~xoO)|(Oox~

When he had seen in the dream his beloved wife beckoning him to return to Narnia, he had at first been confused. Strange, that though he was so close to reaching her she would have him turn back. Now, he had grown too weak to even raise himself from bed, and Tristan was his only companion besides Drinian; he had plenty of time to ponder the strange dreams in silence, telling no one; but he did tell his friend to turn the ship about and make for Galma.

It was to a lonely port there –which he had not visited since his adventure into the east with Queen Lucy, King Edmund, and Sir Eustace– that his wife wished he come to. So, confusing as it was, Drinian ordered his men to turn the ship about and make for Galma.

As they came closer to the uninhabited cove, Caspian finally felt he must confess his secrets, lest his friend and young companion think him unsound of mind.

"Tristan, send for your captain, but return also, for there is something I must inform you both of," he whispered to the young sailor. The youth hurried to his feet and left the cabin in haste, though not without great care to keep quiet. When he returned with his captain, he stood off in a corner of the cabin and waited for his King to speak.

"Drinian?" Caspian asked, looking up at the old man carefully.

"Yes, my friend? Tristan informed me that you called, and so here I am," he replied simply, coming near to the bedside and grasping the other aged hand in his own calloused and weathered one.

"I have been dreaming for a fortnight of Liliandil; that is the reason I must go hence to Galma. I could not deny her anything in life, why now should I change course after death?" Caspian whispered hoarsely to his friend.

"You needn't explain thyself to me, old friend," Drinian answered with a faint smile, dipping his curly white head.

"Verily, but still I wished to tell thee anyhow. What good is letting confidences slack where they have always been strong?" the old king asked wisely.

"I see, Caspian, I see," Drinian murmured, slowly releasing the king's hand and turning from the room.

In another fortnight they reached the cove. Caspian was informed, but remained silent, declaring only that he would talk of the matter the following day. That afternoon, however, he beckoned for Tristan to come close beside him. "I am to be going ashore alone, save you, Tristan," the king whispered into the sailor's ear after he leaned in.

"But, my lord, I do not think –" the sailor began, uncertain.

"Quiet!" the king declared, rising ever-so-slightly from his bed and looking at the sailor sternly. "I am to go alone, it is Aslan's order. He came to me –no, he could not have entered this cabin– it was in a vision, and he declared that I was to take no other personage but you, Tristan. We cannot dare refuse the King of high kings," he finished firmly, sounding far younger than ever he had before.

"As you wish, my King," Tristan replied, suddenly feeling small and unworthy, very unworthy, for such a task as this.

"Peace, young one. You are not to be ashamed of yourself. I was once told that I am of a lineage which would lift the head of the meanest beggar and bow the shoulders of the of the noblest of emperors. So it can be said for you, Tristan. This is no task too great for you, and it is no task to small. If Aslan did not know your heart, then he would not have asked it of you. Know peace," Caspian finished, whispering the words softly to himself over and over. But at some point, Tristan believed him to be saying "be content," though he could say for sure.

That evening, as the sun began to touch the tops of the mountains of Narnia just barely to be seen in the west, Caspian, leaning upon Tristan's strong arm, made his lonely way up the sandy shores of the Galmanian beach, after ordering the men who had rowed him ashore to turn back and under no circumstances whatever, to follow him.

"What do we search for, my lord king?" Tristan whispered, gazing about himself uneasily.

Caspian did not reply. Then, suddenly, there was a merry yet solemn roar, and a great golden lion, as large as a young elephant, bounded out of the bushes at them. But the look upon Caspian's face was markedly different from Tristan's. It changed into an expression of joy, whilst Tristan's became one of horror, and he cried out in spite of himself.

But then, when he opened his eyes, there was a merry laugh, and the great lion licked his face gently, His warm breath sweet and relaxing. "Come, son of Adam, and know me, for I am Aslan, One who Loves you." The words were spoken firmly, but with such an overwhelming feeling of endless emotion that Tristan felt a keen ache in his heart, and reached hesitantly towards the Lion.

Tristan looked about for King Caspian, and noticed the old monarch standing beside the Lion, a joyous smile upon his face, and looking far better than he had in an age. "I am not. . . worthy of knowing you, Aslan. I cannot defend my love of you, nor understand why I do. I. . . Again I say I am not worthy," he whispered, feeling the ache strike deeper, as if meaning to pierce his heart and kill him.

"No, Son of Adam! No, you are one for whom I have given my life. You I Love, without end. Come to me and I shall give you rest," the Golden Lion murmured deep in His throat, as if He were purring. He turned solemn gold eyes upon the youth, until Tristan had no choice but to gaze back.

"Oh, Aslan!" Tristan cried, coming and burying his face in the Lion's mane. After a time, he stepped back, feeling foolish. He had come here for the King, not for himself. Aslan's chuckle rumbled deep in His throat as the sailor pulled back.

"Truly, you are a noble heart, Tristan!" the Lion growled, before looking to Caspian.

"Caspian, your son has returned; Rilian has come home, and you must bestow upon him your blessing, and let him bid you farewell. This is the reason I have called you back. Still your soul, Caspian, and be content. Do not allow cares of the world to cloud your joy," the Lion reprimanded sternly, coming forward and bestowing upon the old king the firm kisses of a lion, while Caspian leaned forward and wept with joy into His mane.

The three walked in that place, sat, and slept until the morning. But it did not seem as if time had passed, for when one was with Aslan, time was not something to be regarded.

~0O0~

"Now, Tristan, kneel." As the King and the sailor began to make their way down to the beach, after bidding Aslan a heart-aching farewell, the Lion called the youth back. Caspian stopped where he was, the wind tugging against his frail form and billowing the great velvet cape he wore out around his body.

The sailor knelt, looking carefully upon the ground, trying not to feel fearful and uneasy and afraid. Aslan chuckled, and then Tristan felt His great paw rest lightly upon his head.

"I knight thee Sir Tristan of the Table: Brave of heart and Noble of mind. Do not forget your allegiance to the King, whomever he might be. Do not forsake him in times of war and in the days of peace, for there shall be many of those and few of turmoil. Do not let peace make your heart hardened. Serve first my father, the great Emperor-Beyond-the-Sea, and second the king. Farewell, may your life be blessed." The paw was lifted, and Tristan, tears streaking his cheeks, looked up, but the Lion was not there. Only the wind through the long grass and Caspian behind him, waiting patiently.

"Come, Sir Tristan, for a new king waits you at Cair Paravel. I sense the winds are changing, we shall make good time," King Caspian murmured tiredly, sounding far weaker than he had when they had been with Aslan.

When they reached the Silver Swan, the King could not even muster the strength to walk to his cabin, and had to be carried upon a stretcher to it. Sir Tristan was given new clothes, though they made him uncomfortable, and did not stir from the old king's side.

As they came in sight of Cair Paravel the following morning, Sir Tristan informed Drinian that the King would not be able to walk at all, and that he was rapidly fading. Drinian was grave about the matter, asked to see the King alone, for the last and final time, and then told the newly-knighted young man that the King would be carried carefully down the gangway when they came into port. All preparations were made, and the King was carefully carried from his cabins and placed on a stretcher on the deck, so he might feel the ocean air upon his face once more.

"I had thought. . . when I was young that. . . to die. . . looking up, at such an. . . endless blue, and feeling. . . such wind as this upon. . . my face, would be. . . the most peaceful thing. . . I could imagine. It is still. . . so," he whispered haltingly to Sir Tristan as they sailed slowly into the port of Cair Paravel.

"Indeed, my lord king," Tristan murmured, tears falling down his cheeks silently, mourning the King who he was beholding breathe his last few breaths.

~xoO)|(Oox~

Rilian was rushed to the docks, and stood there as the gangway was lowered. He had been dressed in a wine-red shirt with silver trimmings –he had declared he would not wear green because of personal reasons, and refused to say why– and a deep red cloak, his head bare. Sir Cae had presented him with a silver knight's chain, rumored to have once been King Edmund's, and told him that it was within his rights to wear it about his neck. Black boots and dark brown breeches finished his attire. Behind him were many hundreds of nobles and subjects, awaiting their king to walk down the gangway.

But, as they waited, a young man with long wavy brown-blonde hair dressed in fine dark clothes came down the gangway, his head bowed. When his boot-clad feet touched the stones of Cair Paravel's docks, he looked up, scanning the crowds intently until his hazel eyes lighted upon Rilian's pale head in the sea of dark ones. At once he walked towards the Crown Prince. What he said to the youth, none heard.

"You are Prince Rilian, the Lost but now Found son of King Caspian, tenth of that name?" Tristan whispered haltingly, his voice low with barely concealed emotions.

"I am he. What has happened? Pray tell, for you seem in a great distress," Rilian whispered, grasping the young man's shoulders in a comforting manner.

"I- I am Sir Tristan of the Table, knighted on the island of Galma by Aslan the Great Lion. My l-lord– my lord–" he struggled to speak, his voice breaking. "My lord, the king. . . he is dying, and he cannot walk down here to give you his blessing. But even such a thing as death would not stop him," Tristan finally managed, smiling sadly and turning to motion to the Narnians now visible on the deck of the Silver Swan, bearing their king's stretcher upon their shoulders as they carefully descended the gangway.

"Thank you, Sir Tristan. May Aslan keep you in His Peace," Rilian murmured, parting from the young man and slowly walking to the stretcher, which the Narnians had placed near the foot of the gangway. At the rail, Lord Drinian watched, his tears falling fast and unashamedly as he beheld the death of his friend. . . and his king.

"Ah, Rilian. . . You look just. . . like your mother," Caspian struggled, reaching up a trembling hand towards his son's face.

"Father, forgive me, I never meant to leave you," Rilian whispered, grasping the frail hand in his youthful one and holding it tightly.

"No, do not speak. . . I understand. . . May your rule be long. . . the sun shine. . . upon you. . . May Aslan. . . guide you in. . . all things. . . The wisdom of the kings and queens who were. . . before you. . . be ever upon you. . . Do not forsake the Great Lion. . . who gave us all we have." Caspian murmured weakly, a kind smile upon his face and a gentle glimmer of peace in his dark eyes at beholding his son.

"Why must you die and I live? Why must this happen to us? I cannot be without you yet, father!" Rilian cried in a low voice.

"My son, Aslan shall not leave you, and. . . you will not be alone," Caspian returned in a firm but tired voice. "No matter the. . . sorrows, no matter the pain. . . He does not abandon those who hope in Him and have faith. . . in His glorious power," Caspian declared softly.

Rilian's tears fell as the king breathed painfully. "Such are the king's words, so let them stand," the Prince replied in a quiet voice.

"I am. . . content."

Rilian's head fell upon the king's chest, and it was only when his shoulders shook with silent sobs that those around him realized the king was no more.

Sir Cae, coming to stand beside Sir Tristan, noticed two young people, a youth and a maid, near the edge of the gathering, watching with tear-stained faces. He recognized them, though older and not so well-kept, as the same two who had been at the king's departure a year ago. Now he could put names to them. Sir Eustace, and if Prince Rilian would have his way, Lady Jill. He knew they had no eyes for him, but even so nodded in their direction with utmost respect, for it was because of them that the heir to the throne was at last safe home.

And so, thus was the end of King Caspian the Seafarer, tenth of that name. Rilian was crowned king of Narnia and Telmar, and his rule was just and glorious. At his side in battle and court were always seen two knights, known as Sir Cae and Sir Tristan. The knights of the Table were never so brave nor so bold after them.

Always King Rilian was remembered by the titles of Rilian the Disenchanted and the Promised, for he was held captive by strange powers, but not so great as to prevent him from fulfilling the promise set forth by Aslan. Rilian was remembered forever as the boy who pulled the sword from the stone; who was king because one man did not let his hope fail.

.

.

"Now faith is the substance of things hoped for,
the conviction for things unseen.
For by it the people of old received their commendation." ~ Hebrews 11:1-2

.

"Blessed are the pure in heart,
for they shall see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they shall be called sons of God." ~ Matthew 5:8-9

.

"For God is not a God of confusion, but of peace." 1Corinthians 14:33

A/N:

This came about from reading the Silver Chair and a Narnian Sword-in-the-Stone fanfic by Cosette24601 at around the same time. It was not meant to be so long -around 9,000 words- but it just happened that way. All the knight's mentioned are King Arthur's Knight's of the Round Table.

The Narnian knight's and their historical counterparts in Our History:

Sir Cae of Ettinsmoor (pronounced 'kay'): Sir Kay

Sir Tristan the Noble-minded and Bravehearted: Sir Tristan

Sir Gwayn of the Table(pronounced 'g-wayne' in both spellings): Sir Gawain

Sir Ulfius of the Table: Sir Ulfius

Sir Tor the Falcon: Sir Tor

Sir Caradoc the Stallion: Sir Caradoc

Sir Elyan the White (Wolf): Sir Elyan the White

Sir Brastius the Centaur: Sir Brastius

Sir Gaheris the Stag: Sir Gaheris

Lord Morien, High Lord of Council: Sir Morien

Sir Ector of Ettinsmoor: Sir Ector (father of Sir Kay and step-father of King Arthur)

There are quite a few more spiritual things in here than I had initially wished there to be, but King Arthur is rather a spiritual tale, at least in my opinion, so I left them. I made Tristan become a knight in such a way because I wanted a person who has doubts of their faith represented. I ask questions of faith and belief, as Fyodor Dostoevsky does in the Brothers Karamazov.

There are many scriptures that these characters adopted as their lines of dialogue, such as Caspian's cry "Aslan, Aslan, why have you forsaken me?" when he does not understand that though the grass withers and the flower fades, the promises of Aslan stand forever. Things are not done in the time we think they should be done, but according to Aslan's (God's) time. I leave it up to you, dear readers, to discover how the scriptures tie-in with this three-part one-shot. If you need some help, I'll gladly answer you in a PM.

I know in the books Rilian is only gone ten or so years, but I didn't really think that would work, what which Caspian being so old. So I made it be fifty years since Rilian's disappearance, making Caspian ninety, and any of Rilian's young friends he had known sixty or seventy years old.

This is simply something written for Rilian and his father, and to begin a challenge for other writers to write their idea of The Sword in the Stone; any way they want, so long as they give credit to Cosette24601, who started it. Her story is called "The Sword in the Stone," and it's very good; I recommend reading it if you need any more ideas.

Caspian's final words stem from the reprimand Aslan gives him when he declares he is unworthy of taking the throne, which goes as follows:

"You come of the Lord Adam and the Lady Eve," said Aslan. "And that is both honor enough to erect the head of the poorest of beggar, and shame enough to bow the shoulders of the greatest emperor on earth. Be content."

The music I listened to while writing this is called Sad Piano Song by Killigrew on YouTube.

I own nothing, (not even the cover photo) everyone should know that by now. If I did, then you'd probably be reading something about this in stores. You're not, which means I'm just writing for fun and my own enjoyment.

Please tell me what you think, as I am eager always to hear your opinions,

WH