Blackness was not something that came naturally in sleep. It was slow, and painstakingly long, but when it arrived, it was a bliss unlike anything else. The blackness was peaceful. Everything was quiet, then, and contentment was much easier to find.
The Prince, who by now may have been forgotten on all accounts, had fallen into that blackness by no fault of his own. One of the dwarfs, the grey haired one, had hit him over the back of the head, inducing a short-lived, coma-like experience. He did not know how long he had slept for upon waking, but he was frightened.
He shot up from where he was lying, pushing himself from the bed he did not know, and checking all of his limbs for abrasions. He had forgotten to check his surroundings for threats, though it soon came to him to do so.
It didn't take long for him to realise he was inside of the tree trunk. Then, through logic, it made sense to say the dwarf had taken him there. Was he a prisoner?
Within seconds, his hands grappled with a bandage he felt upon his head. For only a moment, he gazed upon it, and noticed the blood. Some of it was dry, and darker; but some of it was wet, and brightly coloured. It mustn't have healed yet... he couldn't have been out of it for too long. Not if that was the case.
It made sense, however, as his entire body ached as a result of the late night escape. Although, what hurt the most, was his ego. Despite knowing the attack was coming for some years, he never expected it to be now. If the baby had been a girl, then he would be able to live the way he rightfully should. He was a Prince, squandered by family, rejected by his own blood.
No man, for any reason, should ever be an island. But by no choice of his own, the Prince now was.
Wherever in the woods he was, it was small, and he felt like a giant within himself. Nothing here was fitted for humans, and so, he was uncomfortable even standing. But he planned to be there only momentarily. He needed to keep moving.
Whilst he was thinking, and planning where he could go, and how he could escape, the Prince heard talking. It surprised him. For one reason or another, he expected to be alone.
"This bread is so stale." He heard one voice, that sounded sort of familiar to him, speak.
"I'll just give him some soup." Said another, male, voice. "He should be coming around soon."
"Thank you, for informing me of your guest." A third voice joined the conversation. It was more regal than the rest. "It takes great character to bring someone into your home like this."
"Thank you, your grace." Said the second.
"Please, I consider us friends, and you know my name." The third seemed to be in more control than anyone else, but more quiet too. A silent sort of command, a power he didn't use.
Then, the first voice talked once more. "I don't think I hit him hard enough."
"Nikabrik, he's just a boy." That must have been the dwarf being scolded by the second voice.
"He's a Telmarine, not some lost puppy. You said you were going to get rid of him."
The Prince's chest tightened. He didn't need another set of people out to kill him. There were already thousands of Telmarine soldiers with orders to murder him on sight.
"No, I said I'd take care of him."
The Prince did what he could to prepare himself, working out how he could break through the tree trunk and into the forest again. He didn't even know where his armour was, which meant more of his time would have to be wasted so he could find it. He would barely survive five minutes with a soldier without it.
"We can't kill him now." Said the second voice, the third having gone silent for the time being. "I just bandaged his head. It would be like murdering a guest."
"How do you think his friends are treating their guest?" The dwarf, he knew him now to be called Nikabrik, complained. It hadn't occurred to the Prince that the other dwarf, the redheaded, was taken by the Telmarines.
"Do not scold one another." Said the third, who remained anonymous. "You shall never let it end if you do."
"Trumpkin knew what he was doing." The first spoke, solidly. "It's not the boys fault."
The Prince had been hiding behind one of the only walls, inside of an alcove as he listened and planned through his movements. He couldn't know what the other two were like, and so, was going into this more than half blind. It could get him killed, and no one would ever know.
When he was ready, he pounced. Running through the small room, he knocked a pan from a badger's hand, making him double take, but before he could get any further, Nikabrik grabbed onto a sword. It was jabbed in his direction, forcing him back towards the small set of steps. As he went, he picked a fire poker from a small basket, as his defensive weapon.
That was when he looked around, frantically, hoping he could see something to help him. Though, the only thing that stuck out was a man. A man, who had black hair and olive skin, with the most distinctive and soft features of a person he had ever seen. He was calm, and stayed at the table, not looking anywhere but straight ahead at the fireplace.
The Prince found him intriguing, but couldn't let his thoughts get too caught up in his mystery. He was something to be later explored.
"Stop! Stop!" The badger called at them, his attempts to stop their attack on one another being futile. "Hold it. No, no!"
"I told you we should have killed him when we had the chance." Nikabrik seethed, hating every moment.
Badger turned to him, and hissed. "You know why we can't."
"No one is killing anyone." The man spoke up, his vision still not having deterred from the fire.
The Prince gulped, and gestured over to the table, with some amount of fear. "If we're taking a vote, I'm with him."
"We can't let him go." The dwarf grumbled, attacking him again. "He's seen us."
Then, finally, the badger cut them off. "Enough, Nikabrik." With one final jab, the Prince fell back onto the stairs, and the dwarf pushed himself away. "Or do I have to sit on your head again?" He was good at making then listen, especially as he scolded the Prince. "And you. Look what you made me do. I spent half the morning on the soup."
Both frightened, confused and reluctantly, the Prince spoke up for the first time since he had arrived inside of their home, which firmly grasped their attention. "What are you?"
"You know, it's funny that you would ask that. You think more people would know a badger when they saw one."
"No. No, I mean..." He stumbled. "You're Narnian's." There was a lump in his throat. "You're supposed to be extinct."
"Sorry to disappoint you." Nikabrik took his seat, taking little notice of the Telmarine in his presence.
Sighing, Badger pulled out a chair, and offered the food at the table to him. "Here you go. Still hot."
"Since when did we open a boarding house for Telmarine soldiers?"
"I'm not a soldier!" The boy commanded, offended and upset. To be associated with those prepared to kill him hurt his heart. "I am Prince Caspian. The tenth."
Although, there was nothing spoken directly about his title, the Prince, Caspian, noticed a chance within the man at the table. His dark eyes widened a little; his interest piqued. Perhaps he knew something the others didn't. Was he a spy? If he was, then his life would be over before he could get out of the door. But there was something more quiet and collected to him than an infiltrator.
"What are you doing here?" Nikabrik questioned, although, it was more like an interrogation.
Slightly nervous, the Prince, Caspian, replied. "Running away." He placed the poker back beside the fire. "My uncle has always wanted my throne. I suppose I have only lived this long because he did not have an heir of his own."
"Oh..." said the badger. "That changes things."
"Yeah." Laughed Nikabrik. "Means we don't have to kill you ourselves."
"You're right." Caspian made for the door, seeing his armoured jacket hung on a hat-stand, and putting it on swiftly.
"Where are you going?" Asked badger.
"My uncle won't stop until I am dead."
"But... you can't leave." The badger begged, hoping that he might be listened to on this one occasion. "You're meant to save us. Don't you know what this is?"
The badger lifted the ivory horn that the Professor had given the Prince on his journey out. Whilst it had no true significance to him personally, the figure at the table saw it in a much different way. Caspian had knowledge, and some facts, but had never experienced anything like it.
"A horn." Said the prince. "Why?"
"I'm sorry, Badger." Said the black-haired man, standing to his full height, and towering above Caspian. "But I believe that I should be the one to explain this."
"Oh, yes, mighty spirit." The grey haired dwarf grumbled to himself.
"Watch your tongue, Nikabrik." Badger scolded him, once again. "He is more a man than you'll ever be."
"And- and you are?" The Prince asked, cautiously.
"Aramis Eleazer."
Caspian recalled the name, despite not thinking he was real. He was the spirit his Professor had loved to talk of. The spirit who had accompanied the Kings and Queens of old during their reign.
"I am not sure if you know the extent of the power you have unleashed with this horn." Said Aramis, standing primly, catching the Prince's attention. His voice was like butter, smooth, and warm. "But it is supposed to bring help to its caller, wherever they are."
"I did." Caspian replied.
"Then, perhaps, you might now know, that you have brought back some of the greatest power Narnia has ever seen." All that Aramis could do was express his concern, in the bid to remain impartial to his history. "You must be ready if you're in danger. There will be much worse to come."
• - - •
1801
• - - •
Disclaimer!!!!
I do not own these characters. I do not own the Narnia series. I do not own the actors, or the characters. The only thing I own is my adaptation of the story, and my original character.