I AM A SINNER

Being the spiritual person that I am, how could I not write something like this? How could I resist the temptation? No doubt everyone in the world of Narnia needed to ask for Aslan's forgiveness at one point or another; I just thought I'd focus on five particular characters whose stories stand out from the others. Can you guess who those five characters are? If not, you'll find out soon enough. As usual, this focuses more on the actual movies rather than the books.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy the books (how would we have the films in the first place without the books?); it's just the movies have more detail, more action, more thrills, and more…well, more.

**EDIT** I've decided to add an extra two chapters to this story, so we now have a total of seven stories. I figured it couldn't hurt, and I knew it would make my readers happy.

And if my readers are happy, I'm happy!


Characters © C.S. Lewis and Disney/Walden Media

Story © unicorn-skydancer08

All rights reserved.


"If a man owns a hundred sheep, and one of them wanders away, will he not leave the ninety-nine on the hills and go to look for the one that wandered off? And if he finds it, truly I tell you, he is happier about that one sheep than about the ninety-nine that did not wander off."

~ Matthew 18:12—13 (NIV)


PART 1: EDMUND

"Come closer, my child. Do not be afraid."

Edmund hesitated, drawing in a long, shaky breath. Before him stood none other than Aslan himself, the Great Lion he had heard so much about.

The sight was more terrible and more wonderful than anything the young boy could have imagined in his wildest dreams.

The beast was large, tall, and very powerfully built, the muscles well defined beneath his sleek coat. The sea of mane that shrouded his head was of the most dazzling gold, and it looked so soft and so thick that Edmund would have readily brushed his fingers through it, were it not for his feelings of awe, fear, and shame that held him back. The beast's paws were almost as large as Edmund's own head; from each paw protruded a fine set of claws as sharp as talons. Yet the creature's demeanor was gentle, his bright amber eyes soft and empathetic, and he held himself with an air of such inexpressible majesty that it stole Edmund's heart away and left him feeling small, weak, and trivial by comparison.

"Come, now," the lion spoke to the boy again, "it's all right. I mean you no harm, Son of Adam."

The voice that emanated from his throat was deep and resonant, as clear as a golden bell, as rich as the sweetest honey. In Edmund's opinion, it might have been better if Aslan had shouted at him, or at least threatened him with a growl. The way he spoke with such unbelievable gentleness, the way he looked at him so kindly, so compassionately, so…so lovingly, was more than Edmund could stand. It pierced him straight to the heart, like an arrow that could not be removed.

Edmund fought vainly to gulp down the rock-solid lump that lodged deep in his throat. Somehow, he managed to edge a little closer to the Great Lion.

"Closer, my son," Aslan beckoned him, and the words were so mild you would have thought it was a lamb summoning Edmund, rather than a full-grown lion that was at least five times his size and well over ten times his strength.

Edmund shivered, though it was a warm, lithe spring morning, and shifted a fraction of an inch closer.

If there had ever been a time in his life when Edmund was more afraid, he could not remember it. He almost wished he were back in the White Witch's icy clutches. Even she and her monstrous minions could not have frightened him or daunted his heart more than this one imposing creature in front of him…the one creature whom he had defied and sinned against more than anyone else.

Far greater, far more grievous than Edmund's stark terror, was his undiluted guilt. How could Aslan ever have anything to do with him? Why would someone as pure, unspoiled, and divine as the Great Lion taint their dignity and demean themselves by associating with someone as low, sinful, and disreputable as him? After all that Edmund had said and done, how did he deserve the right to even live anymore?

More than anything else in the world at that time, the boy longed to have a mountain cover him up, or have the earth devour him, so that he would not have to stand in the presence of this noble beast.

Unable to bring himself to come any further, unable to restrain the tears any longer, Edmund closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands. He started bawling like a baby. Once the sobs came…oh, did they come. They rattled the boy's whole frame and tore his throat, nearly gagging him. His weak, bruised knees gave out from under him and he fell to the ground in a frail, pitiful heap. Not a word did he speak (he could never have spoken even if he desired it); he just remained in that forlorn spot, weeping as though his heart would break. Never in all his young life had such exquisite pain consumed him; Edmund was convinced he would die from it.

In a way, he wished he would. He wished he could somehow die right then and there, and be out of this world and this life (and everyone else's lives) for good.

"There, there, my son," Aslan's soothing voice poured into his ear, and Edmund felt a soft warmth envelop him, like a warm blanket shielding him from a cold winter's night. Edmund knew, without having to look up, that Aslan had come to him and was now embracing him. Aslan did not ask Edmund to cease with his weeping, but rather encouraged the boy to let it all out, to let the pain and poison flow with his tears, while all the while reassuring the child of his presence.

"I'm here," the lion kept crooning sweetly. "I'm here…"

Broken and defeated, helpless to do anything else, Edmund just huddled against the lion's warm, furry breast and cried harder than he ever remembered crying before, while Aslan slid a massive paw over his quaking shoulders with the gentleness of a feather, purring tenderly into his ear. Not one thing had to be explained; Aslan seemed to already know (and perfectly well) just what Edmund had done, what the boy stood most in need of.

When Edmund's supply of tears had finally run dry, when he managed to recover at least a bit of his shattered composure, he mustered the nerve to lift his dripping face to the Great Lion. Aslan nuzzled him and licked the salty tears from his cheek with his warm, pleasantly moist tongue. "Oh, Aslan," said Edmund inconsolably, when he could form proper words, "I'm such a traitor. I have sinned against you in the most awful way possible. Surely you must hate me!"

"I could never hate you, Edmund," Aslan replied, to the boy's disbelieving ears. "Should a father not have compassion for his hurting child? Can a brother neglect his brother when his brother so desperately needs him? What you have done was indeed most serious, dear one…but it does not mean I love you any less. It does not mean you stand absolutely no chance of ever being forgiven, of ever being restored to the fold. I love you, Edmund Pevensie. I want you to stay with me…always."

"You—you mean it, Aslan?" Edmund asked softly, feeling a glimmer of hope begin to burn within his heart, something he had never expected or dared to feel again. "Y-you want me with you?"

"Of course," said Aslan, and there was not even the slightest hint of deceit in his tone, nor his countenance. "I forgive you, my son, for all that you have done amiss, for all that you feel you are to blame for. Your sorrow for your sins surpasses the sins themselves, as does my love for you. From this time forth, your sins are taken from you, and you are free. The past is gone, and you are here, where you truly belong." As Aslan spoke these words, as his timeless gaze entangled with Edmund's, Edmund felt as though a tremendous load were being lifted from his shoulders. The boy felt somehow lighter, almost weightless…as though he could touch the sky itself, as though some unseen force were raising him up.

He could feel the emptiness within him filling with a most incredible warmth. It was like a light shining deep inside him, chasing away the darkness. Tears began to flow afresh from his eyes, but they were no longer tears of sorrow or self-punishment, and Edmund made no effort to conceal them or wipe them away. He could only smile at Aslan, the first true smile that had adorned his face in the longest time—it must have been forever—and he found the courage and the strength to move in closer.

Slowly, his thin arms reached up and encircled the lion's neck, and he clung fervently to Aslan for what seemed ages, inhaling the clean perfection of his mane.

Aslan stayed put the whole time and never pulled away. Edmund could feel Aslan's long tail curling docilely around him, and the lion's sweet breath blowing into his hair.

No longer was Edmund in awe of Aslan, or afraid of him.

Rather, the only thing the young Son of Adam felt toward the Great Lion this time was love—surely this had to be what true, honest love was—and a deep yearning to be with him, for now…and for always.