Author's Notes: I own nowt, I make no money, I'm doing this for the love of the book. Hopefully I'll finish up with a few more little scenes featuring the regular crew of Edmund, Lucy, Eustace, Caspian, Reepicheep and Drinian, for whom I've always had a bit of a soft spot.

THE FIRST MORNING ABOARD

The swaying motion of the ship caused no concern to Lucy; in fact the soft swing of her cot, hung from bolts in the ceiling of the Great Cabin, lulled her swiftly into a dreamless sleep. When she woke, instantly alert, she could hardly wait to tumble to the deck and assume her borrowed clothes, happily humming to herself as the sun struggled to peer in through the porthole. This was, she was sure, going to be the best of all her Narnian adventures.

She climbed the ladder to the quarterdeck hatch in a happy daze. With the sun on her face and the wild, sweet smell of brine in her nostrils, she could easily believe herself to be the only creature stirring, sharing the promise of a perfect day with none but the Dawn Treader.

The illusion was dissolved the moment she opened her eyes, for there, leaning against the tiller, stood the Lord Drinian, his dark head tilted as he stared across the endless expanse of the ocean, one hand rested lightly on the top spoke of the great wheel.

He looked so utterly content that she was reluctant to disturb him. Stepping onto the deck, she deliberately muted her usual lively trilling. "Good morning, Captain."

"Your Majesty." He twisted to face her, lofty head dipped in acknowledgement. Lucy smiled.

"I suppose you prefer the title to My Lord aboard ship?" she teased. He laughed, showing a set of strong, white teeth.

"I see Your Majesty has been listening to His Majesty," he said as she moved to stand beside him, her bare elbows rested against the taffrail, confirming his suspicion with a giggle and a blush. "'Tis true, I promised the first man of the crew to use my landsman's title a dozen o' the best. Passengers - royal ones at least - can hardly be subject to so rude a manner of discipline."

Eustace, she thought, would be wise to take a hint from that. "Isn't it a glorious morning?" she said, pushing the thought away.

"Aye. You are above deck early, Ma'am. I trust you slept well?"

"Oh, like a log, thank you. No, I always wake early at sea." That sounded, she realised, quite startled, like Queen Lucy of Narnia, not the silly English schoolgirl who had fallen through the picture frame in her Aunt Alberta's tiny guest room in Cambridge. She was rather pleased with herself. "And if I'm up early, what of you? Can the Captain not permit himself an extra hour in bed?"

"He could, Ma'am; he has the advantage of assigning tiller duty," Drinian agreed cheerfully. "Nay, I prefer to take the helm at these hours; early morning and late o' nights, when the ship is quiet, those are the true sailor's hours. Beside, when the full crew is above deck, the Captain can find himself being urgently required in three places at once! Will Your Highness take a full tour of my lady Dawn Treader today?"

"I should like that, and so would Edmund." Drinian cocked his head.

"Your Majesty makes no mention of her discontented kinsman?"

"Bother! I was trying to forget about him."

"Weren't we all?" Rubbing his eyes, Edmund stumbled onto deck, blinking against the brightness after a night below decks. "If he tells you he didn't sleep a wink, don't believe him. Little blighter snored so loud he kept Caspian and I awake for hours after he'd dropped off! Morning, by the way, Lu - morning, Drinian."

"Your Majesty. Are we to assume, then, that His most gracious Highness King Caspian is not yet ready to honour his loyal subjects with an audience?"

"Something like that." The fresh air was rapidly blowing the last stuffiness from his head. Edmund strolled to join his sister at the stern rail. "He mumbled something about not offending the Dryads, Trumpkin, rolled over and started snoring again. He'll appear in time for breakfast, I expect. Is that soon, by the way?"

"Six bells, Sire; inside the hour. Mouse!"

Lucy jumped at the sudden bellow. Forward, Reepicheep could be seen scampering with purpose, nose twitching . Drinian's indignant holler slowed him not at all.

"Reep, in Aslan's name, the prow is not your personal lookout station!" he bawled. The little creature turned, doffing its hat as it bowed to the outraged captain. "Oh, have it your way, but remember: should you fall, I shan't be turning the ship around to collect you!"

"He does have excellent balance, you know," Lucy commented, watching with interest as Reepicheep clambered the length of the extended wooden neck to stand between the gilded ears of the dragon's head, tail hanging behind him. Drinian turned the cuss that rose instinctively into a prolonged hiss, in deference to the Royal presence.

"Aye, Ma'am, but he's a lubber. Oh, I've climbed the prow myself, many a time, but with a sailor's knowledge. A sudden squall, a sea creature rearing ahead of us, and what help will his balance give him? We ought to have left the - the infernal nuisance in Narnia!"

"Where he couldn't give that confounded fellow Scrubb a good thrashing?" Edmund queried. "Don't squeal, Lu, you know it's going to happen. Reep won't allow too many more slights to his honour; not even from a creature under the protection of Your Majesty."

"The young master has no more symptoms of seasickness?" Drinian sounded almost disappointed. Edmund shook his head.

"I did tell her it wasn't worth wasting a drop of the cordial on," he promised. "Oh, he'll be up on deck later, worse luck! It's unlucky he happened to be hanging around when we fell through the picture - when we were brought here, I mean."

"Oh, I doubt it was a matter of luck, King Edmund." Drinian chuckled softly. "Aslan brings you here; therefore, he brought your kinsman. For what purpose, only he knows, but for a certainty, there was no luck, good or ill, involved."

"That's true." There was no questioning the Lion's actions; they had a habit of working themselves out, in Lucy's experience. "Drinian's offered to give us a full tour of the ship, Ed. D'you think we can stop Eustace from tagging along?"

"Doubt it," her brother replied gloomily. "He's good at that, Scrubb; tagging along, getting in one's way. Good morning, Caspian."

"I thought I heard you getting up, Edmund. Drinian, no worrying; we slept perfectly easy below, once our ears accustomed themselves to our shipmate's snores! Your own clothes ought to be dry by evening, Lucy; I dare say you'll be glad to have them back."

"It's just a pity we kicked off our shoes."

"More can be found, at Narrowhaven," Drinian assured her, acknowledging the salute of his second-in-command as the burly man came up the poop ladder. "Well, Rhince! Naught to report?"

"Nowt, Cap'n, Sir. Good mornin' Yer Majesties. Shall I stand the lookouts down, Cap'n?"

"Aye, do so. And have the men scrub the main deck after breakfast, if you please. Their Majesties and their kinsman did more damage to the finish that we thought, with all the brine they brought aboard."

"Our apologies, Captain," said Caspian formally. Drinian's dark eyes sparkled.

"I'll thank Your Highnesses for taking no more sudden dips," he said. "Good morning, Rynelf."

"Sir. Reporting for helm duty, Captain. Good morning, Your Majesties."

"Hold a steady course, Rynelf." Relinquishing the wheel with obvious regret, Drinian smiled at his crewman. "East-nor'-east, hard on the wind. Good morning, Master Eustace. Another perfect sailing day."

"Can't even tell when a storm's raging," the sulky boy muttered, pushing past Rhince without so much as a by-your-leave. The big sailor scowled, opened his mouth to speak, and shut it again sharply under the combined glares of Captain and King.

"A cheerful shipmate he's likely to prove," Drinian commented. "Don't suppose he's a useful skill? Playing the fiddle, perhaps? The men get tired o' Rynelf's accordion every night."

"I don't think Eustace is going to contribute anything, unless your cook wants to carve that pound of ham from his bottom lip for dinner," Edmund admitted, amidst laughter, as a gong's echo floated the length of the ship. "Good-oh! That means breakfast, doesn't it? Move along, Caspian! I'm permanently famished at sea, aren't I, Lu?"