Jumbled, what with cooking and writing and lots of cleaning
missing scene from The Ivory Merchants - Peter, the night before leaving for the north
"Are you all right about this, Pete? About tomorrow-well, about the whole thing, really."
"The whole thing?" He flashed her a quick grin, half-rueful, half-exhilarated. "I expect... I think the whole thing will be a lot easier than today, at any rate. Are the others in bed?"
"Lucy is. Ed's off scouring the fair for every scrap of information he can scrape up about the Telmarines."
Their eyes met in a moment of shared gleeful appreciation of their younger brother's ways, but gradually the light faded from the king's eyes
" He's much better than I am at that sort of thing. This afternoon, talking with Hoom...I couldn't manage it, Su. I thought I'd explode. I just hate to know that that... vileness... Not just that it's happened, but that someone standing in front of me would... wants to do it again." He looked at her, misery struggling with anger in his eyes. "He wants to play us for fools, to make us party to his revival of the cruelties ...."
She spoke with cool certainty. "He's not going to. We are not fools, and we won't allow those murders ever again."
"No thanks to me. It'll all be up to you and Ed. I just wanted to grab him by the shoulders and slam him against the wall and shout into his smug, self-satisfied face that to kill a thinking being for its skin or its tusks or any part of its body was a vile, vile abomination and I will smash it out not just from our land but as Aslan gives me strength from all lands, to the world's end!"
She heard him out in silence; he scowled, and turned away, saying bitterly, "I know-shouting and crashing people up against walls isn't the way to do it."
"It's one way!" she said, smiling slightly, "Good direct action is what they need in the north. But for the Telmarines, right now, it's not the most useful way."
"I know," he repeated. "It's just-I can see so plainly how wrong it is, and..." He stopped, frustrated, then went on, more calmly. "It's the same with lying. I never know what to say when someone flat out lies to me. I feel... I mean, why? It just baffles me. Lies always come unstuck in the end. And it's... why do I feel ashamed when someone else has told a lie?"
She paused, considering. "Maybe because they don't? Maybe because you feel the damage to the truth so much? You feel it in yourself, maybe? Maybe because lying is so outside of who you are..."
He deflected her words impatiently, waving them away as of no account. "They can stand in front of me, and lie, and I'm the one who's stuck for words. I'm just... stumped. I mean, what on earth can you say? "
She laughed a little. "Oh, that's a much easier question!" Then, in answer to his look- "It depends where you want to get to. I mean, they lied, yes, but... Pete-you might as well say they sneezed! Or they dropped a cup, or trod all over my feet in a dance!"
He shook his head, reflexively, and her voice took on a more gently coaxing tone.
"Human beings do lie, Peter; there's no point in stopping to be unhappy about it. What I think about is how to move from there to where we need to get to, to somewhere that'll do us both good, me and them-and all of us, come to that. If I stop to be amazed at their clumsiness, then we've lost the rhythm of the... dance."
"Yes,"-reluctantly- "I can see that's what you do, but I'm just don't have that skill... And look at Ed- he's not like you, he doesn't work with people the way you do, but lies don't throw him, either. He just stands back and watches, and asks the right questions to be able to know in himself exactly which parts are true and which aren't, and what the liars're trying to hide, and why...."
"Yes, Ed likes to be absolutely certain of his ground. But Lucy is like you, Pete. She sees straight and acts straight."
He looked up, smiling, as she had intended him to, his mind caught and his mood lightened by the vision of their younger sister's warm, fearless simplicity.
"I can imagine," he said. "She'd just say straight out, 'No, that's not true'-helpfully!"
Susan laughed outright. "So there you go! There is a simple way to respond to wrong-doing."
"Yes, there's her way. But I'm not her, either. I feel so.... ah, Su! So baffled. And so dull. Do you remember a game..." He frowned, and went on hesitantly, "that game with little figures, and you moved them on a board. There was a king, and a queen..."
"Chess."
"What?"
"It was called chess. Go on."
He rubbed his forehead in frustration. "I was never any good at it, was I? Well, I feel now as if... Su, what I remember most is feeling confused, because one piece was called the king, but it was the weakest one of them all. The dullest one."
She half-smiled at the sudden vehemence in his voice; he continued, unnoticing. "The other pieces-they all were so alive, moving so unexpectedly-but the king... just went step, step, step, plodding over the board. I hated it."
"I remember. But chess is a game for ... very wily players, Pete, and there's nothing wily about you. You are plainly and simply yourself all the way through."
"Yes," he said resignedly. "I know. Well, I suppose I should get to bed." And turned away.
"Peter!" she said.
The bodkin-sharpness in voice caught him as he was turning away. He looked, doubtingly, into her suddenly-stormy eyes.
"What is it?"
"Do not ..." She stopped, and began again. "Peter, when you ride out tomorrow,and everyone will be looking up to you, and knowing you are our High King, and trusting you to set straight the wrong-doing in the north, you will be magnificent. And not because of any cleverness or smoothness or daring or for any other separate quality but because you are yourself, and you see things as they are, and you know right from wrong and unswervingly are for the right. And that's what we look up to, and what we trust. Do not ever think that's dull." She stopped again, as if to allow him to respond.
His lips parted, but no sound emerged. When she spoke again, her fierceness had ebbed, and the slight smile was once more on her lips, if a little tremulously now.
"The chess, Pete. It was only a game, not a prediction. But if you want to take it to heart, remember this: the king in the game-those other pieces have their moves, but he carries in himself what holds the kingdom together. And so do you. We need who you are, your plain goodness, not any special skills or talents. What you're good at is being Peter. If you stop being that, we're lost. And now-now you can go to bed!"
for criticism from those who were thinking that question through (and for anyone else who is interested, of course). It's written as a missing scene from The Ivory Merchants, though, so may not be immediately intelligible to those who haven't read that. :)
This entry was originally posted at http://heliopausa.dreamwidth.org/33145.html. Please comment here or there.
"Are you all right about this, Pete? About tomorrow-well, about the whole thing, really."
"The whole thing?" He flashed her a quick grin, half-rueful, half-exhilarated. "I expect... I think the whole thing will be a lot easier than today, at any rate. Are the others in bed?"
"Lucy is. Ed's off scouring the fair for every scrap of information he can scrape up about the Telmarines."
Their eyes met in a moment of shared gleeful appreciation of their younger brother's ways, but gradually the light faded from the king's eyes
" He's much better than I am at that sort of thing. This afternoon, talking with Hoom...I couldn't manage it, Su. I thought I'd explode. I just hate to know that that... vileness... Not just that it's happened, but that someone standing in front of me would... wants to do it again." He looked at her, misery struggling with anger in his eyes. "He wants to play us for fools, to make us party to his revival of the cruelties ...."
She spoke with cool certainty. "He's not going to. We are not fools, and we won't allow those murders ever again."
"No thanks to me. It'll all be up to you and Ed. I just wanted to grab him by the shoulders and slam him against the wall and shout into his smug, self-satisfied face that to kill a thinking being for its skin or its tusks or any part of its body was a vile, vile abomination and I will smash it out not just from our land but as Aslan gives me strength from all lands, to the world's end!"
She heard him out in silence; he scowled, and turned away, saying bitterly, "I know-shouting and crashing people up against walls isn't the way to do it."
"It's one way!" she said, smiling slightly, "Good direct action is what they need in the north. But for the Telmarines, right now, it's not the most useful way."
"I know," he repeated. "It's just-I can see so plainly how wrong it is, and..." He stopped, frustrated, then went on, more calmly. "It's the same with lying. I never know what to say when someone flat out lies to me. I feel... I mean, why? It just baffles me. Lies always come unstuck in the end. And it's... why do I feel ashamed when someone else has told a lie?"
She paused, considering. "Maybe because they don't? Maybe because you feel the damage to the truth so much? You feel it in yourself, maybe? Maybe because lying is so outside of who you are..."
He deflected her words impatiently, waving them away as of no account. "They can stand in front of me, and lie, and I'm the one who's stuck for words. I'm just... stumped. I mean, what on earth can you say? "
She laughed a little. "Oh, that's a much easier question!" Then, in answer to his look- "It depends where you want to get to. I mean, they lied, yes, but... Pete-you might as well say they sneezed! Or they dropped a cup, or trod all over my feet in a dance!"
He shook his head, reflexively, and her voice took on a more gently coaxing tone.
"Human beings do lie, Peter; there's no point in stopping to be unhappy about it. What I think about is how to move from there to where we need to get to, to somewhere that'll do us both good, me and them-and all of us, come to that. If I stop to be amazed at their clumsiness, then we've lost the rhythm of the... dance."
"Yes,"-reluctantly- "I can see that's what you do, but I'm just don't have that skill... And look at Ed- he's not like you, he doesn't work with people the way you do, but lies don't throw him, either. He just stands back and watches, and asks the right questions to be able to know in himself exactly which parts are true and which aren't, and what the liars're trying to hide, and why...."
"Yes, Ed likes to be absolutely certain of his ground. But Lucy is like you, Pete. She sees straight and acts straight."
He looked up, smiling, as she had intended him to, his mind caught and his mood lightened by the vision of their younger sister's warm, fearless simplicity.
"I can imagine," he said. "She'd just say straight out, 'No, that's not true'-helpfully!"
Susan laughed outright. "So there you go! There is a simple way to respond to wrong-doing."
"Yes, there's her way. But I'm not her, either. I feel so.... ah, Su! So baffled. And so dull. Do you remember a game..." He frowned, and went on hesitantly, "that game with little figures, and you moved them on a board. There was a king, and a queen..."
"Chess."
"What?"
"It was called chess. Go on."
He rubbed his forehead in frustration. "I was never any good at it, was I? Well, I feel now as if... Su, what I remember most is feeling confused, because one piece was called the king, but it was the weakest one of them all. The dullest one."
She half-smiled at the sudden vehemence in his voice; he continued, unnoticing. "The other pieces-they all were so alive, moving so unexpectedly-but the king... just went step, step, step, plodding over the board. I hated it."
"I remember. But chess is a game for ... very wily players, Pete, and there's nothing wily about you. You are plainly and simply yourself all the way through."
"Yes," he said resignedly. "I know. Well, I suppose I should get to bed." And turned away.
"Peter!" she said.
The bodkin-sharpness in voice caught him as he was turning away. He looked, doubtingly, into her suddenly-stormy eyes.
"What is it?"
"Do not ..." She stopped, and began again. "Peter, when you ride out tomorrow,and everyone will be looking up to you, and knowing you are our High King, and trusting you to set straight the wrong-doing in the north, you will be magnificent. And not because of any cleverness or smoothness or daring or for any other separate quality but because you are yourself, and you see things as they are, and you know right from wrong and unswervingly are for the right. And that's what we look up to, and what we trust. Do not ever think that's dull." She stopped again, as if to allow him to respond.
His lips parted, but no sound emerged. When she spoke again, her fierceness had ebbed, and the slight smile was once more on her lips, if a little tremulously now.
"The chess, Pete. It was only a game, not a prediction. But if you want to take it to heart, remember this: the king in the game-those other pieces have their moves, but he carries in himself what holds the kingdom together. And so do you. We need who you are, your plain goodness, not any special skills or talents. What you're good at is being Peter. If you stop being that, we're lost. And now-now you can go to bed!"
for criticism from those who were thinking that question through (and for anyone else who is interested, of course). It's written as a missing scene from The Ivory Merchants, though, so may not be immediately intelligible to those who haven't read that. :)
This entry was originally posted at http://heliopausa.dreamwidth.org/33145.html. Please comment here or there.