The Faded Portrait of a Bygone Era

How the Needle Spins

A/N: It's the moment you've all been waiting for... or maybe dreading... Ramandu's Island!

Edit: Hello everyone! If you're revisiting this story after a while, you may notice a few minor changes in this chapter. I was never really happy with the interaction with Lilliandil, and I feel that I let reader interaction push that scene in a direction I never intended or wanted for it to go. My plan was always to have Edmund focus on Lilliandil, and for Caspian to have no reaction to her at all. But in the process of writing and speaking with readers, this moment got hyped up into something bigger, which I went with against my instincts. Now, I have done my best to rewrite the scene as close to my original intentions as possible. Thanks for reading!

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They followed the Blue Star with renewed hope. And for two days, all was well. By the dawn of the third day, their troubles returned tenfold.

The wind had left them, halting their progress and stranding them out upon the open sea. The men set to work at the oars, rowing to move the ship by hand, leaving them exhausted by dusk. As such, the Dawn Treader made no progress at night, the precious dark hours needed for the crew to rest.

Three more days passed in this manner.

"We can't continue on this way," said Edmund. He, Drinian, Margaret, and Caspian stood upon the deck, discussing their next course of action while staring up above at the listless sails. "The men won't last at this pace, and neither will the rations."

Drinian looked to Margaret.

"Have the stars given you any word, Your Majesty? Any notion of when we might reach Ramandu's Island?"

She shook her head. "No exact estimate, I'm afraid, Captain. But we're close, I know that. We mustn't give up hope."

"As much as I agree with your sentiment, Margaret," Caspian said, "We've no wind in our sails. How are we to reach the island?"

For a moment, she didn't answer him, her gaze scanning the deck, then wandering out onto the endless, watery horizon.

"With things the way they are," she said at last, "I would say that something doesn't want us anywhere near that island."

Drinian studied the three of them intently, then spoke.

"We'll go on as long as we're able," he said. "May the Lion save us..." With his piece said, he wandered away from them to take his place at the helm.

The other three exchanged glances. Caspian, especially, watched the two siblings.

"I'm going to study the maps again," he said. "There isn't much else I can do."

He nodded to Margaret and Edmund, and left them together.

"Come on," said Edmund, draping an arm around her shoulders, "Let's get you below deck. You've been out in the sun far too long. Have you had any water at all today?"

Margaret let herself be ushered below decks.

"You know he's giving us some time together," she said, ignoring her brother's question. "Caspian, I mean. I did talk to him, but I think he still feels the weight of some of the things you said at the pool."

"I know what he's doing," said Edmund, sitting her down upon a crate. "Now, have you had any water today?"

"It's rationed," she replied, again avoiding a direct answer. At his stern look, she sighed. "No... but the crew needs it more than I do. They're working hard down there."

"That doesn't mean you can just go without it entirely," Edmund said firmly.

It reminded her of the Golden Age, of how he would try so hard to take care of her, despite how close they were in age. Less so than Peter of course, but he cared for her nonetheless.