A/N: Whoa, aren't you guys lucky! Two updates in as many days! Of course, with tonight being New Year's Eve, and everyone being up late anyway, you'll all have plenty of time to read and review! :D …Right?

Anyway, here's wishing you all a very happy and prosperous 2009! Thanks for sticking with this story for that long! I hope it's been as much worth your while as it is mine. As the Dutch say, Ik hoop u een zeer gelukkig nieuw jaar!

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Enna was woken a half-hour later by a gentle hand at her forehead. Blinking sleepily and shivering as she poked her nose out from under the warm blankets, Enna saw through bleary eyes Aramir's dark ones, peering concernedly down at her.

"I'm sorry to wake you, lass," he said kindly, brushing a strand of hair off her cheek, "but I think you ought to eat. Lillah's been good enough to bring up a tray for you."

Enna's whole body rebelled at the idea of sitting up, though her stomach rumbled faintly. "Please, Aramir, I'm…I'm so tired."

"If you set it down there, could you stir up the fire?" His question was directed at the faun, and Enna heard her carry out his request. "Just a few bites, that's all I ask," he said, turning back to her and holding her hand until she opened her eyes again. "By the lion, you're iller than I thought."

"More ill," Enna corrected automatically, and attempted to turn her back to him.

"Either way." Aramir caught her shoulder and slipped an arm under her, forcing her into a half-sitting position which she couldn't have maintained if he hadn't held her up. "Here, Lillah, bring that tray here, would you?"

Enna fought to keep her hands from shaking, though her whole body was trembling. "It's so cold in this room."

She felt his hand at her forehead again. "You're burning up, Enna."

"I feel like I'm freezing."

Lillah set the tray atop Aramir's knees, and he took the crumpled paper containing the necklace from her hand and replaced it with a rough cup. "Drink something, lass."

Obediently, she took a sip or two of the water, its coolness a welcome sensation to her dry mouth. "There."

"All of it."

Enna rolled her eyes and slowly drank the rest of the cup's contents while Aramir waited patiently. "Happy?"

"A bit." He took the cup from her. "Now I want you to eat a bit of soup."

"Oh, Aramir, I want me to sleep."

She tried to snuggle back down into the warmth of her bed, but he held her tightly and pulled her back up. "Not until you get something substantial in your stomach."

Eating was the last thing she wanted to do at that moment, but Enna was much too tired to protest, so she obediently ate a few mouthfuls of the lukewarm soup that Lillah had brought. "There."

"Better?"

"No," she sighed, fighting a quiver.

Aramir touched her head again, and his cool palm felt nice against her blazing flesh. "Then try to sleep, I suppose. You're awfully pale."

Enna didn't answer at first, her eyelids sagging with exhaustion. "I'm awfully cold, too." Her face felt all hot, but she couldn't seem to get the rest of herself warm.

Aramir shifted slightly on the bed, allowing her to rest her head on the pillow again, though his arm kept her in a surprisingly restful semi-upright position. "I'll stay here until you fall asleep, then. I'll make sure the fire stays built up."

This sounded very good to Enna, who was just starting to get warm and very sleepy. Swallowing against her inflamed throat, she nodded and put her head on Aramir's comfortable shoulder. (It occurred vaguely to her that he might not appreciate her breathing so close to him, but at the moment, his future health was the last thing on her mind.) Nevertheless, he tolerated it well, even reaching over and pulling the blankets up to her chin and tucking them securely around her. Being so snug and relaxed, it was only a few moments before Enna had drifted off to sound, dreamless sleep.

She woke later feeling rather on the mend and extremely cozy. Aramir had stayed true to his word—Lillah and the tray were gone, and the fire sputtering in the hearth, but he was still by her side, his cheeks flushed with sleep and his breath coming in long, slow sighs. Enna smiled to herself, pulling a blanket up over his shoulder. How late had she slept? She couldn't see out the window from where she sat, but the red light glowing on the opposite wall indicated late afternoon.

Aramir shifted a little in his sleep, turning more towards her, and she adjusted the blanket accordingly. The poor dear probably didn't need the sleep, but she wasn't about to ruin such a sweet picture by waking him. Rather, she leaned over and retrieved the book she'd been reading—A Detailed History of and Guide to the Usage of Narnian Weaponry, by one Carrik Cathmor. It read dryly, that was true, but Enna found the bits about how men's armor could be easily adapted to protect the female form extremely interesting. In Galma, only wealthy men outfitted the army, and at that it was a very small one. Her father and uncle had both served limited terms, but from what she remembered of their armor, it was mainly leather gauntlets and a stout shield.

The sturdy youth drawn in the book to demonstrate Narnian battle dress was outfitted in an odd sleeveless jerkin of scarlet, the chest covering bearing a striking image of a golden lion, his legs and arms draped in a most curious mantle of what seemed to be tiny metal rings. In his hand he held aloft a sharp-tipped broadsword, and strange-looking metal plates were stacked upon his straight shoulders. Under his arm was a gold-embossed helmet, and a thick belt at his waist held a scabbard, and against his booted legs rested a shield of steel, a scarlet rampant lion emblazoned across the surface. The caption, written in an elegant hand, read, "His Majesty King Peter the Magnificent, High King of Narnia, Emperor of the Lone Islands, Lord of Cair Paravel, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, in Full Battle Regalia."

Enna shivered and turned the page, glad she would never have to see him or any other Narnian dressed in such a way.

"You look better."

She was surprised to see Aramir looking up at her, eyes bleary with sleep. "I do feel better."

"You don't sound better, though," he teased through a yawn. "I could reasonably compare you to a sick hound."

"Excuse me, kind sir?"

"Just the truth, lass," he replied, rolling out from under the covers and standing, his nice new jerkin and tunic rumpled and messy. "But you seem to have gotten your spunk back, that's a good sign, I suppose."

Enna threw the book at him. "Oh, go on and leave, then!"

"But then who will you use as target practice, my lady?"

"I'll manage."

He swept a low bow. "As my lady wishes."

"And good riddance!" she called after him as he shut the door. Shaking her head, she gathered her strength and climbed out of bed, chuckling slightly to herself. He is a nice boy, she thought as she slowly removed her nightgown, selecting her comfiest white underdress and a plain-fronted lichen-green gown to don in its place. She ought to at least make an appearance, though she was still rather tired and under the weather.

Wrapping a warm woolen shawl about her shoulders, Enna opened the door and padded down the corridor, feeling the chill of the cold stones through her leather shoes. It was never cold like this in Galma, the one thing she missed.

As she descended the staircase, the sounds of the castle became louder and louder. There were laughter and delicious smells wafting up from the banquet hall, and her footsteps quickened. Aramir was good company, but she almost missed the hustle and bustle of the other Narnians.

The constant feast was still in full swing when she came into the banquet hall, as the occupants of the castle were encouraged to eat as much as they wanted whenever they wanted, part of the monarchs' gifts to their subjects. The four Pevensies were lounging on cushy chairs on the royal dais together, and a group of dryads were playing their reed flutes in the corner. Sidestepping a couple of tussling faun-children, Enna found herself a seat next to the centauress Rosandrine, who was apparently taking a break from her cook's duties. "Happy Christmas, Rosa."

"Enna, darling! Happy Christmas! I was beginning to think that I wouldn't see you today. Oh, dear, have you been ill?"

"A bit," Enna admitted. "Just a little choler."

Rosandrine tsked sympathetically and touched Enna's cheek. "You were fevered, poor thing, I tell by your eyes. Have you eaten?"

"A bit, aye."

"That sailor lad Aramir came to ask me for soup," Rosa mused. "Was that for you?"

"Aye."

"Ah, a good lad he is. I wondered at first, but took a chance and put some of my influenza herbs in the broth. I see it helped!"

Enna smiled. "Thank you. I do feel better."

Rosandrine patted her hand. "Drink a little tea, dear. It'll help that raspy voice."

Enna obeyed, and was sipping quietly from the glass when Peter came down from the dais and approached her, holding something behind her back. "Happy Christmas, Enna!"

"And to you, Peter," she answered with a smile.

He grinned and came to sit by her. "Have you heard? The ice floes have broken on the Sea. The centaurs are estimating about four weeks before the waterways become impassable again."

"Scarcely enough time for lengthy travel," she replied.

"Yes, but plenty time for trade to make it from our ports to Archenland's. A shipment of Archenlandian wheat and cloth is expected within the week, and our tradesmen have already prepared cargos of glass and metalwork."

"That's wonderful," Enna said sincerely.

"And this means that when the time comes for the Great Snow Dance, the moon will be clear and bright. Although, the snow is melting so quickly I think the Great Snow Dance will have to be greatly postponed."

"'Great Snow Dance'?" Enna repeated. "What's that?"

"Oh, Enna, it's simply wonderful," he replied. "On the first moonlit night of the year, if there's snow on the ground, we gather for a feast. A group of dwarfs, all dressed in their finest, dance in a circle and throw snowballs in time to the liveliest music. No one gets hit if everyone is in time!"

Enna smiled. "It sounds delightful, Peter."

"It is. I hope you're able to see it. Oh, that reminds me. Here." He drew from behind his back two large, funnily shaped, paper-wrapped packages, and set another aside. "This is for Aramir."

"Oh…Peter—" Enna looked up at him, biting her lip. "I—"

"It's not from me, don't fret. Father Christmas left it for you."

"Father Christmas?"

"Yes. He's a short, fat fellow with a thick white beard, and he brings gifts for Narnians every year."

"I see." Enna turned to the gifts and tore back the wrapping on the largest, flattest one. To her bewilderment, she found that it was a slender longbow, painted a dark red and branded with gold vines and branches all up and around the sturdy body.

Peter was astonished, as well. "By the lion, Enna."

"I…I don't even know how to arch," she said weakly, Peter taking the bow from her hands and looking it up and down with an expert eye.

"It's yew. Very resilient."

"Aye."

"Oh…look. There's a motto imprinted here."

Enna got up and peered at the weapon. "'Victoria Usquequaque ut Rectus, cui Leo pluo suus bona'. Well, what do you suppose that means?"

Peter looked at the inscription, his brow furrowed. "Victory…something…on which the Lion…something else I don't understand. This language seems very familiar, and yet…I can't understand it all."

"It's nothing like Calormene," Enna said.

"Could it be an island tongue?"

"All the island tongues are similar, and this one bears hardly any resemblance to ancient Galmanian."

"How odd. Well, open the other, see if it gives any clue."

Enna tore the wrapping on the other package only to find a quiver full of white-fletched arrows, molded out of red leather and sporting the same gold embossing that the bow itself was. "This one's got an inscription, too," Enna said. "'Leo est supremus totus alius, is quos ego servo plene'."

"The Lion is above all…something…I serve…something." Peter sighed in frustration. "I simply can't translate those few verbs and nouns, and it destroys the whole meaning."

"If I could simply know what I am to do with these, it would make me very happy, indeed," Enna said fretfully.

Peter looked over at her. "I don't think Father Christmas gives idle gifts, Enna. Perhaps you are going to be in need of these one day."

"Oh? Are you planning to be behead me for real?"

Peter laughed. "No, not if you behave yourself. But really," he went on, sobering. "When I was…oh, fourteen, I believe, and first came into Narnia, when the White Witch's hold was still strong on this land, I and my royal siblings met Father Christmas on our way to the Stone Table. He gave myself a sword, Rhindon, and a shield. To my sister Susan, he gave a horn and a bow and ivory quiver, just like you. To my sister Lucy, he gave a bottle of medicinal cordial and a dagger."

"And? Did you use them to protect yourself from fresh monarchs with a penchant for beheading young maidens?"

He grinned. "Not exactly. But everything came in extremely handy during the battle for Narnia…Rhindon destroyed the Witch's power, Susan's bow killed many of our foes, and Lucy's cordial saved my brother Edmund's life."

"Why didn't Edmund receive a gift from Father Christmas?" Enna asked, curious.

Peter's brow furrowed a bit. "He wasn't with us at the time. Perhaps I'll explain it all later."

"Well, all right….I do see how Father Christmas' gifts come in useful, but do you really think I'll have need of these?"

"I see no immediate danger, no," Peter admitted. "Narnia is quite secure. But…perhaps you ought to learn how to use them."

"Oh, Peter…"

"Oh, Enna. I think it is a valuable skill to have, in case something does go poorly, maybe even later in your life."

Enna sighed. "All right."

"After all, these are fine specimens," Peter said. "We have excellent equipment here at the castle for our occupants, but this bow and quiver are finer than that. This is royal standard, here."

Running her hand over the cool wood, Enna nodded. "They are fine-looking."

"Oh, here comes Aramir," Peter said, standing. "Happy Christmas!"

"Happy Christmas, sire!" Aramir called, bowing while still a few meters away. He did look very nice in his new attire, Enna thought happily. "Ah, I see my patient is still alive."

"I'm a bit ill," Enna admitted to Peter with a shrug.

"I was wondering why you sounded a bit hoarse."

Aramir grinned at the laconic look on Enna's face. "I had to nearly shove her breakfast down her throat, Your Majesty."

"I see it worked."

"Aye. Poor Enna, being ill on Christmas Day."

"That reminds me, Aramir," Peter said. "Father Christmas left a gift for you last night. Here you are." He handed the long, flat package to Aramir.

"I'm afraid I didn't get Father Christmas anything," Aramir said, sitting on Enna's other side and tearing the paper away from the thin box.

"Oh, hush and open it."

Grinning, Aramir pulled the lid from the box. His grin disappeared quickly.

"What is it?" Enna asked.

In answer, Aramir set the box on the table and pulled out a glittering longsword, the smooth steel rasping slightly against the box as he removed it. "I believe it's a sword, Enna."

Peter gave a low whistle. "Would you look at that."

Enna leapt up and pulled the blade down so she could look at it, holding it gingerly. "Look, Peter, there's an inscription in the same language."

"The same?" Aramir said. "What do you mean?"

"'Vir ut insisto Leo mos have totus semita no rectus pro is.'"

"The man that follows the Lion will have all…oh, by the lion's mane, that's all I know. Bugger."

"I received a bow and quiver from Father Christmas," Enna told Aramir, letting go of the sword. "It was inscribed with two mottos, neither of which we can understand. Peter wonders if I should learn to arch."

"I don't wonder, I strongly think," Peter replied.

Aramir turned the sword, looking at its gold and silver hilt—it was longer than Enna's arm. "It seems fit for a king."

"There's its name," Peter said, pointing to the blade. "Arondight."

"Arondight," Aramir repeated. "This is really mine?"

Peter nodded, and Aramir pulled his scabbard from the box, sliding it back onto the blade until it locked securely at the hilt. "Perhaps I should learn to wield a sword, eh?"

"I'd be glad to teach you," Peter said.

Enna was silently comparing their gifts. Aramir's scabbard was of the same glossy red leather as her quiver, and bore the same gold pattern. The workmanship was identical. Did that mean something?

"Well, I think I'll return to my siblings, then" Peter said, bowing slightly. "Happy Christmas."

Enna curtsied and Aramir bowed, both rather distracted by their fine but rather worrying gifts. "What do you think this means?" Enna asked as Peter walked away.

"I don't know," Aramir said, reaching around and buckling Arondight to his belt. "But I think Peter's right—we ought to learn how to use these correctly."

Enna ran her hands over the smooth yew of her bow. "Perhaps. I suppose it wouldn't hurt…"

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A/N: Just a nod to L.A.H.H.—Aramir's little quote about 'Poor Enna, being ill on Christmas Day' came from her. Thanks! :D

Hey, I just thought of something…I haven't really made it a priority to describe how Enna looks, beyond her oftentimes-unruly hair. How do you all imagine her? Tall? Short? Pretty? Plain? Blue eyes? Green eyes? Brown hair? Black hair? I'm actually kinda interested to see how she comes across to you. So tell me what you think she looks like!