Part 2: It takes a forest
Olwen knew the moment she saw Edmund that morning that something had happened, but she did not know what. So she did what she did often and he seemed to appreciate: she hugged him. He sagged into her slender arms, and the moment they closed around him he started weeping. Olwen was both confused and heartbroken at seeing his pain, but she rocked him slowly and crooned to him like she remembered her mother doing when she was a sapling. Eventually the torrent of tears stopped and she pulled him down to the ground and into her embrace. Thus settled against one of her favorite aunt's steady trunk, Edmund nestled in her arms, she coaxed the entire story from him. And what a story it was. He told her about loving Caspian, lying with him, keeping it a secret and acting as if nothing was going on while Caspian paraded around the castle like the King he was, usually with Queen Susan on his arm. And if not Queen Susan, it would be some other pretty woman. He cried throughout his story, and then he told her the worst part of all. He was - much to his own shock as he had been pretty sure such a thing was impossible - pregnant, confirmed as of that morning. Pregnant with Caspian's bastard. Olwen was completely bewildered, but she waited patiently until his weeping subsided before asking her questions. One - what did it mean to be pregnant?, and Two - what was a bastard?. Edmund laughed wetly, but did his best to explain to her what it meant. Once he had finished his rather garbled explanation, Olwen cocked her head to the side.
"You men are such funny creatures" she said. "A sapling is a good thing, no matter where the seed came from!" She shook her head in amazement over man's stupidity. "A sapling that takes root in the soil is loved and nurtured and watched over by the entire forest" she went on, "everyone is needed to ensure that she grows up to a good, strong tree."
"it doesn't quite work that way in my world" he whispered, looking down at his still flat belly as if trying to see the child inside. Then he went on, "and I am not sure… that I can… do this." Olwen looked even more bewildered.
"Is something wrong with the soil?" She asked, deeply concerned. "A sapling needs good, rich soil in order to take root." Edmund stared at her for a long while, but she just waited expectantly for him to continue. Finally he spoke.
"That's… exactly what I am afraid of. That the… soil is unsuitable." Olwen looked at him like he had just said the silliest thing she'd ever heard.
"Replant it then" she said, as if that solved anything. "Move it to better soil." Edmund gaped.
"I hate to break it to you, Olwen, but it doesn't quite work that way."
"How does it work, then?" She demanded. But he had no answer to give her.
Olwen might not know anything about human anatomy, but her words had struck a cord in Edmund and left him no peace. Replant it, she had said. He toyed with the idea: what if he could just… move the child growing in him into someone else? Someone who wanted a baby, who would welcome and treasure the child and not dread anyone finding out. Someone who would not shut themselves away like a hermit in the quarters and flee to the forest as soon as possible every day, coming home as late as possible and ordering dinner up to their room, night after night. Someone who wasn't him. It would be better for everyone, surely. But at the same time… Oh, Aslan, the thought of giving up his baby was like a knife in his heart. This child was all he truly had of Caspian. And yet… if he were to keep the child, and face the shame of being a single father, what then? He could never tell anyone who had fathered the child, and one day he would most likely be required to return to England with his siblings. They had been in Narnia for nearly two years, after all. Soon his time there would be over, and he would be made to leave. Would Aslan make him leave his child behind? Most likely. His child was narnian, not human. And even if he got to take his child back, how would the child react to the journey? Besides, back in England he was still a child himself. How could he possibly care for a baby when he was still a child, himself. But still…
Edmund sighed deeply and buried his face in his hands. He wished more than ever that he dared confide in his brother; surely Peter would know what he ought to do. But, if he told Peter the other man would immediately go confront Caspian and most likely challenge him to a duel to defend Edmund's honor, and that simply could not happen. No one must know, especially not Susan who was clearly in love with Caspian who seemed to be smitten with her, much to Edmund's sorrow.
It was, eventually, Olwen who came up with a solution to the problem.
"There are witches in the forest" she said one summer morning about three months after they had first met, two months after he told her he was pregnant. She was sitting cross-legged under a tree and made a daisy chain. Edmund turned his head and looked at her where he lay sprawled in the green grass, cloud-gazing.
"So there are" he confirmed, slightly puzzled. "Why, what are you thinking?"
"Just that if you are worried about your sapling, surely they can check that the soil is good and suitable. And if it is not, maybe they know where we should plant it instead." She held up the completed chain, looked at it critically, and added another daisy. Edmund laughed softly. She might phrase it oddly, but she had a good point. Maybe a witch could help him. He climbed to his feet slowly and with great care, as moving too quickly was a sure-fire way to make him throw up. He wobbled just a little, momentarily light-headed, but it passed quickly. He gestured to Olwen.
"Let's go find these witches, then" he said. Olwen stood up slowly, still focused on the daisy chain. Her quick fingers twisted it into a wreath with ease and then placed it on Edmund's head. It immediately slipped down over one eye, and he could not help but smile as he pushed it back.
"Yes" Olwen agreed, "let's go see the witches."
They walked for at least an hour, but Olwen kept insisting that she knew the way and that they were close. Edmund had a hard time believing her, as she had said that they were "close" several times over. But finally they arrived at a larger glen in the wood, where three little cottages with thatched roofs were built close together. Olwen walked up to one of them, the one who had smoke coming out of the chimney, and opened the door. She walked inside, without waiting for Edmund, who hastily wiped his boots free from mud and checked his trousers and shirt weren't too grass stained. Then he took a deep breath and stepped inside.
"King Edmund" the elderly woman by the cauldron said and gave him a gap-toothed smile, "I 'ave been waitin' fer ya."
"You know who I am?"
"Of course. Them birds told old Moira ye were on yar way 'our 'go. Tho t'be fair, was 'xpectin' ya las' week."
She wiped her hands on her worn apron and came forward to shake his hand. Her eyes were a sharp, bright blue and they seemed to look straight through him as he bowed and kissed her hand.
"Oh psh, no need to curtsy old Moira so" she said, sounding distinctly amused. "Yer in trouble, ain't ya, boy? 'S why my lil' tree 'ere took you 'ere."
"Yes, I am. And… you know Olwen?"
"Know her? Water'd her, Moira did, when she was li'l more than a saplin'. Play'd with 'er and learn'd ta sing. Knows all the dryads, Moira does." Olwen smiled happily where she sat on a neat little chair. Moira served them tea and cake that tasted sweet and tart of berries and honey, and Edmund slowly relaxed.
"So" Moira said, as she poured him a second cup of tea, "Got yerself knocked up, did ya boy? Not too bright, hm?" Edmund looked down into his tea cup, feeling ashamed and very, very young.
"No" he whispered.
"Ain't built for it either" Moira went on. "Boys ain't supposed to carry. Put ya in yer grave, it will." Edmund and Olwen both paled.
"Grave?" Olwen cried, "that's what happens when humans are struck by lightning, right?"
"A'most right, saplin'. 'S when humans die, like when yer poor mother was struck by lightnin'." Moira looked at them both.
"Can fix that, Moira can. Replant the lil'un." Edmund looked at her, eyes full of hope.
"Where to?" He asked, voice trembling.
"Got a perfectly good womb here, boy." Then they both looked at Olwen who was happily drawing an oak leaf in the tea she had just poured out on the table, completely oblivious to their conversation.
"All y'need t' do's ask 'er."