Thank you so much to reviewers Arquenniel, FireSenshi2, rolletti, and KCS!! :) I love reading your comments!
FireSenshi2--This is for you. I hadn't seriously considered another part. Your comment gave me the slight nudge I needed to start thinking up a new one. So, thank you and I hope you enjoy!
A/N: Well, this story is slowly growing in size and turning into a inside peek into Cair Paravel's four monarchs' lives. I do have a few ideas for more little 'drabbles' like this. Each drabble would be from a different point of view in the palace. So, if you wouldn't mind, please tell me if you'd like me to continue.
Chapter 3: Master Bookkeeper
Books were amongst the greatest inventions of life. They contained knowledge collected over lifetimes and then stored them on cool white pages in smooth black ink. There was something definitive about them, the firm lines so carefully formed, the phrases meticulously fashioned.
And Wittiner considered it is honor to be the guardian of the largest library in Narnia, the Royal Records at Cair Paravel.
The little fox had spent hours assiduously arranging the tomes by category first and then alphabetically by title. All dust particles were swept from the dark wooden shelves with a downy handkerchief so that the brass category plaques glowed in the candlelight.
All in all, the library was a cocoon of knowledge in the very heart of Cair Paravel.
Wittiner had insisted upon such placement. Cool and dry as to protect the pages from mildew. Illumination by candles to prevent the book covers from fading, therefore losing their luster and outer beauty.
He'd been named master bookkeeper just days after the Kings and Queens coronation. Now, three years later, after spending days pouring over small lettering under candlelight, he had been reluctant to receive one downside to his position.
Spectacles.
He'd been reduced to perching a pair of spectacles on his slim nose to view those wonderful words. The four monarchs had been most kind to gift him with a pair that were rimmed in gold and had a lovely chain to keep them about his neck. But the shame of wearing spectacles with relatives such as his was humiliating.
After all, foxes were said to have the eyesight that rivaled eagles or griffons. Yet, his position was one of great importance and, despite his optical shortcomings, the literary volumes would receive their due care.
Today he had a pile of books that was twice the length of his tail to replace on the shelves and a fresh crate of new books from Calormen to unpack and categorize. Often categorization included a hot cup of beechnut tea and a long afternoon in his favorite chair.
He had just lifted the first tome from the opening of the crate and was brushing away the grass stuffing from the exquisite covers when he heard the patter of feet.
Assuming it to be the approach of the kitchen maid with his tea he remained set on his task, plucking the golden strands from the pages he surveyed gold-inked title "Reflections on Other Worlds". It sounded promising enough.
Following a thorough reading, he would know for certain but at the moment he suspected the book would end up in fiction, likely amongst the wilder and more fanatical tales. Traveling from other worlds was not possible in any sense of the phrase.
A raised voice, however, comprehensively squashed any thought of fantastical traveling.
"Ed, I'm going to kill you!"
Wittiner blinked. Well, that was a rather violent remark. Although he had yet to meet one named Ed, it must have been one of those contemptible chimney squirrels. Always whining and hollering and tracking fine black powder all over his impeccably maintained books.
Such a thing simply wouldn't do.
He dropped down to all four paws and pattered towards the fireplace by the entry to stem the tide of obsidian smoke. One never knew when a dignitary might come to inspect the Narnian stores of written knowledge.
Rounding the corner, he saw two blurs of dark fabric and then suddenly the world was spinning. A slight clatter of metal was picked out amongst the horrendous crashing of furniture. The quiet noise became clear when Wittiner blinked and the world remained a soft blur of colors and shapes.
His spectacles. He'd dropped his spectacles.
Feeling about as clumsily as a giddy faun who'd consumed too many drinks, he felt for the cool metal of his spectacles along the wooden floor when a harsh sentence shot through the air.
"Pete, it was nothing! Just a bit of fun!"
"Oh, a bit of fun, is it? I'll show you a bit of fun!"
A tremor shook the room and if it was not for the scraping of chairs raking across the beautiful wooden floors Wittiner would have thought there was an earthquake. Only a moment later a chorus of thumps brought his head snapping up.
That was a sound he'd know anywhere. His books! Those scoundrels were ruining his books! First, the glossy flooring and now his precious books.
Reaching out in an ever widening circle, he felt about for his spectacles and when he found them a spark of anger welled in his throat. The feeling of smooth, and mercifully unbroken, glass brought a renewed sense of ownership.
This was his library given to him by monarchs crowned by Aslan himself and Wittiner would face a whole army before he'd let a pair of sooty squirrels muss the irreplaceable tomes.
He pursed his lips and prepared his heated speech to send the little troublemakers packing. Wittiner replaced his eyeglasses to their intended spot and purpose and nearly lost them an instant later.
For running around in the center of room like a pair of wet bobcats was not chimney squirrels at all but King Edmund with High King Peter in angered pursuit.
"Ed! I'm warning you!" The High King was not only scrambling after him in a manner as dignified as a plucked chicken but he was doused from the top of his blonde head to mid waist in—from the spicy aromas that filled Wittiner's pointed nose—thick gravy.
"Take it easy, Peter!" King Edmund feigned left towards a low table and instead cut hard to the right, sending the High King crashing after him over a thick wooden chair.
"You've got some real guts!" The High King's voice was strained, undoubtedly from the oaken chair he'd just barreled over, but horrendously loud.
In fact, Wittiner was unaware that a human's voice could handle such volumes. But apparently, High King Peter's vocal talent was not a rarity among his kind.
"It wasn't like I dumped you out of your chair in front of an entire room of nobles!" King Edmund was hollering over his shoulder, heedless of the books he was knocking from their shelves in his escape.
"I told you! That was unintentional!"
Wittiner actually cringed as King Edmund screeched to a halt and neatly bumped an unlit lamp to the floor. Shattered glass flew across the floor but neither monarch paid it any attention.
"Unintentional! As unintentional as your salty wine at supper!" The dark-haired king's finger jabbed into the High King's velvet tunic with vicious decisiveness.
"Ha! You admit tampering with my wine! Now admit the gravy bit!"
"The minute you admit dumping me out of that chair!"
With a feral snarl, the High King leapt. Wittiner winced. His poor books…
The two monarchs crashed through a row of bookcases, disappearing amongst the fluttering of torn pages. They immediately scrambled to stand, footing uneven on the battered literary terrain, and dove for each other again with hands curled into fists.
The High King had King Edmund in a strangle hold, though King Edmund was getting several hard hits to the High King's stomach as repayment, when Wittiner decided intervention was imperative if he wished his library to remain in tact.
"Excuse me."
King Edmund spun, forcing the High King to release his hold or wrench his wrist in a rather painful position, and tried to leap back. The High King moved faster and once more pinned the younger king to the wooden flooring.
Apparently a more direct means was necessary.
Wittiner's legs propelled him up onto the remains of a bookcase overlooking the Kings' continued wrestling match. "Excuse me!"
At last, two sets of human eyes turned on him, one bright blue and the other deep brown.
Miraculously, Wittiner's resolve did not falter. He straightened his back to face them fully and exclaimed in a shocked tone, "Your majesties, this is a place of learning, a place of quiet solitude where one may enrich his or her mind, not a stable ground for a wrestling match.
He took a step forward. "Those books that you so negligently trampled with your reckless juvenile abandonment are precious preservers of knowledge in Narnia. Now, collect yourselves and set this room to rights."
The two straightened gradually, shifting tunics back into place and guiltily shuffling from foot to foot. They waited only a moment before a firm look from Wittiner sent them towards cleaning up the damaged library.
While they were lifting a bookcase and replacing the once neatly arranged volumes, Wittiner realized something. Oh Aslan's mane…
Had he just reprimanded the two Kings of Narnia?
Suddenly, the library swam in a dizzying eddy of colors as he patted his forehead with his paw. He needed his cup of tea…
Fin