~By the Lion's Mane~ >A Narnian Fanfiction<

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

"Rise and shine! I've been waiting for you for an hour now! Daylight's burning!"

I whipped open Peter and Edmund's tent flap. Early morning sunlight streamed into the tent. Peter was already up and about; I had seen him talking to Oreius, who was acting as a general in the impending battle. But I had waited forever for Edmund at the horse tent, and he hadn't come. After searching all over camp for him, I had finally come here.

And there he was, curled up in his bed. When the sun poured into his face, he groaned and rolled over, pulling his pillow over his face. Rolling my eyes, I strode over to him and yanked the blankets off and snatched his pillow away. 

"Come on, Edmund. You've got to be ready! You've already missed out on so much time to train, and you barely know how to hold a sword, much less shoot and arrow or ride a horse! And those are just the basics!" I pleaded with him.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Can't you see I'm too bloody tired? My whole body is sore; I can barely move!"

Sighing, I put my hands on my hips, a gesture I was sure he was going to soon grow to dread. "Well, I'm sorry about that. Peter was sore the first day to, and so was I for about a week when I first started, but after more practice you won't hurt at all. You just have to build up more muscle."

He groaned and flopped back onto his back, putting the pillow back over his face. Then he screamed something I couldn't make out into the fluffy pillow. Something about 'crazy girl' and 'bloody unicorn'.

I shifted my weight to one foot, and waited. "Okay. If you insist on being such a baby, then you can have another hour to sleep. I'll send someone to wake you." As I closed the flap, I called out sarcastically, "Sleep tight!"

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Edmund and I didn't...well, click like I had with his siblings. He didn't like being told what to do, especially by me or Peter. When we weren't practicing, I saw him off by himself, staring off over camp. Occasionally I'd see him lift his arm to his face, swipe it quickly, and then drop it back down, and I realized he must be crying. Sometimes, when I saw him like that, my feelings toward him softened. I thought about how tough it must be not to be trusted by some of the Narnians, and how Narnia hadn't been such a great place for him so far. I wondered what it must be like for him to suddenly find himself thrust into this strange new world with so much responsibility, and for him to have already mucked it up so that he was still disliked and mistrusted by some of his future subjects.

But then we met up again to practice, and he got that snarky attitude again, and I forgot about trying to be kinder to him. So we hadn't become the best of friends. But it wasn't just his attitude that irritated me. It was how...good he was. Lately, he nearly always unarmed me when we practice. And I still made him use that heavy sword that I got to make things hard on him. I was tougher than I had been with anyone else, and it seemed as though that had made him the better for it. I saw him practicing by himself sometimes, and he watched the other warriors when they trained. He thought I didn't know, but I watched him. And it irked me. Which made me work him all the harder at practice.

But there was one thing that he thought he would do so well at and then failed miserably. Horseback riding. He wouldn't ride Anduril, so I got him one of the craziest horses in the stable. No one wanted her. She was all legs and shied at the slightest sound or movement. Her eyes rolled around and showed the whites, and she was exhausting to ride because she had such a hard mouth. I showed up with her prancing around at the end of her reins, saddled and ready for Edmund.

"Here you go, Your Highness," I said with a dazzling grin. "She's just a regular horse, just like you requested."

I gave him some brief instructions and a leg up, and then he was sitting on her. She danced a little under him, tossing her head and snorting. Edmund just scowled and held tightly on the leather reins. 

"Give her a little squeeze with your lower legs to get her to walk," I instructed.

He squeezed gently, and the stupid brute backed up, flinging her head up into his face.

"Harder," I called.

He gave her a small jab in the ribs. She squealed and leaped into a gallop, giving a few small bucks as she went. Edmund yelled in surprise and then grabbed her neck to keep from falling off.

"Sit up straight, deep in the saddle! Get her reins gathered and pull back in several half-halts!"

He tried to do so, but when he grabbed for the reins, she slammed on the breaks, and he went over her head. By this time, Andy was braying with horsey laughter, and I was trying my best not to double over, my hand over my mouth to stifle my snorts. Edmund sat up, a little dazed, and saw me. His face turned bright red and he stood stiffly. I could tell he was sore. He snatched up the reins again, and dragged the crazy mare back over to us.

"Here." He shoved the leather back into my palm, and crossed his arms. "Give me a Talking Horse then. Or I refuse to ride."

I stopped laughing, wiped my teary eyes, and nodded. "Okay. Come with me, and we'll get you a real horse." I broke into hysterical laughter every few minutes, and Edmund's face would twist into an expression of bottled up fury. We ended up finding him a Talking Horse named Phillip. He was a handsome chestnut stallion, muscular and noble. From that day on, Edmund practiced at riding with Phillip to coach him, and he became an expert at that too.

A/N: Review and tell me what you think!!