A/N: I know, I know, some of you are probably scratching your head. Didn't he do this already? Why is he rewriting it? Well, one of my esteemed fellow writers approached me a couple of weeks ago about the story. There were things that could be done differently. And everytime I read it, I realized that she was very right. The story was solid, but there was something more that I was looking for. In addition, I want to fix some things I've written that may not make sense or connect points that didn't connect the first time around.

And this time, I'm not alone. My fellow writer has agreed to "beta" this for me, but I feel that her help is so much more: so I've dubbed her my co-author. She will share the credit of this story with me (unless she absolutely declines, I don't intend to let her). So, I want to thank and introduce my co-author: AnnCann.

Throughout Narnia, a legend was told about the reappearance of the ancient kings and queens to restore the throne to its rightful heir, and to free the Narnians from total captivity. The ancient tale spoke of a courageous young man who brought about a stunning victory in a fierce battle, against impossible odds. The Narnian stars foretold it, and the centaurs prophesied of the emergence: of a great hope, of the return of their ancient rulers, of a new king, and a great protector of Narnia.

It all began with the birth of an extraordinary child. There remained few human families hidden in Narnia (most had been exterminated or ran away), thirteen hundred years after the Golden Age. The remnants of Narnia rarely met, and were dispersed in an attempt to hide and survive. But on this occasion Trumpkin the dwarf, a family of centaurs, and Trufflehunter the badger were present when a woman bore her husband the child of prophecy – a son.

"What do you think is happening in there?" Trumpkin asked Trufflehunter while playing with his bright red beard nervously.

"Well," Trufflehunter started sarcastically, "Maybe she's having a baby!"

"But they've been in there for some time. And he looks a good deal worried," he whispered while pointing to the husband.

As Trufflehunter peeked behind himself, he could clearly see that the man was pacing back and forth in the moonlight. Although the night was exceedingly dark, they could easily see the sweat glistening intently off his brow. The head of the centaurs glanced at the man, then at the night sky above him. He sighed softly, then trotted over to the man. He grasped the man's hand, and proceeded to talk to him. The man nodded his head, then the centaur went into the tent. Trufflehunter and Trumpkin looked on in silence, until the centaur walked back out of the tent and motioned to usher the man into the tent. The dwarf and badger followed the man in and watched as he knelt next to his wife, who held their suckling son close to her.

"My wife and I thank you, Glenstorm," the man said with heartfelt gratitude. "You have helped with the birth of my son. How can we ever thank you?"

The centaur stamped his hind feet self-consciously as he spoke. "You do not owe us. Your son will stem the evil in Narnia when it is time. I have foreseen his fate in the stars. I have two things to say regarding him, and we shall leave you."

The man knelt by his wife with their son in his arms. Trufflehunter and Trumpkin moved closer in order to hear what the wise centaur had to say. Glenstorm took the boy in his hands and held him up.

"This boy, though he is a Son of Adam and of noble Narnian blood, will not be King over Narnia. The stars do not shine as such. However, he will brinh about our return from captivity."

With that, Glenstorm returned the boy to his mother's arms and rode off with his family. Stopping in his tracks one last time, he looked back and told them, "We will keep watch over you, the last of the nobles of Narnia. This, my family swears to you."

As he left, Trufflehunter walked over to the couple and their child. "Well, my friends, what have you decided on naming him?"

His mother looked up at the badger as Trumpkin made his way over. "His name is Shawn. He will bear the name of his great-grandfather, who led the final defense of Narnia against Telmar. He bravely led the charge and fought to the last man."

"And as Glenstorm said," Trufflehunter started again. "We too will watch over him, but we intend to be closer. We would be honored to teach him the things he will need to survive. Right, Trumpkin?" Trumpkin agreed, to which the mother gave him the baby. Her husband helped her up and into the home he had built next to the tent. Trumpkin looked at the boy in his arms, sleeping. This is the hope of our world? Aslan bless him. He's so tiny, so helpless. I sure hope he can do it.

The boy grew in strength, and courage, by the time he reached the hale age of twelve, his father, Trumpkin, Trufflehunter, and Glenstorm had taught him how to: read and write, shoot arrows, and sword fight. Recently, Glenstorm had brought a satyr to tutor Shawn, and the boy picked up on the training quickly. Once, his father had taught him to ride a horse, but they couldn't keep the horse and so his skills were rusty. During starry nights, Glenstorm and Trufflehunter would take him out into a meadow where his centaurs would rest and tell him stories of the stars and of Narnia, including the Golden Age that the High King ruled in. The boy often spoke intelligently, and the badger and centaur were amazed.

"When do you plan on telling the boy?" Trumpkin quietly asked the boy's father one day. "He deserves to know."

"When the time is right. His mother and I have both agreed to wait until he was older."

Trumpkin nodded, although he didn't completely agree and turned to look at the family. The motley group was invited to stay for dinner. Glenstorm felt it was time for him to go back to his own family, and it wasn't until both the boy and his mother begged that he oblige them and stay to eat. They ate outside and talked about the days before, what it would've been like to be free Narnians.

But Shawn's happiness was short-lived. In the midst of his telling of the hunt for the White Stag, a Telemarine company had spied the small contingent. People nearby had seen smoke from the area and had heard voices, but no one could ever find the people living there. And now, under orders of the Lord Protector Miraz they were to raze the countryside and leave nothing alive.

"Halt, in the name of Miraz, Lord Protector of Narnia under rule of Telmar!" the captain screamed. His dark brown hair hung loosely and wildly about him and his face was a picture of cruelty and rage. He holstered his crossbow and held up his hand, signaling his troops to take aim. "Surrender and your lives will be spared."

Dubiously, Shawn's father looked at his son, knowing his own time had come. Surrender resulted in the slaughter of the defenseless, and word had reached him that the Telemarines took no prisoners. He slowly bent down; kissing both his son and wife, then grabbed the sword lying by his feet. He drew it from his scabbard.

"Never will we the last nobles of the true Narnia, ever surrender to Telmar!" With great resolve in the face of certain death, he then turned to Glenstorm. "Take my son and get him out of here! He is more important than I am! I will hold them off. Go!"

Glenstorm immediately swept up Shawn, who was scared and shouted that he would never leave his parents behind. His mother kissed him before she grabbed a bow and notched an arrow to stand her ground against the Telemarines. Realizing the fate that was about to befall them, Shawn struggled and cried in vain, Glenstorm calmed him.

"It is more important that you survive. I love you, my son. Be safe; I will miss you so," his mother whispered to him, as the captain lowered his arm for the men to start firing.

Realizing that both his mother and father were resigned to die so he could live, valiantly Shawn held back his tears and stifled a sob. Yelling back desperately as Glenstorm pulled him from his mother's last embrace, "I love you, mother. I will never forget you."

And with that, Glenstorm carried the last hope of Narnia off. Trumpkin trailed behind them, covering their escape with a rain of arrows, stopping the Telemarine soldiers from following them too quickly. Shawn's convulsive cries grew fainter and fainter until they were out of earshot.

The escape of any Narnian was infuriating to the captain, who raised his voice in command over the turmoil, "Seize them! Do not allow them to escape!" His face reddened with anger as he fought with a savagery and a fury that had terrified many a Telemarine.

By this time, Shawn's father had been hit, and he fell with a piercing cry. The Telemarines decided to advance with their swords to finish him. They sent two men on horseback to follow the centaur in hopes of capturing him and the boy. Rising from his own pool of blood, Shawn's father fought expending his last ounce of strength. Adrenaline took over and he fought with a fury and a desperation propelled by the deep love he bore for his son. Trying to guarantee Glenstorm enough time for a safe escape, he fought to the death, taking down as many soldiers as he could. A sharp excruciating jolt of pain shot through his stomach, and he realized he had been stabbed through from behind. With a cry of triumph and maniacal glee, the captain gloated over the man as he crumpled to the ground in agony cradling his stomach.

The mother wailed with a tortured cry as her husband fell, but her voice was stopped short by a sharp chiseling blade in her stomach. Brave to the last, she fell next to her husband, who whispered to her softly, "I have always loved you, my dear."

The last sounds that either of them heard was his wife muttering softly as she coughed blood, "I love you, too. Now, Narnia is left to our son, the last hope of Narnia."

The captain watched awestruck as the couple died courageously without complaint, fear or hatred. He would have sworn, and cursed as he died. But, he was a man without a conscience – a man determined to advance in position, and cruelty had hardened him. Being a daily witness of such horrors, he remained unmoved and unrepentant. The Narnians were getting their just desserts, and he was Telmar's ordained avenger.

In his arrogance, he did not recognize the precious life that had escaped his ruthless grasp was a serious threat to his nation and to his own life, and with the ancient kings and queens of Narnia, and Caspian X – this boy that he assumed was nothing – would return to take back the throne for Aslan and would be a force to be reckoned with...