Daughter of Nowhere || A Narnia (Prince Caspian) Story

2: The Deal

It was the fourth time they put the kettle on that night. The residents of the tree cottage—or rather, what was left of them—found themselves in need of much tea in order to calm down. After prodding a piece of incredibly stale bread, Ina decided that tea was a safer option and went to get the kettle.

Clicking his tongue impatiently, Nikabrik held his cup out for her to fill it. "I don't think you hit him hard enough," he grumbled.

Ina glowered. "You're just disappointed that I didn't kill him."

"You said it, not me."

"Nikabrik!" a voice scolded. "He's just a boy!"

Trufflehunter the badger walked out from the kitchen, which was a large hollow that housed racks of rare herbs, among other things that he would use to conjure his delicacies. The smell of mushroom and sage drifted from the bowl of soup in his hands, and Ina heard her stomach let out a low growl.

The badger set the bowl down on the table, smacking Ina's hand as she reached for it a second time. Miraculously, he'd slept through the whole ordeal of last night. He'd only woken up when she and Nikabrik dragged the boy into the house.

When Trufflehunter finally got them to stop bickering and tell him the full story, he wasted no time in tending to the boy's wounds, whose head had begun bleeding from Ina's blow. He insisted that they removed the boy's weapons and lay him on Ina's bed, which she wasn't too happy about, but didn't object. She did hit him, after all.

Nikabrik, on the other hand, raised hundreds of objections.

"He's a Telmarine! His kind has killed thousands of ours!" He rounded on Trufflehunter now, who stared back at him calmly. "You've always been too nice to these monsters. I could tolerate the girl—"

Ina raised an eyebrow. "I'm right here, you know."

"—but this! This is too much, Trufflehunter! I say we kill him before he kills us!"

"You will do no such thing," the badger said firmly, laying a protective hand on Ina. Her heart welled with warmth, and she smiled at him gratefully. "Not all Telmarines are cruel. Ina is proof of that."

"Besides," he added, "I've just bandaged his head. It would be like murdering a guest."

"Oh?" Nikabrik's lips curled. "And how do you think his friends are treating their guest?"

The mention of Trumpkin's capture landed on both of them like a blow. Ina remembered watching the soldiers carry him away while she hid behind a tree trunk, unable to do anything but watch.

Of the two dwarves, Trumpkin was the much kinder one. Though he was always gruff and curt with Ina, he was the one who taught her how to use a sword, albeit after years of her begging him. Even then, they only trained when Nikabrik was away, for the Narnians had forbade Ina to be taught how to fight. We will let the Telmarine stay, they said when she, a mere child of eight seeking refuge in the woods, pleaded her case before them. But we will not teach her how to kill us.

"Trumpkin knew what he was doing," Ina said quietly, thinking of his wide eyes before he charged at the guards. "It wasn't the boy's fault."

Nikabrik scoffed, an icy sound. "That's rich, coming from—"

But he didn't manage to finish before the boy burst into the living room, knocked the table over and dashed for the door.

Ina saw a flash of metal and realised that Nikabrik had drawn his sword, hurling himself between the boy and the door. The boy looked around frantically, and snatched up the first piece of metal that he saw: a fire poker.