Chapter 12: Home Again

Two days after the funeral, most of the guests went home, with the notable exception of the Calormenes.

Peter and Edmund had to get back to Cair Paravel; they'd been absent for months, at this point. Lucy would have gone with them, too (Susan was staying on a while to help), but Peter asked her to stay behind.

"I'm not sure what's going on with this Rabadash fellow," he said. "But he shan't suspect thee of keeping an eye on him—he doesn't think much of girls."

"To the contrary, I think he thinks quite a bit of Susan," Lucy replied archly.

"Oh, thou know'st what I mean, Lu. And while Susan has certainly bowled over her share of young men, I do wonder if Rabadash has other designs here, and Susan is simply an excuse. So keep an eye on things, will you?"

"All right, all right," Lucy relented. "But how will I finagle an invitation to stay without making it look like I'm staying to spy on them?"

"I trust you'll find a way," Peter said cavalierly (Lucy thought this most unhelpful), and he went off to pack.

It turned out Lucy didn't need to invent an excuse. Susan asked her to stay as well.
"I don't wish to speak ill of our host," she confided, over breakfast, "but King Lune…"

"…would welcome our continued assistance?" Lucy put in delicately, when Susan hesitated over her words.

Relief washed across Susan's face at Lucy's apprehension. "Yes, exactly. Our presence and help will enable him to spend some time with Prince Corin, as well as allow him the time to re-orient himself in his widowerhood."

"All right," Lucy agreed. "I'll meet with Lord Nen, then, and see what's to be done."

"Thank you." Susan said gratefully. "It is good to not be alone in this."

Lucy offered her sister a hug; Susan and Ramilka had been good friends, and it was clear Susan was still mourning her.

Peter, Edmund, General Orieus, and most of the Archenlander contingent who'd traveled from Narnia departed early in the morning, but Lord Rorin chose to stay in Archenland for the time being. Lucy was grateful she'd have one friend here.

The sisters finished breakfast, and went about their day—Lucy went off to what arms practice she could manage, and Susan went to discuss menus with the cooks.

Over the next week they fell into a new rhythm, balancing their time with keeping things running, spending some time with people (most of Susan's was spent with Rabadash), and gradually bringing King Lune more into his proper kingly role.

He had his good days and his bad days, of course. On good days, he would dine with the Court and tell tales of his beloved wife; on bad, the sisters wouldn't see him at all.

And Rabadash stayed on, and on, and on.

It not being their kingdom, Lucy and Susan couldn't do more than hint he ought to be thinking of going home.

Lucy wasn't sure Susan was even doing that much. Whenever Prince Rabadash came up, Susan got a slightly misty look on her face.

"He is very handsome, don't you think?" She said one evening, while brushing out her hair.

"Certainly," Lucy replied, plaiting the smooth sections for her. "He's also prideful and arrogant, for no reason I can see other than he's the Tisroc's eldest surviving son."

"He's not arrogant with me," Susan said, a little sharply. Color washed across her cheeks. "He is positively humble."

"Humble?" Lucy's eyebrows rose. "I'd pay a few Lions to see him truly humble."

Susan set down her brush and turned to Lucy. "Oh, really, he is, though. He reads me some of the loveliest poetry, and sayest—well, he is very complimentary." She flushed again. "I truly think he is in earnest. Nobody's ever spoken to me like he has."

Lucy eyed her sister doubtfully. But it was true that Susan had far, far more experience with young men than Lucy did, so what did Lucy know?

"Well," she said. "If he makes you happy, I shall give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he shows you a different face than he shows the world."

"I really think he does," Susan sighed dreamily. Lucy realized there would be no swaying her, no matter how politically savvy the points she might bring up would be.

Points such as: Rabadash could be here to spy out how unstable Archenland was at the moment. Or: Rabadash could be here to see how closely allied Narnia was with Archenland.

But really, maybe Rabadash was being honest with Susan when he said the things that made her sigh and blush. Perhaps Susan was the only reason he was here still.

Lucy could only hope that was his reason.

There was a stroke of luck, somewhat: at the end of the next week, when Rabadash's stay had gone past the fortnight mark, a messenger arrived from Tashbaan, requesting the prince's immediate return.

Since this information was relayed openly, Lucy had to suppose an invasion of Anvard wasn't imminent.

When she said as much to Susan, when they were looking over some paperwork, Susan snapped at her. "Of course you would be happy at his—their—the Calormenes' leaving."

Lucy eyed her sister, a bit surprised at her vehemence. "It's true I'm not great friends with Prince Rabadash, but I only thought you'd be cheered to learn there were fewer people to organize and entertain here. Not having to deal with foreign emissaries can only help King Lune regain his footing, as well."

Susan looked only slightly abashed, but her expression softened. "You may not credit it, but Prince Rabadash has been wonderful to me here. I shall miss him."

"It is hard to have friends leave you," Lucy said, and dropped the subject. "Now, are we still planning on having the musicians you liked come and play for King Lune two nights hence?"

Susan accepted the change in subject, and bent over the papers, getting back to work.

The third week after Queen Ramilka's funeral passed, and with it, Lucy's fifteenth birthday.

She knew there wouldn't be a party or gifts. She and Susan weren't at the Cair, for one; and it was too soon after a dear friend's passing, for another. Lucy still hoped there might be some way to mark the day, though. Surely Susan, who was the most thoughtful person Lucy knew, would come up with something.

But Lucy waited in vain for Susan at least to say something, or for a letter from her brothers.

No mail arrived, and she hardly even saw Susan all day.

She did have a short luncheon with Lord Rorin, whom she'd seen less and less of lately.

"You seem distracted, Lord Rorin," she said, when conversation had sputtered out between them for the third time.

"Am I? I'm sorry, Queen Lucy," Lord Rorin replied. "I've been corresponding with a knight who lives up in the mountains, and I really think I've almost convinced him to take me on," he said.

"That sounds like a wonderful opportunity," Lucy said. "How did you hear about him?"

"The Captain here has very kindly kept me in mind while I was away in Narnia, and has kept his ears open for a place. This knight is the cousin of some retired Court functionary, and hasn't taken on an esquire in years. But I am hopeful I can convince him."

"I'm sure you'll be successful," Lucy said. "You do well at nearly everything you turn your hand to."

Another silence fell while they ate. "You know. Last year at this time, I thought I'd be married to Moira." Rorin said suddenly. "And I never had a thought to going to Narnia for any reason. But then everything changed."

"Not all for the worse, I hope?"

"Oh! No, I am happy of my time in Narnia. And happier still that I have been able to become acquainted with you, Queen Lucy," he answered. "It is good to know Narnia's youngest monarch is of such good heart and character."

"Do you think you might come back to visit soon?" Lucy said, trying to keep her hopefulness out of her voice. She ignored the pang at 'acquainted.'

"It is doubtful." he said reluctantly, avoiding her eyes. "The knight's keep is up in the mountains west of Stormness Head. It'll take two days of dawn-to-dusk riding just to arrive. So I am hoping to hear a 'yea' before the winter snows start; otherwise, the trip is like to take three."

"I'm sure he'll take you on," she said warmly. "Anyone would be fortunate to have you in their household."

He smiled at that. "Your words are most kind, Queen Lucy. I hope you are right."

When the lunch was over, she felt a bit bleak. She was glad for her friend–a new place to learn was what he'd been seeking. Still, it seemed everyone was doing new things, meeting new people, going new places... and there in the background was good dependable Lucy, the same as ever.

Of course, none of the Archenlanders she encountered throughout the day had any idea it was her birthday—why should they? Ramilka had kept track of such events, and had always taken care of both the official state greetings as well as the personal, friendly letters of celebration.

By the time the evening was slanting red rays of light in the windows, Lucy realized her birthday had simply been forgotten by those who knew of it.

Well, it wasn't unreasonable. She was not at home, and Anvard was in mourning, and there'd been so much going on, after all…

"Well," she said to her reflection in the mirror, "this is part of growing up, that's all. You're not a child any more, Lucy. You shouldn't feel miffed at something as silly as a missed birthday."

Her reflection, however, had no comfort to offer her, and she went to bed early, wondering if anyone had even thought about her at any time during the day.

Avarro stamped around Blanchston Manor, his uncle Joncas' house. His uncle the Duke, who'd arrived back from a trip a few hours prior, eyed his petulance with a mixture of indulgence and disfavor. "All that time spent with the Narnians hasn't helped you win any permanent mastery over your temper, I see," he observed, and received a glare for his commentary.

"You'd be frustrated, too, if you'd been pent up for weeks with nothing to do," Avarro spat.

"Nothing to do?" Joncas laughed mockingly. "You, sir, could be working on your lessons, or your arms skills, or any other number of useful things. I have hired tutors for all of those. If they are not being put to use, I will dismiss them, and then where will you be?"

"Whether I have lessons or not, I'm still stuck here," Avarro sniped back. "Like a prisoner."

"Bah, prisoner." His uncle snorted. "Spare me your wailing. You know nothing of hardship, you spoilt brat. If you are that frustrated, go to town and amuse yourself. Go have a drink with the other young men, or play at darts or bowling. Work out some of your frustration and then come back and do something with your time besides damaging my furniture."

Not having anything better to do, Avarro had one of the stablemen saddle a horse and rode down the winding road to the town huddled at the base of the cliff.

It was a sprawling place, with winding cobbled streets in the main avenues, petering out to packed dirt in the alleyways and outlying areas. There were several taverns, a few inns, craftspeople's shops, and a spacious square where festivals and celebrations were held. The space was empty of finery just now, instead crowded with folk bustling on their daily errands.

Avarro snorted at the urgency they displayed. Hurry, hurry, hurry, pick up the bread from the baker, the cloth from the merchant, and for what? Head home to their little cottages and their little spouses and their little children where it all meant more work: cooking, or sewing, or cleaning, or some such.

He just didn't understand what was so great about these 'simple pleasures.'

How could people live like that? Surely none of these people appreciated the finer things: a perfectly done roast (that you simply demanded, and it appeared); a stoup of wine (that you didn't have to spend months making); a fine set of clothes (that you didn't have to weave).

Lucy had tried to explain it to him, once, but he'd pointed out she was a queen, so why would she bother going to the kitchens to… bake bread? Or sit in her room and sew up a hem?

It makes me appreciate others' work better, she'd answered him. And it's nice to know I can do these things if I have to.

He didn't remember what he'd said back, but he remembered the clear look of annoyance on her face as she told him, Avarro, you could stand to be a little more appreciative. Well… well, so could she! She never seemed to really use her power, and then had the gall to complain to him of being tired. I can't have dinner, Avarro, he replayed her voice in his head. I'm too tired after Court. No, Avarro, I can't go on a ride with you, I have a meeting with the weavers. No, Avarro. No. Not now. No.
"Well, Lucy, if you didn't waste half your day in pandering to common folk, you would have time to spend with me!" He huffed to himself, mood darkening.

And her reaction after that silly schoolroom visit... Clearly she was overwhelmed with his attention, and had to make space to contain herself. What other reason for her vanishing from the public eye for a day could there possibly be? After all, if she hadn't wanted him to be near her, she wouldn't have invited him along. Girls and their silly games of playing hard-to-get.

Well, surely Lucy missed him now. What a shock she must have had, to come back from Archenland and find her dear Avarro missing.

He wondered if she even knew the High King had suggested he go home. Surely not; she'd have spoken for him to stay. She'd have talked her brothers around. He knew it. She must be missing him. Who else did she have who wanted nothing from her but her time? Nobody. Everyone else wanted something from her, but he–he just wanted her. And nobody appreciated how much he sacrificed so she could do all the different things she wanted to do. Even if they were stupid things like meeting with the weavers.

He spotted a likely-looking tavern, dismounted, and tossed his reins to the stableboy outside. If he couldn't be with Lucy, maybe here he could forget about her a while. And there was no solicitous Edmund hovering to tell him to not drink too much–bah!

He felt Narnia's influence sliding off like snow from a slick roof. It was good to be back in Telmar again.

A little more than a week after Lucy's birthday, and about a week since the Calormenes had departed, King Lune finally seemed to really wake up from his cloud of grief. Susan and Lucy were encouraged that he seemed to be having more days spent profitably or usefully, and no more days spent unable to rise at all.

He still had his quiet moments of sadness, which were to be expected, but more and more days, Susan and Lucy found themselves with fewer responsibilities to handle.

At the evening meal on the ninth day, King Lune actually smiled at something Prince Corin said to him—a real smile—and later, he sang along with the music. He hadn't enjoyed music for months. His warm, slightly off time, enthusiastic voice got the whole crowd singing, and the sisters smiled at one another.

So Susan and Lucy began to make plans to return to Narnia, hoping to slip away as quietly as possible to avoid yet another formal event. They were mostly successful (Lord Nen was invaluable at keeping their leave-taking a small informal affair).

On the day they were setting out, just past dawn, Lucy, Susan, and four guards who were escorting them gathered in the courtyard of the castle at Anvard. Dawn mist smoked up from the flagstones, catching the dim grey light.

King Lune and Corin were there, of course, and Lord Nen, and one or two courtiers who had become closer with the sisters during their stay, but other than that the courtyard was quiet.

Corin was holding back tears at their going; he only resisted sobbing when Susan promised that he should be invited to come to Cair Paravel in a couple summers' time to start his knighthood training (they'd discussed this with Lune, of course). Corin gave Lucy's knees one last enthusiastic hug, and pecked Susan on the cheek, before retreating to his father's side to wave them goodbye.

King Lune of course buried each of them in his giant bear hugs, calling them some of his dearest, kindest friends. "And may Aslan will that we shalt come together soon under happier circumstances, friends," he said. Lucy was encouraged he could look forward to happier times.

Thanks and well-wishes exchanged around, the Narnians started to check their packs before mounting up.

Susan turned her head, let out a short exclamation, and spoke to Lucy quietly. "Lucy, is Lord Rorin returning to Narnia with us, as his kinsmen already have done?"

"What?" Despite herself, Lucy's spirits lifted a little. Was Rorin returning with them after all? He hadn't said anything to her. In fact, she hadn't seen much of him the past week or so. She turned to find him looking a bit abashed, standing a little distance away next to his horse, which was clearly packed for a journey.

"My—my apologies, Queen Lucy," he stammered, when she approached. He kept tightening straps and buckles.

"Apologies? Whatever for?" she asked.

"I did not realize you were departing so early today…" he started, and Lucy cast a confused glance at his packed horse. "I–I thought you were leaving later in the day, and I was going to–well. Here." He thrust a letter at her, which she took, and before she could do anything else, he grasped her hand, kissed it formally, and mounted his horse. He looked down at her from the height, a strained expression on his face. "Farewell, Queen Lucy. I hope you shall ever be my friend, and I wish you all of Aslan's blessings." He turned his horse's head, and set out the nearest opening, vanishing into the dawn fog.

Susan hurried over. "What was that? Lucy?"

"I–I don't know," she said, utterly confused. "Lord Rorin said, 'sorry,' gave me a letter, and left. …I do not think he is returning to the Cair, though." She added.

"Are you–" Susan started to ask, but Lucy cut her off.

"Let's set out," she said briskly, thrusting the letter into a pocket. "If we don't want to camp overnight, we'd better get moving." She gave her sister a tight smile, and Susan relented.

"Very well, let us head home." She agreed, and turned to her horse.

Lucy cast a quick glance around the courtyard, which showed mildly perplexed looks on the faces of the Archenlanders. It gave Lucy a vague comfort: at least she wasn't alone in her confusion. She resolved to put Rorin out of her mind.

When they paused for midday meal, Susan looked questioningly across at Lucy, who was placidly eating her meal, apparently having forgotten about the letter in her pocket.

Susan didn't mention it, instead keeping the conversation on whether the boys had remembered to keep up on the day-to-day chores around the Cair, which had fallen to Susan and Lucy in the boys' absence. With the girls' current absence, Susan was doubtful the boys were remembering all the tasks.

One of the guards, hearing the light question, choked back a laugh.

"Excusing me, ma'ams," he said. "But if one of those chores is making sure the chimneys are cleaned ahead of winter…"

Another guard laughed aloud, apparently getting some joke.

"Oh?" Susan said, leaning forward. "Which is it? They have forgotten, or–?"

"Oh, they didn't forget," the first guard said, chuckling. "But you might say the High King forgot some of the finer points. Let's get back on the road, and I'll tell you."

As they rode toward Narnia, the tale unfolded.

It seemed that the boys had almost forgotten this task, but Edmund had remembered that they usually had Talking Stoats come in around this time of year for… something, and mentioned it to Peter. Peter remembered it was something to do with the chimneys.

However, the High King had been distracted while listening to the list of preparations that needed to take place, and had directed Mr Tumnus to take care of the queens' apartments; he and Edmund would mind their own; and they trusted the appropriate people would be assigned to do whatever needed to be done for the public rooms with fireplaces.

"So, the High King did catch the part where you need to move furnishings away from the fireplaces," the guard said, and stopped.

There was a moment where they only heard the horses' hoofs trotting forward.

"And…" Lucy prompted, after she and Susan had exchanged mutually chagrined looks.

"His Majesty missed the part where you need to cover everything in heavy cloths as well."

"Oh no." Susan said, starting to laugh.

"Oh yes. So High King Peter was in his sitting room, reading some paperwork when the Stoats came scrambling down the chimney… surrounded by a year's worth of soot and chimney-dust."

Lucy laughed aloud. "And he has all those white furnishings too."

One of the other guards said, "Indeed. You could see the plume of soot that shot out the windows from the grounds."

"He had his windows open too?!"

"But that means…"

"Yes. Not only did every bit of furnishing in the room need to be taken out and cleaned, the balcony and the outside of the walls needed to be scrubbed as well."

"Can't have the high white walls of Cair Paravel soot-stained," Lucy said solemnly, before dissolving into laughter again.

"Oh, no," Susan laughed again, wiping tears from her eyes. "How long did it take to get everything restored?"

"We don't know!" another guard put in, eyes mirthful. "The… er, project was still underway when we left."

This set all of them off into renewed laughter.

"To be fair, the High King was apologetic. And he did take part in all the scrubbing and cleaning," the guard admitted. "He went sea-bathing and the end of each day's work to cleanse himself of the accumulation, to avoid creating more work for anyone else."

"Oh, poor Peter." Susan giggled. "This will teach him to pay strict attention to unfamiliar tasks, I think."

"Let's be sure to put him in charge of arranging for chimney-cleaning next year." Lucy suggested, setting Susan off again.

"Honestly," Lucy said, calming down. "It is unusual for Peter to be so distracted. What had him so preoccupied?"

"That, I think, is best left to His Majesty to tell you," the guard said, biting back another smile. "No, it's nothing terrible, my lady, but truly. I think you need to hear the High King's answer to that question."

"If those are the worst things happening in the Cair while we're gone, I'll take them," Lucy said contentedly. "This has been such a busy year. It'll be nice to settle in to winter and get ready for Christmas."

The talk turned to what they each thought this year's winter weather would be like, and by late evening, they found themselves closing in on Cair Paravel, shining in the darkness. Weary from the day's ride, they passed through the gates. Home at last!

A few days off of work, so I have time and mental space to write. Hope everyone is doing well & stays well!