The Traveller
The Traveller
After that last journey with Caspian, Edmund's never really the same again.
The Traveller
Edmund Pevensie returns to his school after that particular summer a changed person. Well, he’s been different for a while, really - getting into fights with old friends over the matter of younger, weaker, insignificant boys who he once used to enjoy bullying as much as anyone else. But this, this is more drastic than anyone’s seen so far. All the other boys notice it - their curious gazes follow the lone figure of the boy-who’s-not-really-a-boy-any-longer as it cuts through the school’s halls swiftly and purposefully. They notice the way his gaze never seems to be truly focused on anything around him, the way his words are few and far between, the way he withdraws to his room after dinner.
The terms pass unobtrusively, and Edmund continues to slip away. Not that anyone has the nerve to ask him about it. The younger boys who can count on him to protect them from the bullies worship him, but they do so in private. Truth be told, they’re a little bit afraid of the slim, silent man who so obviously prefers to be left alone, protector or not. Not that they’re alone in their fear. Even the bullies are afraid of their old comrade. At the beginning of his change, they took it upon themselves to attempt to beat any goodwill out of him with their trusty fists. But Edmund had always remained upright during those sessions, gaze dark and face impassive. Edmund had always borne his scars and bruises like a - well, like a king.
The Leavers’ Dinner is a matter of excitement for the boys, when it finally does come. The girls from a neighbouring school have been invited, and students have been stashing bottles of gin underneath their beds for months now.
But for Edmund, it seems as though old habits die hard, and immediately after the feast, in the pause before the hired band strikes up a lively tune, his dark-suited figure slips quietly away. He doesn’t notice the way a small gaggle of girls lets out a collective sigh over the fine figure he’s cut all night, giggling and whispering their regrets that none of them will get to share a dance with the mysterious, dark-haired boy.
Nor does he notice the way one of his oldest friends follows his departure with a pensive look.
James and Edmund have known each other since their first day at the school, and have always remained amiable, despite not being particularly close in recent years. James finds his old friend sitting on a low wall overlooking a courtyard full of nothing but shadows. Edmund is enveloped in a cloud of cigarette smoke, and he merely shakes his head in the negative when James offers him a swig from the bottle of gin he’s brought out with him.
“All right, Pevensie?” James asks, removing his suit jacket and rolling up his shirtsleeves to mimic Edmund. Edmund’s leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, muscles in his arm flexing as he raises the cigarette to his lips.
“All right, Forester,” Edmund replies, voice easy in an impassive sort of way. Not that James is particularly bothered - he knows that’s the most Edmund’s said outside of necessity.
For a while, James is content to share in Edmund’s particular brand of silence. James continues drinking, while Edmund continues smoking. The sky yawns wide and dark over their heads, the stars shining brightly on this particular night.
But the gin is loosening James’s inhibitions and his thoughts, and eventually he feels that he wouldn’t mind a bit of conversation.
Apparently Edmund feels the same way.
“Is there anything you love, Forester?” Edmund asks, head tilted back, gaze fixed on the night sky, cigarette glowing red-hot between slim fingers.
James opens his mouth to answer, and then shuts it, realizing he doesn’t know quite how to answer that. Luckily, Edmund doesn’t seem to mind waiting patiently for a response.
Silence descends on the two boys once more. The muted strains of the hired band seem to be amplified in the night time air that’s slowly seeping through their clothes, the touch of a chill barely brushing over their bones.
“I love gin,” James replies finally with a grin, holding up the nearly empty bottle just to make sure Edmund understands. He is both surprised and pleased when Edmund lets out a laugh - it’s been a long time since anyone’s heard Edmund Pevensie laugh. “Is there anything you love, Pevensie?” James asks, eyeing his friend out of the corner of his eye. He feels as though he’s attempting to coax a shy animal out of its burrow. Or pulling teeth. Either way, he wouldn’t be surprised if Edmund retreats back into himself. He more than halfway expects it.
Edmund puts out his cigarette, stands and picks up his jacket. “Yes, but it’s been too damned long since I’ve been there,” is what he says, before disappearing into the night.
Many mornings later, James Forester ignores the cold of the pouring rain, as Edmund Pevensie is laid to rest in a quiet ceremony. More than anything else, he hopes his old friend had the chance to visit wherever it is he loved so much before he died.
Fin.
After that last journey with Caspian, Edmund's never really the same again.
The Traveller
Edmund Pevensie returns to his school after that particular summer a changed person. Well, he’s been different for a while, really - getting into fights with old friends over the matter of younger, weaker, insignificant boys who he once used to enjoy bullying as much as anyone else. But this, this is more drastic than anyone’s seen so far. All the other boys notice it - their curious gazes follow the lone figure of the boy-who’s-not-really-a-boy-any-longer as it cuts through the school’s halls swiftly and purposefully. They notice the way his gaze never seems to be truly focused on anything around him, the way his words are few and far between, the way he withdraws to his room after dinner.
The terms pass unobtrusively, and Edmund continues to slip away. Not that anyone has the nerve to ask him about it. The younger boys who can count on him to protect them from the bullies worship him, but they do so in private. Truth be told, they’re a little bit afraid of the slim, silent man who so obviously prefers to be left alone, protector or not. Not that they’re alone in their fear. Even the bullies are afraid of their old comrade. At the beginning of his change, they took it upon themselves to attempt to beat any goodwill out of him with their trusty fists. But Edmund had always remained upright during those sessions, gaze dark and face impassive. Edmund had always borne his scars and bruises like a - well, like a king.
The Leavers’ Dinner is a matter of excitement for the boys, when it finally does come. The girls from a neighbouring school have been invited, and students have been stashing bottles of gin underneath their beds for months now.
But for Edmund, it seems as though old habits die hard, and immediately after the feast, in the pause before the hired band strikes up a lively tune, his dark-suited figure slips quietly away. He doesn’t notice the way a small gaggle of girls lets out a collective sigh over the fine figure he’s cut all night, giggling and whispering their regrets that none of them will get to share a dance with the mysterious, dark-haired boy.
Nor does he notice the way one of his oldest friends follows his departure with a pensive look.
James and Edmund have known each other since their first day at the school, and have always remained amiable, despite not being particularly close in recent years. James finds his old friend sitting on a low wall overlooking a courtyard full of nothing but shadows. Edmund is enveloped in a cloud of cigarette smoke, and he merely shakes his head in the negative when James offers him a swig from the bottle of gin he’s brought out with him.
“All right, Pevensie?” James asks, removing his suit jacket and rolling up his shirtsleeves to mimic Edmund. Edmund’s leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, muscles in his arm flexing as he raises the cigarette to his lips.
“All right, Forester,” Edmund replies, voice easy in an impassive sort of way. Not that James is particularly bothered - he knows that’s the most Edmund’s said outside of necessity.
For a while, James is content to share in Edmund’s particular brand of silence. James continues drinking, while Edmund continues smoking. The sky yawns wide and dark over their heads, the stars shining brightly on this particular night.
But the gin is loosening James’s inhibitions and his thoughts, and eventually he feels that he wouldn’t mind a bit of conversation.
Apparently Edmund feels the same way.
“Is there anything you love, Forester?” Edmund asks, head tilted back, gaze fixed on the night sky, cigarette glowing red-hot between slim fingers.
James opens his mouth to answer, and then shuts it, realizing he doesn’t know quite how to answer that. Luckily, Edmund doesn’t seem to mind waiting patiently for a response.
Silence descends on the two boys once more. The muted strains of the hired band seem to be amplified in the night time air that’s slowly seeping through their clothes, the touch of a chill barely brushing over their bones.
“I love gin,” James replies finally with a grin, holding up the nearly empty bottle just to make sure Edmund understands. He is both surprised and pleased when Edmund lets out a laugh - it’s been a long time since anyone’s heard Edmund Pevensie laugh. “Is there anything you love, Pevensie?” James asks, eyeing his friend out of the corner of his eye. He feels as though he’s attempting to coax a shy animal out of its burrow. Or pulling teeth. Either way, he wouldn’t be surprised if Edmund retreats back into himself. He more than halfway expects it.
Edmund puts out his cigarette, stands and picks up his jacket. “Yes, but it’s been too damned long since I’ve been there,” is what he says, before disappearing into the night.
Many mornings later, James Forester ignores the cold of the pouring rain, as Edmund Pevensie is laid to rest in a quiet ceremony. More than anything else, he hopes his old friend had the chance to visit wherever it is he loved so much before he died.
Fin.