To the Wild Blue Yonder
From elouise82's comment:
"...and OF COURSE Eustace misses flying, he probably becomes a stunt pilot in his spare time when he's not studying reptiles."
***
He looked up at the darkened sky, studying the dots of light that pricked holes into the nearly black canvas. Another continent, another set of unfamiliar stars.
A bulky figure dropped beside him and he felt the log beneath them roll a fraction of an inch. It was neither Mary nor Asim; the two had taken the Jeep to the nearest town for fresh supplies.
"Do you know them?" Peter asked as he tossed a branch into the fire. "Or think you know them?"
He shook his head. "Different world," he reminded the King, "different stars."
"Perhaps. But how can we know for sure, when we can sometimes find similarities to that world here?"
His cousin had a point. He remembered a day on the Dawn Treader when he told Caspian that stars were made of flaming balls of gas. Maybe not all of them were so. If only he could go up there and find out for himself.
"I want to be a pilot," he said abruptly. "I want to learn to fly. Again. But without turning into a dragon." He turned to the other man. "What is it like to fly a plane?"
Peter had a very serious look on his face. It wasn't quite the Most Royal Frown that he had been known to display from time to time, but it was close enough. "Eustace," he began, "you're not thinking of joining up, are you?"
"No, no. Nothing like that." He shrugged. "I'm not suited for that kind of role. I'm a pacifist, remember? Besides, I'm very happy studying reptiles for now." Not to mention how many papers he had written and presented on those subjects already.
The grim expression lightened on Peter's face. "This is true," he conceded. "My apologies, cousin." He leaned back slightly and sighed. "Well, my experience with flying a plane is colored by my service. I'm sure it's much different flying for other purposes than with the RAF. We've had more to worry about than just admiring the clouds and the landscape below us."
"But I think some of it should still be the same," he countered. "Give it a go, Peter."
"Well," Peter paused, thinking for a moment. "It's like riding a Gryphon during a battle. Except the Gryphon is more adept at moving where you need to go and can turn and stop much faster than trying to adjust the controls of an aeroplane."
Eustace groaned. In all his visits to Narnia, he had never ridden a Gryphon. Centaur, yes, but that had come about through a very special set of circumstances. It would be hard to make a comparison in this case.
"You have to hand it to them," Peter continued, admiration in his voice as he dredged up fond memories, "even when they tossed and turned in the air dodging arrows and spears, they never let their riders fall."
Flying for the RAF was completely out of the question; he would leave that to the High King. He suspected Edmund would do well in the service too, had he not taken up Rat and Crow business with Susan. But with this talk of tossing and turning, there may be a way to simulate the Gryphon experience in Spare Oom. "I think we can somewhat replicate that here."
"Planning to join a circus troupe then?"
"Not at all." He paused and then asked, "Do you think Mary or Asim would have some recommendations on where to train to become a stunt pilot?" Though, flying on a Gryphon was probably closer to riding a Winged Horse. "Or would I be better off asking the Professor and Aunt Polly?"
"...and OF COURSE Eustace misses flying, he probably becomes a stunt pilot in his spare time when he's not studying reptiles."
***
He looked up at the darkened sky, studying the dots of light that pricked holes into the nearly black canvas. Another continent, another set of unfamiliar stars.
A bulky figure dropped beside him and he felt the log beneath them roll a fraction of an inch. It was neither Mary nor Asim; the two had taken the Jeep to the nearest town for fresh supplies.
"Do you know them?" Peter asked as he tossed a branch into the fire. "Or think you know them?"
He shook his head. "Different world," he reminded the King, "different stars."
"Perhaps. But how can we know for sure, when we can sometimes find similarities to that world here?"
His cousin had a point. He remembered a day on the Dawn Treader when he told Caspian that stars were made of flaming balls of gas. Maybe not all of them were so. If only he could go up there and find out for himself.
"I want to be a pilot," he said abruptly. "I want to learn to fly. Again. But without turning into a dragon." He turned to the other man. "What is it like to fly a plane?"
Peter had a very serious look on his face. It wasn't quite the Most Royal Frown that he had been known to display from time to time, but it was close enough. "Eustace," he began, "you're not thinking of joining up, are you?"
"No, no. Nothing like that." He shrugged. "I'm not suited for that kind of role. I'm a pacifist, remember? Besides, I'm very happy studying reptiles for now." Not to mention how many papers he had written and presented on those subjects already.
The grim expression lightened on Peter's face. "This is true," he conceded. "My apologies, cousin." He leaned back slightly and sighed. "Well, my experience with flying a plane is colored by my service. I'm sure it's much different flying for other purposes than with the RAF. We've had more to worry about than just admiring the clouds and the landscape below us."
"But I think some of it should still be the same," he countered. "Give it a go, Peter."
"Well," Peter paused, thinking for a moment. "It's like riding a Gryphon during a battle. Except the Gryphon is more adept at moving where you need to go and can turn and stop much faster than trying to adjust the controls of an aeroplane."
Eustace groaned. In all his visits to Narnia, he had never ridden a Gryphon. Centaur, yes, but that had come about through a very special set of circumstances. It would be hard to make a comparison in this case.
"You have to hand it to them," Peter continued, admiration in his voice as he dredged up fond memories, "even when they tossed and turned in the air dodging arrows and spears, they never let their riders fall."
Flying for the RAF was completely out of the question; he would leave that to the High King. He suspected Edmund would do well in the service too, had he not taken up Rat and Crow business with Susan. But with this talk of tossing and turning, there may be a way to simulate the Gryphon experience in Spare Oom. "I think we can somewhat replicate that here."
"Planning to join a circus troupe then?"
"Not at all." He paused and then asked, "Do you think Mary or Asim would have some recommendations on where to train to become a stunt pilot?" Though, flying on a Gryphon was probably closer to riding a Winged Horse. "Or would I be better off asking the Professor and Aunt Polly?"