~By the Lion's Mane: The Call~

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Over the next few weeks, I settled into the farm routine. Everyone was awake with the sun at the rooster's crow. Benjamin came out to the barn and we milked the cows together. We chatted for a while in the barn, and then headed back up to the house for breakfast. I helped Mrs. Harris with the dishes and housework, and then I went down to the fields. At first, the men hesitated when I offered to lend a hand, but I proved what a help I could be. So I took care of the horses-- Chloe and Jack-- and the other animals.

I was quiet most of the time. I was the most comfortable around Mrs. Harris, I guess because I was closest to her in age. She was forty-one and I was thirty, even if I was in my fifteen year old body. Mr. Harris had just turned fifty.

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One day in early May, I was around the back of the barn with Anduril, practicing my sword strokes. I did that a lot, so that I wouldn't get rusty without practice, but only when I was sure I wouldn't be discovered.

I was working up a sweat, my arms were aching, and I was completely focused on my strokes. I didn't hear Benjamin approach.

"What the hell?" he exclaimed in surprise when I nearly took off his head.

I jumped in surprise and leaped around, my sword tip at his throat. He backed against the rough wooden wall of the barn.

"Rose! Put the bloody thing down!"

I realized what I was doing, and quickly sheathed my blade. I caught my breath. Once the longsword was out of sight, Ben relaxed.

"Sorry," I managed.

"What are you doing with that thing? Where did it come from?" He asked, his brown eyes wide.

I hesitated. He wouldn't believe me. "It... it was my father's."

He raised his eyebrow, a gesture that was very common with him.

"And where did he get it?" he asked, not believing me.

I frowned. "His father," I snapped. "What are you doing here anyway? I thought you were in town, selling that boar?"

Ben crossed his arms and ignored my question. "Can I see it?"

"No," I answered shortly.

I turned and strode back into the barn, into the tack room where I slept. I unbuckled the belt that held my scabbard and put it away, wrapping it in an oiled cloth and putting it in my sack.

When I turned, Ben was leaning against the door frame, frowning as he studied me.

"What?" I snapped at him again.

"Just... Nothing," he said, shaking his head as if to clear it.

"Well that's clear," I answered with a scowl. "Can I get by?"

He smiled mischievously. "Can I see the sword?"

I sighed, rolling my eyes toward the rafters. I decided it was better to just give him what he wanted, because otherwise he wouldn't relent. I went into the room and returned with the sword. I handed it to him, hilt pointed towards him. He took it, and was surprised by its weight, his arms drooping a bit at first.

"Wow. This is heavier than I'd expected."

I snorted and looked away. He studied the hilt, running his fingers over the carved images of lions and unicorns.

"Is this real gold?" he asked in awe and disbelief.

"Yes, so please be careful with it."

After a few more moments of examination, he handed it back to me, incorrectly, I might add.

"Where'd you learn to use it?"

I looked away and shrugged. I returned it to the pack. He raised that eyebrow.

I sighed. "It doesn't matter why I have the sword, or where I learned to use it, all right? And if I told you, you wouldn't believe me." Then I turned and strode away towards the sheep pastures, swinging onto Anduril's back at a canter.

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Benjamin continued to ask me questions about the sword. He knew that I was hiding something, and he was curious. He also hung around me more, and I often caught him watching me.

Watching me with those eyes, rimmed in a dark halo of long lashes. They were the same shade of chocolate brown as Edmund's. I missed Edmund and the others so much, and I often shed a tear or two at night for him. I didn't know where he was.

I often wondered if he ever thought about me, or wondered about what we in Narnia speculated about their disappearance. He didn't know I was here in England, searching for him and his siblings. I wondered if I would ever see him again, to tell him I loved him.

~Edmund~

Months after we'd come back to Finchley, and yet I still couldn't believe it.

When we'd stumbled back through the wardrobe to find the Professor entering the room as if fifteen years hadn't passed was quite a shock. But even more so when I found that I was a boy of fifteen again, my voice high and immature, my body rather pasty and scrawny, and still wearing the same clothes I'd been wearing to play cricket in. It was mind boggling.

But that was several months ago, and it had become safe enough for us to return home to Finchley again. It was amazing to see my mother, who hadn't aged at all, for the first time in over a decade, and I have to admit I did shed a tear or two when she swept us into a hug when we got off our train.

But now I had to pack my trunk again, for it was time to go back to school for the new term. I didn't think I could bear sitting in a classroom, listening to lectures about all of the useless things they taught us in school. Nothing really mattered much to me anymore.

It was too strange, too different from what we had grown accustomed to. To be treated as revered rulers of an entire kingdom and then suddenly as children all over again, meant to be seen and not heard, was extremely difficult to adjust to. My raging temper, which I thought that I had outgrown, returned again and I constantly had to fight to control my tongue when ordered about or treated like an ignorant child.

It was the same for all of us. We had no interest in anything in this world anymore. Our thoughts and dreams remained in Narnia, that golden country where we ruled as kings and queens, where terrific creatures of legend and myth lived and were real. We all longed to return, but in the meantime, we had to settle for daydreams.

I daydreamed of racing Phillip through the woods, soaring over mossy fallen logs, gurgling streams of clear water, the scent of wildflowers in bloom filling my nose. And my opponent, matching me stride for stride, on her white steed, a unicorn, her chestnut hair streaming out behind her as she laughed.

Rose. What did she and the others think? They wouldn't know where we could have gone; they might think we were dead. Surely they would have sent out search parties when we didn't come back, but nothing remained except our horses and saddlebags. Who would rule Narnia now, and how could we get back? Those were the questions that haunted me. But they weren't the only troubles that plagued me in my sleep.

I also felt the guilt and regret of my goodbye to Rose. To let her leave, and with only a stiff handshake? We had acted like children; that was certain. And as I did shake her hand, I could see the hurt in her round, pretty face. But she hid it behind a mask of indifference, and I turned away in silence. To think that seeing her standing on the deck of that ship sailing away east may be the last time I ever saw her filled me with regret, and I longed to take it back and give her a proper goodbye.

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