Tales from the Wardrobe...

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Meanwhile, back at the castle

[If Mrs. Pevensie finally confirms that she did stay behind, I'll assume her to have witnessed the following scene.]



"Petitioners coming! Petitioners coming!" shouted a human gate-guard, running into the main hall of Cair Paravel. The first person he encountered was General Oreius, who was receiving reports from some Talking Moles about something to do with routine mining operations. "Sir, they want to see the High King, but more immediately they wish to see your daughter, sir."

"What, more bachelor Centaurs wanting to marry her?" growled the Centaur commander. "They can be a nuisance--not that I blame them for desiring my daughter."

"No, sir, it's a wounded Talking Antelope; he says he was told that Yedulia is expert at treating injuries to hoofed creatures."

Oreius nodded. "And so she is. Is it a life-threatening injury?" Oreius, gesturing to the Moles to stand by, was already on the move toward the courtyard, in case the guard's answer was Yes.

"Not life-threatening, sir, but certainly painful to him."

Oreius went no farther, but said, "Yedulia is at the stables, checking on the health of the dumb horses. Tell whoever brought the Antelope here to come see me and explain their situation."
 
"Ladies all, please hear. The crossroads inn is a great Narnian lodge, but it may be crowded this time of the year. I suppose the owner may want to make room for our Royal party, but I do not want to impose. Just because we are the rulers it does not mean we can do what we like regardless of our subjects wishes. However, Ladies, I hope that comfortable rooms may be found for you all. I will be glad to spend a night with Phillip under the Narnian stars.
And that onion soup sound delicious about now, Lucy"
 
OOC: The encounter with Dranvalan and his rescuers was happening while it was still morning. Are you folks deciding to assume that nothing else remarkable happened for awhile, and we've jumped ahead in time to when the party would need to decide about sleeping arrangements? It's all the same to me; _I'm_ comfy back in the castle! ;)
 
"No indoor sleeping for me in any case," said Horatius. "In fact, I'll have to note which side of the inn is downwind, and make my night-nest in that direction. Otherwise, the smell of me will spook all non-intelligent horses that may be stabled there. But I assume that Queen Susan has her horn with her, so I can be summoned quickly if I'm needed. One thing I will ask of the inn you will patronize: let some meat be sent out to me, since most large edible animals in this region probably are someone's livestock, and I am no thief."
 
OOC: I had an idea for that stop.

"It is mid morning yet for a full meal. The soup will do wonders for now. It is good that we will stop at the inn at this time while we await my Lady Angela's decision weather she will indeed accompany us or stay. We are still not far from Cair Paravel to await her decision."
 
She touched Elena's face and had her climb on Ebony's back.
"It wont due for you to walk anymore." She said.

"Edmund," she trotted to her brother, "are you sure you'll sleep under the stars?"
 
Elena smiled. "Thank you again your majesty" she said once again, however she said it quietly. She was very much curious about what her queen needed her to do.
 
ooc sorry I took so long to reply!
I skimmed the other posts but I'm completly clueless where you started talking about antolopes! :eek::eek::eek:
 
dayhawk68 said:
She touched Elena's face and had her climb on Ebony's back.
"It wont due for you to walk anymore." She said.

"Edmund," she trotted to her brother, "are you sure you'll sleep under the stars?"
Click to expand...

"Dear sister, you know I love Narnia as much as anyone. Looking at the stars gives me a good feeling. I will always be grateful to Aslan for everything. There is nothing more comforting than knowing He is out there, and he made those wonderful stars. Sometimes, if I really concentrate on Him, and everything else quiets, I can hear a faint song of praise from the stars."

"Mind you it might be just my imagination, but I love the feeling. Besides, I also love to have a conversation with my non-human friends, with Phillip and Horatius. And they do not do well on beds not meant for beasts."
 
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This also may help you, Shadow Kitty

AT CAIR PARAVEL:

Centauress Yedulia proceeded to give Dranvalan the antelope the very care which Dranvalan had noisily demanded; but he bellowed even more noisily when she probed the wound to determine whether any part of the arrow remained embedded in the flesh. Fortunately, she found that the arrow had come out clean; indeed, it appeared not to have been a barbed one.

The eldest of the charitable Satyrs had given his name as Grodlork. Yedulia asked him, "Did any of you keep the arrow for identification purposes?"

"I'm sorry, Lady Centaur, none of us thought of it; we were thinking of nothing but helping this beast."

The antelope's frayed temper had grown still worse from the discomfort (though necessary) of Yedulia's ministrations; in addition, he knew he was now safe from any possible consequences of being rude to his rescuers. Turning a bitter glare upon Grodlork, he rasped out, "Or maybe you were thinking of obstructing the investigation--covering for a fellow Satyr, making it harder for the King to determine which one of your lot nearly murdered me!"

The voice of the High King forestalled any defensive reply by the Satyrs. "Do I hear talk of murder?" Peter strode up to them. The Satyrs all bowed to their sovereign; Dranvalan, for his part, only launched into more complaining.

Peter fleetingly wished that he had gone away with his siblings after all. But no, someone had to stay here and run things for the kingdom.

=============================================


[It seems to be the consensus that Mrs. Pevensie's character IS still at the castle with Peter and the Centaurs; but her real-life self isn't around to say what her RP-self is doing--so I can't have Peter try to converse with his invisible sister-in-law about the situation.]
 
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OOC: I will only be on every other day or so...that is why i decided that my character should stay in Cair Paravel, away from most of the action! I don't want to inhibit any of the other characters by my not being present. I hope this is alright, if not, I can vacate my roll and let someone else have it.
 
Angela, did you see my request for permission to write a dialogue between you and Peter? It would not force any changes in the circumstances or personality of your character, yet would make her part of the secondary action occurring at Cair Paravel.
 
There you have it: my authorization! After all, it is Mrs. Pevensie's character who represents THE primary deviation from Lewisian basics that this thread contains, so she OUGHT to be SEEN in the action somewhere. What follows is based on the logical premise that, however it was that Angela came to marry Edmund, as his wife she is bound to be familiar with the Younger King's involvement in judicial proceedings. And since Peter must be assumed to have known his sister-in-law for LONGER than just the half-day depicted so far in this roleplay.....

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


"What's this, Peter--are the Satyrs holding some sort of conclave?" asked Angela as she approached her brother-in-law. Edmund's wife had missed out on the initial stir of the Satyrs' arrival, because she had been in the quarters she and Edmund shared, working on her notes for a book about how she and he had met and courted.

"Glad to see you right now!" Peter hailed her. With his face turned away from all the newcomers, he gave a wink that only she could see. "Do you remember that winter day when Edmund gave those Talking Woodchucks an audience?"

"Of course," Angela replied, instantly understanding Peter's drift. Peter knew that his sister-in-law loved to be in attendance when Edmund was functioning as a judge, and she had gained enough grasp of high-level judicial affairs that Edmund often used her as an interrogator. In one case of strife between clans of small Talking Animals, Edmund had chosen a tactic to catch any lies....

The very presence of the Talking Antelope, still on the travois and being attended to by the Centauress, told Angela much of what was going on. Seeing two of the Satyrs sitting down, she stepped close to them and said,
"You two look tired. Were you the latest ones to be hauling this injured Narnian?"

"We, along with _that_ one and _that_ one, my lady," answered one of the seated Centaurs.

"Then you good fellows ought to be rewarded with some refreshment without more delay!" said Angela. "Your friends appear busy talking with the High King right now; but after I've seen to your comfort, they also can be given something to eat and drink. This way, please;" and she led them toward the kitchen area. Now Angela thought she understood why her heart had felt she should not travel with her beloved: Aslan had known that this incident would arise, in which her brother-in-law would have use for her assistance.

What she was about to do was what she had done to help Edmund in the affair with the Talking Woodchucks: _dividing_ a group of witnesses to an event, so as to question some of them with the others of their group not present to hear. Peter would similarly question those of the Satyrs who were still with him; then he and Angela would compare the answers they got, and see if there were any contradictions.

A feathered form crossed Angela's path as she led the Satyrs toward a generous table and a subtle testing: a Talking Duck employed by the Kings and Queens as an aerial messenger. This particular duck had been hatched relatively early in the Pevensie regime. At that time, for some reason which Peter could not explain--as if a faded memory had surfaced briefly--the High King had urged the parents to name their new son Donald.

"Having surprise company in, Princess-Consort?" quacked Donald.

"So we are," Angela confirmed. "And since for now I am the mistress of the castle for purposes of hospitality, I will not be able to go and join my husband on his errand, which also came up at short notice. Have you any assignment currently, my fair fowl?"

"None so far, my lady."

"Good! Then I will ask you to fly out in search of my husband and the queens; they were taking the route which goes by the Crossroads Inn. Tell King Edmund why I am detained in Cair Paravel; he already knows that these visitors were on their way here. Convey my earnest promise to Edmund that, once he and I are together again, I _will_ find a way to...compensate him...for the time we were apart." Her eyes gleamed at the conclusion.

"As you wish, my lady;" and the duck named Donald made his takeoff without further ado, setting a westerly course to overtake the questing party. Angela turned her attention to her Satyr guests again; and as she arranged for them to be served lunch, she looked for natural and unforced ways to bring up questions about what they actually knew of Dranvalan's misfortune.
 
NOTE: The questing characters are farther ahead in time than those back at Cair Paravel. Accordingly, any character IN the quest is free to assume that the Talking Duck named Donald has covered the distance to overtake them with Angela's message for Edmund. The following post, now, serves to bring Peter and Angela forward in time.

==========================

The second half of the Satyr group was getting its turn at refreshments; Peter and Angela had completed their questioning of their respective sets of witnesses. Now Angela came to Peter's office to compare the results. Entering, she found Peter accompanied by a Talking White Terrier named Snowpelt. The Princess-Consort did not need to say aloud that she realized why her unmarried brother-in-law had someone with him. Although of course the actual relationship between her and Peter was entirely pure and innocent, it would not do to allow ANY gossip to get started about the High King doing something with a married woman behind a closed door. Snowpelt's presence would prove that this meeting was business.

It did not take long to establish that the separate quartets of Satyrs had not contradicted each other in their account of Dranvalan's mishap, and that nothing any of them said seemed to ring false. "Very well," concluded Peter. "I shall tell them they are free to depart; but I will request that Grodlork wait to accompany us."

"You mean, accompany us to the scene of the incident?" asked Angela.

"Exactly. It's time to progress to looking for physical evidence. And _sniffing_ for it," Peter added, glancing at Snowpelt, who was known for his extraordinarily accurate sense of smell.

"Just you, me, Snowpelt and Grodlork?"

"Add horses for you and me, and a pony for Grodlork. Also, I want to bring two or three of the young human guards, just to give them experience. And for a little added security, we'll bring Vesta too." Vesta was a female Talking Leopard, a niece of Horatius.

Now the terrier spoke up. "I assume, Your Majesty, that you shall want me to sniff out the trail of whoever was hunting this morning?"

Peter nodded. "That--and any clues to who or what was really _being_ hunted."
 
Yes, that's what I've been waiting for

When Donald had landed and been shown where King Edmund was, he waddled up to the King with waterfowl dignity and said, "Your Majesty! I come at the request of the Princess-Consort Angela, so that you may know that she is not coldly unmindful of you, her true love. She bids me tell you that she had a feeling, from the moment she awoke in your arms this morning, that some duty or contingency would be demanding her attention at Cair Paravel. But only after the arrival at the castle of those Satyrs whom you saw on the road did the meaning of this premonition become clear to her. She is now assisting your revered brother in investigating the incident of the wounded antelope. Angela further bids me reiterate her undying love and devotion for you, and says that when you come back from your quest she will compensate you lavishly for your temporary parting from her. Her eyes were gleaming when she said the last part, Your Majesty."

The duck begged leave to depart as soon as he was given Edmund's words of reply to Angela. Edmund guessed that Donald preferred to be away from where Kreechikee was as soon as possible. No one could figure out why a Talking Duck should dislike a Talking Mouse; but for some reason, though not at the level of a deadly quarrel, Donald disliked Talking Mice generally.
 
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