NOT A FULL CHAPTER; A TEASER OF SORTS :D
and because we've just reached:
You've made us all so happy! The reason for this update is, of course, to give you a teaser of what we have to far and to apologise, so very much for the delay in getting this to you! We are writing it, I promise, it's just we're trying to make this special and getting everyone together in one place is difficult but!
dee_lirious; OMG. Okay, so I read the post and was like, "OMG, WILL YELLING AT FARM ANIMIALS, THIS IS NECESSARY".
likecharity; "DUDE, WOW. I can't come up with anything more coherent. You guys are awesome. ♥"
thisissirius; 100 MEMBERS. OMFG, WHUT. I dont believe it. People love what we create that much?
William Moseley looks at the cows uncertainly. They look uncertainly back at him.
"Dad," he says after a moment, "I'm not sure this is going to work."
"It will," his father assures him happily. "Go on, give it a try."
"I really don't think so."
The cows do not offer any input to the discussion. They have better things to do, such as chewing and, on occasion, blinking.
"Would it help if you had a sword?" Mr. Moseley enquires.
"A sword," he repeats, and suddenly drops down onto his knees in the muddy grass.
"Voila," Mr. Moseley announces, straightening back up and offering his son a long, slightly bent stick.
"Um," says Will helplessly.
The stick is being waved at him rather insistently, so he takes it. His Dad steps closer and places a hand on his shoulder, then points at nothing in particular with his other hand. Will squints into the distance. A cow moos disinterestedly.
"Okay, now, son," his Dad says, in his Serious Voice. "This," he says dramatically, "is Narnia. Do you see it?"
Will tries his hardest to get his imagination to cooperate with him, but all he can see is soggy grass and grey skies, and, a little way off, his neighbor's house with a broken fence around it. He can see into the garden, he realises, peering at it. Currently, an old woman appears to be wrestling with a lawnmower.
"Yes," he says. "Narnia. Right. I see it."
"Good, good," says Mr. Moseley eagerly. "All right. These," he says, gesturing grandly to the cows (the nearest one fixes them both with a rather steely cow-glare), "are your soldiers."
"Uh huh," Will nods.
"You are leading them into battle," his Dad continues, waving his arms around in a way that can only be described as frenzied, nearly smacking Will across the face. "Come on, come on, give it a go!"
Will bites his lip. He shoots the cows an apologetic look, brandishes his stick at them, takes a deep breath and hollers, "SOLDIERS OF ASLAN!"
The cows continue to munch their grass tiredly, ignoring him, and the woman in her garden on the other side of the field jumps in surprise and drops some sort of lawnmower attachment onto her foot.
Mr. Moseley is pleased.
"That was good, that was really good," he cheers excitedly. "Now try and hold your sword straight," he adds, conveniently ignoring that the fact that the stick he has picked is curved, "and try it again."
Will takes a deep breath, thrusts the stick forward, and yells again. "SOLDIERS," he bellows, "OF ASLAN."
His Dad is grinning so wide that Will is worried his face is going to split into two. "Oh," he says happily, "you're going to be such a marvellous Peter, son. It's going to be incredible. It's all coming together, I can see it!"
The woman switches on her lawnmower with a loud, disrupting roar.
It is now almost impossible to conduct a conversation.
However, no piece of gardening equipment can make a noise louder than William Moseley's mother, who appears at that very moment in wellies and a large jersey, and shouts their names so piercingly that Will flinches violently.
"What," she demands, "are you doing out here? We're supposed to be at the train station in five minutes, would you both stop torturing farm animals and get in the car?"
Mr. Moseley gives his wife a sheepish look. "I was just helping him practise, dear," he shouts over the noise.
"You have mud on the knees of your trousers," she informs him, shaking her head. "William, go and get in the car. Anna's expecting us to be waiting for her on the platform."
"You know mum meant Grandpa Keynes was supposed to look after us, right?" Soumaya Keynes corners Skandar Keynes in the kitchen where he's attempting to paint the wall with ketchup. "Are you making a sandwich?"
"Yes and yes," Skandar says dutifully. He presses the two slices of bread together and they both watch as tomato sauce dribbles out of the sides.
When Skandar doesn't say anything else, Soumaya gives the sandwich a disgusted look. "How many days are you banned for this time?"
The only reason Skandar would be making a ketchup sandwich is because of one of their mother's infamous sugar bans. Skandar climbs the walls of the house when this happens and Soumaya wouldn't be surprised if he licks the sugar off the counter side when she spills it over breakfast.
"Three. Days." Skandar makes a face, full of drama and despair.
Soumaya snorts. "You're going to make a fantastic actor, Skandar."
Poking his tongue out at her, Skandar slides the sandwich onto a plate. Before he can leave the room, Soumaya plants a hand on his chest. "Don't think you're getting out of it that easily, you know. How come Grandpa Hourani is here, then?"
"Because," Skandar says slowly, as if Soumaya is stupid, "Grandpa Hourani doesn't know that Mum said I wasn't allowed to go to any auditions. I accidentally told Grandpa Keynes that Mum had changed her mind. I think he was glad he wouldn't have to look after me whilst they're gone."
"I wish I didn't have to look after you for that long." Soumaya rests her hands on her hips. "I suppose you convinced Grandpa Hourani to take you?"
"Why wouldn't he?" Skandar grins. "He wants me to succeed at something. Like his daughter and his son and his son-in-law blah blah blah."
Soumaya rolls her eyes. That sounds like their Grandpa. Still.
Skandar doesn't even waver under her glare. "Can I go now? It's not like he'll understand even if Mom does call. He still talks to her in Lebanese."
"Skandar, just because he thinks in Lebanese, doesn't mean he's stupid."
Shrugging, Skandar slides past her, plate in hand. "Whatever. He's still taking me to the audition. If you say anything about it to Mum, I'll tell her where you really were on your fifteenth birthday."
Soumaya scowls. Little brothers can be a gigantic pain the butt, sometimes.
"You're related to Charles Darwin, you know."
Skandar rolls his eyes. "Yes, Grandpa. It's hard not to know."
His Grandpa grins and turns back to the road. It isn't that his Grandfather is stupid, in fact, it's quite the opposite. It's just that he's – well, he can be a little, er, eccentric. "So, what's this audition about, then?"
"It's for a movie, Grandpa. They want to make a movie about Narnia."
His grandfather's eyes light up. "Ah! Clive Lewis. A master in his own right."
Skandar groans inwardly, catching himself a moment too late. Why, why did he start his grandfather on the one thing he loves most? Books! He sinks his head into his hands and tries not to listen to his grandfather's words. Tries. It's a little hard because his Grandfather has the tendency to latch onto a subject and spit out every last peice of information he possesses on said subject.
Also, he is slightly deaf.
"I remember when I first read Lewis's books!" Grandpa Hourani bellows.
Skandar closes his eyes, and counts the minutes till they arrive.
I hope you enjoyed that :D