about the mess," Lucy said hesitantly, laying the letter on a paper strewn table and gesturing to the scraps of paper surrounding the fire. The maid looked at Lucy with an expression of surprise.
"I'm a maid, milady - Your Majesty. 'Tis no trouble," she said as she laid out a last, pale stocking. "Only, if you don't mind my saying so, we're all very happy to have Your Majesty here. All of us belowstairs, I mean." The little maid turned down the linens and helped Lucy up the steps into bed, chattering all the while. "It's all so exciting! Queens and ladies and all! And I hope you'll enjoy our little festival, Majesty. It's not so very grand as you're used to but it does for us."
Lucy smiled. "I'm sure it will do quite well for me, too. Thank you all for your kind wishes."
"I'll wake you when your tray's sent up, Majesty. Is there anything else?" The warmth of the bed and the softness of the sheets were intoxicating and Lucy felt the heavy hand of sleep pushing her lids lower and lower.
"A letter," she muttered, gesturing toward the small table near the fire. "Could you post the letter, there, to my brother, Edmund? I've a seal but it's not been unpacked yet..."
"Of course, Your Majesty," the maid said. Curtseying again, she scooped up the sheets of paper from the table and left the room, silently closing the door behind her.