Author's Notes
Disclaimers: CS Lewis owns The Chronicles of Narnia, not I. The American Heritage Dictionary owns the definition of "unconscionable," not I (I don't know whether I have to cover dictionary definitions or not, but I did quote directly, so...). The (3) in quotations indicates a direct quote from the American Heritage Dictionary. Please let me know if I have quoted or formatted anything incorrectly.
Rated: T for a reference to the death of a Calormene soldier and an enemy in one of the chapters, reference to a past encounter with a bully, and general angstiness.
Spoiler Alert: If you have not yet seen or read Prince Caspian or The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Major Spoilers Ahead!
Now for the fun part!
Hello and thank you to the 2 of you who have already reviewed Chapter 1! I did not expect to get reviewers so soon. If you're reading this, I can assume you were intrigued enough to come back for more! I love the idea of names and their meanings, and I'm glad to see I'm not the only one.
As always, please review and offer whatever criticism you like.
Please enjoy! Chapter 3 is almost done!
Edmund sat tapping his pencil against a library table, hurriedly doing a trigonometry equation in his head before scribbling down an answer. He didn't bother to check it twice. Like Lucy, mathematics had come easily for him since Narnia. Too easily. Sometimes he copied down his assignments and mailed them to her at the girls' school, so that she could have the pleasure of working equations without having to remember that she was supposed to be only twelve years old and not very good at math.
"How many other families have that kind of problem," he muttered.
Edmund scratched down the last answer and shoved his paper away. "So that's done," he sighed. He rubbed his fingers through his thick black curls. "Now for something of an actual challenge…" He hadn't the foggiest what his name meant, nor his brother and sisters', much less whether or not they lived up to them. It intrigued him. This was one assignment he couldn't honestly "forget" to do, as he sometimes found necessary. Getting up, he walked to the reference section, where a slim book about names and their historical significance had been swarmed over by a dozen or so boys over the past hour. Edmund had waited until the others were gone before taking his turn.
Lucy first, he decided. He flipped to the girls' section of the book, to the letter "L." His finger skimmed down the page. Luana, Lucretia, Lucy… Edmund stared in surprise. The definition was short. But apt.
Lucy – Bringer of Light. Of Latin origin.
"By the Lion," Edmund whispered. Lucy. The one who had led him to Narnia, to the lamp post, to the truth, to Aslan himself. In his mind's eye he saw his sister's shining face when she spotted Aslan across the gorge and insisted that her brothers and sister follow Him. He saw the glow in her eyes when she told him of the albatross that had circled the mast of the Dawn Treader and whispered in her heart before leading them away forever from the Island of Darkness.
Bringer of Light, indeed.
Edmund copied the definition down carefully, then thumbed through the book until he came to "S." He scanned the page.
Susan – Graceful Lily. Of Hebrew origin.
He smiled. Susan. The flower of the family, the delicate one. Sought after by suitors, in Narnia and in England, he thought wryly. Beautiful, pure, fluent in motion and speech. Even when shooting an arrow into the side of an enemy, she never lost the dignified expression that showed she was doing all in Aslan's name. Graceful. Yes, it suited her. He wrote it down.
"And now, Pete," Edmund murmured. He flipped through the book, went too far, came back… ah, here it was!
Peter – Rock. Of Latin origin.
Edmund laughed and thumped the page. "By Aslan!" His whoop drew the attention of several other boys, not to mention a scowling librarian. He ducked his head apologetically, then scribbled down the definition, chuckling. Just wait until he showed this to Peter, back in the room they shared in the dormitory! He could just see Pete's face going red as he, Edmund, explained that he was going to write a paper for class about his strong, noble, steadfast big brother. For Peter was all of that and more, more solid than the great carved stones that made up Castle Cair Paravel. The High King was the high ground of this family of four. Pete was the champion of his younger siblings, and it was high time, Edmund decided with a wicked grin, that he knew it. That would make the dignified High King Peter blush, now wouldn't it?
Lights began to go out, the five-minute-warning that the library was closing. Edmund gasped and looked at the clock. So late already! He sped to the "E" section of the book, past Edbert, Eden, Edgar…
Edmund – Protector. Of Old English origin.
"Protector." Edmund blinked and shook his head. No, no, it must be a mistake. He looked again.
Protector.
Edmund's mind reeled. I, the traitor child? I, the one who turned my brother and sisters in for Turkish Delight? I, the one who sat on the White Witch's throne – if only for a moment – and craved it more than the love of my family? I, "Protector?" He wanted to laugh, shake it off, dismiss it as a fluke. What did his professor know any way? It was just a crazy assignment, right? He would have scoffed had he not felt so horribly shaken.
The lights blinked on and off. One-minute-warning. Gasping, he scooped up his books and scurried for the door. Halfway there he came to a halt in front of a dictionary on a stand, remembering the professor's lecture. He flipped open the pages, fingers shaking as he skimmed down the page.
"Unconscionable – not restrained by conscience; unscrupulous. (3)"
Edmund stared for a long moment. Then he put his head down on the page.
"Oh, Aslan," he moaned. "That is the proper definition for me."