Edmund had his feet propped up on a nearby chair as he sat, silent in thought, looking across at Peter. The large map of Narnia and its surroundings was there for reference, but it wasn't like they needed it for anything other than visualisation. They knew this land as well as anyone now. That was why it was somewhat of a concern that the two Kings of Narnia were sitting here in silence, unsure of how to proceed.
"It's not a disaster," Edmund said aloud for what was probably the third or fourth time. "But we may need to consider trade." Though it was a bit late in the year to be thinking about trading for food for the winter.
"You've reached Edmund. Edmund Pevensie. If you leave a message on the telephone, I can listen to it when I return and push the right button, I think."
(OOC Disclaimer: In creating this journal, the author has assumed the identity of a fictional person for use in the role-playing game fandomhigh, for the sole purpose of entertainment, without intending to obtain a benefit or to injure or defraud either the person who created the fictional person, nor any reader of this content. The author does not purport to be the creator of the fictional person, or to be affiliated with the creator, or with any person or entity with an interest in the fictional person. The author does not claim to be the person who is being used as the graphical representation of that fictional person, nor intend to obtain a benefit or to injure or defraud that person by use of their image.)
Though the Kings of Narnia duelling was not an uncommon sight in the training yards of Cair Paravel, it was one that often drew a crowd. Servants, government officials and visitors alike would gather at the fence that separated the battleground from the rest of the courtyard and watch the back and forth thrust and clash of metal on metal.
Edmund was only beginning to warm up. He twirled his sword in his hand to get a feel for the grip. His wrist had been tender the last week or so after an unfortunate fall that was entirely his own doing. Today he felt good and ready for a bout of running around, swinging metal that he'd barely been able to lift a few years ago. The wooden practice swords were long gone. Edmund and Peter were skilled enough to duel properly without taking a limb off or slicing open each others' bellies.
"We've barely started and we have an audience," Edmund remarked. He didn't need to look behind him to know how many had already gathered.
[OOC: For those what are in Narnia.]
Flight aboard a griffin was nothing to take lightly. There was no harness up here, nor a saddle. The griffin, Trobador, had agreed to take Edmund to the south-east border and the mountains beyond. Suggesting he wear a saddle or harness would have been a great insult. As a result, the last few months had involved flying lessons for Edmund when Trobador was in the area. Little was known about the mountain range that stretched beyond Narnia's western border. Edmund had his eyes set on changing that, and flight was the best way to get there before summer and without being away for too long.
They left once the first thaw hit Cair Paravel. The weather inland wasn't as kind. Edmund was grateful for the flying lessons in the winds that sent them tumbling in a mess of feathers and flapping cloak folds. There were close calls, many of which Edmund didn't plan on telling Peter about, but Trobador took his duty too seriously to allow the King to fall too far without being caught.
The trip home wasn't nearly as arduous. Thaw had reached the Western March and flying back towards the coast was like flying into Spring. Spring hadn't entirely set in yet, even at Cair Paravel, but after the bitter cold of the mountains, the sea air felt warm and soothing to his lungs.
"Trobador," Edmund called over the wind. He leaned down close so Trobador could hear him.
"Yes, Your Majesty?"
"Let's set down in the main courtyard. I'll have the supplies taken down off your back so you can get home as soon as you'd like."
The griffin nodded his approval and tilted to allow the wind to lift them so he could come in to Cair Paravel from a different direction.
By the time they landed, a crowd had gathered. Edmund's hair was longer than he usually allowed it to grow. When he set foot on solid ground again, he tossed back his cloak and handed it to Gruffwild the Red Dwarf who was on hand to welcome the King home. "King Edmund!" Gruffwild greeted. "Welcome home."
"Good to see you, Gruffwild. Could you have someone make sure that Trobador's carry load is seen to?"
"Of course, Your Majesty. Queen Lucy has been expecting you back any day now."
"She does have a sense about these things. Thank you, Gruffwild." Edmund turned back to Trobador. "And thank you, friend."
Trobador bowed his head in respect. "You know where I am if you are in need." To the unsuspecting, the griffin's response might have seemed rough. Edmund knew from their time together that it was the highest compliment to have that kind of offer from a griffin, let alone one who valued his home and family time as much as Trobador.
Edmund didn't linger. There was much to do and much to tell. He'd been away far too long as it was.
To say that Edmund had been busy since his return to Narnia would be an understatement. All of it was of his own choosing, of course. He had been away so long, too long really, and he had plenty of catching up to do.
There had been riding and paperwork and correspondence with foreign dignitaries and working with the others planning for winter.
The fire in the fireplace crackled and his window rattled lightly from a chilly wind outside. By lamplight, Edmund sat at his desk. His pen scratched against the paper.( LetterCollapse )[OOC: Open for Narnians and anyone who might be writing a letter to Edmund]
The air tasted different the moment Edmund reached that undetermined point where Fandom was behind him and Narnia was ahead. With his belongings on his back and his sword at his side, he wasted no time in making his way to Cair Paravel. He didn't make it far before the word was out that he was home. The trumpets were a bit much though.
[OOC: Narnians, ho!]
Edmund really did try to avoid doing stupid things now. He was a much more grave and sensible person that he had been as a young boy and he thought things through, often too much. That didn't mean that he never did stupid and inappropriate things, like fiddling with his girlfriend's handcuffs (which, yes, made him blush just thinking about them). Not that fiddling with them was stupid in of itself. Fiddling with them that resulted in handcuffing himself to his bed frame with the key out of reach, now that was stupid.
For a good half hour, he tried in vain to reach the keys. He even thought about sitting here until Jo came to see where he was. So he waited and waited and then waited some more and eventually came to realise that Jo wasn't coming.
He was going to have to ask for help. Fandom, Edmund decided, was one giant exercise in humility.
"Hello?" he called out to the fourth floor hallway. "Is anybody there? I need a hand with something."
[OOC: For the one person he really doesn't want to meet this way.]
It wasn't like Edmund to end up back in his dorm room when they were supposed to be in the cabins, but then it wasn't like him to have a girlfriend either.
There was also the issue of it not being like Edmund at all to go anywhere near Turkish Delight for a good reasons
. But he had
. He'd gone near two and a half boxes of the sticky sweet last night.
With consciousness came the realisation of what he'd done. Edmund scrambled out of bed wearing only pyjama shorts, covers flying with no regard for the bed's other occupant. Quick thinking saved the floor from the contents of his stomach; he dropped to his knees and retched into his empty plastic clothes hamper
Edmund had noticed there were quite a few horses appearing here and there, and he had to wonder what they were doing here. He didn't care that much though, so while the thought was on his mind, he was off to the Preserve to practice some drills. It took him approximately four seconds to notice that he was no longer walking.
"I'm on a horse."
The horse glanced back at him and snorted. He had no saddle, no reigns and no idea of the temperament of the horse.
"Can you speak?" he asked. It was only polite, he supposed. The horse didn't give a reply, so either he didn't speak or he wasn't inclined to respond. "Do you want to go for a ride?" he asked, stroking the horse's neck. "Come along." He urged the horse on the way Phillip had taught him and the horse started into a walk, then up to a canter along the tree line. He'd missed riding. At least he wasn't the one who was a horse this time.