AN: Wow, guys, thank you so much for the amazing positive feedback I've been getting for this story, it means the world to me! Now, it's that time of day...
Ed: She does not own anything in the Narnia universe blah blah blah.
Me: Now, Ed, no need to be- wait what?
Ed: Yes, I did your stupid disclaimer, can I go now?
Me: No, there's still a lot more to go! But now you've shown you can and will disclaim..
Ed: Oh for the love of Alsan...
It was a hot day that the four Pevensies had been ripped away from the train station by a mystical force and thrown onto a beach, the kind of hot that fried small microorganisms to a crisp and fried the brains of humans until they made poor decision such as skinny dipping in public ponds or streaking across busy roads and whatnot. Edmund was only vaguely aware of the heat as he stood knee-deep in the turquoise ocean, trying to think, and trying to ignore his siblings who were frolicking a little way behind him.
"Ed!" called Susan, "Come here! Peter's got sand in his eyes!"
Edmund groaned.
"What are you thinking about Ed?" Peter yelled from his spot in the sea.
"I'm trying to work out where we are," Edmund answered, squinting upwards to the top of the cliff that loomed above them.
"Where do you think?" snorted Peter condescendingly.
Edmund sighed. "I am aware that we are in Narnia, Peter, but considering the fact that you were 'supreme monarch' of this realm for some twenty years, you should be aware that Narnia is fairly big, so I am trying to work out exactly where we are. Besides," Edmund pointed up the cliff, "I don't remember any ruins in Narnia. You know. Because we rode all around the land for twenty years. And never saw any ruins. This kind of rings an alarm bell."
Three blank faces stared back at him.
"Oh for the love of... I'm saying we should go check it out," groaned Edmund, raising his eyes to the heavens, mentally asking why, why his siblings were so... slow.
It took the better part of two hours to get up the cliff, because Peter insisted on climbing up the cliff face instead of trekking up through the woodland route. Sadly, since Edmund was the only one who knew how to rock climb, this plan was severely flawed. Anyway, the foursome somehow made it to the ruins- which were extensive, and riddled with an overgrown apple orchard-, and divided up to explore the area.
About ten minutes later, Susan was waving something shiny in the air. "Look what I found, look what I found!" she cried.
"What is it?" asked Lucy curiously.
"That's mine," said Edmund as he approached, for the object was a gold chess knight, "from my chess set."
"What chess set?" asked Peter blankly.
"Well, I didn't exactly have a solid gold chess set in Finchley, did I?" replied Edmund curtly.
"Yes, but-"
"Look, the point is, there's something off here!" snapped Edmund. "This place feels familiar, almost like..."
"OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD!" shrieked Lucy, before somehow managing to grab each one of her siblings and forcibly place them on a stone dais in the middle of the courtyard. "Look, look, look, look, look! The hypothetical architecture in my head leads me to conclude that this place is CAIR PARAVEL!"
Edmund blinked. "That is bizarre logic, but in this instance, I agree with you. This can only be Cair Paravel."
Peter snorted. "No it can't! Cair Paravel never looked like this- there were towers and stuff!"
Edmund plucked an apple from a nearby tree and threw it at Peter's face. Edmund felt a pang of guilt as the apple smashed across his brothers nose- the apple hadn't done anything wrong.
"I wonder if Cair Paravel was attacked..." mused Edmund, scanning the ruins.
"Yeah, by dirty great cannons," cried Peter, "cannons could do this much damage!"
"They could, over a sustained period" conceded Edmund, "except for there are no cannon balls. Besides this isn't what cannon damage typically looks like, you would normally find wearing at the walls of a-"
"God, Ed, you're such a pathetic geek," sighed Susan, "it's why you're still single."
"You're still single," Edmund pointed out, "and I don't even think you can read, so what's your excuse?"
Susan turned an interesting shade of magenta. "Well... it's not like you have any other suggestions!" she snapped.
"I do, actually. Time runs differently in Narnia than it does in our world, yes?"
A murmur of tentative consensus greeted this statement.
"Well, if the twenty odd years we spent in Narnia passed in less than an hour back home, how many years do you think could have passed in Narnia after a year back home?"
Edmund felt a grim satisfaction as the light of revelation slowly ignited his siblings faces.
"So now what?" asked Lucy.
"Well," said Edmund, turning to face the ivy-smothered wall, "the treasury should be there, hidden behind the ivy on the wall. We can get supplies and things from there."
"Tally-ho!" cried Peter.
Edmund shuddered as he almost saw what was left of Peter's dignity trickle away. "Never again," he said tersely, "will you use the phrase tally-ho in the presence of another living thing. Now come on."
The siblings traipsed up to the wall. Susan squinted. "I don't see it."
Edmund sighed, reached forward, and brushed some ivy to the side, revealing a crumbling wooden door.
"Ah!" cried Lucy.
"Ooooh," exclaimed Edmund.
"Nope, still don't see it," muttered Susan, frowning.
"As an archer, shouldn't you have better eyesight?" questioned Edmund.
Susan chose to utilise selective hearing. Then again, Edmund doubted she knew what that was, so she was probably just ignoring him.
"Well, do you have the key?" asked Peter.
"Nope," said Edmund.
"God, Ed, how could you be so careless? You lost the key!"
"After a thousand Narnian years spent in another kingdom, yes, yes I have."
"Well now what?" cried Peter hysterically. "We'll never get in!"
"We're finished!" shrieked Lucy, "the world will burn!"
Edmund tapped the door. The rotten splintered.
"Oh," Peter gave a sniff. "Well," he said, cheering up, "we still need a light!" Before Edmund could speak he ripped his shirt off, revealing all the glory of his pale, scrawny chest and stomach that had, for some doubtless pathetic reason, a band-aid across the belly-button. He managed to tear a strip off the shirt, and wrapped it around a stick he found. "Anyone got a match?"
"No," said Edmund slowly, the hint of a grin bleeding into his voice, "but would this help?" He waved the torch that he had in his satchel.
"You might have mentioned that a bit sooner!" protested Peter.
Edmund could have, but he wasn't going to let an opportunity to watch Peter make a fool of himself slip away.
"Peter, just open the bloody trunk," snapped Edmund. Peter was standing absurdly dramatically over the trunk in his designated alcove, waiting for all 3 of his siblings to open theirs. Edmund had already changed into his blue Narnian tunic, and strapped his sword belt around his waist by the time Peter opened the lid. "And just why," asked Edmund, "are you drawing your sword and shield out in slow-mo?"
"Shut it, Ed, you're ruining the effect!" snapped Peter.
Edmund rolled his eyes. "If you mean the effect that makes you look like a self-obsessed twat, then I'm doing you a favour."
"Guys..." Susan drawled morosely- she was still bummed about the loss of that bloody hunting horn that she had used precisely twice in her time as Queen- after she changed into a pretty dress that made absolutely no sense for wandering around outdoors, "can we go now?"
"Go where?" snapped Edmund.
"Um... not important!" she retorted.
"That's brilliant," Edmund muttered, but could not be asked to argue anymore. "But guys," he added, "wouldn't make sense to take some of the other incredibly useful stuff down here, like extra clothes, silk sheets, gold, spare weapons and-"
"Oh do be quiet Ed," interjected the youngest Pevensie, "you're just eager to get more stuff because Father Christmas never gave you anything."
Edmund stared hard at Lucy, trying to fathom whether or not she was serious. Of course she was. He shook his head, in his trademark 'I-am-so-bloody-done-with-this' manner.
The siblings all traipsed off out of the dingy treasury, Edmund quietly packing his satchel with supplies as they did, and walked for a while. Edmund only managed to stop them from punctuating the already arduous trek with whinges of "where are we even going?" and "are we there yet?" by threatening to decapitate the next person who opened their mouths to complain. Eventually they came to a riverbank. Someone suggested a rest stop, and everyone gladly accepted. As they were about to sit down, Edmund spotted something in the river. "Guys, what is that?" He pointed to the direction he was looking in. None of his siblings spoke. He rolled his eyes. "Oh for God's sake, I'm not really going to decapitate you!"
They all relaxed.
"At least not yet," muttered Edmund too low for any of them to hear. He craned his neck to see: a pair of soldiers had someone gagged and bound suspended above the water. Before he had time to shout, he was forced to jump wildly to the side as an arrow sailed past his head, narrowly missing taking his ear with it.
Astoundingly, the arrow landed one of the soldiers in the shoulder and knocked him into the river. "DROP HIM!" screamed Susan, aiming a second arrow at the other soldier.
Edmund facepalmed. "Susan, that is exactly what they were going to do to kill him."
The soldier shrugged. "OKAY!" he yelled, dropping the prisoner into the river then diving off.
"DON'T WORRY I'M COMING FOR YOU!" screamed Peter, tearing his tunic off and leaping into the river, obviously hoping to look like Mr. Darcy. This effect would have been more easily achieved if Peter could actually swim. Edmund watched in a mixture of fascination and horror as Peter attempted to drag the prisoner out of the water whilst almost drowning himself. He shrugged to himself, and waded into the water to pull the boat to shore. Then he used the oar of the boat to fish Peter and the prisoner out.
Peter collapsed on the beach, spluttering. "I could have died!" he rasped.
"So close," sighed Edmund, "and yet so far." He bent to cut the rope around the prisoner's hands.
The prisoner, tore his bondages off and sputtered with rage. "Drop him?" he cried incredulously, "those buffoons were doing a good enough job murdering me on their own!"
"A simple thank you would suffice!" cried Susan, equally indignant.
"You did almost get him killed," pointed out the younger Pevensie brother.
The prisoner stood, and drew himself to his full height.
"Oh goodness!" cried Lucy, "you're a dwarf!"
"Lucy!" gasped Peter, "take that back at once!"
Lucy's cheeks coloured, and her pearly little hands flew to her face. "Oh, I do beg your pardon," she cried, "I meant to say- you're vertically challenged!"
The man looked at her blankly. "What?"
"It simply isn't politically correct to call someone a dwarf," explained Peter, patiently, "the correct term is vertically challenged."
Edmund groaned. "No, Peter you wanker, that term refers to people with the hereditary condition! This is an actual dwarf!"
"Edmund!" chastised Susan, "apologise!"
The dwarf frowned. "I am a dwarf." His tone made it clear that he doubted the sanity of 3 out of the 4 Pevensie children.
"Now, now," said Lucy to the man kindly, "there's no need to talk yourself down just because nasty people like him do."
"Lucy, you idiot," Edmund's patience was wearing as thin as Peter's intellect, "in Narnia, dwarves are another species. They are not human."
Peter puffed his chest out, enraged. Then he drew his sword. "I have had quiet enough of your slander about Tyrion here!"
"My name's Trumpkin!" protested the dwarf, "where in the name of Nebuchadnezzar did Tyrion come from?"
"He's trying to be nice!" hollered Lucy at Trumpkin.
Trumpkin, who had turned to Peter in exasperation, jumped suddenly. "Are you serious?" he groaned, poiting at the distinctive lion-headed pommel of Peter's sword, "you're kings and queens of old?"
Peter adjusted himself to try look important. "High King Peter," he said, "the Magnificent." He looked smug.
The dwarf simply raised an eyebrow. "I refuse to believe that you are what I almost died for."
Peter bristled, and drew his sword. "I shall prove it!"
Trumpkin gave a sinister grin. "Okay!"
Edmund was just beginning to relax, prepared to see Peter's arse get whipped, when Peter gulped and said: "I mean... he'll prove it!"
Both Trumpkin and Edmund stared at him.
"Are you that bad?" demanded Trumpkin.
"Peter, how are you supposed to prove that you're the High King if you let your younger brother fight instead of you?"
Peter looked blank for a moment before thrusting his sword at Trumpkin. "Come on then!"
Sighing, Edmund drew his sword. The dwarf stumbled with Peter's, but then attacked Edmund with surprising force.
Lucy started shrieking for no reason in particular, but once Edmund recovered from the schock, he felt old muscles reawaken, as he disarmed the dwarf in a matter of seconds.
The dwarf only looked stunned a moment before promptly dropping to his knees. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
"For the love of Aslan," said Edmund, "I didn't defeat you that badly."
"It's not that," howled the dwarf, "it's that now I have to acknowledge that he-" Trumpkin pointed at Peter in disgust, "is the High King of Narnia, on whom we're counting to save us."
After glancing at Peter, who was dabbing his homemade lavender, thyme and lemon solution onto his hand-embroidered satin handkerchief to dap at the rust on the sheath of his sword, Edmund promptly dropped to his knees beside Trumpkin and buried his head in his hands.
