Well, I am finally updating this story! :) I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. The next update will hopefully come soon! Thanks for reading and for all the reviews!

Enemy Territory

Edmund's head throbbed as he blinked. Groaning he wondered why his head hurt so much. The fog cleared a little from his head and he was able to look around. He saw a Griffin a few feet away from him, motionless. Suddenly his memory came back to him like a clap of thunder.

Gasping, he tried to stand and get his sense of direction. The movement was too swift and he fell upon his knees, his head spinning. His side hurt and his left hand was useless. Groaning again, Edmund felt for his sword and was relieved to find it secured to his side.

He slowly surveyed the damage that his body had suffered. "A few broken ribs, a headache, and a broken hand." He muttered to himself. "I hope Feriland is alright." He staggered over to the faithful friend.

Feriland was still breathing, but barely. Edmund placed his hand upon the beast's noble crest. "Are you alright, my friend?" He murmured quietly.

The Griffin did not speak. Edmund was very concerned, but had no choice. He had to abandon him and go find some help. Before he left, Edmund found the source of his friend's crash, an arrow, and pulled it from among the feathers. He grimly concluded that his enemies had seen them and shot the noble bird out of the sky.

After putting his sore hand into a makeshift sling, Edmund studied the land. They had landed in a wooded area above the canyon, on the enemy's side. The nearest dwelling was the enemy's lair.

Edmund began to formulate a dangerous plan. He must sneak into the enemy's encampment, find out what they are doing, steal a horse, and ride back to Minas Tirith for help.

Glancing back over his shoulder, Edmund took one last look at his friend and turned to descend the steep incline. The Narnian King slipped and slid down the side of the mountain, grasping onto the trees for support. Every few minutes, he would stop and listen. The wood was desolate and silent.

Edmund finally reached the outcropping where he first spotted the enemy's hideout. He now saw that it was a lookout of sorts. As he hid behind a tree, he watched the entrance. Down below he could spot the main entrance, but there was no way he was going down there.

A lone guard stood before the mouth of the cave. Edmund looked down at his sword. "Of course I would break my left hand." He muttered, switching his scabbard to the opposite side of his body so he could draw it out with his right hand.

He approached silently and swiftly, dispatching the guard quickly. Edmund quickly threw on the man's helmet and breastplate, hoping no one would notice the height difference. The king hid the body in a nearby bush after expending much effort, then he sauntered into his enemy's fortress.

No one seemed to notice the young man with the bandaged arm. Everyone merely assumed he was one of the wounded from the battle that was raging down below on the plain. Edmund began to explore the cavern for a horse or for more information of his adversaries.

After turning down a few short halls and finding nothing, he found a room with its door wide open. Grasping a torch off the wall, he entered the dark room. He found nothing of interest until he searched the back wall. He saw that a dark passage led to some other place.

Edmund followed the passage until he came up against a dead end. Studying the wall, he found a lever and pulled it up. A door slid back, revealing a secret room. Stepping in, Edmund was suddenly forced to let go of the torch and drew his sword.

A man, not a few years older than himself challenged him. Edmund fought hard until he looked at the face of the man. "Rabadash!" He jumped back and threw off his helmet. "It's me, Edmund."

Rabadash suddenly stopped. "Edmund?"

…

Rabadash cursed under his breath, but began looking for a way of escape. He strapped Susan's bow and quiver onto his back and glanced around the room in the dim torchlight.

Spotting a small opening near the ceiling, he decided to try to reach it and climb out. Pushing the trunk up against the stone, he jumped up onto it. The tunnel still hung about three feet above him. Bending his knees, he jumped up, trying to reach the opening. Failing, he was about to attempt a second round when he heard a noise.

Spinning, Rabadash saw that a dark figure stood on the threshold of the room, holding a torch. Running, he went to challenge his new opponent. Unleashing his sword, he began fighting with quick precise sword strokes.

His foe was clearly surprised by the attack and was barely able to defend himself. Rabadash thought that he would soon finish him off.

Suddenly the person jumped back, out of the range of Rabadash's sword stokes and shouted, "Rabadash?" The man ripped off his helmet.

"Edmund?" Rabadash stopped in mid-swing. "What are you doing here?"

"It's a long story," Edmund put his sword back as the two shook hands. "What are you doing here?"

"That's rather a long story too." Rabadash spoke. "I sure am glad to see you."

"I am glad to see a friendly face in this evil place." Edmund suddenly looked at him wearily for a second. "You aren't helping the people here are you?"

Rabadash shook his head. "No, well, I was, but not anymore." He remembered what he had found. "Look," he extended the bow, "I found this in here. I was just about to start looking for Susan when the door shut, trapping me in here."

"I see," Edmund said. "Let's go find her."

Rabadash nodded. "Follow me." He led the way out of the passage and shut it behind him. "I'm actually supposed to be out on the front lines battling whoever is out there. I stayed back because I saw a prisoner that looked like Susan and wanted to ask her if she knew where your sister was. That's when I found the room and Susan's bow." He explained.

Edmund nodded. "I see. How did you end up on the front lines?"

"Punishment," Rabadash said angrily, "But that's a really long story. I'll tell you later."

They reached the hall when they heard a shout. "Rabadash!" A man about their age ran towards them.

"Who is that?" Edmund asked.

"Trouble," Rabadash replied. "We have to split up. Look for Susan. I'll see you later."

Edmund nodded and ran the down the hall in the opposite direction. Rabadash slammed his helmet on and turned to face the person who had called. "Who's Rabadash?" He inquired.

The guard ran up and peered at him. "Rabadash, you know, the Prince from Calormen?"

"Oh," Rabadash said, "I remember hearing about him. Do I look like him?"

"I thought you did." The guard said uncertainly. "Sorry about the misconception."

"That's alright, my friend," he clapped the man on the shoulder. "Now if you will excuse me, I have business to attend to."

"Of course, sir," the man nodded.

…

Peter urged his horse onward toward the battle. The horsemen of Gondor followed loyally, raising their swords. Aragorn was not far behind; he hurried to organize his troops.

The enemy advanced weapons in hand. There were at least twenty-five thousand men rushing towards Peter's troop of a dozen horsemen. Peter and his men rode fearlessly down the hill upon the dark line of enemies.

Legolas was the first to release his attack upon their adversaries. After the few strides, he had released some of his arrows. As they charged into the fray, he released his blades.

Peter drew his sword while his heart skipped a beat. This battle would determine the fate of both his world and that of Aragorn's whole kingdom. His first stroke fell with vengeance upon his foes.

…

I sighed. When am I going to be rescued? No matter how romantic it is, I still hate being the damsel in distress.

Her heart gave a great leap when she heard someone rushing down the hall toward her. She swallowed hard when she saw who it was. Jumping to her feet, she looked into her visitor's eyes finding wicked intent.

"What are you doing here, Arrakk?" She spat. "Isn't there a war to be fought?"

He sneered. "I know what will give me the upper hand in this war." He entered the cell and drew his sword. "I'm sure your friends will accept their demise after they find out you are dead."

I narrowed my eyes, "If you kill me, horrible vengeance will be upon you and your rabble. My brothers will never back down even if I lay dead. If anything, that will give them all the more incentive to defeat you."

Arrakk snarled like a starving animal. "I have had enough of your sharp tongue." He growled, advancing upon me. "Now you will pay for all the insults you have given me."

As he stalked closer to me, I pressed myself up against the wall of the cell. I was not afraid of death, but every second I could delay him gave me some hope of being rescued. Unfortunately, he had me cornered. There was no escape.

I thought you were sending me someone to free me Aslan, not someone to harm me! My mind cried as I tried to keep my fear from showing. Help me, Aslan! Help me now!

...

Lucy rode solemnly beside Eowyn. The day was bright and sunny, but the young Queen's mood was not. Her mind could only think of the plight of her siblings. She fidgeted in her saddle as she waited for Eowyn to make her move.

At noon, Lucy decided she had waited long enough. "We cannot keep going, Eowyn," she hissed, "The battle is certainly well underway by now."

"Be patient," Eowyn hushed her, "We have to wait for the right moment."

"No," Lucy raised her voice, "I can't wait another second!"

Spinning her horse around, she galloped away from the company and back toward the battlefield. She faintly could hear Eowyn and the others calling for her, but she did not look back. There was no way the Valiant Queen of Narnia was going to ride in the opposite direction of the battle when there were soldiers who needed assistance.

Looking back over her shoulder, she saw Eowyn and the rest perusing her, but there was no way she was going to stop. To her left, she saw something moving in the distance. She wasn't sure what it was, but she didn't want to find out. Eowyn and the rest finally caught up with her horse.

"M'lady," one of the solider said, "We are here to keep you safe and escort you away from the battle."

"No," Lucy said firmly, "Don't you see? My family is in danger and I must put forth my efforts to help them. My cordial is a lifesaving tool that I must use against our enemies. I am not afraid of our foes, nor of danger. Let me go and save the ones I love, let me save your countrymen, let me save lives that would otherwise end needlessly."

Eowyn gazed admiringly at the young Queen. She liked the courage this girl put forth and helped her plead her case. "Let us go and defend the people, cites, and lands that we love. Let us go with the desire to free this realm and the world in which the great land of Narnia lies. For what is a world without freedom? We will no longer be safe if the good strongholds of Middle Earth fall." She persuaded. "Let us fight for our lands and our freedom!"

The soldiers conversed in low tones together and finally consented to go with the maidens to reclaim the liberty of the nations.

...

Aragorn tried to hold his men together. They had been fighting for nearly two hours and the enemy definitely had the stronger advantage. The King of Gondor watched in horror as his men fell right and left. He kept glancing toward the west, hoping reinforcements would arrive, but none came.

The situation was dire and Aragorn knew his men wouldn't last until dusk. He needed help badly. The one thing that gave him hope was Peter. The King of Narnia fought gallantly on top of his white horse. His skill with the blade was great and his strokes powerful. Aragorn knew that Peter would stand with him to the end.

At the heat of noon, Peter managed to speak with Aragorn briefly. "Do we draw back to the city and retreat? The men cannot last much longer."

"Yes, sound the call, we retreat back into the city." Aragorn shouted. "We should have never come out here."

Peter nodded, giving the order to sound the call of retreat, but the retreat was short lived. As soon as the men turned to retreat back to the city, they saw something that crushed their hopes. The enemy was waiting for them; they were between the retreating men and the city.

There was no choice, but to fight to the end. And that end was sure to come swiftly.