Later on, after the reunion he stopped expecting but never stopped hoping for in this place between places, Peter shows Edmund the way to the room he kept during his previous stay. It has remained untouched for the most part where moving items around is concerned. Though Peter has visited the room--most often when he needed to focus his thoughts, to do more than think, to meditate to a degree on this or that--it has not been in him to try to move things around physically or otherwise regarding Edmund for a long, long time. The only thing he has picked up on occasion--and on such occasions, having already picked it up, dusted it off with his sleeve or shirttail--is the silver crown. It does not mean everything, hardly. A king is not defined by the tangible proof of his throne, but it means a great deal anyway to Peter. All of their crowns do, to him, especially since receiving them as the staying matter after one such 'curse' that wasn't a curse at all to him.
Of all the privileges this hodgepodge of worlds has given him, the two foremost in his heart are the ability to see those he would not otherwise have been able to see at all or again, and also the ability to be his whole self. Edmund understood perhaps most of Peter's distaste for the lie of boyhood thrown back upon him during a year in-between, with Lucy second most in her own way and Susan third through no fault of her own though at the time Peter could not take the time to channel his true age and admit that. He was bitter and he was angry and through those emotions he acted as young as he looked, younger even, embarrassingly, but to this day he does not think his reaction was wrong. How could it be? It couldn't be wrong not to understand what was never explained, but one of a few differences now is that the lack of understanding has been tempered with an equalizing sort of faith that one day he will. He does not believe this because it is right or wrong. As the kind of person that he became in Narnia--and just as important, the kind of person he was before and is now, some things ever changing and others that will now stay the same until the end of his days--he has to keep that faith.
It is a quiet presence, sometimes absolutely silent to the point of unhinging him still but now when he questions, he questions from a place of simply not knowing rather than the starker matter of doubt. Doubt is for the boy who didn't believe Lucy Pevensie when she told him about the wardrobe, for the boy who as good as drove his brother to betrayal, for the boy he hasn't been for some time but not terribly long ago revisited--caught between ages. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees two such ages in the Just despite the fact that he only wears one, just like Peter. But knowing makes every difference.
When they reach Edmund's quarters--made up of several rooms really in this much more expansive dwelling than the first--he does not open the door, merely stepping side and half nodding at it, which is as good as saying this has been yours and it still is.
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timeasmymeasure
but maybe I believe in another place // if you go, you won't look back
Date: 2010-07-03 11:56 pm (UTC)Of all the privileges this hodgepodge of worlds has given him, the two foremost in his heart are the ability to see those he would not otherwise have been able to see at all or again, and also the ability to be his whole self. Edmund understood perhaps most of Peter's distaste for the lie of boyhood thrown back upon him during a year in-between, with Lucy second most in her own way and Susan third through no fault of her own though at the time Peter could not take the time to channel his true age and admit that. He was bitter and he was angry and through those emotions he acted as young as he looked, younger even, embarrassingly, but to this day he does not think his reaction was wrong. How could it be? It couldn't be wrong not to understand what was never explained, but one of a few differences now is that the lack of understanding has been tempered with an equalizing sort of faith that one day he will. He does not believe this because it is right or wrong. As the kind of person that he became in Narnia--and just as important, the kind of person he was before and is now, some things ever changing and others that will now stay the same until the end of his days--he has to keep that faith.
It is a quiet presence, sometimes absolutely silent to the point of unhinging him still but now when he questions, he questions from a place of simply not knowing rather than the starker matter of doubt. Doubt is for the boy who didn't believe Lucy Pevensie when she told him about the wardrobe, for the boy who as good as drove his brother to betrayal, for the boy he hasn't been for some time but not terribly long ago revisited--caught between ages. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees two such ages in the Just despite the fact that he only wears one, just like Peter. But knowing makes every difference.
When they reach Edmund's quarters--made up of several rooms really in this much more expansive dwelling than the first--he does not open the door, merely stepping side and half nodding at it, which is as good as saying this has been yours and it still is.