soldier, poet, king || e. pevensie | slow updates

the poet • 2

there will come a poet, whose weapon is his word. he will slay you with his tongue, oh lei-oh lai-oh lord.

Coralia wiped the drool off her cheek with the back of her hand. She'd dropped her head over a book by accident. It was late at night and she was exhausted. Her eyelids were drooping, but she couldn't sleep. She had only an hour until she had to meet Mr. Sowdin.

She forced herself out of bed and, as quietly as possible, tiptoed to her dresser. The drawers squeaked as she opened them and she cursed herself for not being careful. Still, her father continued to snore.

She pulled on a pair of pants and her loose shirt, tied back her long hair, and nimbly dropped from the window. She rushed to the usual spot in the woods, but it was dark and she wasn't used to it. It took just a little bit longer than usual, but she made it.

"You're late."

She cringed at the mouses voice. She hadn't known the time. She opened her mouth to reply, but he was already brushing it off.

"Don't apologize." He tossed the sword to her with all his might." His real sword was much smaller, the size for a mouse. However, when he retired he had dragged a larger one to this village in the event of, well, this. How the mouse had known he would need it, Coralia would never know.

"Sowdin," She began. "Why are you agreeing to help me like this?" It was a question that had always been in the back of her mind, yet she'd never dared to speak it for fear that he would stop training her.

He paused. "You are a very special girl, Miss Coralia. You will know this someday, but I cannot explain myself. Besides, I'm old, what else am I supposed to do?" The mouse shrugged, dropping the topic. "Now, I'm sacrificing sleep for this, so get in position."

And she did. They spent the next hours training and as it neared dawn, Mr Sowdin even dueled her himself. One might think that a girl against a very small mouse might not be a fair fight, but Sowdin quickly proved himself to have maintained his skill. He was fast, and a lot more nimble than she was.

Coralia was built to sit and sew, not to be a warrior. Her skinny arms could never toughen up, no matter what she did. Her gangly legs would never allow her to sneak up on anyone, nor would her damned heavy breathing. But she carried skill nonetheless. It came to her whenever she let herself get lost in a duel. It was like her body worked itself.

Sowdin had her climb trees, sprint through the thick wood, and duel. Every day for three months before anything interesting happened.

Mr. Sowdin took her back to his house and they ate a second breakfast together before she headed home to help her father get ready for the day. He had a bad leg and needed some help getting out of bed and into chairs.

Her father owned the only pub in the village and employed just her and two fauns. Dantus, her best friend, and Holria. Holria was nice, but she wasn't exactly great with conversation. She mainly washed dishes and went home immediately after.

Dantus, though. Coralia had grown up with Dantus in her life since she before could remember. He was older than her, but just by a bit. It stung to know that the faun would outlive her, though.

Her father walked carefully downstairs to the pub and opened the doors. He sent her to check on the few guests that were staying with them. All asleep. By the time she'd returned downstairs, Dantus and Holria were already there.

"There she is!" Dantus grinned, and she ran up to hug him. "Haven't seen you in here in a while, avoiding me?"

"Not at all, just busy training to be a real woman. How am I doing?" She curtsied in a mocking manner.