Disclaimer: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia, and I don't own Psalm 23. That's God's property. (As is everything else…)

The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.

He makes me lie down in green pastures.

He leads me beside the still waters.

He restores my soul.

He leads me in the path of righteousness for his namesake.

Yea though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I fear no evil, for you are with me.

Your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.

You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all of the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever, amen.

-Psalm 23, the Bible

Finally Forgiven

The First Battle of Beruna, circa 1000 Narnian Time

"Nooo!" I cried as the Witch marched toward my brother. I can't let her get him! What if he dies because of me?

Running forward as well as my tired legs would let me, I leapt at the Witch. As she twisted around to face me, an evil smile transformed her face into a vision of pure hatred. Before she could act, my sword crashed down on her wand, breaking her dark magic and sending an icy wave of shivers down my spine.

Despite the initial triumph that flashed through my veins, the fury in the Witch's cold eyes made me freeze in fear. In an easy, almost casual move she knocked my sword from my grasp and threw what remained of her crystalline wand forward. Something hit me in my stomach, but it wasn't until after I fell to the ground that I felt the sharp, sickening pain. As blackness fringed on the world around me, I closed my eyes.

The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want.

I heard my mother's voice, calmly reciting as around the dinner table at home, and felt surprise stagger past the pain that had become my everything. Was I in England? Was all this, all this terrible, wonderful adventure in Narnia just, as I had once hoped, a dream?

He makes me lie down in green pastures.

But no. The pain in my side increased and I shuddered, coughing as I struggled to breathe. My middle had turned into a blazing flame of agony. This was definitely not a dream.

He leads me beside the still waters.

Each breath was a struggle, a fight of its own. At last, although my mouth gasped for air and I willed my lungs on, I could not breathe. It was as if I was drowning in an icy river, for the pain, although it blazed, was a cold kind of pain. I wondered if the Witch's wand had pierced one of my lungs.

He restores my soul. He leads me in the paths of righteousness for his name sake.

Yet although I could not breathe, I was not afraid. All the fear had gone, save for that initial glimpse of the face of evil, because of the words of the Lion that still echoed in my ears. His voice was all I needed, his reassurance my strength. And even though I lay dying, the fear was gone. I was only sorry; sorry that I couldn't see Susan and Lucy one more time. And Peter.

Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death

"Ed!"

Peter. Where did he come from?

"Ed breathe!"

I fear no evil

"Edmund!"

Soft hands under my head. How did Susan get here?

For you are with me.

I'm sorry, Peter. I should've listened to you. I should have believed you, Lucy. I should have told you how much I loved you, Su, how much I loved all of you. And what I did almost killed you. I'm so sorry! And yet all the words that pool in my mouth are too late because I have no breath, no strength to speak them.

Scenes of my life flashed before my eyes…Mum and Dad, smiling and happy before the war… baby Lucy, fat and pink and full of life…Peter, proud and strong and such an older brother on his tenth birthday when he let me help him unwrap his presents because I was missing Dad so much; Aslan's deep eyes, and the tears shining in them. One fell, turning as red as blood as it splashed to the ground.

For you are with me.

I opened my eyes and found that I could breathe, which I did, deeply. The pain was gone! Lucy and Susan were staring at me, wearing expressions that were drenched in fear. When I met their gazes, though, joyful gladness in their smiles dazzled me. And then there was Peter, his eyes brimming with tears.

Do I really deserve tears? I almost killed him and all the others. Peter never cries…or does he?

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.

"When are you going to learn to do as you're told?" Peter asks, trying to hide his tears and acting gruff, though we both know it's a charade. As he enfolds me in a brotherly hug, I see Aslan behind him.

You anoint my head with oil, my cup overflows.

The body of the Witch lies behind the great Lion and I know that it will never move again. In that one look from the High King of all Kings, a strange feeling of joy washes over me, for staring into that deep golden gaze, I know that all is finally forgiven.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all of the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever, amen.

Finis