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Learning to dance

Her feet almost disappeared in the soft, warm and slightly damp grass. It had stopped drizzling an hour ago, and despite the humid air, Susan felt it was too warm today to stay indoors. Granted, it was cooler inside the castle, especially on the lower floors where her private chambers were, but the sun on the grass simply looked too inviting to ignore.

This day had been very dull for Susan. Both Edmund and Peter had left a week ago for negotiations about arsenal exchange with Galma, and couldn’t be expected to return early the next morning at earliest. Lucy had left early this morning, accompanied by Glenstorm, to have tea with Trumpkin. Susan briefly smiled. Only Lucy could have convinced their grumpy DLF to have tea.

The long damp grass dampened Susan’s dress as she walked on, but the didn’t mind. It was warm out today, and if anything, the moist cooled her down. But there was another downside to long grass; it masked the unevenness of the ground. Susan had not been paying attention to where she walked, more interested in the way the weak sun warmed her skin, and the smell of rain in the air, and was therefore caught off guard when her left foot caught on was probably a rabbit hole of some sort. She stumbled and replaced her right foot in order to re-gain her balance, but twisted her ankle in the process.

“Ow!” She shouted in surprise, and grabbed at her foot; a sharp pain began to spread. She could not see her foot, given the fact it was buried in the grass, and Susan cautiously tried to put some weight on it. Her ankle hurt, but it wasn’t unbearable. I can make it to that tree over there.

Slightly limping, and careful now where she put her feet, Susan made her way over to one of the knobbly trees that marked the edge of the clearing. Behind these trees, Susan knew, lay the practise field. She had spent many hours there perfecting the archery skills or watching Peter try to defeat Edmund in a sword fight. Near the tree trunk the grass was slightly thinner, and Susan sat down to examine her ankle. It wasn’t swollen, thankfully. Susan prodded, poked and massaged the sore joint. It seemed she had sprained her ankle, but it would soon be alright.

It was when she was sitting there, with her back to the tree and both hands on her ankle, that she heard to unmistakable sounds of a swordfight. Remembering her close proximity to the practise field, Susan’s first thought was that Edmund had challenged Peter to combat again. Then she remembered that neither of them were around.

Giving in to her curiosity, Susan got to her feet, and carefully, walked past the trees and winding around the shrubs. She didn’t need to follow the sound of swords, she knew well where the practise field lay. The tall green tress blocked most of the sunlight, and when the forest suddenly became lighter Susan knew that she was close. A few meters further Susan could see the whispy little clouds in the blue sky, and she could make out a figure with a drawn sword moving on the field.

It was Caspian—Susan recognised his frame immediately—but he seemed to be alone. At first Susan was confused, thinking he was fighting on his own, slashing at the grass, until she heard a shrill voice that unmistakably belonged to Reepicheep.

“Well, done, sire! You nearly had me there.”

Caspian grunted something Susan couldn’t catch, and she leaned against one of the trees to observe them. Watching a sword fight was like watching a complicated dance that she couldn’t quite understand the steps of. The way they circled around each other, stepped forwards and back, dodging and blocking blows. Their dance took them to the far side of the field, and threatened to disappear behind the trees that still blocked Susan’s view. Wanting to see more, Susan walked a little closer to the practise field, forgetting about her ankle. It didn’t hurt very much, but the sudden sharp sting took her off guard and Susan hissed. It went unnoticed by Caspian, but mice have good ears and Reepicheep stayed his sword.

“What is it, Reep?” Caspian said, panting. Then he looked up and his eye fell on Susan, who’s purple dress didn’t quite blend in with the background. “My Queen!” he said with a surprised voice and a polite inclination of his head. “I wasn’t aware you were here.”

Susan smiled and walked closer, slowly. Reepicheep bowed so low his whiskers touched the ground, and Susan suspected that, if Aslan hadn’t given him his tail back, he would have toppled over. “Your Majesty.” He said humbly. Looking up again he no doubt noticed Susan’s small limp, because he frowned and added. “My Lady, are you hurt?”

“I seem to have injured my ankle.” Susan said with a small smile, that turned into a grimace when she felt another twinge.

“Allow me to call for a healer, you majesty.” Said Reepicheep, but Susan waved it away.

“No, that won’t be necessary. It’s not quite that bad.”

“A horse then, perhaps? So Your Highness will not have to walk the way home?”

Susan was about to recline this too, her pride in the way of accepting help, but then realised she had very little desire to limp her way back to the castle. “That would be appreciated.” She said, sheepishly. Reepicheep made another deep bow, and headed for the castle, disappearing in the grass. Susan watched him go, and then looked at Caspian. He still seemed a little short of breath from is exercise, and his hair was wet where it clung to his sweaty forehead. Clearly, Reepicheep had pushed him to his limits. “Training?” Susan said with a small smile.

Caspian nodded, and there was an audible pant in his voice when he replied; “I like to measure myself against the best. It’s the best way to learn.” He wiped his wet hair out his face. “Would you mind if I freshen up a little?” Caspian pointed over his shoulder, to where Susan knew was a small crook.

“Not at all.”

Still breathing heavily, Caspian smiled at her, and set his sword against a nearby tree. Susan watched him walk to the crook, but looked away blushing when he bent forward to reach to the water. Instead she fixed her attention on the sword he had left. It looked a little like Peter’s, but then again Susan couldn’t tell one sword from the next. She picket it up and weighed it in her hands. The blade was a little broader than Peter’s, she noticed. The handle was black, instead of wine-red, and there was no lion carved into the metal. She gripped the handle tightly in her right hand and swung it through the air three times. The sword felt strange and unstable in her hand. Her fingers were used to the bendable grace of the bow, not the cold, hard steel of a sword. She never understood why the sword was the preferred weapon of so many. If one thought about it logically, there were so many weapons more practical. The bow, or even the crossbow, has a bigger range. So does the spear. What was it about the sword that attracted people so strongly?

“You are holding it wrong.”

Caspian’s voice shook her out of her musings, and her head snapped up. His hair was wetter than it had been before, but this time it was because of clear water rather than sweat. His face was no longer flushed, and he spoke without panting. She let the hand holding the sword drop to her side. “Sorry,” she muttered, “I was just examining…”

“You hold it with both hands.” Caspian said, walking closer.

Susan raised her sword arm again, and firmly gripped the handle with both hands.

“Your left above your right, like this…” Caspian gripped the air in front of him to show her. “The other way around will hinder your movements.”

Susan swished the sword through the air again; she didn’t feel much difference. “I’ve seen Peter and Edmund fight with one hand.” She remarked. “And you too, come to think of it.”

Caspian nodded. “You can fight with one hand, if you’re skilled enough. The sword is heavy, and easier to manage with both hands. And more difficult for your opponent to force the sword out of your hands.” He smiled. “Why are you suddenly so interested?”

Susan shrugged and looked at the sword in her hands. “I was just wondering what was so special about swords that some people worship them and treat them like they’re living things.”

“But they almost are…” Caspian walked to Susan’s side and took the sword she was holding, gripping it tightly. “A sword is much more than just metal. It has a character, a story… it becomes a part of you, like a dear friend.” He sliced the air several times, his feet walking patterns in the grass. The sword lay so much more comfortable in his hand than it had done in hers. Susan recognised the dance she’d seen earlier and realised that the sword was as much a part of the dance as Caspian was. The way Caspian wielded it, the sword cut through the air in a swift and supple way that seemed impossible for a weapon that was so cold and hard and unbendable. Caspian had noticed Susan’s admiring look, and he lowered the sword point. Susan bit her lip.

“It’s almost like the sword changes when you’re holding it. I couldn’t make it do that.”

Caspian smiled a crooked grin. “That’s because you don’t know how. Did anyone every teach you?”

Susan shook her head. “There was no need,” she explained, “I already had my bow.”

“Then I’ll teach you.” He held out his sword to her. “Go on.”

Tentatively, Susan took his sword, and gripped it tightly with both hands like Caspian had shown her.

“Don’t squeeze too hard.” Caspian said, pointing at the white on her knuckles. “That’ll make it harder to move quickly. And there is no need to tire your hands like that.”

Susan loosened her grip slightly. “Alright, and now?”

“You bent your knees. Just a little.” Caspian said. “That will make it easier to keep your balance when you’re stepping back and forth.

When you’re dancing, Susan thought privately, but bent her knees according to Caspian’s instruction.

“Now, when you strike you don’t only use your wrists and arms, but your whole body. Your blows will be harder if you do.” Susan cut the air on front of her, but Caspian shook his head. “Try twisting your body when you strike; move your body along…” Susan tried again, willing her body to move in sync, but she only succeeded on losing her balance, and she had to quickly adjust her foot to keep from stumbling in front of Caspian. Luckily it was her good foot, or that might have hurt badly.

Caspian smiled, and stepped closer. “Do you mind if I show you?” Susan shook her head, but tensed when Caspian suddenly walked to stand close behind her. His body pressed against hers, he reached past her hold the sword with her, his arms on bother sides. Body contact was everywhere, and Susan felt herself heat up. “Bend your knees.” He reminded Susan softly, his breath hot against her neck. Susan felt her knees might turn to pudding if she did, but she obeyed, and found herself slightly leaning into Caspian. His smell, as well as his proximity, was intoxicating, and Susan blinked rapidly to clear her mind. “Before you strike, you turn your body backwards.” Susan felt how Caspian leaned back, and had to press herself against his front to mirror his movement. “Exactly like that, and then, at the same time, you bring the sword up.” Susan raised the sword high; a little higher than she normally would have done because Caspian was taller than her. “Now, when you swing, first twist your body back; your hips, then your shoulders, and you let the blow follow.”

Susan was very much aware of every movement of Caspian’s body against hers, and found herself moving along with him. Partly because she had no choice; he was pressing her forwards. With a smooth movement, the swords sliced the air, and Susan heard a faint whoosh of air. Then, Caspian was suddenly gone. There were no arms around hers anymore, and no pressure on her back. Susan blinked when she suddenly missed his warm breath; only his scent lingered faintly. She looked around her to find he had taken a few steps back, and noticed with a rush of satisfaction and pride that he was red in the face; this time it couldn’t have been due to heavy exercise.

“Did you feel the difference?” Caspian asked, and Susan nodded. “Try again.” He encouraged.

Wondering if it were inappropriate to ask if he could show her again, Susan tried to reproduce the swing she’d just made with Caspian. She concentrated on making a nice twist with her body, and was once again reminded of a dance-move… those had never come easily to her, either.

“Not bad at all,” Caspian approved, “but you might want to put a little more force into it.” He picked up a branch from the ground, and imitated the movement. “It you use your wrists you’ll gather more speed, but be careful it won’t affect your aim.”

Susan got ready for another try when new sounds reached her ears… the dull thumps of hooves on grass. Lowering the sword, Susan turned around to see two horses walking out of the shadow of the trees, one of which was ridden by the healer. The healer was an elderly Telmarine woman with long grey hair in a tight bun, but despite her age she swiftly dismounted her horse when she noticed the royalty.

“Good day to you, Your Majesties.” She bowed solemnly, and both Susan and Caspian inclined their heads in return. “Master Mouse tells me you have injured your foot, my Queen.”

Susan had to keep herself from sighing in annoyance. “Well, yes, I sprained my ankle, but I don’t think it really requires your attention.”

“At least allow me to escort you back to the castle, Milady, so that I may stop the swelling.” The old healer replied, and Susan’s shoulders sagged in resignation. She could see there was no polite way of refuse the woman’s offer. What Susan wanted was a little more time alone with Caspian, but she couldn’t deny the fact that the pain in her ankle had started to grow more prominently, and that medical attention maybe wasn’t such a bad idea.

She smiled at Caspian as she handed him his sword back. “My ride has arrived.” Caspian nodded as he took the sword and sheathed it. He walked her to the spare hose, and Susan made an effort not to wince when she had to push herself up on her sore foot. Tugging on the reins, Susan made the horse turn around, but didn’t quite leave just yet. “Caspian, do you reckon Peter and Edmund will arrive tomorrow?”

Caspian looked doubtful. “With the weather of the last few days, I doubt their ship has had enough wind in it’s sails to arrive that fast. In a fortnight, maybe.” Susan smiled in satisfaction. Maybe another day without the company of her brothers wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Caspian might have realised what she was thinking, because his face suddenly broke into a grin. “Maybe we could practise again tomorrow? To perfect your swing?”

Susan’s eyes twinkled when she spurred her horse into movement, not even noticing her ankle this time. “I would like that very much.”