Disclaimer: Much as I would love to have created them, 'tisn't true; therefore they aren't mine. But Lewis left us much to build upon, and I have loved doing it.

A/N: Peter means "Stone"; Biblically, (Simon) Peter was given that by Christ, who then told Peter that Christ would build the Church on that rock. A cornerstone, the beginning of a good thing, the beginning of the foundation on which all else is built. Since this is written from Peter's perspective, I tried to capture more what made him so steady, strong, rather than how he was a rock, since people like him don't always realise what it would mean if they were gone; how much we need them.

Chapter 4: Rock

I first walked into Narnia wearing a fur coat I didn't own (though my sister sensibly pointed out we weren't really taking them out of the wardrobe if the wood was inside it) and leading three siblings, one of whom I'd just apologized to and another I was angry at; he was close to hating me.

Not the greatest of beginnings for a king. And it got worse. We went to visit a Faun who saved my sister and found a note writing he was imprisoned. And suddenly I was the oldest sibling in a country that hated humans, agreeing to rescue the faun who rescued Lucy when we had no food and no idea where he was.

But we took a vote (not listening to my brother then), and decided to go forward anyway; and Aslan sent friends. So my first meal in Narnia was as a guest, sitting down to two beavers' food, and listening to Narnia's legends. The first items in Narnia that I owned were gifts, given to equip me for Aslan's army.

A strange road; but Aslan's roads are often strange. An apology started my adventure; generosity continued it; and effort led us to Aslan.

Aslan. Who rescued my brother, showed me Cair, and sent me to fight against His enemies. There was nothing strange about that road. There is only something wonderful.

Those memories were my beginning. Apology, generosity, and seeking Aslan. When He made me king above other Narnian kings, with my siblings at my side, it was those things that I remembered. Those, combined with Aslan's strength, shaped my reign.

Of course, we didn't quite know what we were doing. Who knows at the beginning that their labors will create a Golden Age, Narnia's Golden Age? But with Queen Susan to move us forward with a gentleness that made strength build instead of break, King Edmund to keep the path true and wise, and Queen Lucy to make it joyous and good, pleasant to walk on, it could not have been anything else.

I remember those feasts, other late nights with the three of them and a few other councilors, and court after court held for our subjects, face after face, and remember the deep joy of building Aslan's kingdom. There is no other like it, to see His kingdom coming.

But those times were an Age, and Ages end. The other faces faded, and I was left a boy again, in a borrowed fur coat, spilling out of a wardrobe with three siblings behind me.

But the needs of the three, my three, did not lessen when we returned. Once again, there was a nation devastated by a war. Once again, those around us needed all of our gifts, even if we didn't lead. We still served. So I lived by the same rules; humility, generosity, and a seeking of Aslan.

But I did not know how to seek Him in our world, this world we came back to. And without him, I was unsteady.

He found me. As He had in Narnia. By obedience. We went back, first, and Susan and I were too old to ever go back. I needed Aslan more than I ever had. Since all I had were His memories, I kept His commands. And His commands led me to Him, on a small country road while I studied with the professor. I was out walking. Seeking, again, wishing for a green hill by the sea with Aslan at the top.

Going past the fields and stone hedges falling into the road, I saw a soldier trying to hobble on one leg into a nearby church, to rest a bit. I gave him a shoulder to lean on. He was older than I was, and told me he was lucky to come home. I asked him what he was doing, down this road where no one else goes. He said he was seeking something. Someone. Laughs, slouching on the pew, breathing hard. I remember that from Narnia, pushing against what's at my back to know it's solid. He said he'd been seeking answers ever since the war. Sometimes he goes into a church and thinks he might've found it; but it doesn't last. He didn't think he'd ever find it on his own. I asked if he wanted the priest; he looked at me and I shrugged.

"It's someone who knows more than us, about the place you've almost found answers." He hesitated—none of us like admitting we need help, not till we've met Aslan and see how much we need His help. But he nodded, and I went through the back door towards the house beside the church, hoping to find the priest. Serving, as Aslan made me to do. And the priest, called to serve himself, came, and I listened, first to make sure I was not needed, and then caught by the God the priest described. The God who sounded so, so familiar. Both the soldier and I left with Bibles, to find more answers for ourselves. I saw the soldier to the nearest train station, a few miles away, and he taught me how to salute a farewell. And then I walked back to the professor's, and spent the night reading. The professor found me, candles burned down and replaced, the next morning, and we talked. And talked, and talked, and wrestled with the truth, and there He was. Aslan. Christ. The rock on which the world stumbles but that was made a cornerstone. I had everything I needed once again.

And I thanked Him, that He found me, that He made me High King and then made me a boy back in a country that needed Him, and that He made me a brother. Because in all those things, I saw His kingdom coming once again, and I knew again, there is no joy like it. And if I was a boy growing into a man, with nothing much but what I had with me and siblings to lean on, He had made much with that once before. I was ready, if He wanted to do so again.