[A] fall in line {Swiftshadow} {FINISHED}

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[Character of the Month]

Character of the Month
Prince Caspian

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Played by Cara

"Cara has managed to...create a character that is both mythical and life-like. Impulsive, moody, and yet kind and good-hearted, Caspian is just beginning to show the makings of a true leader."
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[Reepicheep]

Reepicheep was strolling through the How, going nowhere in particular - as he did only rarely.  The many thoughts going through his head seemed to be doing the same thing: going around in circles.  Mice typically had very good senses of direction, but that was not helpful if a Mouse did not try to use it.  For, in essence, Reepicheep was simply wandering around, and sulking as he did so.  He wasn't certain anymore what he was meant to do here.  Of course he was going to fight, eventually, but the very king to whom he had pledged his undying loyalty seemed to be ignoring him.  It pained him deeply to question authority; it wounded his spirit to think that Caspian might have interests other than that of the Old Narnians, and worse, it wounded his pride.  In want of answers and the respect he felt he deserved, Reepicheep ended up getting neither, and instead found himself somewhat lost in the labryinth of the How.  He was used to going places and doing things with a sense of purpose, but this he no longer possessed.  Because he hardly saw his beloved king these days, he could not discern what Caspian was doing, nor what Caspian wanted him to do.  There was naught Reepicheep hated more than being idle - except, of course, for being disrespected (which the former equated to, anyway, since this idleness was rather being forced upon him).  And Giants, though he supposed that was beside the point.

What was the point?  He didn't think he knew anymore.  He would live and die for Narnia, but now he was doing neither.  This could not be called living - hiding here like cowards, waiting for a death, at the hands of the Telmarines, that would not come.  Reepicheep would much rather go to battle and die nobly than be holed up.  True, patience was a virtue - one he did not really possess.  He had waited and waited and waited.  For the entirety of his short life, he had waited for the beginning of a war in which the Narnians would take back what was theirs - during which time he had gathered weapons, trained, studied, and hoped - but now the waiting did not end.  The battle had not yet begun.  There had been not a single skirmish in which he had been engaged, not a single injury he had sustained except for the various ones to his pride.  Indeed, he could not be knighted until he was a hero or dead, and neither would happen anytime soon.  He was waiting for something, anything, to happen.  But it would not.  And he was weary of waiting.  Now he waited for Caspian to tell him what to do.  If things did not go well, then he would simply wait for death.  Because at this rate, it would not come in battle.  Nor would it come to him across the sea.  Indeed it was the Mouse's dream never to die, for it was the dream of every knight, was it not?  To live eternally, to have a legacy everlasting, to have such a repertoire of feats accomplished that not even death could fade your fame.  To be in the presence of the great, to hold court with the noble, to have company with...

Aslan.  The name came to Reepicheep with the feeling of a rapier butt thrust into his abdomen, and the breath was forced from his lungs with the appropriate pain.  And it also came at the appropriate time, for Reepicheep had wandered - unwittingly but perhaps not by chance - into the very center of the How, where the stone wall from which the Lion's majestic form rose up glowed in the flickering firelight.  The sight filled his eyes and a strange and unexpected shame filled his heart.  How could he have forgotten the most important reason of all to fight: Aslan himself?  He remembered suddenly how small he was, and felt it acutely before the solemn stone image.  Bowing his head, he bent low to the Lion, closing his eyes for a moment to take in the inexplicable feeling overwhelming him.  Then he straightened, drew in a deep breath, and stepped back with a renewed sense of purpose.  Perhaps Caspian was not going to direct them, but something - or someone - else was.  They needed to act, act now and act quickly.  There were troops to train, weapons to gather...  So many things to do; so many Narnians ill.  But no matter.  Things would improve quickly, they would see.  He would begin getting the ones who were willing an able (and of course if they were here, they were willing; if they were Narnian in their heart, they were able!) together.  The Telmarines were not waiting, and neither would Aslan, once he had shown himself in whatever form of aid he would.  And he would.  Looking in reverence at the image, the Mouse took a slow step back.  "Tell me what to do, my liege," he asked softly.

[Swiftshadow]

Swiftshadow was restless.  Due to the storm and the resulting damage, she had not left the camp for over a week.  While she liked many of the Narnians, and always felt in awe at the sense of history that surrounded this place, seeing the same things day after day was starting to make her feel claustrophobic. What she needed, she decided, was an invigorating gallop through the woods. She had worked hard enough to deserve a few hours’ break.

After checking with Glenstorm to make sure she was not going to be needed in that time, Swiftshadow set out to find her husband. She had spent far too little alone time with Nightwind lately, and while they both knew that this war came before anything else, she was starting to miss their time together.  Perhaps he could spare a few hours as well.  A quick inquiry revealed that Nightwind was somewhere within the caverns, and so Swiftshadow began to wander the caves, hoping to run across him. 

After a short while with no luck, the centaur found herself in the very center of the How.  While her quick glance around showed that her husband was not here either, another sight gave her pause.  Directly in front of her, a Mouse bowed to a statue, as solemnly as if the image were Aslan Himself, and not simply His image.  As she watched, he straightened and stepped back.

“Tell me what to do, my liege.”

Swiftshadow’s lips twisted upward at the irony. “Do you really think a statue is going to answer you?” she asked the Mouse’s back.

If Aslan were here in flesh and bone, she would be asking Him the same thing.  The Narnians needed His help and direction, and badly.  Their army was small, disorganized, and still recovering from the blow the storm had dealt to their health and equipment.  As things stood, they had very little chance of winning back their freedom from those blasted Telmarines.

However, the truth was that Aslan was not here, and as yet, she had no reason to believe He’d be coming.  She believed the stories that were told of Him, of how He had created Narnia and of how He later defeated the White Witch.  But the Lion had not made an appearance in hundreds of years, not even when the Telmarines had invaded the land. They surely could have used His help then.  Perhaps Aslan had forgotten about Narnia, or perhaps He had more important things to see to.  Whatever the reason, He had deserted them, and Swiftshadow had seen no evidence suggesting that He’d changed His mind.  The Narnians had no one to rely on but themselves to win this war. 

((OOC: My apologies for the delay, and the somewhat rushed reply!))

[Reepicheep]

Reepicheep whirled around in surprise, bristling in irritation at the amount of derision in the intruder's voice.  He had only longed for a moment of peace, which was destroyed so easily.  Just as in life, he supposed.  Things which were desired the most were only that because they were so hard to attain.  So often it took war to make peace.  And for this reason he would fight to the death for Narnia, and its occupants, all of whom were more than deserving of a peaceful place of their own after the thirteen hundred years of abuse and eviction they had undergone.  But for now, at least, there would be no peace, not anywhere in Narnia - not even in this place, most sacred and hallowed, which he had stumbled upon almost by accidrnt (if such things as accidents existed).  Insulting Reepicheep was one thing, and well deserving of a duel to defend his honor.  But insulting Aslan - even just a relief of him - was another thing altogether.  Reepicheep might have drawn his rapier right there, but he realized that the intruder was a Centaur (who were expected to be noble and loyal, weren't they?), and a female Centaur, at that.  So his blade was stayed, most painstakingly.

"Not with a lack of faith like that, he won't," the Mouse replied, with his usual crisp wit.  His wit, though dry, was usually as sharp as his rapier, and used with just as much frequency.  It was not his weapon of preference but he would use it when necessary - that was, when he could not use his rapier, as he would have much rather done.  "I wonder whether the only reason he has not come yet to our aid is because he believes he will not even be welcomed."  It was something of a horrifying thought, and certainly an inaccurate one, because Reepicheep knew - and was heartened by the fact - that most of the Narnians, the Badgers, in particular, and he had thought the Centaurs, still had a strong and steadfast faith in Aslan in spite of their trials.  But there might have been some truth to it, because there had to be some reason that Aslan had not come to help them, and it surely wasn't because they didn't need the help.  If Aslan was testing their faith, then the Lion must be quite disappointed with some of his followers.  Or perhaps one might say lack of followers, at this point.

Then, a thought came to mind, and a slight smile touched Reepicheep's lips.  "Why, if I recall correctly, he has brought stone to life before.  I have no reason to believe that he will not do it again, nor a reason to believe that he will not return."  What a lovely metaphor it was for life, the way that Aslan breathed life into a "spiritually dead" creature's "cold heart of stone"!  The very thought of it gave Reepicheep a little thrill of delight.  Though he couldn't recall any particular occasion when Aslan had personally offered him his mercy, the stories alone made him feel as if he had been there at the time of the Faun Tumnus' forgiveness; when the Lion had died for Edmund; and when Peter had his life saved too, when Aslan leaped over him to defeat the Witch.  The stories were fascinating, and the best part was, they were real.  Reepicheep could only dream of meeting such a great Animal.  But he hoped his dream came true, because nothing they had done so far had worked.  The horn had been blown, and strangely, no help had arrived... that they knew of yet.  Perhaps they just had to be patient - not one of the Mouse's strong suits.  But he found it interesting that the Centauress seemed not to know this.  "I don't suppose you have any better ideas?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.  Reepicheep was all for battle, but it hadn't been successful so far.  "Seeing as how what we've done so far has helped us so greatly."

[Swiftshadow]

Swiftshadow watched with eyebrows raised as Reepicheep – for when the Mouse turned around, she recognized the chieftan – twirled about with his hand on his rapier.  He was prickly, wasn’t he. She didn’t know him except by sight and reputation, but the latter had painted him as touchy. To be fair, she had also heard he was chivalrous – though she wasn’t sure that was always a good thing – and a fine leader.

With a trained soldier’s eye, the centaur noted that after the Mouse saw who she was, he stayed his hand, though his initial reaction had been to fight.  She, too, relaxed a little, for her right hand had gone instinctively to her blade. Not that she would have wanted to fight him. Sparring with her peers often had the added benefit of releasing anger or frustration, but fighting with an Old Narnian who was angry at her could have disagreeable consequences.  The last thing they needed was more division within their army. Perhaps the Mouse realized that as well, for he carried on his argument with words rather than his rapier.

She listened to his initial lecture without comment, though she thought the sentiments foolish.  She had faith in Aslan – at least, faith that such a being existed, and that if He did come, He could defeat their enemies.  If the Lion came, He would most definitely be welcomed, by herself and, she was sure, the rest of the Old Narnians.  If He came.  Nor did she need the history lesson from someone who had studied it far less than she.

Swiftshadow couldn’t, however, keep from answering Reepicheep’s sarcasm. “So your brilliant idea is to sit back until Aslan comes, when you have no reason to believe that he will return?” She twisted his words and threw them back at him, knowing that he had no evidence of the Lion’s coming. A good number of the Old Narnians shared Reepicheep’s hope of Aslan’s imminent return, she knew.  Even some of the centaurs claimed that the stars must foretell his coming.  But while Swiftshadow knew that the stars never lied, she also knew that they did not tell precisely what would happen in the future.  Just because the stars foreshadowed Victory and Peace did not mean that Aslan would be involved, or that the struggle would be easy. Those who took the signs and their faith in Aslan to mean that they did not have to put their all into this war upset her, for she had given this cause her all.

“Look,” she continued, “we’ve got to do the best with what we’ve got. If Aslan comes, then wonderful. I’ll welcome Him and stand behind Him as much as anyone else. But we can’t just sit around waiting for Him when we have no proof that he’ll return.”

[Reepicheep]

Though Reepicheep knew better than to glare outright at the Centaur, he was sorely tempted to do so.  She was irritating a great deal by acting like she knew everything.  Those who thought they knew everything quite annoyed those who actually did know everything.  Reepicheep would contend – with or without his rapier, though preferably with it – that he was the most educated of all the Narnians in the art of war.  He had been training all the others to fight, and in the end this would be a very great service to Caspian, Narnia as a whole, and, of course, Aslan.  Aslan would come back.  He was sure of it. 

Reepicheep was quite surprised that the Centaur was being so cynical, especially since the noble creatures were known for their undying faith and loyalty to their leaders, both of which would be given to Aslan.  He couldn’t fault them for playing that loyalty in Caspian, who he had to agree was, at the moment, more tangible and considerably more accessible than a Lion who seemed distant and invisible.  But Caspian was not going to win this war.  Not even Reepicheep was, though he would like to think so.  No; it would be Aslan’s doing.  That was for certain.  He wasn’t sure why or how he knew this, but that was just how it always went.  Whenever Aslan was gone, things went back, and they were never good until he returned.  So until Aslan returned, this war would not be won.  Period.

However, Reepicheep also had to agree with the Centauress that nothing was currently being done.  He supposed he could go out with the others and help train them some more; Aslan knew how much they could use it.  Some of the creatures were… less skilled than Reepicheep might have hoped.  To put it bluntly, they were pitiful.  If they were to engage in battle anytime soon, there was not much of a chance of victory, unless there was some miracle of Aslan.  And while this could possibly happen, it was not very likely, especially when Aslan’s own creatures were losing their faith in him.  The thought made Reepicheep quite upset.  Things were already bad enough, what with all the illness that had been going around, not to mention the recent visit of the Telmarines.  Add on top of it the fact that their entire army was untrained…  No, they were not faring well.  He saw the Centaur reach for her weapon and thought for a moment.

They were the only ones in the army who really knew what they were doing, it seemed.  It was a good thing, then, that both of them were intelligent enough not to start a row amongst each other, for things would only be worse then, and likely have drastic consequences.  One of them might die.  (Reepicheep liked to think it would have been her, but in all honesty, she could crush him with one hoof.)  So far the Centauress had not done much to aid him in his quest to gather weapons and trains the troops.  Surely she had done something, but he found it quite irritating that he was accusing him of being sedentary while she had hardly even helped him where it counted.  He took a few moments to ask Aslan for help, to send up a silent prayer – for nothing else was doing anything helpful – and he had been accused of being idle.  Well, fine.  He would prove to her that she was not as useless as he thought.

So far, nothing much had shown what Reepicheep had done in the camp.  Though he was training the troops, they had not improved a great deal, which was disappointing not only because they weren’t ready to fight but also because the Mouse’s efforts had been sadly fruitless.  Also, his efforts to gather weapons and supplies had also not yielded much, because no one even knew how to use the weapons, and some of the supplies had been ruined by the recent rains.  Reepicheep had felt close to despair, and he had begun to think that the only way to solve their problems was to simply kill all the Telmarines.  They couldn’t do that with an untrained, unarmed group of Old Narnians, though.  They had to figure out a new plan.  And, in fact, this was exactly what Reepicheep planned on doing.

The stars predicted things.  The fact that the Centauress had not been paying attention with the rest of her kin was not his fault.  If she did not want to partake in the victory that was offered, well, no one was forcing her.  But Reepicheep intended on doing so, and he did not at all intend to be accused of “sitting back and doing nothing”.  Feeling that the Centauress was not deserving of a response, he gave a savage growl and his tiny paw seized the hilt of his rapier tightly.  Then he dropped on all fours, in what might have been seen by an outsider who did not know what a great warrior Reepicheep was as silly, and began to run as fast as he could.  He had a great distance to cover, and not much time.  The Centauress could join him if she wished.  But he would prefer to do this on his own.  Well, not alone.  Aslan would be with him.  Which was exactly why he would have success, one that had been thirteen hundred years in coming.

He was going to the Telmarine camp.

((ooc: Okay.  Short.  Bad.  Sorry   And sorry that Reep just dashed off like that.  But I’m probably going to have him join Drinian’s thread with Thal and “Dharr”.  I’ll RP with you in the Catalyst!))

[Swiftshadow]

((If your post is short and bad, then all of mine are tiny and horrible!))

Swiftshadow was somewhat taken aback when the Mouse growled and clutched his rapier.  She had already discovered that he was touchy, and that he devotedly believed in Aslan’s imminent return. But this seemed to her to be an overreaction, even for him.  She hadn’t said that Aslan wasn’t coming, just that they didn’t know that He was.  And it could hardly be too much to ask that the Narnians give their all, when they had so much to gain through their victory.  For as long as she could remember, she’d made sacrifices for her cause.  The dream of eliminating the Telmarines and restoring the land to its rightful owners had driven her to spend long hours training herself and others, gathering support, and creating plans for the future.  Now that they had a son of Adam on their side, to lead them in their fight for freedom, the end of her struggle finally seemed in sight.  The Narnians still had a great many disadvantages to overcome – including the naïve belief that they could just wait around for Aslan to make everything right – but signs of future Victory and Peace were showing up in more than just the stars.

Swiftshadow’s hand, which once more had gone defensively to her blade at Reepicheep’s unexpectedly violent reaction, loosened its grip as the Mouse dropped on all fours and rushed away.   His whole reaction seemed rather immature. She only hoped that he and the Mice who followed him didn’t just do the same thing when faced with a larger adversary like the Telmarines.  The Mice may be small, but any help they could bring if they stayed and fought in battle would be better than the lack of help the Narnians would get if they ran away.

The centauress dismissed the Mouse from her mind, then, in order to resume her search for her husband.  Her frustration at Reepicheep's blind faith had only made her more ready to get out of this place and stretch her legs.