I'm back with another update! :) I think this story will be about 10 chapters long. I should have started my fanfic-writing career with a one-shot and not a multi-chapter fic *sigh* Maybe I should upload a one-shot instead of an update on this story next week. Hmmm...

To lightning bird: Yes, Edmund is having a some sort of amnesia, but it is different from the ones we see in our world (like lacunar amnesia). His condition will be explained in more detail in this chapter, so please read on! :)

Disclaimer: As we all know, C. S. Lewis owns it all.

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Chapter 3. Muddied Identity

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Jumbled words slowly trudged through Edmund's fuzzy consciousness. Gradually the words became louder and more coherent as he came to.

"…fine clothes, must be a son of those nobles who are fighting their heads off…"

"…quite young… d'you reckon s'body's out there lookin for him?"

"…n't matter… perhaps his family's dead, who knows…."

Not knowing if they were enemies or allies – a strange way of classifying people, he noted dimly – Edmund tried to stay quiet, but a small groan escaped his lips before he could stop it.

"Ugh…"

His throat was sore and dry, and he felt like his whole body had been hammered and tossed around by Northern Giants.

"Hey! The kid's awake!" A man yelled, too close to Edmund's ear for his comfort.

"Hush, Dimbo, you're too loud," A voice, this time female, scolded the man. Edmund opened his eyes against the bright daylight just enough to make out the plump figure squatting next to him. She was a stern looking, middle-age woman dressed in simple, practical dress. "Kid, can you hear me?"

"Y-yes," he rasped.

"Good. Care to tell me who you are? You are not from Torint for sure."

At that moment, Edmund realized that, to his horror, he could not remember much about himself. When he felt the questioning stare on him, he voiced out the first thing that came to his mind.

"Ed… Mund? I-I think that's my name. I don't remember. I-I don't remember much."

Perhaps it was his hesitant, uncertain words or perhaps it was his panicky, utterly distraught expression that aroused a sense of pity inside the stout woman. Anyhow the woman's face softened tiniest bit, and her dark eyes displayed hints of sympathy, although her voice never lost its gruffness.

"Well, more like Mud if you ask me. You do realize that you are quite filthy, right lad?"

Edmund looked around and realized that he was lying on a muddy bank, and that he was indeed quite dirty with mud and sediments clinging to his clothes and hair.

"Dimbo, make yourself useful and help the boy up. I don't think anything's broken, he should be able to walk."

The man came over and hoisted Edmund up, setting him on his feet.

"So what now, Grinna? Take 'im to the mansion?"

"No choice here, isn't it?" The woman, Grinna, replied grumpily.

"Where are you taking me?" Edmund questioned, slightly scared. In the back of his mind, a vague sense of panic and apprehension at following strangers arose.

"To Lord Timbolt's mansion, of course. It's his summer residence, and he and his family are there now. Hunting season, you see. We work there, and you better be as well. I'm not running a charity, you got to earn your food," before Edmund could say anything, she grabbed him by the collar and pushed him forward. "Now come along Muddy, we're already late."

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Not surprisingly, Edmund – or Muddy as he was referred to now – collapsed not even halfway along the way to the mansion. Dimbo carried him the rest of the journey, and Grinna tucked him in a pile of blankets in a corner of the kitchen. It took three days for Muddy to completely come to and feel strong enough to move around.

When he was deemed healthy enough to work, he was introduced to the rest of staff at Lord Timbolt's mansion as a distant cousin of Grinna. Grinna told Muddy that she suspected him to be from a noble family around the region, in which case he was in a dire danger of losing his life at the hands of other noble families. As she had yet heard of anyone looking for him, it was very likely that his family had either all died or fled from the area. Therefore, she said, it would be wise for him to live as a nobody than going around and exposing himself to mad murderers in noble gowns.

To Muddy's slight surprise, the servants of the mansion did not question the sudden inclusion in their workforce. Apparently there was a shortage of hand, and the extra pair of them was actually welcomed with much enthusiasm. As soon as he was through with the introduction, he was given tasks upon tasks.

Even on his first day at work, Muddy found himself running from one place to another, quickly installing the mental map of the spacious house into his quick mind.

"You're not supposed to use the main hallways during the day! Remember, we are not the maids in pretty clothes – we need to be invisible to the Lord's family. Do you hear? Don't wander off!" Grinna ordered when she caught him heading to one of the larger hallways.

"Yes, Grinna," Muddy replied. The last part of Grinna's words sounded somehow familiar, denoted with an emotion mixed of pain, hope, and gratitude.

The work was simple but hard on the young, still aching body. Until very well into the night Muddy was sent from kitchen to garden to maids' quarter to storage room and back to kitchen, running errands, cleaning hearts, dusting window frames and plucking weeds. When he was finally released from his work, he instantly threw himself on the pile of thick, itchy blankets in the kitchen corner that had become his private quarter.

Muddy was ready to fall asleep as soon as his head laid on the topmost blanket, but he still tried to make sense of the turmoil in his head before he was pulled into deep slumber. If he tried hard, he could put together some pieces of memory and make some kind of sense out of them. He vaguely remembered his parents. But the images of them were situated against a background quite different from here. He remembered that he was originally from another world, somewhere called Finchley… and there were some names floating in his mind. Su… Lu…? Sulu? No, no, that wasn't quite right. They were two different persons, though he had no idea how or where he met them. And there was another name starting with P… maybe Pu? But it sounded so wrong….

Before long, Muddy was soon lost to the oblivion, a myriad of unanswered questions roaming his head.

And in his sleep he had the most confusing and wondrous dream he ever remembered having.

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Muddy was standing on a sandy beach. He looked around and spotted a magnificent castle rooming not so far from where he was. The sight caused such an acute longing inside him that he almost instinctively turned his head away. To his surprise, he realized that he was crying.

Wiping away his tears in slight confusion, he turned his gaze to the gently roaring sea. The water was clear like well-polished glass, blue with a tint of green. Mesmerized by the picturesque scenery surrounding him, Muddy slowly walked along the beach. He tried not to turn his head to the direction of the castle, in fear of crying again.

"Son of Adam, where are you going?"

Startled, Muddy looked up and found himself face to face with a large, fearful yet wonderfully beautiful Lion. For a couple of seconds Muddy just stared in awe, and suddenly remembered that the Lion had asked him a question.

"I-I don't know," Muddy answered helplessly, feeling lost. At the back of his mind he wondered how could a lion speak, but he could not really bring himself to care. It just felt right.

"Son of Adam, do you know who you are?" The Lion asked gently.

" I-I'm Muddy. But I-I don't think that's really who I am." After a short while, a realization struck him. "You are Aslan, right? The Great Lion."

Aslan purred softly in pleasure, "That is correct, Son of Adam."

"How do I know you? I don't remember much… but I feel like I should know you."

"You are under a spell that made you forget your titles and memories attached to them, Dear One. But the caster of the spell did not know all of your titles, hence some of them stayed with you," the Great Lion approached and gently nuzzled Muddy's face, "but even if the caster knew of your most fundamental title – that you are My Son, My Chosen One – she would not have been able to alter it. Such title cannot be changed by any force or might."

Glad to finally know the reason behind his situation but still confused, Muddy asked, "So am I supposed to live like this? With my memory lost? Forever?"

"It is for you to choose. Soon you will be able to remember the memories that were not attached to the titles the caster erased from your mind," Aslan answered, "and if you let me help you, I can lift the spell from you. But it is your choice and decision."

Muddy fell into silence. At first he wanted nothing more than to ask the Great Lion to restore his memory fully and wholly. However, were he supposed to want it? What if his former self chose to let the caster erase those memories? Didn't Grinna say that his family might be dead? Did he want those memories, memories of the deaths of his loved ones, whoever they might be?

"I-I don't know. I'm not sure," Muddy confessed at last.

"I will wait. Call me when you are ready, Dearest."

With the gentle, soft roar of Aslan, the whole scene started to fade into whiteness.

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I hope Aslan's explanation on Edmund's condition is clear. In short, he did not lose all his memories, but only those that were attached to specific titles that the Hag decided to erase. Therefore, he still maintain his vague memory of his parents, as the Hag certainly did not know about his status as a son.

I decided to give Edmund an alias of some sort, as the name Edmund should sound familiar to at least some Archenlanders. I hope it doesn't sound too strange! "Muddy" also symbolizes Edmund's current status as an amnesic, lowly servant-boy, as servants in old days often did not have dignified names.

The situation and conflict in the northern part of Archenland - where Edmund is now - will be clarified in next chapter.

If you have any more question about the setting, please ask! Even if you don't have any question, please review!