11. Take inspiration from Yanni's songs.
I do not understand why I have the cordial. The dagger I know, and even my elegant sister has a bow. Queens are called to protect their own.
We're called to heal them too. After watching Aslan breathe life into beings, how can I not want to heal? How can I not want to imitate that part of the Lion?
But I—
I am clumsy at it. I sometimes wonder if the cordial heals instantly because I am better queen to the well than to the sick.
I can be quiet. I can point out the joys in their lives.
But I watch my Gentle sister—I watch the way a single touch from her means as much as the cordial does to many, and I wonder, why did Aslan give me the gift to heal? Isn't it better suited to her? Or is it that Aslan knew I would need it, and she would not?
I kneel beside a gasping Dwarf and let a single clear drop fall onto the spear thrust in his heart. Then I am up and running, running with all my speed, to a Kestrel with a half-severed wing.
I do not stay, like Susan does. She goes to the less injured, and gives them more of her time. Is it because I am so clumsy with my words, when they are hurting? Joy is exhausting to the sick.
Do I have the cordial so that I do not need to stay?
But Aslan heals instantly at times as well. Perhaps I am meant to bring joy's swift return. I tell myself that, and often it is enough. I can be like Aslan in this way. That is good.
But sometimes I do not have the cordial, and I try to bind up a sword thrust in an arm, and watch the bandage turn red, and I pull it too tightly. Or I say the wrong thing. And I wince, wondering—why wasn't the Gentle the healer?
But Edmund helps after those moments. He tells me that it takes courage to face pain. Valiance is needed, he has said, to look down a long road of healing and struggle and not-as-good-as-it-was, and keep going anyway. Which is why Susan and I both go to the sickroom.
Maybe someday I won't be so clumsy there.
A/N: I chose Yanni's song "You Only Live Once".