*A/N: So now you have a choice! I wrote 2 endings for this series. Please read both and let me know which one you prefer! :) -KM

Chapter 27

One week later, Melanie stood on the porch of the small house, waving until the Professor pulled out of sight. She turned back to the empty house with a sigh.

How amazing the last week had been! She only hoped Eustace and Jill could reach Tirian in time. If only she had been able to speak to the king!
Oh well, the girl thought to herself, at least I remembered the rings.
It hadn't taken long for everyone to realize that—as much as every one of them wanted to go—Eustace and Jill were the only ones with a chance of going. But how were they to get there? The wardrobe was gone, and anyway, one couldn't just peek into all the cupboards and doors until one saw Narnia!
Edmund, as he usually did, translated the whole discussion into signs to include Melanie.
What do you think? He signed.
It didn't take Melanie long to remember how she first got into Narnia. There are the rings, she signed in reply.
Edmund, not understanding, repeated her reply to the others.
"Rings?" the Professor cried suddenly. "Oh yes! The rings! Do you mean she's found them?"
Edmund translated the Professor's question, and Melanie nodded. Found them when I first went to Telmar.
"Can you use the rings to get to Narnia?" Peter asked.
The Professor shrugged, "I don't see why not; when I used them, they only brought Polly and I as far as the Wood-Between-the-Worlds, but I'm sure if Aslan wants us—or Eustace and Jill—to get to Narnia, he could make it happen. He always has."
Everyone nodded at the wisdom of this, and Edmund said, "Well, that takes care of how to get to Narnia; now the question becomes, how to get the rings."
Jill shook her head. "It's no use Scrubb an I going, because there's a good chance we might not make it back in time for school, and there's sure to be a row if that happened."
Edmund looked up suddenly, "Say! Why don't Peter and I go; Peter knows his way around the house, and he could find where they were buried. We could meet Eustace and Jill on their way to school, hand off the rings, and of course the adventure in Narnia will take no time at all!"
All those present agreed this was a capital plan, and it was enacted the day after. Peter and Edmund went to London, and—in order not to attract attention as they prodded around the sidewalk—carried out their intentions dressed as service-utility men.
This all had been yesterday, and Peter had sent a wire that morning telling the Professor when to meet them at the station. Eustace and Jill were on their way to save Narnia! Melanie sighed as she remembered her beloved Nast, and Lord Protector Samson, Martan, Taurin, Britta, Leif (No, Leafy, she corrected herself), Grammon the priest, lively-tongued Satchelle, faithful Brion, and-oh! They were so many! When Eustace had invited her to go with them, she had almost accepted, but the memory of her vision of Aslan was too vivid, too present, and she knew she could not.

And so, Melanie was there at the big, still house. The silence did not bother her, for she had lived her whole life that way, (except in Telmar), but it was the fact that nothing she saw-not even the fat, dusty bumblebees on the roses outside the window-moved at all. The very air Melanie breathed seemed loath to enter her lungs.

Melanie wandered her way into the Professor's small library. The room was small, but all four walls were lined with books, and the whole room fairly reeked of good, quality literature. Melanie scanned the shelves until a title caught her eye, and promptly settled down on the sofa before the fireplace to read.

It felt like only minutes later when Melanie stirred and opened her eyes. She had fallen asleep with the book in her lap! She must have slept for hours, for the house seemed very dark, a drastic change from the cool, grey morning sky. The clock on the mantel read half-past three o'clock. Why then would the house be so dark? Melanie looked out the window. The grey clouds of morning had billowed into black, heavy mounds, and already a drizzle was trickling down. Melanie absently wondered why the Professor and the others had not returned. The train station was nearly two hours away, over dirt roads. Perhaps the road washed out, and they needed to stay in town till the water cleared, Melanie reasoned. At any rate, it was getting more difficult to see, on account of the darkness. Melanie went around the house, lighting the kerosene lamps, the cottage lacking any electric amenities at all.

She had just turned on the lamps in the front hall, when a movement on the veranda made her jump. Someone stood outside! It occurred to Melanie that perhaps the person had been knocking for a while, but the deaf girl couldn't possibly know. How long had the person been waiting so vainly? Melanie placed a hand against the door. It was indeed vibrating with the force of the mysterious guest's pounding. Melanie quickly opened the door, and there on the rug stood none other than Susan!

The young woman's lips moved, but then she seemed to remember to whom she spoke.

Come in, Melanie signed, pulling the bedraggled girl out of the cold. She looked over Susan's shoulder, but the young woman was alone.

Susan's hat and coat were drenched, and her boots caked with mud. Obviously Susan had walked some distance in the rain. She looked so pitiful, like a nearly drowned kitten, Melanie's heart went out to her immediately. She brought Susan into the sitting room and gave her a warm blanket to wrap around herself. Nearby was a pad of paper and a pencil. Melanie took this and wrote Where is Benton?

She handed the pad and pencil to Susan. Melanie carefully watched her face, and noted the strange expression twisting Susan's features. Susan took the pencil and drew an arrow pointing down from where is and wrote everyone? next to it. Melanie understood she was asking where everyone else was.

At the train station, Melanie wrote, and pointed back to her question.

After a very long pause that puzzled Melanie, Susan accepted the proffered pencil and crossed out Benton. Melanie stared at the mark; so Benton was gone. Melanie wondered where he went. A wet spot appeared suddenly on the pad, then another, and another. Melanie finally looked up at Susan. She was crying!

Melanie immediately dropped the pad and threw her arms around the bereaved young woman. Susan-wrought with the emotions of bottled-up pain-was overcome by this unreserved acceptance by the girl whom she had rejected so many times. The tears poured forth. Melanie wondered if Benton had hurt poor Susan in some way, but in prudence, she merely kept silent and comforted the girl.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter 28

What had happened was this:

When Benton and Susan first arrived in France, they had immediately been joined by another group of Benton's friends, three ladies and two young gentlemen. Benton had—very proudly, Susan thought—introduced Susan to them, and the European tour commenced.

Though she had begun the vacation as "odd one out," Susan was pleasantly surprised to find that this group of friends welcomed her warmly. They were all very intellectual, but fun-loving, and Susan did not feel demeaned or patronized in any way. She felt valued and understood. Benton, especially, spent nearly all of his time with her, touring the museums, famous landmarks, or on boating trips.

So gratifying was all this attention, that when Susan caught a cold and had to stay back at the hotel, she steadily resisted Benton's insistence that he would stay back and wait for her.

"Don't forego your fun on my account, Ben," Susan said graciously. "Go on and enjoy yourself. I purposed long ago that I would not be so selfish as to force you away from your friends to pet me and coddle me." She grinned ruefully at him. "I am a nurse; I can look after myself."

Benton returned her smile with a beautiful one of his own. "Very well then," he said, "'physician, heal thyself!' and I'll try to manage while you're gone."

He left with the group, but was back again that evening. He visited her morning and evening for a week. Susan tried every remedy she could, but very soon, the cold turned into a terrible fever and headache. Susan groaned when she realized she would most likely spend the rest of the vacation recuperating in the hotel. Still, she had determined not to be selfish with Benton, and did her able best to enjoy the time they had together when he visited.

This was when she noticed a change in Benton's behavior. Gradually, Benton's visits decreased to only in the mornings, and then every other day, and the second week before the end of the vacation, Susan was mystified when Benton only visited her once in that whole week! She wasn't feeling particularly well that day, so she didn't think to question him about it, but when it occurred to her, she resolved to ask him about it on his next visit.

Benton's next visit never came. The next person Susan saw was one of the gentlemen. He was amiable enough, but he was not the one Susan desired to see.

"Where is Benton?" she asked the young man.

He shrugged. "Gone home, I guess," was his startling reply.

"Gone home!" Susan cried, "but I was to go with him! He said he booked passage for two!"

Her company nodded, "So he did; Charlotte went with him."

Susan quickly forgot her fever. Now her face burned with indignation. Charlotte! She was the mousy one, always at the back of the group, never speaking much. So Benton had traded Susan for her! "And I suppose he's left me to fend for myself?" she demanded angrily.

Her visitor grinned and pulled an envelope from his coat pocket. "Hardly! Northwyn's not that cold. He got you passage on another ship. She sails tomorrow. He hoped you'd be well enough by then."

Susan took the envelope but did not open it. She leaned back and moaned.

"Now, see here," the young man cried, standing up awkwardly, "I'm only the messenger, and now I've delivered my message—"

"Oh, go away!" Susan snapped. The unwelcome visitor betook himself from the room. There can be no sense in remaining where you aren't wanted!

Susan opened the envelope after he left, and there indeed was a receipt of passage on a ship for England. There also in the envelope was a note from Benton. She read it, but after hearing the truth, the glossy, buttery phrases Benton penned, saying how much he "missed her company," and how he was "forced to sail home without her," (How tactful he doesn't mention the extra passenger that should have been me! Susan thought), but he had "done what he could to ensure she would get home safely," and "hoped she would feel better soon," and he "couldn't wait to see her beautiful face again,"-all these were meaningless platitudes of infidelity.

His charm had diminished in poor Susan's eyes, and the glamour of his friendship was sadly and brutally shattered. She angrily threw the false letter into the trash, and wept the bitter tears of the emotionally disillusioned. The only one she thought she loved (and loved her!) was gone; what recourse did she have? She had all but disowned her family, and demeaned her siblings; Susan finally realized how terrible she had been.

All during the voyage back to England, she berated herself as she felt she ought, with how wicked she was, what a terrible sister she had been, and how she didn't deserve to be smiled on by anyone she knew.

Once the ship came into port, however, her emotions had quieted somewhat, and her sensible side had resumed function, if severely impeded function! This sensible side told her that of course she couldn't really know if they would accept her back, but at least she might try facing them and clearing her conscience, so that even if they did reject her, at least it would be just, and she could bear it.

But alas! Melanie was the only person there at the cottage, and it would do no good to confess to her! The worst Susan had ever done to Melanie was to merely ignore her, and to a girl who had been living her life on the wrong side of a cold shoulder, this would hardly merit an apology! Susan, if she truly intended to follow through with her plan, found herself compelled to wait until either the storm stopped (which did not look possible until the next day), or the family returned.

At this point, Melanie ceased rubbing Susan's back consolingly and turned the young woman's face toward herself.

Come into the kitchen and have something to eat, she signed.

Susan shook her head. I should go, she signed in reply, but Melanie was adamant. The young girl grabbed Susan's hands with a grin, fairly pulling her into the great, cozy kitchen. Melanie sat Susan at the table and immediately began poking into cupboards and the refrigerating unit. In these she found the ham from the previous night's dinner, and some fruit salad. Taking a measure of flour, eggs, milk, and the ham, she mixed these together and baked it, resulting in a ham-and-eggs casserole of sorts. This she happily served to Susan, taking some for herself only after the older girl did.

Susan could not help but laugh at the deaf girl's hospitality. Poor, innocent Melanie! Susan ate her fill, and Melanie washed the dishes in the sink. Thunder crashed outside, reminding Susan why she was at the house. Susan was seized with sudden doubts and dread, and she decided abruptly that she would rather leave now in the rain than face her family. Melanie's back was turned; now would be the perfect opportunity.

Susan left the room. She had just picked up her hat and coat when something caught the hem of her skirt. She looked back to see Melanie's confused, accusing eyes staring back at her.

Where are you going? The deaf girl signed.

Not desirous to explain to Melanie the true reason, Susan merely signed, I'm going to go meet the others.

Melanie did not respond by signing, she simply took Susan's hat and coat away and hung them back on the coat-rack. They probably stayed in town to wait out the storm, Melanie informed Susan. You must stay here until they return.

Susan, at this command, felt a little of her old, playful nature resurface as she saluted Melanie in the manner of a soldier. Melanie grinned, enjoying the joke, and placed one hand on her hip as she wagged a finger menacingly at Susan. The two ladies ascended the stairs, where Melanie led Susan to an unused guest room. She gave Susan one of Aunt Polly's nightgowns to wear and left, bidding her guest goodnight.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter 29

Susan, dressing by candlelight, had just donned the billowy nightgown when a knock sounded at the door. Susan took the candle with her to answer it.

She could not see much of his face in the dim light, but she knew it was a messenger when he said, "Telegram for Susan Pevensie." Wondering how on earth he could have made it out to the cottage on such a night, Susan accepted the telegram.

A wild fancy occurred to her as she closed the door. Perhaps it was from Benton! There was no name on it. It was a very short message; impossibly short to be from Benton. Besides, the time of dispatch was earlier that morning. How would he know Susan would be way out in the cottage? Susan chided herself. Benton did not care for her any more; he ought to be no further concern of hers, and anyway, what would he write?

Susan, candle still in hand, read the telegram:

"TRAIN CRASH-STOP-WHOLE-STATION-BURNED-TO-GROUND-STOP-NO-SURVIVORS-STOP."

She gasped. She paled. She screamed, "NO!"

Melanie! She had to tell Melanie! No wait! What was she thinking! Surely she had misread it! Susan forced her frantic heart to calm down as she read each syllable carefully. Oh no! It was true!

Susan's heart clutched wildly, and her stomach seemed intent on choking her by jumping into her throat. Susan felt ill; the room seemed to disappear. She couldn't see, couldn't think. Somehow she managed to reel her way to the stairs and begin crawling up them. "Melanie!" Good heavens! That banshee howl was hers? Somewhere amid the aching emptiness robbing Susan of all her thoughts, it occurred to her that she no longer held the candle . . .

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Melanie jerked out of a restful slumber to a violent shaking. Who? What?
Susan! Something troubled the young woman. How Melanie wished she could hear what Susan screamed! For indeed, by the shape of her mouth, and the force of her breath, Melanie knew she screamed about something. But what on earth could have Susan so troubled?
Melanie could only look on in fright until Susan finally calmed down enough to begin signing. Even then, she was so agitated that many of her signs were muddled. In the waving, shaking hands, Melanie saw the signs for Peter and Edmund. Had they returned and told Susan she was unwelcome? Impossible! But she had to be sure—
Returned? Melanie signed.
Susan shook her head. More muddled signs, then Melanie saw train and crash. Oh dear!
They are injured? Melanie inquired.
The relief she felt when Susan shook her head disappeared when the young woman signed, They are dead.
No! What about the others? Melanie asked, Are they returning tomorrow?
Susan shook her head again. Melanie, they are all dead. Everyone is gone; we will never see them again.
For the first time in her English life, Melanie actually yelled. She couldn't hear it, of course, but Susan looked up in surprise when the deaf-mute girl emitted an angry, harsh bark-like sound. Melanie whacked the bed with her pillow in an attempt to vent her frustration. Peter! Edmund! Lucy! Professor Kirke! Aunt Polly! They were the only people in the whole world who had ever been kind to her after Lucasta! And now they were all dead! Why?
Can you be sure of this? She signed to Susan.
Susan tearfully nodded. Telegram, she signed, and looked around for it, but she could not find it to show Melanie. She must have dropped it on her tipsy climb up the stairs. She soon forgot it as Melanie pushed past her and ran out of the room, sobbing silently.
Susan, too, felt the rush of energy leave her as a fresh wave of reality hit her. It was as if her mind and heart had suddenly frozen over, leaving her with only a few thoughts and feelings.
"They are gone," she whispered to herself, "I'll never see them again, and the last time I saw—oh! The last time I saw them was at graduation, and I didn't even speak to them! Oh, I am the worst person in the world! Any punishment I get, I thoroughly deserve!"
Susan sniffed, coughed, and rubbed her eyes as something stung them. What was it? She recognized the scent. Smoke! What was burning?
Susan threw open the bedroom door and screamed. The whole ground floor was ablaze! Not until that moment did Susan recall the candle she had held when she first received the telegram. She, Susan, had started the fire! It was all her fault! Where was Melanie?
"Melanie!" Susan screamed, then berated herself. Foolish Susan! What was the use in screaming for a deaf girl?
CRASH!
The floor to Susan's left collapsed. The stairs just to her right blaze brightly, and Susan knew it was only a matter of time before the fire would cross the hall and consume the room Susan now occupied. Already, the other bedrooms were smoking and crackling.
This was it; this was The End. Susan Pevensie would be burned alive. "Oh, God!" Susan gasped, crumpling to her knees. She trembled, she quaked with fear at her impending doom. "Oh, God! GOD!" Quite suddenly, she began hearing her voice as if it came from someone else. "Oh Aslan!" Susan's Voice wailed. "Oh Aslan, forgive me! Peter! Edmund! Lucy! Please forgive me! I'm so sorry! Aslan! Save me, Aslan! Don't let me die!"
"Susan!"
Susan ceased her cries when she heard someone call her name. Who was it?
"Susan!"
She did not recognize the voice at all. "Who is there?" Susan shrieked, still frantic at the flames, "Where are you?"
"Susan! Look to your right; there's still a path of unburned wood to where I am! Follow my voice quickly, before it all burns away!"
The voice indeed came from Susan's right. She squinted through the smoke. There indeed, between the flames, was a narrow path of wood. "I'm coming!" she cried, and stepped out of the room and into the hall.
The flames made it unbearably hot, and the smoke made it difficult to see. It was all Susan could do to keep her eyes focused on the hall in front of her feet at each step. She kept her arms folded around her and prayed her sleeves wouldn't catch fire. She was almost to the end of the hall, two steps more—
With a crack and a groan, the hall behind her suddenly gave way. No longer supported, the floor she was standing on bent down, and Susan nearly slid into the inferno below. She screamed and grabbed the section of floor, her frantic fingers digging into the floorboards. Her hands were hot and sweaty. Susan could feel her grip slipping.

Just then, a girl appeared at the part of the hall still supported. Susan was so blinded by the fire that she couldn't see the girl's face. "I'm here," the strange girl said. She bent down and grabbed Susan's hands at the wrist, giving Susan the leverage she needed to help hoist herself back onto steadier wood. The girl helped Susan stand, but did not let go of her hand, instead leading her into the room behind her. "It's mostly stone in here, so it will not burn so quickly."
The room the girls went into was very dark after the brightness of the fire. Flames had only just begun to penetrate the far walls, but the floor was still intact. Susan immediately went to the tall bay windows standing open to the night sky, allowing the hot air and smoke to escape. She breathed the clean air deeply. "Will anyone come to our rescue, do you think?"
The mysterious rescuer shook her head. "No; this cottage is so far out in the country that by the time anyone even saw the smoke it would be too late." She sighed, and in that small sound, Susan heard something familiar that caused her to peer closely at the face before her in the dim light of the flames.
She gasped and nearly fell out the window. "Melanie!"
The girl—Melanie indeed—smiled. "Of course, Susan."
Poor Susan didn't know what to think. "But-but-but," she spluttered, "you—you can hear! And you can talk!"
Melanie nodded with a shrug. "Aslan has allowed it, I suppose. You did ask him to save you, didn't you?"
"Well, yes, I suppose I did, but . . . would he really save me again, after doing it once already, and after I've rejected him so many times?"
Melanie chuckled; in hearing her speak, Susan realized the comfort of a kind voice. "Well, you could have died out there; I would say he's in the process of saving you already."
"But . . ." This revelation blew Susan away; it wasn't right! It made no sense! "But I'm not worthy!" she cried.
Melanie smiled as she heard those same words she used when she first experienced Aslan's forgiveness. "Susan," she gently reproved, "don't you think the worthiness of the recipient should be the decision of the Giver? Let me ask you something: what did you do the first time that made you any more worthy than you are now?"
"Well, I—I . . ."
Melanie's eyes sparkled, "Once a queen in Narnia, always a queen in Narnia. You've forgotten that, Susan."
For one moment—one glorious moment!—Susan had a faint glimpse at hope. She almost felt that she really could believe—
Just then, the roof suddenly caved in, and the girls were now trapped in the bay window by a huge bonfire of burning rafters. The moment was over, and Susan's sensible side squashed any hope she had.
"I'm going to die!" she moaned, "I'm too terrible, too wicked! We are finished! There is no way out!"
Melanie grabbed her shoulder. "Susan! Look there!" She pointed out the window.
In the light of the fire behind her, Susan could see all the way to the bottom of the hill on which the cottage stood, a dizzying fifty-foot drop from the second story window in which she sat.
"It's Aslan!" Melanie cried, and the old hope was back again in Susan's heart, albeit considerably weakened.

Her heart twisted sadly as she saw only the grassy slope. "I cannot see him!" she cried, "I'm doomed!"

"Susan! He is there! He will accept you!"

"But how can he? How is it possible? I've been so terrible!"

"Have you listened to anything I've said? Aslan is ready to forgive!"

An intense relief she did not understand washed over Susan. Tears poured from her eyes as she begged, "What must I do to be forgiven?"

"You've already done half of it. You know that what you have done is wrong."

"Oh, so awful!"

"Now is no different than before. Only believe, and put your trust in the Lion!"

CRASH! More burning wood fell. "How does that save me from the fire?" Susan cried over the roar of the fire.

Melanie looked out the window again. Susan did too, and for one fleeting moment, Susan thought she could make out a shadow on the grass.

"He says we must jump to him! Do you believe he will catch you?"

"What?" Susan shrieked, "That's crazy! How will we survive?"

"Susan! He can do it!" Melanie grabbed her hand, "I don't want to leave you! Do you believe?"

Somehow, Susan found herself standing along with Melanie on the window's ledge. She clutched at the sill beside her. "I . . . I can't do it!" she gasped, "It's too high! I'm not worthy!"

"Susan! Belief is a choice! Do you believe? Will you jump?"

Through the blinding despair and wretched remorse, Susan discovered within herself the intense longing to believe, and more than that, to know what she believed. She channeled this desire and let go of the sill.

"I believe!" she said firmly for the first time in nearly ten years, "I believe in Aslan!"

"Then let's jump!" And as Melanie said the last word, both ladies pushed off the window.

They were floating, falling, and Susan's heart filled with joy as she looked and saw the Great Lion. He was there! The ground came up fast beneath them, and the world snuffed out in instant blackness…

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter 30

All around was inky black . . . It was smotheringly hot . . . oh no! Was this . . . hell? It wasn't supposed to be like that . . . was it? Surely not . . . Yet she could feel all around her a pricking, and she knew if it wasn't so dark she would be able to see the hideous pitchforks and the nightmarish demons holding them . . . Aslan hadn't forgiven her after all . . . she was receiving her punishment . . . what right had she, after all, to expect—

"You can open your eyes now, Susan."

A voice whispering in her ear brought Susan fully to her senses. It dawned on her that—far from being engulfed in darkness—her eyes were truly shut tightly. She opened them to behold forgiving sunlight beaming gently through stalks of hay surrounding her . . . and Melanie. So they had survived together! But—"Where are we?" Susan wondered, unconsciously matching Melanie's whisper.

"In a haystack," Melanie whispered back with a mischievous grin.

Susan rolled her eyes. "Well, obviously, silly, but where is the haystack?"

"I'm not—"

At that moment, a strange, muffled sound erupted from outside the haystack.

"What was that?" Susan asked fearfully.

"I'll found out," and so saying, Melanie wriggled free of the golden straw—right under the nose of "A horse!" she cried in surprise.

The poor animal wheeled back with a whinnied, "Good heavens!" and another voice cried out, "Hey now!" behind him.

Melanie gasped. It was a Talking Horse! Edmund said there were Talking Animals in Narnia, and all the Narnians treated them like people. "I'm very sorry," she apologized to the Horse.

"I should say you ought to be!" it blustered at her, gathering its wounded dignity and stalking away.

Just behind the horse (having been thrown off when Melanie surprised it), a man struggled to his feet.

"I'm very sorry, sir," Melanie apologized to him, "I didn't mean to frighten your horse."

The man brushed the grass and hay off his sleeves with a smile. "That's all right, no harm do—" He finally glanced at Melanie's face and appeared so shocked that he nearly fell over again. "Melanie?" he gasped.

Melanie looked closely at this man who seemed to know her: a strong, handsome face, golden hair and a short beard. There was something vaguely familiar about his face that Melanie could not place until he said, "Melanie, it's me." He made a motion with his hands, and in that simple movement, Melanie knew this man and felt faint. She grabbed his arm, not only to steady herself, but also to assure herself of the reality of the situation.

"Pe . . . Pe—p-p-Peter!" she gasped, "How—What—Why—I . . . we thought you were dead!" She glanced over the kingly garments he wore. "How grand you look now!"

"Hey, Pete! What's this Harold says about girls popping out of haystacks?"

With that lusty question, (to the wonderment and elation of Melanie!), around the haystack came Edmund! Close behind him were Lucy, Eustace, Jill, even the Professor and Aunt Polly!

"How is this possible?" Melanie cried out of sheer joy, feeling as if she could not embrace her old friends soon enough. "We thought you were all dead, but you're here!"

Peter grinned, still the same young man (if a bit wiser-looking with his beard), "And so we are, as are you."

Melanie looked at Peter strangely. "I am . . . what?"

"You're dead," Eustace told her, as matter-of-factly as he would have said, "You're a girl." He continued, "You see, this looks like the old Narnia, but really, that Old Narnia was only a copy or a shadow of this Narnia, the Real Narnia, and it will last forever and we—because we believed in Aslan—will live here forever."

Melanie was saved from having to decipher this jumble of information by the recollection of a certain someone she had left in the haystack. "Oh!" she cried, "You'll all very much want to know whom I've brought with me!" She ran back to the mound of straw. "Come on out and say hello!" she cried to the person inside.

"I don't think I shall!" came the muffled reply.

Not to be deterred, Melanie reached in and grabbed the stubborn individual. "Don't be such a goose!" she reproved her friend, "come on!"

Reluctantly, sheepishly, Melanie's mysterious companion left the secrecy of the haystack and stood shamefaced before everyone.

"Susan!" Lucy squealed. She was the first to run forward and throw her arms around her penitent sister. Everyone followed soon after, and Susan, far from being rejected as she expected, soon found herself at the center of a very loving, very sincere embrace.

She laughed and wept at the same time. "You don't think ill of me, then, for how spiteful I've been to you all?"

"Of course not!" Lucy cried. "And even if we didn't want to, the fact that you're here means that Aslan has forgiven you, so we ought to forgive you as well! You are our sister, after all!"

The hug broke, and Susan said, "Well, to be sure, I don't know how he could ever forgive one so wretched as I."

"Do you not, Child?" a low, melodious voice asked, and Susan turned to face the Great Lion himself.

"Oh Aslan!" she fell at his feet, "I am so wicked, so undeserving of your forgiveness . . ."

"Yet I give it all the more, Child. You are bought with my life. Would I let such a one perish?"

Susan mustered all her courage and said, "I am sorry for my lack of faith, Aslan."

Aslan bowed his great head and drew his tongue across her forehead in a Lion's kiss. "Rise, Queen Susan; you are forgiven. Enjoy the reward I have waited so long to give you!"

Susan stood, finally free from guilt and shame. Lucy sidled up to her and wrapped her arm around Susan's waist. "Let me take you to meet everyone!"

"And now!" Aslan continued in a stronger voice, "Melanie, come here!"

Melanie approached the Lion and stood before him. "You have made me known before Lords and Kings, and have performed each task I gave you well and fully. As you have acknowledged me, so shall I acknowledge you!" Then Aslan threw back his great golden head and roared, "Well done, my faithful steward! Enjoy the reward I have prepared for you!"

Melanie looked and caught her breath. It seemed in an instant, all of Nast—indeed, all Telmar—spread out before her like a gigantic map. Many people streamed from it.

"How wonderful!" she gasped.

"Melanie!" someone called.

Melanie looked toward the voice and cried, "Taurin!"

Everyone watched as she embraced a Telmarine with light brown hair and fair skin. Standing next to the young man were two more Telmarines and a young woman.

Melanie greeted the first man, "Lord Fausberg!"

"Well met, Lady Melanie," the man replied.

Taurin beckoned to the other two. "Melanie, may I introduce my wife, Pollah, and my son, Melonni."

Pollah immediately embraced Melanie. "How wonderful to finally meet you!"

Taurin grinned proudly, "And that's not all!"

A fair-haired, beautiful young woman took his arm laughingly, and Melanie recognized her immediately. "Britta!" she squealed.

"Oh Melanie!" the woman cried, throwing her arms around the young girl, "I always knew we would see each other again!"

"You knew the Lion too?" Melanie asked in surprise.

Britta shrugged. "Not specifically; I had heard of him and knew his ways, and I always sought to follow him. He met me just before I died, and brought me with him."

Melanie saw many other familiar faces. "But who are all these people?" she asked.

"Don't you know?" asked a young man coming up behind her. It was Martan! He gestured to the multitude of Telmarines greeting the Narnians and each other on the lawn. "This, Lady Melanie, is your legacy. Do you not remember how you made me write everything down, how you challenged me never to let Nast forget Aslan? Do you not recall those giving-delegations you so faithfully sent out? They became the first Telmarine missionaries, and spread the message of Aslan to the whole nation." He grinned with satisfaction. "Haven't I carried out your orders well, ma'am?"

Melanie gazed dazedly at the massive throng. "My legacy . . ." she murmured, and suddenly laughed for the sheer joy of it.

Peter, meanwhile, looked off in the distance and saw Susan, standing apart from everything with fear in her eyes.

"What's wrong, Su?" he asked.

Susan first glanced around to make sure no one was near, and then said, "I'm worried Peter; worried that . . . well, that this will all end, and I'll be—I don't know—sent back, or I'll do something wrong, and wake up from it somehow, and be all alone again."

She gasped as Aslan's shadow fell on her. "Have no cause for fear, child. Did I not say that the next time you saw me, it would be forever?

"Do you not remember the fire in that little cottage in the country? According to your world, you and Melanie perished in that fire. You are reckoned 'dead', for no one can enter here and be otherwise. Yet because of my sacrifice on the Stone Table so long ago, those who belong to me die only in the Shadowlands, but I make them new and bring them here to the New Narnia I have made where there is neither age nor sickness, nor evil, nor tears, nor death."

Hearing these comforting words spawned a growing excitement within Susan. "Then . . ." she tried to understand, "Then I may stay here forever? This is not the end?"

"No, Child, it is not The End. It is the Great Beginning, and it will last forever."

And though we have reached the end of our book, our friends have just begun the first chapter in the Great Book of Time, which extends forever and always into eternity!

THE VERY END