Thank you, my loyal waiting club!
Your patience has been rewarded! I've got a post up, since I will be out of town until Thursday.
The technique of sword fighting was harder than I imagined it. Yes, my footwork was ‘stellar’, according to Peter and the others, but I’m sure my clumsiness showed through with the sword. It was so heavy!
“I think I’m done for the day,” I panted, dropping the sword to my side.
Peter nodded. “I’ll retire as well.” He stowed our swords away and told the others, “Nianna and I will retrieve some punch from the castle.” Grinning at me, he jerked his head in the direction of Cair Paravel.
Smiling, I strode beside him towards the beautifully crafted palace. The edge of the forest was beside us as well. I was sure that sweat was beaded on my forehead, though when I dabbed at it, nothing was wet. Thankful for that blessing, I walked with more confidence. My stomach was aflutter with Peter walking next to me, however. I couldn’t stop myself from blushing every time he glanced at me.
Once, I ventured to look back at him. “You’re sweaty!” I exclaimed, eyeing the dampness of his hair on his brow. Giggling, I flicked some moist hair from his eyes.
“Aw, be quiet,” Peter retorted playfully, smirking. He brushed a finger to my forehead. “And you, Miss. Nymph, are not in the least bit sweaty.” His finger trailed down the side of my face, making us both come to a halt.
My heart was pounding loudly. I cocked my head, smiling. “At least your finger’s not sweaty.”
Peter grinned a bit nervously. He seemed to regain his teasing manner when he commented, “My lips aren’t either.” Raising his eyebrows, he gazed at me pointedly.
“Hmm, I’m not so sure about that,” I told him, grazing my pinky finger against his bottom lip lightly. It was not out of the norm for nymphs to do this, after all. “You’re right. They’re not.”
It was then that I noticed how close we were. I was still trying to figure out how that exactly happened when his face drew even nearer to mine, so close that I could spot the darker flecks of color in his eyes.
His hand crept to my cheek and then with utmost care, he lowered his mouth to mine. Our lips were about to touch when—
There it was again. That flicker of silver chain mail. I jerked away, gasping, eyes wide. “Peter!” I whispered frantically, pointing in the direction of the shiny armor.
He spun around and spotted the intruder as well. “Stranger! Please halt and emerge from the forest where we can see you!”
The stranger’s chain mail was joined by at least a dozen more, but they ventured no closer to us. “As the High King of Narnia, I command you to show yourself!” Peter repeated, not rudely but firmly.
As if moving in unison, the chain-clad trespassers started to retreat. “Wait here,” Peter told me, running into the forest.
“No thank you,” I muttered under my breath, running after him.
In the forest I felt in my element again. Soon I had caught up with Peter and he did not protest. We sprinted and I motioned to him that I would pull further. “Don’t worry about me,” I assured him, pulling ahead.
He’d opened his mouth to protest, but before he could call out, I’d disappeared into the deep forest.