Away from the Castle [open]

[Edmund Pevensie]

Edmund lied down on his back and put his hands behind his head. He had just finished eating his lunch and after a morning of riding and food in his stomach, he was ready for an afternoon nap. Edmund’s horse was a little ways off grazing. The sky was clear and the breeze gently caressed his face. Everything was so calm that the young King could fall asleep at any moment. The calmness of the past week was such a change from the usual hectic schedule he usually had. Instead of training, paper work, holding court and meeting ambassadors, Edmund had been riding, visiting subjects, swimming, exploring and basically relaxing.

The young king’s eyes began to droop and in minutes, he was fast asleep. For a while, his sleep was calm, his breathing was even and gentle, then he began to dream. It was cold, so very cold. Edmund shivered and felt dread coursing through him at the knowledge of what kind of dream this was. He had this dream often enough, during the Golden Age, back in England, and even now though no where nearly as often as he did when he was younger. This particular dream sometimes turns very violent and vivid, and other times, it is vague and isn’t particularly painful, but it always began the same way, the same cold and dread that would take over. The most Edmund could hope for was a less painful one.

But today, Edmund never got to find out which dream it was because just as the cold became almost unbearable, something woke him up. His mind was still groggy so he couldn’t tell right away what it was that had snapped him out of his sleep. Maybe it was a noise, or perhaps it was someone shaking him. The dark haired boy opened is eyes.

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[talia]

^{Her little hands were almost frozen with the cold. Ah! perhaps a burning match might be some good, if she could draw it from the bundle and strike it against the wall, just to warm her fingers.}

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Talia had heard of the legendary lamp post and the tree of protection in the middle of Narnia, but had of course never seen either for herself. And therefore, she quite obviously had taken an opportunity to ride out to the lantern waste as soon as she'd been able to. Though she was a bit nervous about being gone for most of the day, she'd been reminded several times that here she was free to come and go as she pleased, and assured that her presence wouldn't be missed. So the pretty Calormene girl had saddled up her horse and ridden out across the countryside. It was a lovely day for her expedition, sunny and clear with just a little breeze to stir up the air. Not too warm and not too cold. Dressed simply in a brown wool skirt, split several inches in the front and sides for ease of movement during riding, with a cream under-dress, she had a black vest laced over the top of her dress, and a light-weight cloak wrapped around her shoulders in case it got colder.

Halting her horse at the clearing in the lantern waste, Talia quickly saw that she was not alone. There was another horse already there, and her brown eyes soon spotted the rider asleep on the grass. He was richly dressed, and black haired girl was pretty sure she recognized him from around the castle. Was he one of the kings? Everyone was so well-dressed in Narnia, it was sometimes hard to tell, even she felt like she was dressed like a queen quite frequently... Swinging herself off her horse swiftly, Talia looked over at the boy again, biting her lip as she thought. She glanced up at her horse, wishing that she'd thought to bring one of the native talking horses instead of her dumb Calormene horse that she'd stolen as she'd run away. Any of the native horses in the stables would have been able to help her out here.

As she watched, the boy shivered in his sleep, looking cold and uncomfortable, and the empathetic girl decided that no matter who he was, she ought to go rouse him. Letting her horse go trot over to the other horse, Talia approached the sleeping boy, kneeling down beside him. Reaching out a hand, she hesitated for a moment, and almost drew back and changed her mind. Another shiver made her reach over almost instinctively, and give the boy a firm, but very gentle, shake.

[Edmund Pevensie]

At first, it was too bright for him to see anything, then, after blinking a few times, Edmund's eyes fell on the person who had been shaking him. It was a Calormen from what the young king could tell. He vaguely remembered seeing her at Cair Paravel before but he wasn't sure. Realizing that now he had company and could no longer act like a young boy out exploring, Edmund sat up and tried to look a bit more composed. It would not do to have Susan hear about him acting in such an unseemly manner. He was, after all, a King of Narnia, whether or not he was wearing a crown and sitting on a throne or sleeping on the grass in simple clothes.

"Thank you for awaking me Lady," said Edmund, swiching immediately to court speech. Usually, he wouldn't, but at the moment, he knew nothing about this person who had just woken him so the best way to go was to be polite and, well, courtly about it. "If you hadn't interrupted at that moment, I'm afraid I would have been claimed by the nightmare's clutches." Having not spoken so formally in a week, Edmund found that his words were flowing out no where near as smoothly as it usually did, not that anyone but himself would notice. Looking up at the sky, Edmund guessed that only an hour had passed since he first fell asleep.

((totally and completely out of muse now. ))

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[talia]

^{Her little hands were almost frozen with the cold. Ah! perhaps a burning match might be some good, if she could draw it from the bundle and strike it against the wall, just to warm her fingers.}

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The boy blinked several times, waking and sitting up. Talia knelt back on her heels, her dark eyes carefully surveying the boy's face as he wakened. Now that she was looking at him closely and clearly, she did recognize him as one of Narnia's beloved nobility. King Edmund, she was sure. The storyteller did have a knack for remembering things she'd heard, and she had of course been helped out by various kindly inhabitants of Cair Paravel whispering names to her as people passed. It had all been a bit overwhelming at first, but she had definitely made note of knowing the names of the Kings and Queens--how embarrassing would it have been to know know the name of your own sovereign?

At least, in Calormen it would have been considered a great falsity not to be able to identify and therefore worship the Tisroc (may he live for ever....or rather...well actually, she probably didn't want him to live forever, but it was ingrained in her that she ought to say it....Was there something similar for Narnians she was supposed to say? Oh dear. Here she was, in the presence of one of the Kings of Narnia and she had absolutely no idea how to address him, or what to say afterwards. Brilliant, Talia, simply genius). Of course, it was also not really of common practice to touch the Tisroc or speak to him (or any Tarkaan, really) without permission, perhaps she ought to have left him alone, or gone to his horse and asked the horse to wake him...?

Talia was jolted out of her worrying thoughts when the young king thanked her politely (and rather regally) for rousing him, and mild relief washed over the dark haired girl. She shook her head lightly, not used to receiving such courtly thanks for...anything really. "Oh...No--your Majesty--you don't have to thank me..." She replied a bit brokenly, still unsure what exactly she was supposed to say, her distinctly foreign accent giving her nervous words a gentle, soft quality that she always spoke with, though her speech wasn't exactly as flowing as normal. "I'm not a 'Lady,' Highness." The girl added after a moment as a quiet correction to his own speech.