Disclaimer: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. C. S. Lewis does.
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If there was one thing Finn detested, it was waking up in the morning. So when the dawning sun found him, he was sitting in the dining hall, staring miserably at the bowl of porridge and mentally cursing Felan for waking him early. The only others present were a group of men with as much coordination as drunkards so early in the morning and Finn tried to check his annoyance at them.
With an experience born out of expertise and strict training, he attacked the porridge, shoving mouthful after mouthful into his face. The kitchen keeper, a human woman, made a face at him and wrinkled her nose distastefully.
"You will get a shocker of a stomach ache on the morrow."
Finn rolled his eyes at her and chose not to answer. Helwind was a dragon whom it was impossible to defeat. For her benefit, he raised his bowl in mock salute and licked the last porridge off. Helwind's face turned beet red and she opened her mouth to scream at him when the voices of the people sitting next to him, flittered down the table.
"…who does he think he is? High King? Psh. Its as likely as mine being one."
His table-mates snickered quietly and exchanged more, undoubtedly nasty, words. The man, whom Finn did not recognize, seemed to be Telmarine. No Narnian would be caught dead uttering such words against their beloved High King.
"And that girl!" He continued, his voice considerably louder. "High Queen? I doubt she could hold a sword the right side up. So goes for that Peter. Remember the battle he conducted at Miraz's castle: left half his men dead. A coward most likely, the way he escaped Telmar. He doesn't deserve the titles he has any more than I do. Stuck-up, arrogant-"
He got no farther because in a smooth move, Finn had him pinned to the table by his head. There was a startled silence in the dining hall and with relief, Finn saw that none of the kings and queens were present in the hall. With a smile dripping poison, he turned to the pale-faced man and said pleasantly.
"I was admiring your exquisitely long words. Pray do continue."
"You are mad!" The man choked as his friends teetered nervously along the benches. "The High King will have you strung for this!"
"The High King has more reason to string hypocrites such as you than mad men such as me. I do not think he will be very happy when he hears what you had to say. I dare say that will put a dent in your endeavor to have me strung."
The man stared uncomprehendingly. He was probably too busy choking on Finn's strangling-grip than understanding his words. From behind, Finn heard a slight shuffling and a strong grip closed on his shoulder.
Felan's slightly concerned voice came: "General Finn, do let the man go. You have made your point to him."
"Have I indeed?" Finn asked, loosening his hold slightly. "Then let us hope, none of you utters a word of this to anyone else or I will more than make my point."
The men scurried away but not before one of them turned and said decisively: "There are mad men everywhere, here."
He left before Finn could retort and with an irritated growl he returned to his seat, eyeing Felan's hooves.
"Why, for the sake of the world, did you have to interrupt me? I was so cheerfully preoccupied."
Felan looked thoroughly exasperated. "Lady Isabela is coming this way. She would have your head for this. That man was worthless, not worth disgracing yourself."
Finn grimaced at his words: he hated wise people because they reminded him of how rash he himself was. Just then, he caught sight of the High King enter the hall, Caspian trailing behind him. They had just come in from training and sweat stained Peter's hair: his sword was hanging carefully at his waist. Seeing it, Finn started and then slowly began to smile.
Felan's eyes followed his vision and he looked slightly worried.
"I hope you are not thinking what I think you are."
"You can never guess what I'm thinking."
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Isabela could not escape the nagging feeling that somebody was staring at her. For the past half-hour in fact.
She had been working with Felan to train a select group of assorted Narnians and Telmarines. With his calm manner, the centaur worked his way from maneuver to maneuver, using Isabela to demonstrate his point whenever necessary.
Concentrate. She told herself, dodging the well-aimed strike Felan threw at her. Concentrate. Don't let the idiots take over your mind.
Finally as Felan paused to correct the posture of one of the soldiers, she heard a giggle behind her and narrowing her eyes, whirled around. It was a group of children, clearly Telmarine judging by their dark skin and high cheekbones, and clearly laughing at her. One of them, a young girl with long raven braids, raised a hand to her eyes and with a cheerful beam, pointed at Isabela.
They are children. She continued her mind-ranting, turning back to Felan, and ignoring the laughter from behind. Children, Isabela. All children are annoying.
"My lady," It took a moment for her to register Felan's voice. He glanced at her, concerned, his sword limp in his hands. "Would you consider taking a break to observe the other groups?"
Isabela considered. This morning, Peter had suggested that they each take over a select handful of people to train fully. These soldiers in turn would train others. Right now, there were five groups: random numbers of Narnians and Telmarines combined together all headed by either Isabela's best soldiers or the Pevensie brothers or Caspian. They had been training since dawn, knowing that every second was precious, and now it was nearly noon.
"Alright." She finally said, sheathing her blade and nodding at her group. "We will regroup here after lunch. Be careful with your weapons for we have a limited supply of them."
Slowly the group dispersed and with a bow, Felan cantered off to the weaponry: no doubt to oversee that the weapons were correctly stored.
Isabela made her way to the water tankers set on the side of the fort. It was fortuitous indeed that Mount Helen had a number of water wells and one of them was located just beside the fort. Rain and snow replenished it but Isabela could not help but worry.
Without a doubt, Jadis would be searching high and low for Peter and the others. If she could return back from the dead, she would find them: sooner or later and with them, all the rebellion would be discovered. They were already so few and if it came to a battle with the Witch's forces, Isabela was afraid of the outcome.
Since when had she become afraid, she wondered, her footsteps heavy. She had witnessed her family's death, her country's end, had lived through a bitter marriage, recovered from the onslaught of Vladimar's army and had survived the loss of her only child. Why was she afraid?
She could not ignore the fact that they, the rebels, were in desperate conditions. Untrained people. Depleting food stocks. No haven to retreat to. Biting her lip, she sat down next to the water tankers.
Mercifully the area was empty and raising the tanker, she drank the cool flowing liquid. For a moment, she contemplated dropping the water over her body but then high pitched giggles filled the air again. Isabela almost groaned as the same group of children appeared nearby.
Stalking me. Isabela thought grumbling. They are stalking me. Aslan help me.
Again, the children touched their eyes and nudging one another, collapsed into laughing chatter. Isabela could not understand their language: the Telmarine had their own for secrecy's sake.
"Your eyes."
Isabela nearly jumped and, with a scowl, turned around to face Peter, whose tunic clung to his angular form.
"I didn't ask you." She retorted, crossing her arms over her chest. Peter just grinned and eyed the pitcher of water in her hands.
"You're not going to throw that on me, are you?"
"Depends." Isabela replied, watching him owlishly as he slowly leaned forwards to drink from the well. "Your head is already big enough. Hitting it with a pitcher will only cause it to swell more. God knows I have had enough of it already."
Peter paused and blinked at her. Then he smiled.
Isabela directed a glare at him. "It is not funny." She said stiffly, throwing the pitcher back into the gathered water.
"I wasn't laughing at you." Peter rolled his eyes, leaning back against the stone walls. "I was laughing because your dialogues haven't changed. You called me Big Head, the first time we danced."
It was Isabela's turn to blink. Why was he reminding her? And how did he remember her words? She couldn't even recall when they had danced for the first time, let alone what they had said to each other.
"Your powers of memorization are remarkable." She said, raising her eyebrows. "Consider me awed."
Peter just smiled though she detected weariness in it.
"Why are you here anyways?" Isabela added stooping gracefully to pick up a lone dagger on the ground.
"Finn, Caspian, Ed and I are going to study the mountain sides. I thought you'd like to join us."
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Peter glanced at Edmund to see what his brother thought when he caught sight of Finn stalking in, his square face scarlet with exertion. Behind him came cantering Felan, whose expression was bordering on alarm.
"The defense posts should be increased, don't you think?" Edmund asked, leaning back to observe the parapets above. "If Jadis were to attack, our archers could not possibly fit there."
"That would mean demolishing that side. Can we afford that?" Peter studied it himself and then slapped his forehead. "Of course! I'm so stupid!"
"Of course you are. I've been trying to tell you that for ages. Did you just realize that now?"
Peter glared at him. "Shut up, Ed."
Edmund's smirk did not falter and he turned to survey the area. "I was thinking of-"
He broke off as in one swift motion; Finn unsheathed his sword and placed it against his neck. Edmund's eyes widened and in the second that he took to take out his own sword, Peter had already shoved himself between them, glaring at Finn.
"What do you think you are doing?" He asked coldly, placing a hand on his sword hilt but not taking it out unless absolutely certain of Finn's intent.
Behind Finn, Felan wore a distinctly uneasy expression and stared resolutely off to the side. The area was crowded since it was afternoon and everyone in the vicinity turned to stare.
"Scared are you?" Finn sneered, taking his blade away but not sheathing it. "I expected as much."
Edmund's dark eyes darted between them, taking in every detail. Peter clenched his jaw and restrained from punching the elderly man in the face. "I don't care what your expectations are, general but you will not threaten me and mine."
"Peter." Edmund muttered underhand. "What in Aslan's name is happening?"
"As if I know." Peter replied, not taking his eyes off Finn. There was complete silence and then, Finn's sword came at Peter. With lightening speed, Peter's own sword was drawn and met his in a violent clash.
There were gasps across the area and as Peter's eyes glaringly met Finn's, he was surprised to see the hilarity in the older man's face.
Something wasn't right.
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"That," Finn commented dryly. "Was not what I anticipated."
"You can be sure of that." Peter retorted darkly, wincing slightly as a fawn healer from the fort, stitched the cut in his wrist. It was deep but did not bleed much. Nevertheless, it was enough to cause Isabela to glare angrily at Finn.
"What were you thinking?" Isabela fumed at Finn, making sure to squeeze his bruised shoulder hard enough to make him grunt in pain. "What is wrong with you?"
Finn glared at her out of his eyes: one of which was an alarming shade of purple from where Peter's punch had connected with his face. "I have my reasons."
Isabela's emerald eyes found his and they continued to glare until Edmund said slyly.
"Isabela, if I did not know better, I'd say you were concerned about your husband."
There was a silence so deep that every drawn breath could be heard and then Finn chortled: "I agree with the lad. You sound like one of those wives who run around as if their heads have been chopped off."
"You mind your own business." Isabela said stiffly though the dark could not hide her blush. "You're lucky Peter's sword didn't take your head off. That move you made with the statue was so stupid, I wondered if you had truly lost your wits."
Finn scowled at her and wrenched his arm back. "I am quite fine now, thank you."
Isabela smiled sweetly. "If you want that wound to get infection, by all means, leave with your pride."
Reluctantly, Finn returned his arm to her lap and Edmund hid a smile as he saw Peter's eyes follow the movement. He cleared his throat. "Why did you do this anyways?"
Finn's face snapped up. "I don't know what you mean. I told you: I thought him a useless coward but he has, unfortunately, proven himself otherwise."
"Useless coward." Peter repeated perplexed anger in his face. "May I ask as to what gave you the impression?"
"Rats." Finn said. "Two legged ones who enjoy gossiping about kings."
Peter's frown cleared and he exchanged looks with Edmund. "Telmarine?"
For a moment, Finn looked almost impressed. "How did you guess?"
"It isn't hard you know. The Narnians love me."
"The words of an arrogant man." Isabela muttered loftily. "Do you ever stop thinking so highly of yourself?"
Peter seemed outraged and replied. "Thinking that my people love me is arrogant?"
"No." Isabela corrected. "Presuming it is arrogant and conceited and proud and-"
"Alright, I get your point." Peter grumbled. "But this is not right. The Telmarines do not trust us. We need unity at this point. If we are divided, Jadis will destroy us."
"He is right." Finn jerked his head. "We must do something about it."
"Does Caspian know? They are his people before they are ours." Edmund pointed out, raising himself to glance at everyone in the room. The healer had long since left. "He might be able to deal with them, better than us."
"There is one thing that I'd like to point out though it may anger you." Finn said and hesitated. "Do you believe that Caspian is truly loyal to you?"
Again there was silence. And then Isabela exploded.
"Finn! That is enough! First you threaten Edmund, duel with Peter and now you accuse Caspian!"
Peter shot up and said. "I don't believe it. Caspian was chosen by Aslan and Aslan would never do this to us."
"No offense, lad, but Aslan hasn't been of much use to us in the last few years."
Edmund was surprised to see Isabela bite her lip and not reply. He spoke out: "Peter is right. We must not suspect others for it will create more tensions and division."
"As you say." Finn said, though he did not seem convinced. "But I only put my view forward."
"And you did well." Peter replied evenly. "But I would prefer less violent methods in the future."
"You can never be sure of it, lad. I won't go easy on you just because you have been chosen by that lion of yours."
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The snake was green. Poison green and unmarked except for its head which had a slanting black design on it. It slithered through the grass with unnatural speed, its beady eyes taking in everything. There were guards on the post, glancing carefully in all directions but none saw it and it continued unchecked.
After all, its mistress watched over it.
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A severe writer's block is the one to blame this time for the late update. I hate it.
L. Potter