Chapter Twenty-Nine: Home

"Edmund?"

I jerked awake, blinking stupidly as I lifted my head from my folded arms. Gran stood at my side, her hand on my shoulder as she leaned over to catch a look of me. I made a noise and slowly started to move, stretching in place like a cat and rubbing my eyes to clear them. I had fallen asleep at the table in the long house waiting for the inhabitants of the smithy to rouse. Brickit and I had worked all night long and for the life of me I could not remember a single thing he had made, if, indeed, he had made anything at all. We had ended up in here to rest and the moment I put my head down I had succumbed to exhaustion.

I wiped the soot on my face onto my sleeve and ran a hand through my filthy hair before forcing my eyes well open. Gran smiled at my antics and set a plate of food before me. I stared at it, surprised. It was later than I thought and when I looked around I realized that the Dwarfs, all the way down to the youngest children, were present at the table and had been quiet to let me sleep. They were busy eating, but many of them stole glances my way and gradually subdued conversation filled the room when they figured out I was not going to drop off again. Through bleary eyes I stared at my plate of food, knowing I needed to eat but lacking the energy necessary to pick up my fork.

"Eat," said a voice close beside me, and I looked to my left to see Brint in his usual place just beyond Brickit's seat. He leaned across and poured me some beer. I picked up the cup and stared into the murky depths. I could not bring myself to taste it.

"I hate this beer," I finally declared, setting it down. I sounded and felt like an obstinate child.

The master smith frowned at me. "So why didn't you say so before?"

"What?" I exclaimed, turning on him. "I've been complaining about it from the start!"

"The morning after you arrived you said you liked beer!"

"This is not beer! This - this is . . . liquid torture!" I sputtered, not caring in the least that I insulted the smithy's so-called brew master.

He stared at me as if he'd never seen me before. "Then have coffee."

I stared right back. Coffee. They had coffee. For three weeks I'd been drinking bitter, grainy, almost-flat small beer day in, day out, and now, at the eleventh hour, I learned that they had coffee. Words failed me.

"Bly," called Brint, catching his wife's eye as she bent over the fire, "pray bring some coffee for the Spawn."

I was so nonplused I couldn't even thank Bly as she set a steaming mug of coffee, cream, and sugar before me. It was hot, strong, and fresh and quite possibly the best thing that I had tasted in three weeks. I didn't care that I scalded my tongue as I drank.

"You could have told me!" I finally snapped at Brint.

He shrugged in that infuriating way of Dwarfs. "You could have asked."

I grumbled and set to my food with good will. Halfway through the meal I finally asked, "Where is Brickit?"

"Setting our cousins from Moon Mountain straight. They arrived soon after you fell asleep. When he refused them entry to let you rest they started arguing and he dragged them away so as not to disturb you."

"Oh, no." I dropped my head back on my arm, barely missing my plate. "Tell me they're not arguing over me again."

"As you wish: They're not arguing over you."

"Liar."

He chuckled in reply. With a groan I stood, and Brint reached out and seized my arm. "This is his battle, not yours, and he's in fine trim today."

"Brint, I've caused enough grief."

He let go of my arm, smirking. "I wouldn't call what you've caused grief, Edmund."

I gave him a wry smile and climbed over the bench. I was a little light-headed from fatigue as I made my way to the door and I blinked at the brightness of the dawn. It looked to be a beautiful day, a good day to travel. Pausing, I listened. I could hear raised voices close by the entrance of the smithy and I followed the angry sounds. On the far side of the thicket-choked entrance to the compound I saw Brickit and Barret and the same three miners that had been here before. I slowed down before anyone noticed my presence, listening and watching and wondering if coming out here had been wise.

Arms folded across his chest, his long beard flowing almost to his belt and his frizzy hair running rampant, the Chief Smith of the Blue River Smithy was indeed in fine trim. His eyes were bright with suppressed anger and I could read tension in every line of his body. He was listening to Biss. Clearly his cousin could match his ire and I saw Biss gesture and rant, his voice rising up.

". . . insult my brother for the sake of some manling that's been here less than a month and somehow managed to worm his way into your good graces! You grant your countenance too easily, Brickit!"

"Are you so jealous of his presence that you would rather I not grant it at all and alienate our monarchs?" snapped Brickit. "Are you and your brother so short-sighted? Barret looks to be insulted at every turn. He rejected Edmund's knife not on its own merit but because it was the work of Human hands. And damn fine work it was for someone who's never swung a hammer to metal before he came here."

I felt a flush of pleasure at the praise, able to ignore Biss' insulting remarks in light of Brickit's defense of me.

"You go further than can be tolerated! Than will be tolerated! Jealous? Ha! Next you'll be calling him your son and letting him speak in council!" thundered Biss, waving his arms.

Brickit seemed to consider that a fine idea. "And if I take that advice? Then what? Your options are very limited, cousin. You'd speak against your own clan? Remember that a king bears the name Welent now, given him by the Dwarfs here. I doubt he'd take kindly to what you imply."

With a growl Biss said, "I've implied nothing, Chief Smith!"

"See that you don't ever, then. I do not speak for Moon Mountain, Biss, nor do I try to. Don't you try to speak for this smithy. Your brother is not chief here, nor will he ever be. It is not his place to call you every time he's displeased with my decisions." He glared at Barret. "Aslan granted you were born with two feet, Barret. Stand on them. If you're so dissatisfied with your lot here, then pack your tools and return with your brother. I'll not stop you. On the same note, though, I will not abide any insult to my family be they Dwarf, Human, or otherwise."

"You insult your race by naming that manling part of this clan!"

"Do you want to repeat that statement to Beal and Boont?" invited Bricket, effectively stopping Biss in his tracks. "You're very brave when backed by your brother and masters. Allow me to call mine and we'll see how well they receive your opinions."

There was no answer. I couldn't blame Biss. I would not have wanted to tangle with Boont and clearly the miners had no desire to face her either.

Brickit's voice was calm, but I could hear the stubborn finality in his tone. He would discuss this no further. "How I choose to run this smithy and this branch of the clan is my business, cousin. What do you care who sits beside me at meal times? I tell you now, Biss, that boy has done more good in three weeks here than you've done in your whole life."

I blinked, astonished and pleased by his testimonial. I backed away from the meeting and took a seat on a low wall outside the nearest cottage to wait. I could still hear them quite well. Most likely half the smithy could, too.

"Unless you're here to negotiate for another load of ore, Biss, remove yourself from my smithy. And Barret! Think on what I've said as well. I am Chief here and no other. Remember that."

Brickit stalked away through a break in the overgrown hedge, leaving his cousins to see themselves out. He started slightly when he spotted me. Whether it was because I was there waiting for him or awake or if I looked a sight, I could not say, but his anger turned to amusement. He even smiled a bit as he came and sat close beside me, his expression telling me that I was less than presentable at the moment.

"I'm surprised you're up."

I hung my head, my body devoid of energy. "So am I. Gran woke me so I could eat."

"You should get more sleep."

I shrugged. Sleep sounded wonderful right now, but I wanted to talk instead. My tired mind just couldn't find the right words.

"I'm sorry if I caused you any trouble with your cousins," I finally managed.

He turned on me sharply. I blinked as he pointed a stubby finger in my face. "Don't you apologize for their misconduct, Edmund," he said fiercely. "You've done naught wrong, and more right than you know." Realizing that he was actually yelling at me, Brickit calmed himself. "Besides, it's an old feud, an old jealousy that you revived."

I could tell he very much wanted me to ask what it was about. I said nothing, letting him stew for a little while. He was growing increasingly agitated. When he couldn't take it any more, he elbowed me in the ribs.

"Well?"

With a laugh I asked, "So what makes Biss so jealous? Is it your dashing good looks or that rapier wit?"

"Beyond those, which, I may add, were well guessed, our dear cousin Biss has had a marriage suit rejected not only by my dear Blaine but by Bly as well and more recently -"

"Boont?" I ventured cautiously. Brickit nodded and I winced. "Oh."

"One's pride doesn't recover so easily from such smart blows," he agreed, "especially pride on a scale such as Biss possesses. So many refusals should come as a sign for him to mend his rude ways. And now his chiefest rivals . . . have you, king and kinsman and manling."

I snorted at his gentle teasing and leaned heavily into my hand. Manling. It was a silly word. "Such a prize."

He gazed upon me, and he was perfectly serious as he said, "I can name none greater."

"It has been a good three weeks," I replied. "I've learned a great deal."

He scuffed at the mossy ground. "As have I."

"Thank you for showing me how to make a knife. Maybe I'll do better next time."

"La, you will," he assured me. "Not that this try is any call for shame."

We fell silent, neither sure what to say, neither of us quite willing to face the fact that I had to leave.

"I am glad you came," Brickit admitted softly, staring out across the smithy. "And yet more glad that you stayed."

"I'll be back."

"I know," said the Chief Smith, and he smiled.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Celer was at the head of the troop of soldiers that arrived an hour later to escort me on the two-day ride home. There were a great many of them, far more than brought me here, and I sensed the first inkling of the gigantic ado Peter was going to make over me. Clearly telling him that he could fuss to his heart's content had been a mistake.

The Faun captain grinned widely as he greeted me and I realized at that moment that I had truely been missed in Cair Paravel. It was a good feeling even though I knew I would be missed by the Dwarfs here as well. Phillip nuzzled me warmly and snorted at my dusty clothes before he wandered off to harrass Brickit a final time. I hastily and haphazardly packed my things, taking care with the necklaces and silver rings and knife and stuffing everything else into the saddle bags by brute force. Shafelm I strapped around my waist before I darted outside to find that everyone in the smithy had turned out to see me off. Some, like Bort and Barret, seemed glad to get rid of me. Others were not so pleased to see me leave. Baia turned her face up to me for a kiss on the cheek, and I kissed Bly and Gran as well, thanking them for their hospitality. Not a one of them said good-bye, but many of them wished me a fair journey and a safe return.

The moment I swung up into the saddle I knew I was going to be sore by the time I saw the Eastern Sea again. I had not said farwell to Brickit, nor would I. Instead I smiled at him where he stood with Brint and Gran.

"I'll keep the Bats busy if you will," I proposed.

"Done, Spawn," he replied gruffly.

"Aslan between you and evil, Chief Smith."

"May He stand between you and evil as well, Edmund of Clan Welent."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

We were six hours west of Cair Paravel when a shrill cry caught our attention. Looking up into the noon sky, I saw a Gryphon scout wheel upon the wind.

"Cyn?" I wondered, looking to Celer.

The Faun shook his head. "Manon, Sire." He smiled. "Your family must be just ahead."

I found myself smiling back. "Thank you for the warning, Captain."

Minutes later we heard hoofbeats, then shouts and laughter, and then on the road ahead I could see the unmistakable form of Peter on his black mare Jett, reigning the big horse hard back so as not to outstrip (or trample) Lucy's little palfrey. My heart leaped at the sight of them and I instantly yelled,

"Hi, Phillip! Run!"

The good Horse obliged me, letting out a neigh as he raced ahead of the soldiers. Peter was waving and called my name long and loud, giving Jett her head. We met midway between us. My joy at seeing my brother again was matched only by his joy at seeing me, and I could not reach him fast enough. He was dismounting before Jett stopped and the moment my feet touched the ground I was enveloped in a crushing hug that I returned with all the force that I could.

Suddenly Peter stiffened. Then he coughed. Then he gagged. Just as quickly as I'd been seized, I was at arm's length and my older brother was gulping for breath. Finally he raised his head, staring at me. There were tears in his eyes and they weren't quite tears of happiness.

"When is the last time you had a bath?" he wheezed.

Oh, dear. "Um . . ." I tried to remember. "When I left?"

"You're riding downwind all the way home."

Then Peter laughed, held his breath, and hugged me again even tighter.