𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄 || peter pevensie [2]

chapter four ~ legends of old

If the Telmarine horse could smell that she was an enemy of the King, after half an hour of riding through woodland, it didn't seem to mind. Nimueh kept to the edge of the forest, where the trees were thinnest. She rode for as long as the light allowed her to, long enough to get away from any unwanted attention.

When Nimueh awoke from her rest, it was early morning. A heavy mist hung in the air, dampening the soil that she lay on. Hoping she didn't have much further to travel, she packed away her skirt blankets, threw on her black cloak and mounted her horse. She rode for another couple of hours before she came to a large clearing.

It opened up into a vast green field, a large mound reaching up into the clouded sky to her right. A pathway stuck out from the entrance and sloped upwards into the field, ending with a small courtyard with pillars in the four corners. There were two Fauns, armed with bows, stationed out on a platform above the entrance, so she knew this had to be the place.

As much as she was happy to be back where she belonged, back in her element, Nimueh found it immensely difficult to kick the horse out into the clearing. She pushed the horse into a trot, following a straight path and then circling round towards the courtyard opposite the entrance. Glancing up from beneath her hood at the two guards, as expected, she saw that they had placed their aim on her. She continued a slow approach, finally stopping in the courtyard.

"Who are you?" one of the guards yelled down at her.

Instead of answering, Nimueh dismounted and lowered her hood "I am here to assist in the repossession of the Narnian throne." One of the Fauns ducked out of sight, whilst the other's weapon still tailed her. "Is there somewhere I can water my horse?" she asked, unperturbed.

The Faun lowered his bow and came down from the platform. He took the reins and patted the horse's neck. "You're her, aren't you?" he said without looking at her.

Nimueh flicked at her fingernails. "That all depends on who you mean." She wasn't much in the mood for small talk. If only she knew if the Pevensies had already arrived, then she might have some inkling on how to present herself when she entered the mound. If only she had some solid proof that they were even in Narnia at all.

"The Lady," said the Faun, his eyes now on her in earnest. "The knight from the Golden Age."

"Oh, I was around long before the Golden Age."

"You there!" a voice called out. Both turned towards the tunnel. The first Faun had returned, with two Black Dwarves and a Centaur, each of them with a weapon pointed at her. They didn't stop until they had her surrounded.

"Hand over your weapons," the Centaur ordered, towering over her.

"I don't think that will be necessary."

"We can't trust you." The first Faun reached out for her.

Nimueh armed her bow. "I wouldn't," she growled, pointing the tip of the arrow at his chest.

The two Dwarves lurched forwards, latching onto her lower arms. She refused to let go of her bow, even as they escorted her out of the daylight, into a touch-lit cavern, and the arrow flew off at an angle, fortunate not to hit anyone. "I have two legs," she quipped. "I am perfectly capable of walking by myself."

"Quiet!" One of the Dwarves tightened his grip on her arm. "If you give us any trouble, we'll be forced to further restrain you," he said, with a malicious snarl.

"Wait." A young man, armed with a sword, appeared from around the corner. "What is going on here?" His accent was undeniably Telmarine.

"This girl won't relinquish her weapons, Sire."