𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 || peter pevensie [1]

chapter eleven ~ stitches

Groaning at the pain in her head, Nimueh rolled over. When she opened her eyes, her vision was momentarily a blank white, the sky so bright that she had to close them again. Reaching up to rub her head, she felt a warm breeze wash over her.

"Are you alright, my child?"

She looked up to see the Great Lion standing over her and smiled. "Yes, Aslan." Sitting up, Nimueh swept her eyes over the body ridden landscape. "Is it over?"

"Yes, dear one. Now, let us get your head seen to. Can you stand?"

Nimueh, though shakily, got to her feet, her head spinning. Following Aslan, she breathed in the faint, metallic scent of blood and armour on the quiet air. To her right, she spotted the lifeless body of the White Witch. The sick feeling in her stomach settled ever so slightly in the knowledge that she was gone forever. A small figure was scurrying about the battlefield, kneeling down next to the bodies of their fallen soldiers. When the figure looked up at Aslan, she immediately hurried over.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, Lucy, though I did hit my head quite hard." Sitting down on a nearby rock, Nimueh let Lucy gently pull her loose hairs and drip a tear of the fire flower liquid onto the cut on her head. "When did you arrive?"

"Just before the Battle ended. Aslan saved Mr Tumnus and all of the other creatures that had been turned to stone. Then Aslan killed the White Witch and her army surrendered."

Slowly, the pain slipped from her head. Her sickness faded and she felt the strength return to her limbs. "Thank you."

Lucy curtsied to Nimueh and Aslan before hurrying back to healing the remains of their army. Nimueh stood from the rock and turned to the Lion. "I shall return to the campsite and begin the preparation for a feast tonight."

"An excellent suggestion, child. You have done well today."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." Sweeping back through the bouldered hills towards the campsite, her mind wandered to Elijah. Though she hadn't known the Dryad for very long, she was family, and Nimueh desperately hoped that she had returned to the camp safely.

Levi stood outside a tent at the edge of the campsite. Poking her head inside the tent, she saw about seven Dryads huddled in the blankets and cushions. "It's over. You can come out now." The beautiful women rose to their feet, cheering airily. "There is to be a celebratory feast. Is there anything I can do to help you?"

"You must rest, Nimueh," Elijah drew her into an embrace. "Jonah has fixed up your dress. Go and lie down for a little while."

The Dryads hurried past her, muttering amongst themselves excitedly. Nimueh took Levi's reigns and led him over to the horse pen. Removing his bridle and saddle, she brushed him down and fed him a couple of apples. The clinking of armour reached her ears as what was left of the army began to arrive from the battlefield. Glancing up, Nimueh squinted at the sunlight bouncing off armour, shields, swords, and sweat-glazed skins. She wrinkled her nose at the vague scent of battle in the air, she decided to return to her tent and clean herself up.

Though she had only gained a few bruises, and the head wound that Lucy had cured, Nimueh still winced slightly as she unlaced her leather armour. Stripping off the rest of her clothes, she gently touched the patches of skin on her left side and right shoulder that were fading into a blackish-purple. She took a piece of cloth, dipped it into a jar of clean water and wiped herself down from head to toe. Then, after braiding up her hair into a thick plait, she lay down on her bedspread, closed her eyes and tried to rest.