01 Blessed

Blessed
"Shouldn't they be using wooden swords? Mightn't they be harmed?" worried

Celer, voicing the concern of almost every officer assembled.
Oreius said nothing in return, knowing Fauns tended to brood over imagined
possibilities, and withheld his judgement until he had seen more. He had assembled
the finest fighters in the Narnian army to assess the fighting abilities of their new
monarchs. Both kings moved with a certain grace and he could tell they would make
fine swordsmen, especially King Peter. King Edmund needed more confidence. And
height. And strength. But that would come with time and age. He was pleased to see
that Peter had adapted his speed and technique to his brother's level of ability without
being obvious. Celer's concerns were misplaced. Oreius knew the High King would
never allow harm to befall his brother again.
"Hold!" he called, and instantly both boys stepped away, panting and grinning at
each other. "Weapons away, Sires."
The lesson over for the day, Peter and Edmund gladly sheathed their swords,
pulling off their helmets and facing the Centaur and the Faun. Both were sweating
with exertion, their faces flushed and their hair plastered to their heads. Oreius
motioned for one of the officers to bring them some water, knowing they preferred it
to wine this early in the day.
"That was well fought, Your Majesties," he complimented, letting his gaze
sweep over the pair of them. "It will take little time, I believe, for us to develop new
techniques suitable to you both."
Peter opened his mouth to reply, but said nothing, clearly pondering what the
Centaur could mean. Edmund cocked his head and asked, "New techniques? What
about the old ones?"
Oreius smiled, pleased with their reactions and knowing they valued his greater
wisdom and praise. "King Edmund, you and your brother are they only Humans in
Narnia's army. Your legs are straighter than a Faun's or a Satyr's and you move with a
very different action than they do. They are very upright in their stance and their
armor is unlike yours."
Peter smiled his thanks as one of the female Centaurs relived him of his helmet
and gloves and another Centaur handed him a goblet of water. Immediately he passed
the goblet to Edmund and accepted another from her. He looked up at Oreius with a
smile and said,
"I don't believe there's any comparison between a Human and a Centaur, Oreius,
is there?"
"More than you'd think, King Peter. Already I can see a number of sword
techniques we Centaurs use that can be adapted for you. With practice and discipline
you will each find your own style of combat, and as you grow in stance and strength,
your swordsmanship will grow and adapt with you."
"Grow in stance and strength," echoed Edmund reverently, with a wistful

expression. He was easily the shortest one there, barring the Cheetah captain. "I like
the sound of that."
Peter laughed aloud, throwing his arm over Edmund's shoulders and pulling him
close. They all laughed with as much joy as relief and Oreius wondered if these two
knew, truly knew, how much they and their sisters meant to Narnia. But a fortnight
ago a century-long winter had ravaged the land. A week ago Oreius and three of the
officers here in the courtyard had been statues of stone. And by their very presence
and the strength of their love, these brothers and their sisters had broken an
enchantment dark and deep and helped overthrow a sorceress that had challenged the
might of Aslan himself. Would they truly ever understand? Did he want them to?
Would Peter ever know why Oreius and Bellone the Rhinoceros had sacrificed
themselves for him? Did they know that to Narnia, they were the very embodiment of
hope?
Across from him, holding King Edmund's helmet and gloves, Celer gave him a
swift look. They were thinking along the same lines if the Faun's expression was any
indication.
He looked down at Edmund's dark head as the young king elbowed his brother
playfully. Edmund, the traitor, who had caused so much grief. Edmund, whom Aslan
had forgiven, whose place on the Stone Table he had taken. Edmund, who had
disobeyed his king in order to destroy the White Witch's greatest weapon. Edmund,
who sacrificed himself to save his brother. King Edmund the Just, who had learned a
mighty lesson he would carry all his days.
Yes, they understood. They understood far beyond their years. And Oreius knew
that he must never, never underestimate them, children though they may be.
"Oreius?" wondered Peter, his blue eyes wide with concern. He lowered his
goblet while beside him, Edmund was no less anxious.
He shook himself, flicking his tail and avoiding Celer's eye. "I was lost in my
thoughts a moment, Your Majesty."
"Is everything alright?"
He leaned down closer to them, letting his affection show as he placed one hand
on Peter's shoulder, the other on Edmund's. "Now that you and your sisters sit on the
Four Thrones, Your Majesties, all is very well indeed for myself and for Narnia." A
moment later he hardened his features, their instructor once again. "Tomorrow at
dawn."
They both groaned and he smacked them on their arms, knocking them together
lightly.
"With shields."
They groaned louder, laughing now, and around them the warriors of Narnia's
army laughed with them. Peter looked down at his brother ruefully.
"It's better than algebra, Ed."
"I'll take your word for it. Breakfast?" he asked hopefully.
"Definitely," Peter agreed. He looked at Oreius, his eyes bright. "Dawn, then,
Oreius, with shields."
"And get some sleep tonight," Celer added.
"Tonight?" asked Edmund under his breath as they collected their helmets and
gloves. "I think I could sleep right now."
Peter grinned mischievously. "Lucy and Su won't let you. Besides, you can't eat
if you're asleep. Come on! Race you!"
The High King darted through the archway. Behind him, Edmund let out a
disgruntled cry and set off after him at a run, shouting for him to stop.
Watching them leave the courtyard, Oreius nodded to two of the Dwarf archers
and a Cougar standing guard to follow and escort them back to the palace. Beside him,
Celer smiled.
"We have been blessed," stated the Faun quietly, to the approval of all who
heard.
"We have indeed," agreed Oreius.

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Blessed

"Shouldn't they be using wooden swords? Mightn't they be harmed?" worried

"Grow in stance and strength," echoed Edmund reverently, with a wistful

"Is everything alright?"

"It's better than algebra, Ed."

"I'll take your word for it. Breakfast?" he asked hopefully.

"And get some sleep tonight," Celer added.

"We have indeed," agreed Oreius.

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