The Runaway Cart

The Runaway Cart

By Allyson

(A/N – Narnia belongs to C. S. Lewis not me.)

The runaway cart crashed and banged its way through the forest, the horse, still loosely tethered, racing with rolling eyes next to it. Startled Narnians leapt out of its suicidal path. Just outside Cair Paravel's stone walls, Peter, still on his own steed, had just returned from a visit with the Beavers and was talking with his younger brother, Edmund. Both boys heard the commotion behind them and turned to see the cart bearing down on them. Nudging his horse into a canter, Peter rode towards the abandoned cart and used his sword to cut the tethered horse free. Grabbing the reigns of the frightened horse to stop it from running away, Peter cried out in pain as he wrenched his arm with the sudden motion. Distracted, Peter momentarily forgot about the cart heading towards the walls of Cair Paravel until a horrendous crash startled the unsettled horse and pulled on his sore arm. Peter's breath caught in his throat as looked at the wrecked cart squashed up against the stone wall. One of the wooden wheels had come loose and now covered the unmoving form of his brother.

"Edmund!" shouted Peter, as he let go of the renegade horse and raced back to his brother. Jumping from his own horse, Peter pulled the wheel off his brother, wincing at the ugly bruise forming above Edmund's left eye.

Reaching over to inspect the bruise, Peter almost jumped out of his skin as Edmund's eyes snapped open suddenly. Groaning in pain, Edmund put one hand to his head and allowed Peter to pull him into a sitting position. Leaning against the wall, Edmund suddenly looked panicked.

"Where's Peter? He was hurt."

"I'm here, Ed, everything's fine," soothed Peter, patting his shoulder.

Edmund looked at his brother as if he had just announced he was best friends with the White Witch. "Don't be absurd; you're not Peter."

Taken aback by Edmund's outburst, Peter replied, half-bemused, half-indignant, "Well of course I am."

"I think I know who my older brother is, thank-you very much," glared Edmund. "Now, where is he?"

"If I'm not Peter – which I am – then who am I?"

"Don't be silly, you're –"Edmund trailed off with a look of frustration as he stared at Peter with a frown. "Do I know you?"

"Apparently not," murmured Peter, half-concerned, half-annoyed. Taking a calming breath, he asked Edmund, "Do you recognize me at all?"

The intent stare Edmund was giving him made Peter feel strangely uncomfortable. It was like talking to a stranger.

"You look vaguely familiar," Edmund replied slowly, after another moment of silent concentration. "Are you a stable boy?"

"A stable boy?!" spluttered Peter, indignantly.

Before he could open his mouth to shout at his brother, a faun appeared beside him, clearing his throat.

"My Lord is everything alright?" the faun asked, in concern. "Do you require assistance?"

The interruption allowed Peter to realize that he and his brother were still out in public and therefore ranting at his wounded brother would not help the situation.

"No, no thanks," he replied. "I've got it under control. However, I would appreciate it if someone made sure the horses were looked after."

The faun bowed his head in acceptance and moved away to attend to the horses.

"Come on, Ed," growled Peter, getting to his feet. "Let's get you inside."

Edmund allowed Peter to pull him to his feet, though he paled considerably and wavered on the spot alarmingly.

"Will you be okay walking back to your room?" asked Peter, worriedly. "You're not going to faint, are you?"

"I'm fine," replied Edmund, stubbornly, through gritted teeth. Seeing the doubt written across the other boy's face, he warned, "Don't even think about trying to carry me. Try it and I'll have my brother, the High King, banish you from Narnia."

"I'd like to see him try," murmured Peter, amused, as they set off at a slow pace. At the look Edmund gave him, he asked louder, "How can I prove to you that I am your brother? You recognize me, so surely you know who I am?"

"You're not Peter," insisted Edmund, between deep breaths to quell a bout of nausea. "Peter would know exactly what to say without asking me."

Peter looked at his brother in surprise, struck by the apparent confidence Edmund had in him. They walked slowly in silence for a few minutes as Peter furiously thought of something to convince his bother with. They had reached the deserted archway leading up to the entrance hall of the castle before Peter finally hit on something to say.

"It's a good thing Mum and Susan aren't here to see you like this," Peter said, casually, as they slowly went up the staircase. "They've still not forgiven me for tying to teach you how to ride my bicycle when you were six. I remember you could barely reach the pedals. Of course it was your fault you crashed into the wall and cut your lip open."

"Was not," murmured Edmund, distractedly, as he concentrated on the steps in front of him. "You shouldn't have let go of the bike to talk to Su."

"You asked me to," responded Peter, with a smile of relief as it seemed Edmund remembered the incident too.

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

At the top of the landing, Edmund came to an abrupt halt and Peter quickly reached out to steady him as he swayed alarmingly. What little colour Edmund had in his face had now completely drained away, from the dizzying trek up the staircase.

"Peter?" murmured Edmund, through nauseous gritted teeth. "I think I need to lie down."

And with that, Peter's little brother's eyes rolled to the top of his head and his body collapsed backwards. Peter managed to grab him before he hit the ground. With a sigh, Peter pulled his brother into his arms and struggled the short distance to the nearest bedroom. Unfortunately for him, it was Susan's room and she was inside, reading a book.

"What happened?" asked Susan, concerned, hurrying from her chair to help Peter place Edmund onto a nearby couch. "Why is he unconscious?"

"A runaway cart crashed into the castle's boundary wall and Ed got hit by a flying wheel," replied Peter, checking the bruise above his brother's eye.

"Oh, Ed," murmured Susan, sympathetically, as she rearranged a cushion underneath his head and smoothed his hair down. Spinning on Peter, she scolded, "How could you let him get hurt?"

"How could I . . ?" Peter repeated, in shock. "I didn't throw the wheel at him!"

"You should have told him to get out of the way," responded Susan, insistently.

"I haven't got eyes in the back of my head, Su," snapped Peter. "I didn't know what Ed was doing behind me. Besides, he's never listened to me before. He's as head-strong as you are!"

"I beg your pardon?" glared Susan.

"You heard me," replied Peter, crossing his arms.

"Stop arguing," interrupted a groaning voice from beside the bickering siblings. "You're giving me a headache."

"Ed!" cried out both Peter and Susan, in relief.

Their younger brother groaned in response to the noise and put a hand to his aching head.

"How do you feel?" asked Susan, crouching back down besides him.

"My head hurts," admitted Edmund. "Did a wall hit me?"

"No, just a wheel," smiled Peter.

"I'll go and find one of the court doctors to check you're really okay," said Susan, leaving the room before her younger brother could protest.

In the silence that followed, Edmund cautiously pushed himself up the couch to settle in a more comfortable position. Wincing in the sunlight, he looked over to where Peter still stood hovering uncertainly by his shoulder.

"Peter, stop worrying, I feel much better," he tried to reassure him.

"You remember who I am?" asked Peter, with such a hopeful look in his eyes that Edmund momentarily wondered if Peter had received a blow to the head as well.

"Of course I know who you are," replied Edmund, concerned. "Please tell me you know who you are?"

Peter laughed at Edmund's response in relief.

"Peter? Are you okay?" asked Edmund, in growing worry at his brother's behaviour. "Do you want to see the doctor as well?"

"No, no everything's fine," reassured Peter. "I'm just glad you're okay."

Edmund returned his brother's smile. "Promise me something, Peter?"

"What?"

"Next time you go after a runaway cart, make sure I'm nowhere near it at the time?"

Peter grinned. "Definitely," he promised.

The End.