Fic: Narnia ficlets
Posting them for the purposes of qualifying for Remix 10 in more than one fandom.
Title: Hold a Mirror to the World
Rating: PG
Words: 100
Characters: Edmund
Summary: Edmund's first birthday in Narnia isn't as he'd expected.
Notes: This was my contribution to the Christmas Card drabble exchange at narniaexchange in 2011.
Hold a Mirror to the World
They've not yet made an end to the fighting, that first spring; on campaign, Edmund recalls his last birthday was in wartime too.
He doubts anyone will note the day, not out here; nor can he blame them, not when Narnians still fall every week in battle. Not when they still uncover statues, their faces crumbled with age.
So he buries hope and steps from his tent, only to be nearly blinded by rising sunlight, reflecting from an army of weaponry raised in his honor.
“Happy Birthday, Ed,” Peter says, grinning; Edmund blames the glare for his wet eyes.
Title: The Measure of Things
Rating: PG
Words: 495
Characters: Lucy & Susan
Summary: Lucy attempts to cheer up her sister, but the situation might require some backup.
Notes: This one was for fandom_stocking; its conception of Narnian otters is owed to the brilliant rthstewart - I hope she doesn't mind that I borrowed them.
The Measure of Things
“I fail to see why you're so bothered over it,” Lucy says, sneaking a candied fig from the bowl near Susan's elbow. “You can hardly be blamed for the fact he ended up an ass, after all.”
“I'm quite certain the people of Tashbaan don't see it that way. I doubt I'll be getting any more suitors from that part of the world,” Susan says with some asperity, well aware of the mischievous look Lucy's giving her.
“Is that such a bad thing?” Lucy's voice is somewhat muffled by a mouthful of fig, and she hastily swallows when Susan glares at her, all too ready to give another lecture on deplorable table manners. “There is more to life than romance, sister,” she says, grinning cheekily.
“Oh yes, I could go review diplomatic correspondence with Edmund, and see how much this has cost our reputation abroad. Or I could seek out Peter, and see if the inconvenience of broken bones has convinced him of the perils of fighting in single combat against giants yet. So many wonderful tasks with which I could fill the day.”
“There are!” Lucy's usual enthusiasm is present in spades, her eyes twinkling. “Plenty of things happened here while you were away, you know.”
“Such as?”
The grin on Lucy's face widens; she's at least caught Susan's attention, which means victory is as good as in her grasp as she begins to tick off points of interest on her fingers.
“Well, the mermaids brought up a lovely new batch of shells-”
“I've seen them already.”
“The dryads are having a gathering this afternoon-”
Susan waves a hand irritably. “Oh, you know how they are. Before you know it, the wine's gone straight to their heads and then it's nothing but endless gossip over who has left leaves in whose bed and arguments over who has shed nuts where.”
“True,” Lucy admits, though secretly she thinks that's the best part of said gatherings; the things one can learn from a tipsy dryad are legion. “Peter's army needs their weapons and armor repaired and refitted.”
“I believe I'll leave that up to your capable supervision, or Edmund's, since Peter will be trapped in his bed for some time yet.”
Tapping her fingers on the table, Lucy thinks long and hard. “The otters have a new litter of pups,” she offers.
“Really?” Susan's interest is obvious, tempered with understandable reluctance; Narnian otters are adorable creatures to be sure, but even by Lucy's somewhat lax standards, their language and behavior leave much to be desired. “Have they learnt to curse yet?”
“I believe I heard one say 'bugger' the other day,” Lucy says thoughtfully, “but that has been the worst of it.”
“Well then,” Susan says, rising from her seat, “let us be off before they learn anything more!”
Title: Breathe Your Air
Rating: PG
Words: 123
Characters: Edmund & Susan
Summary: They're both two people at once, at the same time.
Notes: From the Three-sentence ficathon, revised somewhat.
Breathe Your Air
“You don't mind, do you?” he asks, a rhetorical question as he's already inhaling, feeling his throat sear, stirring up memories of battlefields and blood.
“No,” Susan says, drowsily, her eyes closed as the sharp smell drifts around them. “Then at least I know you're still here.”
“Where else would I be?” he asks, eyes narrowing against the haze he's creating, smoke wreathing his head like the shadow of a crown.
“Apart from me,” she says, and reaches out her hand, almost close enough to touch but not quite; he passes the glowing embers between them and thinks for a moment her fingers still feel callused, their inner scars revealed, an illusion burned away like so much smoke.
Title: Preparation
Rating: PG
Words: 119
Characters: Susan
Summary: Queen Susan has a great many hairpins, each with its own story.
Notes: Another from the Three-sentence ficathon, off the prompt Susan, hairpins.
Preparation
The pretty jeweled ones she wears on state occasions are a collection of Narnia, holding up her crown of hair; metal shaped by centaurs, glittering bits of stones gathered by badgers and cut by dwarves, shells and pearls tossed up from the hands of mermaids, polished wood handed down by dryads. They tell stories, weaving through her hair, tales of where she's been and hints of who she'll see next, the weight of her country carried atop her head.
In the end, she finds she prefers her everyday ones; they are plain, practical, and (as she discovers after a night of adventure with Edmund in the Lone Islands that they don't speak of now) excellent lockpicks in a pinch.
Title: Hold a Mirror to the World
Rating: PG
Words: 100
Characters: Edmund
Summary: Edmund's first birthday in Narnia isn't as he'd expected.
Notes: This was my contribution to the Christmas Card drabble exchange at narniaexchange in 2011.
Hold a Mirror to the World
They've not yet made an end to the fighting, that first spring; on campaign, Edmund recalls his last birthday was in wartime too.
He doubts anyone will note the day, not out here; nor can he blame them, not when Narnians still fall every week in battle. Not when they still uncover statues, their faces crumbled with age.
So he buries hope and steps from his tent, only to be nearly blinded by rising sunlight, reflecting from an army of weaponry raised in his honor.
“Happy Birthday, Ed,” Peter says, grinning; Edmund blames the glare for his wet eyes.
Title: The Measure of Things
Rating: PG
Words: 495
Characters: Lucy & Susan
Summary: Lucy attempts to cheer up her sister, but the situation might require some backup.
Notes: This one was for fandom_stocking; its conception of Narnian otters is owed to the brilliant rthstewart - I hope she doesn't mind that I borrowed them.
The Measure of Things
“I fail to see why you're so bothered over it,” Lucy says, sneaking a candied fig from the bowl near Susan's elbow. “You can hardly be blamed for the fact he ended up an ass, after all.”
“I'm quite certain the people of Tashbaan don't see it that way. I doubt I'll be getting any more suitors from that part of the world,” Susan says with some asperity, well aware of the mischievous look Lucy's giving her.
“Is that such a bad thing?” Lucy's voice is somewhat muffled by a mouthful of fig, and she hastily swallows when Susan glares at her, all too ready to give another lecture on deplorable table manners. “There is more to life than romance, sister,” she says, grinning cheekily.
“Oh yes, I could go review diplomatic correspondence with Edmund, and see how much this has cost our reputation abroad. Or I could seek out Peter, and see if the inconvenience of broken bones has convinced him of the perils of fighting in single combat against giants yet. So many wonderful tasks with which I could fill the day.”
“There are!” Lucy's usual enthusiasm is present in spades, her eyes twinkling. “Plenty of things happened here while you were away, you know.”
“Such as?”
The grin on Lucy's face widens; she's at least caught Susan's attention, which means victory is as good as in her grasp as she begins to tick off points of interest on her fingers.
“Well, the mermaids brought up a lovely new batch of shells-”
“I've seen them already.”
“The dryads are having a gathering this afternoon-”
Susan waves a hand irritably. “Oh, you know how they are. Before you know it, the wine's gone straight to their heads and then it's nothing but endless gossip over who has left leaves in whose bed and arguments over who has shed nuts where.”
“True,” Lucy admits, though secretly she thinks that's the best part of said gatherings; the things one can learn from a tipsy dryad are legion. “Peter's army needs their weapons and armor repaired and refitted.”
“I believe I'll leave that up to your capable supervision, or Edmund's, since Peter will be trapped in his bed for some time yet.”
Tapping her fingers on the table, Lucy thinks long and hard. “The otters have a new litter of pups,” she offers.
“Really?” Susan's interest is obvious, tempered with understandable reluctance; Narnian otters are adorable creatures to be sure, but even by Lucy's somewhat lax standards, their language and behavior leave much to be desired. “Have they learnt to curse yet?”
“I believe I heard one say 'bugger' the other day,” Lucy says thoughtfully, “but that has been the worst of it.”
“Well then,” Susan says, rising from her seat, “let us be off before they learn anything more!”
Title: Breathe Your Air
Rating: PG
Words: 123
Characters: Edmund & Susan
Summary: They're both two people at once, at the same time.
Notes: From the Three-sentence ficathon, revised somewhat.
Breathe Your Air
“You don't mind, do you?” he asks, a rhetorical question as he's already inhaling, feeling his throat sear, stirring up memories of battlefields and blood.
“No,” Susan says, drowsily, her eyes closed as the sharp smell drifts around them. “Then at least I know you're still here.”
“Where else would I be?” he asks, eyes narrowing against the haze he's creating, smoke wreathing his head like the shadow of a crown.
“Apart from me,” she says, and reaches out her hand, almost close enough to touch but not quite; he passes the glowing embers between them and thinks for a moment her fingers still feel callused, their inner scars revealed, an illusion burned away like so much smoke.
Title: Preparation
Rating: PG
Words: 119
Characters: Susan
Summary: Queen Susan has a great many hairpins, each with its own story.
Notes: Another from the Three-sentence ficathon, off the prompt Susan, hairpins.
Preparation
The pretty jeweled ones she wears on state occasions are a collection of Narnia, holding up her crown of hair; metal shaped by centaurs, glittering bits of stones gathered by badgers and cut by dwarves, shells and pearls tossed up from the hands of mermaids, polished wood handed down by dryads. They tell stories, weaving through her hair, tales of where she's been and hints of who she'll see next, the weight of her country carried atop her head.
In the end, she finds she prefers her everyday ones; they are plain, practical, and (as she discovers after a night of adventure with Edmund in the Lone Islands that they don't speak of now) excellent lockpicks in a pinch.