love hurts (without love I won't survive)
Sometimes your heart aches so badly and for so long that you don't even realize there's pain. It becomes a part of you, a part of every inhale and exhale, this sadness, until it grows so great that words cannot explain it. You never let it out and it will sit there, right on your chest, changing the sort of person you are entirely.
Edmund was well on his way to such a change. It was only the fourth day on the island without Lucy, but he hadn't shed a tear yet. He didn't trust himself, not with all the family about, for fear that he would turn into some sniveling baby. Lucy was the strongest of them all, and they needed every bit of that strength now to make up for her loss. He could be strong for the others, and would be.
Strong though he was, Edmund still needed time to be alone, to think and to just be in a way. Up at dawn, the bright light shining past white, fluffy clouds, he thoughts that today might just be a fine day, weather wise and in other ways. He was out with little delay, leaving behind his sword and a shirt hung on the door of his bedroom to let Peter know he was out. (These were uncertain times you understand, and it's just good manners besides to let people know when you go somewhere.) Only a little way south of the hut (which was now an odd tent thanks to the weather) and Summerfell, Edmund realized that today would not be so fine as he had hoped. Lucy was still gone, the sun was a bit blinding as it hit the snowdrifts, he was fairly sure he had snow in his boot already and there was a crick in his neck from where he had slept oddly the night before.
And there was something following him.
There had been for several weeks, as a matter of fact, some shadowy figure that Edmund only saw out of the corner of his eye, and even then it was only a blur indistinguishable from the rest of his surroundings. Whatever it was, it hadn't hurt him, hadn't approached him, and Edmund was rather content to let it be if it let Edmund be.
But not today. Today he felt his patience crack and shatter like glass. Today he wouldn't accept secrets skulking in corners and blind spots. Today he'd had just about enough of being played with, of going on with the belief that everything would be alright when he couldn't see it. Today he was tired of trusting. Today he wanted proof.
"What?" Edmund demanded with a sharp shout as he spun around. The only thing waiting to face him was the trail of footprints he had left in the snow behind him and winter colored shrubs and trees. Edmund knew better (or not enough) to let it go.
"I know you're out there, so you might as well just come on out!" he continued, sounding much more like the petulant child of years ago than the boy he was now. "I'm not leaving," he stated, folding his arms over his well-bundled chest. "I'm tired of pretending. I'm tired of believing. I'm tired of all of it! Just come out!"
Maybe it was something in the tone of his voice, or in the repetition of that magic word "come", but from the bush just at the corner of his vision came a stirring, followed by the approaching form of a wolf.
No, not just any wolf. A direwolf. Quite possibly the last thing Edmund wanted to see.
"No!" he shouted, now truly petulant, on that dangerously thin line between upset and throwing a full out tantrum. "No! What are you doing here? I don't want you!"
Regardless of what he said, the wolf padded closer, moving frighteningly silently over the snow. Edmund had spent more hours than he could count in the company of direwolves during his time on the island, but he would be a liar indeed if he said that they didn't bother him a whit anymore. They did bother him, especially so with the snow. The servants of the White Witch, wolves had once made themselves the enemies of the Pevensies back in Narnia. That time had passed, of course, but old habits (and old fears) die hard or not at all. Seeing a wolf nearly the size of a man stalk towards him with lethal grace was just enough to break Edmund's sense of control and force a strangled sob from his throat. The tears, however, had already been falling down his face. He just hadn't felt them until now.
Sensing the human's distress, the direwolf nuzzled at his gloved hand. (The direwolf in question was, in fact, Honour, the pup of Grey Wind and Nymeria grown strong. After both his previous men had disappeared, the wolf had taken to the wilderness, content to fend for himself until he once again smelled the scent of his human, of an Edmund Pevensie, on the air and came to investigate. This human was of course much younger than the one Honour knew, which was why he had watched for so long from the shadows instead of sprinting out to greet his man.) The warm, kind touch brought Edmund to his knees in the snow, where he sniffled as the wolf -- plainly a friend and no foe -- sniffed and licked at his warm, salty tears.
"I just want my sister back," Edmund moaned quietly, sounding right pathetic to his own ears. Honour stared at him with dark, intelligent eyes, but could offer no words of sympathy.
None would have done anyway.
[[Timed for morning January 06.]]
Edmund was well on his way to such a change. It was only the fourth day on the island without Lucy, but he hadn't shed a tear yet. He didn't trust himself, not with all the family about, for fear that he would turn into some sniveling baby. Lucy was the strongest of them all, and they needed every bit of that strength now to make up for her loss. He could be strong for the others, and would be.
Strong though he was, Edmund still needed time to be alone, to think and to just be in a way. Up at dawn, the bright light shining past white, fluffy clouds, he thoughts that today might just be a fine day, weather wise and in other ways. He was out with little delay, leaving behind his sword and a shirt hung on the door of his bedroom to let Peter know he was out. (These were uncertain times you understand, and it's just good manners besides to let people know when you go somewhere.) Only a little way south of the hut (which was now an odd tent thanks to the weather) and Summerfell, Edmund realized that today would not be so fine as he had hoped. Lucy was still gone, the sun was a bit blinding as it hit the snowdrifts, he was fairly sure he had snow in his boot already and there was a crick in his neck from where he had slept oddly the night before.
And there was something following him.
There had been for several weeks, as a matter of fact, some shadowy figure that Edmund only saw out of the corner of his eye, and even then it was only a blur indistinguishable from the rest of his surroundings. Whatever it was, it hadn't hurt him, hadn't approached him, and Edmund was rather content to let it be if it let Edmund be.
But not today. Today he felt his patience crack and shatter like glass. Today he wouldn't accept secrets skulking in corners and blind spots. Today he'd had just about enough of being played with, of going on with the belief that everything would be alright when he couldn't see it. Today he was tired of trusting. Today he wanted proof.
"What?" Edmund demanded with a sharp shout as he spun around. The only thing waiting to face him was the trail of footprints he had left in the snow behind him and winter colored shrubs and trees. Edmund knew better (or not enough) to let it go.
"I know you're out there, so you might as well just come on out!" he continued, sounding much more like the petulant child of years ago than the boy he was now. "I'm not leaving," he stated, folding his arms over his well-bundled chest. "I'm tired of pretending. I'm tired of believing. I'm tired of all of it! Just come out!"
Maybe it was something in the tone of his voice, or in the repetition of that magic word "come", but from the bush just at the corner of his vision came a stirring, followed by the approaching form of a wolf.
No, not just any wolf. A direwolf. Quite possibly the last thing Edmund wanted to see.
"No!" he shouted, now truly petulant, on that dangerously thin line between upset and throwing a full out tantrum. "No! What are you doing here? I don't want you!"
Regardless of what he said, the wolf padded closer, moving frighteningly silently over the snow. Edmund had spent more hours than he could count in the company of direwolves during his time on the island, but he would be a liar indeed if he said that they didn't bother him a whit anymore. They did bother him, especially so with the snow. The servants of the White Witch, wolves had once made themselves the enemies of the Pevensies back in Narnia. That time had passed, of course, but old habits (and old fears) die hard or not at all. Seeing a wolf nearly the size of a man stalk towards him with lethal grace was just enough to break Edmund's sense of control and force a strangled sob from his throat. The tears, however, had already been falling down his face. He just hadn't felt them until now.
Sensing the human's distress, the direwolf nuzzled at his gloved hand. (The direwolf in question was, in fact, Honour, the pup of Grey Wind and Nymeria grown strong. After both his previous men had disappeared, the wolf had taken to the wilderness, content to fend for himself until he once again smelled the scent of his human, of an Edmund Pevensie, on the air and came to investigate. This human was of course much younger than the one Honour knew, which was why he had watched for so long from the shadows instead of sprinting out to greet his man.) The warm, kind touch brought Edmund to his knees in the snow, where he sniffled as the wolf -- plainly a friend and no foe -- sniffed and licked at his warm, salty tears.
"I just want my sister back," Edmund moaned quietly, sounding right pathetic to his own ears. Honour stared at him with dark, intelligent eyes, but could offer no words of sympathy.
None would have done anyway.
[[Timed for morning January 06.]]