FANFIC | The Boulder and the Hill
Title: The Boulder and the Hill
Author: kitoky
Fandom: Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian (movie-verse/ some book mentions)
Characters/Pairings: Susan, Caspian, Lucy; hinted Susan/Caspian
Ratings: T
Summary: And the very best lesson Susan Pevensie had learned from their first adventure in Narnia was from all the bickering.
Author's Note: Written for casue100; prompt set 50/50, #43 blame (will be posted there soon).
Disclaimer: All rights go to CS Lewis, Walden Media, etc.
The Boulder and the Hill
.:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:.
Susan gritted her teeth when she helped pull Lucy up onto the nervously bucking horse. She watched quietly as Caspian dusted his hands off from allowing Lucy to get a lift off of his hands. Grabbing the reigns, she felt the swelling of nerves within her.
They needed to be off. Time was of the essence here. But she sees and feels the fiddling of Caspian’s hands on the straps of the leather stirrups. She is too distracted by this to hear Caspian’s words or Lucy’s reply. Susan was angry, yes. The raid had not ended with the results that they had wished and to top it off, Peter and Caspian decided to act like schoolboys fighting over who had the worse bowl on the cricket pitch.
Then, there was Jadis. Jadis whose name could simply be mentioned to send chills down her spine and to send her back thirteen hundred years to a time where there were no Telmarines in Narnia. There was no battle of men versus Beasts, but long, cold winters from the Lantern Waste to Eastern Sea shore. She remembers all of this, because it was not even a year ago for them, but to be right, it was sixteen years. She’s counted, as all the Pevensies have counted, all those years happily spent in Narnia in the Golden Age… but before they could even have that, they had gone through harsh times. And the very best lesson Susan Pevensie had learned from their first adventure in Narnia was from all the bickering. She remembers all the fights; Peter and Edmund, she and Peter, she and Edmund, even she and Lucy. Dear Lucy whom she loved unconditionally.
The arguments still ring loudly in her mind. The shouting they had committed to each other. The words they’ve said, the hurt they’ve all felt. They were all so incredibly young then… and still now. And when you’re this young, Susan knows, when bad things happen, you just want someone to blame.
From the moment they stepped back into Narnia, coming upon the ruins of their once majestic Cair Paravel, they searched for an explanation. Why was it in ruins? Who would do such a thing?
From the moment they rescued the DLF, the poor dwarf just needed a blame for his almost drowning (though he could have already blamed the Telmarines, Susan really was just helping).
From the moment they met young Prince Caspian, they reserved their blame on him secretly. It was his kind that did this.
From the moment they tumbled into Miraz’s chambers to find Caspian had not gone to the gatehouse, they had set blame on an error in the plan.
From the moment good Narnians were killed and lost under the cover of darkness, forever silenced by night, Peter blamed the Telmarine. It was the Telmarine that made the plan go astray. It could have worked. Peter accepted the guilt for those Narnians, but he did not mind setting the blame on Caspian.
From the moment Peter made his blame quite obvious, the Telmarine was quick to defend himself. It wasn’t his idea to raid the castle. It wasn’t his idea to sacrifice those Narnians. It was Peter’s. It was his fault. Caspian blames him for recklessness. Caspian blames him for the predicament, because the High King wasn’t as magnificent as he had hoped. Everything was falling apart, because these Kings and Queens of Old left this land and here they returned trying to roll a boulder up a hill.
From the moment Susan hears of the fracas in the Stone Table room, she rushed in just to see Peter push Caspian out of the bewitching ice circle. And she looks to see Jadis, and she remembers all the blames of thirteen hundred years ago. Susan sees in the frosty crackling of the wall of ice before them that they are so very close to their own demise. But Edmund pulls them through, because he’s Edmund and he’s had experience with doing that.
Edmund had blamed a lot. Blamed the war for Dad, blamed their mother for seemingly abandoning them, blamed Peter for… well, everything.
Edmund doesn’t blame anymore, Susan sees, and she smiles proudly at him as he passes her on his way out of the room. She looked back to Peter and Caspian, disappointed in them, yes, but did not blame them. Their looks in return tell her they know, because it’s hard not to know by then. So she turns, with one last glance at Caspian, and trails Edmund’s steps.
The stallion dances some more and Caspian’s pulled slightly by the movement. Susan turns to catch his eyes and she freezes.
“Good luck,” he almost whispers.
She’s almost caught off guard by his words and is almost disappointed once again by his naiveté. There was no luck here. There was only Aslan and they are to find him. “Thanks,” she manages to say. She regrets the way her words seem to cut the air and send a coldness through her that not even Jadis could have caused.
Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him tug at something at his waist. Her horn.
“Maybe… it is time to hand this back?” He offers it out to her, eyes as wide as a doe’s.
She softens, because of all the wisdom she could have accumulated during a Golden Age, she knows that blame does not settle anything. So she does not blame him for his naivete, does not blame him for his mistakes, does not blame him that he had had her horn for so long.
“Why don’t hold on it?” She hears herself saying, the slight tug of a smile upon her face. The stallion prances. “You might need to call me again.”
.:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:.
Fin
Author: kitoky
Fandom: Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian (movie-verse/ some book mentions)
Characters/Pairings: Susan, Caspian, Lucy; hinted Susan/Caspian
Ratings: T
Summary: And the very best lesson Susan Pevensie had learned from their first adventure in Narnia was from all the bickering.
Author's Note: Written for casue100; prompt set 50/50, #43 blame (will be posted there soon).
Disclaimer: All rights go to CS Lewis, Walden Media, etc.
The Boulder and the Hill
.:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:.
Susan gritted her teeth when she helped pull Lucy up onto the nervously bucking horse. She watched quietly as Caspian dusted his hands off from allowing Lucy to get a lift off of his hands. Grabbing the reigns, she felt the swelling of nerves within her.
They needed to be off. Time was of the essence here. But she sees and feels the fiddling of Caspian’s hands on the straps of the leather stirrups. She is too distracted by this to hear Caspian’s words or Lucy’s reply. Susan was angry, yes. The raid had not ended with the results that they had wished and to top it off, Peter and Caspian decided to act like schoolboys fighting over who had the worse bowl on the cricket pitch.
Then, there was Jadis. Jadis whose name could simply be mentioned to send chills down her spine and to send her back thirteen hundred years to a time where there were no Telmarines in Narnia. There was no battle of men versus Beasts, but long, cold winters from the Lantern Waste to Eastern Sea shore. She remembers all of this, because it was not even a year ago for them, but to be right, it was sixteen years. She’s counted, as all the Pevensies have counted, all those years happily spent in Narnia in the Golden Age… but before they could even have that, they had gone through harsh times. And the very best lesson Susan Pevensie had learned from their first adventure in Narnia was from all the bickering. She remembers all the fights; Peter and Edmund, she and Peter, she and Edmund, even she and Lucy. Dear Lucy whom she loved unconditionally.
The arguments still ring loudly in her mind. The shouting they had committed to each other. The words they’ve said, the hurt they’ve all felt. They were all so incredibly young then… and still now. And when you’re this young, Susan knows, when bad things happen, you just want someone to blame.
From the moment they stepped back into Narnia, coming upon the ruins of their once majestic Cair Paravel, they searched for an explanation. Why was it in ruins? Who would do such a thing?
From the moment they rescued the DLF, the poor dwarf just needed a blame for his almost drowning (though he could have already blamed the Telmarines, Susan really was just helping).
From the moment they met young Prince Caspian, they reserved their blame on him secretly. It was his kind that did this.
From the moment they tumbled into Miraz’s chambers to find Caspian had not gone to the gatehouse, they had set blame on an error in the plan.
From the moment good Narnians were killed and lost under the cover of darkness, forever silenced by night, Peter blamed the Telmarine. It was the Telmarine that made the plan go astray. It could have worked. Peter accepted the guilt for those Narnians, but he did not mind setting the blame on Caspian.
From the moment Peter made his blame quite obvious, the Telmarine was quick to defend himself. It wasn’t his idea to raid the castle. It wasn’t his idea to sacrifice those Narnians. It was Peter’s. It was his fault. Caspian blames him for recklessness. Caspian blames him for the predicament, because the High King wasn’t as magnificent as he had hoped. Everything was falling apart, because these Kings and Queens of Old left this land and here they returned trying to roll a boulder up a hill.
From the moment Susan hears of the fracas in the Stone Table room, she rushed in just to see Peter push Caspian out of the bewitching ice circle. And she looks to see Jadis, and she remembers all the blames of thirteen hundred years ago. Susan sees in the frosty crackling of the wall of ice before them that they are so very close to their own demise. But Edmund pulls them through, because he’s Edmund and he’s had experience with doing that.
Edmund had blamed a lot. Blamed the war for Dad, blamed their mother for seemingly abandoning them, blamed Peter for… well, everything.
Edmund doesn’t blame anymore, Susan sees, and she smiles proudly at him as he passes her on his way out of the room. She looked back to Peter and Caspian, disappointed in them, yes, but did not blame them. Their looks in return tell her they know, because it’s hard not to know by then. So she turns, with one last glance at Caspian, and trails Edmund’s steps.
The stallion dances some more and Caspian’s pulled slightly by the movement. Susan turns to catch his eyes and she freezes.
“Good luck,” he almost whispers.
She’s almost caught off guard by his words and is almost disappointed once again by his naiveté. There was no luck here. There was only Aslan and they are to find him. “Thanks,” she manages to say. She regrets the way her words seem to cut the air and send a coldness through her that not even Jadis could have caused.
Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him tug at something at his waist. Her horn.
“Maybe… it is time to hand this back?” He offers it out to her, eyes as wide as a doe’s.
She softens, because of all the wisdom she could have accumulated during a Golden Age, she knows that blame does not settle anything. So she does not blame him for his naivete, does not blame him for his mistakes, does not blame him that he had had her horn for so long.
“Why don’t hold on it?” She hears herself saying, the slight tug of a smile upon her face. The stallion prances. “You might need to call me again.”
.:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:.
Fin