Land Filled Fantasy [BOOK 3]

Chapter 8

"Peter, do you remember if Ed hit the armor as well?" 

     Back at the library, it was a rainy day. I sat by the desk immersed in my journal as the rain pelted the window beside me. Peter was there with me, reading a novel he found just that morning as the two decided to spend the day together. I was trying to remember our time here before Narnia. If I was going to write about my experiences, may as well start from the beginning right? That's why we went to the Professor beforehand. 

     "Of course he hit the armor, that's all what made us panic over the Macready in the first place." He answered as if it was the easiest question on Earth. 

     "Really? Cause I vaguely remember it being the window that started the panic." I barked back in amusement. Peter looked up from his book with a raised eyebrow, a devilish smirk on his features. 

     "Why even ask then if you already knew?" 

     "Some things I remember, and some things seem quite faded..." I admit, looking back down to my journal and wrote about the knocked down armor. 

     "Well that's what I'm here for, love." 

     Us two's conversations would usually go as such. I would ask question about our past that I couldn't quite remember and Peter would be there to clarify on the missing pieces. It was a little sheepish of me to feel bad about forgetting, but it had just been so long ago... One seems to forget the simplest of things when there has been so much terror and distraught. 

     I shook my head with a smile on my face, and tried to continue to write, but I was having difficulty trying to find the words, to even think of words... 

     There was an old, old man. His white beard fell just above his waist. He wore riches of scarlet and gold with the exception of his golden crown, and was holding hid weight onto the shoulder of a younger gentlemen who aided him. The two were just to board a ship that was ready to sail out into the vast waters. 

     The old King had watery eyes, and muttered nonsense to himself in the eyes of his people. But I could hear him quite clearly, as if the King himself whispered right into my ear. Quite hoarse to understand at first, but I was able to hear clearly after the King's repeat. 

     "Rillian... Rillian..."

     "Elizabeth?" Peter shook my shoulder a little, bringing me out from that thought.

     "Hm? What?" I asked blinking a few times, catching myself from being spaced out. 

     "Is something the matter? You spilled the ink and did nothing." He stated. 

     I looked down at my journal and I did spill the ink bottle onto the journal. The black liquid flowed down the inner spine of the pages staining the paper as well as the desk underneath. I lifted my hand that held the quill to see the ink got onto my sleeve as well. 

     "Oh..." I asked, still thinking about the King. 

     Who was he and why did he seem oddly familiar.

     "Have you gotten enough sleep last night?" Peter chuckled as he took the quill from my hand and placing it down on the desk. Lightly grabbing my arm, he pulled me up from my chair and twirled me around slowly.

     "Come on, Princess. Time for a nap." He said, leading the both of us out of the library towards my room. 

     My mind was still fogged by the clip of memory I just saw. Yet, I couldn't remember any of it, no person or names... Who was Rillian? Was this even a memory? My head was starting to pound trying to remember the memory, and instead I just let Peter lead me in silence to my room.