AN: I lost portions of this chapter twice and had to rewrite—that's my story and I'm sticking to it. Also, the formatting for this tale is in flux and I apologize. ETA: I think I've settled it now. Sorry for any confusion.

Many thanks to Willow Dryad and Laura Andrews for brainstorming and proofreading and putting up with my angst over name choices for bit characters.

Nothing's mine.

So a year and a day passed in the land of the children's birth, and steadfastly did they cleave to the promise given them, that they should one day return to the land which the Lord had given them, a land flowing with milk and wine.

But in that land there passed generation upon generation, and a new king came to the throne who did not know Peter the High King nor Edmund his brother-king.

And he enslaved the people of the land and drove them unto the hills and dark caves of the forest, and slew them with the edge of the sword, for greatly did he fear them. And of the fear of the Lord he knew nothing.

Then the Lord beheld the state of the land, and he was grieved in his heart, for the stench of the evil that was done therein offended him. And the Lord said to himself, Behold, the living waters are enchained, and the creatures of the field, whom by my breath I granted speech, are slaughtered like sheep fatted for the market.

The land groans under the burdens laid upon her, and the very earth cries out to me for relief from her oppressors. Therefore shall I arise and judge, and with my mouth devour the wild boars who have invaded my vineyard.

And it came to pass that the sons of God came to present themselves before the Lord, and the Accuser came also among them.

And the Lord said to the Accuser, Whence comest thou?

And the Accuser answered the Lord, and said, From going to and fro upon the earth and from walking up and down in it.

And the Lord said to the Accuser, Hast thou considered my servant Peter that there is none like him in all the land, a mighty warrior for the Lord and a man after mine own heart? Though I have taken him from his home and people, yet still doth he walk in my ways, sharing all he hath with the needy and uplifting the downtrodden. Now shall I call him back to the land he loveth, and he shall fight my battles and free my people from slavery.

Then the Accuser answered the Lord and said, Long may a man live on hope! For didst thou not vouchsafe him that he should one day return, and his brethren with him; and hath not the hope thereof sustained him from the rising to the setting of the sun?

Now shall he come: and behold, his beloved friends are passed away; and their children's children went down gray-headed to the grave, and their names are blotted from the earth.

Then, O Lord, banish him for ever to the sickly gray world whence he cometh, and remove from him even the hope of return. For he is even a man and hath his limits, and shall at last despair, turn from thy paths, and call no longer upon thy name.

The Lord saw that in this would his own name be glorified, and therefore he said to the Accuser, What thou hast said, so mayest thou do; but stretch not forth thy hand to touch an hair of his head, no, nor aught of his brethren.

So the Accuser went out from before the Lord.

Then the land cried out in her affliction, and the Deep Magic drew the children across the worlds, and they knew not whither they were come.

"Look," said Susan, and her voice was choky. "I found it by the well." She put the thing in Peter's hand and sat down.

He rubbed off the dirt on his shirt until the metal glinted in the fading light; then turned it slowly in his hands. It was about as long as a hen's egg, not so thick, and heavy enough to be solid gold, dwarf-beaten by tiny hammers into a miniature figurine. The firelight ran gleaming along its back, sparking red where the eye ought to be, and in that flash he saw it all.

The island. The ruined castle. The cracked and cobbled dais. The ancient apple trees. And this—a golden, ruby-eyed chess-knight, looking for all the world like one of those with which he and Edmund had played, in the castle by the sea.

"Well, I'm . . . I'm jiggered," said Peter.

And when their location by careful study was made known unto them, then were they filled with wonder and gladness; yet was there also in their hearts sorrow for their boon-companions gone down before them to the grave. And in the night, the joy and the sorrow were so mingled that none could distinguish the laughter from the weeping.

And at dawn there came unto them an emissary of the people and begged their aid; therefore they arose and went forth, and strove with the enemy. By the Lord's might were they victorious, establishing the fear of the Lord and his law from the Great Waterfall in the west to Cair Paravel in the east, and they enthroned the rightful king and slew the enemies of the Lord with the edge of the sword.

Then the Lord said to Peter the eldest and to Susan his sister, The time hath come that ye must return to the land of your birth, for your work here is accomplished. Ye wax old for the play of children, and this no longer is your home.

And Peter wept aloud, but Susan beheld afar off her brother and sister, whom the Lord loved, and said, Lord, what shall they do?

But the Lord said, What is that to thee? and talked long with them.

And when the time came, Peter the High King went through the doorway with Susan his sister Queen after him and Edmund the King and Lucy the Queen, leading those of the foreigners who trusted the Lord to keep his word and bring them to the land he had promised them.

Susan's hands trembled on his shoulders and gripped tighter. Through the door, Peter saw the green Trees of Narnia and the red Lion banner fluttering over the new King Caspian and his loyal followers. The DLF had a new hood of blue edged with gold. Trufflehunter wore a heavy gold chain about his neck, and Dr. Cornelius's black robes were livened by a splash of white, but Aslan in all his glory made them look dull, and his deep amber eyes gazed into Peter's.

Peter took a last deep breath of sweet Narnian air spiced with the scent of the Lion's mane, but a whiff of railway smell came through the door. He squared his shoulders and fixed his eyes on Aslan's. The figures of ten-day friends blurred into the gravelly outlines of a country train platform, just as their Narnian selves had once before blurred and shifted back into those of English schoolchildren, but Aslan's eyes remained clear as the rest faded. Then Peter blinked and they were gone. He was sitting with the others on the sleepy station bench, surrounded by luggage, and absolutely nothing had changed.

"Well," he said. "We have had a time."

"Bother!" said Edmund. "I've left my new torch in Narnia!"

There was no time to say more, for the girls' train was pulling into the station. He and Edmund helped them find their trunks and little bags, hugged Lucy, and waved them off. Lucy was clutching Susan's hand, for it was her first year at boarding school, and she turned around and waved all the way with her other hand. He thought Susan would not look back, but at the last moment she turned and waved, and he waved back.

It was half an hour until his and Edmund's train arrived, and they said little as they waiting. Peter was thinking about what Aslan had said that morning in Narnia—I never heard it all and so I can't tell you what it was. Edmund, growing hungry, discovered that their lunches-which they had split with the girls and eaten in Narnia-were gone with his torch. He tried not to picture Susan and Lucy peacefully eating on the train, for the girls had left their lunches behind when they went to Narnia, but it was a long half-hour.

When at last the train came and they found their seats, they thought at first that the compartment was empty. A closer inspection, however, revealed a small boy crying in the corner, and Peter decided that something had to be done. He looked at Edmund, who had just had the same thought.

"Oughtn't we—" began Edmund.

"Leave it to me," said Peter. So Edmund retired with his Latin grammar, while Peter took the seat beside the boy and offered him a handkerchief with a pleasant, "Dry up." Once the sniveling subsided, he proceeded.

"I'm Pevensie. Pevensie Major, rather."

"St. Clair."

"Rotten luck. Do you have another?"

"Percival." After a moment, he added, "My mum calls me Percy," and grimaced.

"No good. Can't be branded a sissy before you even open your mouth. What you need is a nickname."

"A nickname?"

"Like they called Arthur 'The Wart.'"

"Arthur?"

"King Arthur?"

"Oh." He considered that a moment. "You could call me Jack."

"Jack it is, then. Pleased to meet you."

And that was the beginning of their friendship. Jack was seven years old, and this was his first time away from Everest, his nanny. His lip began to tremble again, but Peter cuffed his shoulder and said,

"Buck up, old pal. Every knight-errant has to leave his home to seek adventure and knowledge. Have you ever had adventures?"

Jack shook his head, and Peter leaned closer, as if sharing a confidence.

"There's a whole world of adventures waiting for us out there."

So did Peter befriend one in need, and when a proud, arrant youth joined them on their journey and showed cruelty to the boy, then did Peter defend him, and make the foolish youth beg his pardon.

And at even, when they were come unto the lodging-place where they were to abide, then did Peter say unto his brother, He hath shown me, O Brother, what is good; and truly goodness exists also in this land. And what doth the Lord require of me? But to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with my God.

Thus in his testing did Peter not falter, for the Lord's hand was upon him to guide him, and he did not sin.