To my reviewers:

Yes, I am a Christian, in answer to some of your questions. ;-)

I believe Christ died for my sins and made me a new person—I happened to accept him in my heart at the ripe age of four. Hehe.

I'm glad General Oreius agrees with me on the subject of Aslan/God. Its true, Lewis wrote Aslan as symbolism for Jesus, and the death of Aslan to save Edmund replica of Jesus dying on the cross.

So, sorry if any of ya'll don't want to read my story from now on, but I understand. But it's a little worthwhile to risk it, eh? ;-)

Oh, and to answer question of King Lune's age: he isn't very old, he's a middle-aged man, actually. In the letter from he to the Narnians, he expressed that he wanted to renew the alliance that his grandfathers (or generations ago or whatever) had begun. He's merely continuing it. Shasta and Corin were born about six years earlier, and about six years into their reign, Shasta will return (about age 12, we believe) he'll save Archenland. (read the Horse and His Boy for more details).

Chapter 28, Sallowpad Returns and a new Gift

That afternoon, wewelcomed back our favourite bird. He flew in at precisely noon, and bowed low, and eagerly looked into our faces expectantly.

"We have decided to accept you," said Susan. "Aslan has shown you to be a worthy advisor."

"Oh, hurrah!" cried Sallowpad, flapping his wings. "I thank you so much."

"Will you come live in the palace?" I asked, still unsure of how the whole thing worked—but oh well, we can always form our new traditions, can't we?

"It is customary," said the raven.

"Then hurry back," I said. "I suppose this room is where you'd perform most of your duties?"

"Indeed," said Sallowpad, "I've yet to see any king or queen that sits in this stuffy room for hours upon hours. Your place is outside! Among your people!"

We appreciated his enthusiasm, and after speaking with each other a few more minutes, he went on his way to inform his family and bid them farewell.

I returned to my room and stretched out on my bed, testing my sore limbs and feeling sleepy.

"Peter!" screeched Lucy, invading my room and leaping onto the bed. "Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter!"

"What?" I sat up.

"Take me to the beach, take me to the beach!" she sang.

"Where did all this energy come from?" I said a little peevishly.

"I don't know, I don't know," she continued, jumping up and down and bouncing me. She accidently landed on my sore ankle.

"Ouch!" I snapped.

She sat back on her heals. "I'm sorry."

"You're fine," I said, gritting my teeth and getting off the bed. "And you want to go to the beach? Whatever for?"

I was teasing her now, but I don't know if she could tell.

"Um…" her mind strove for an answer. "I…want to collect seashells."

"And?" I put on my boots, but I don't think she was noticing that it meant yes.

"And, I want to play in the sand."

"Anything else?"

"I would like to splash in the waves."

I gasped. "Lucinda Elizabeth Pevensie! Then why are we still sitting in here? Race you!"

I ran across the room and flung open the door, just as Lucy dived through and took off, giggling, running like mad down the glimmering hall. My ankle hurt and I decided to let her win, and followed like an old grandfather trying to keep up with an exuberant grandchild.

Susan joined me, and Edmund dashed out of his room, almost bowled us over, and took off after Lucy.

Susan handed me a package.

"What's this?" I asked, turning it over.

"A gift," she said mysteriously. "I found it in my room. I certainly won't be using it. I think you should."

"Should I?" I asked, looking at her with raised eyebrows. "What is it?"

"Find out," she said, taking off down the hall after our younger siblings.

"Sheesh," I opened it and found a book. Why shouldn't she want this? She always liked books. Full of boring definitions and languages, probably.

On the contrary, it was blank. The heavy leather binding looked like a dictionary, but in the inside was smooth, parchment paper with absolutely nothing on it.

So…okay.

I followed the sound of splashing and giggling down the hall, out a door, through a garden full of trees, down a path, and into the open air of the seashore.

"What is this, Susan?" I waved it at her.

She only dived underwater as quickly as possible.

"She wants you to be more…educated," sneered Edmund.

"There's nothing in it!" I protested.

"Let's see…what were her words again?" Edmund asked Lucy.

Lucy pondered a moment. "She said keeping a journal kept someone…more interesting, I think, and more thoughtful and understanding. I think."

Edmund rolled his eyes. "Something like that."

"Meaning what?" I exclaimed. "That I'm uninteresting, boring, and not understanding?"

"Probably!" Edmund dived in the water too.

"What he said!" Lucy jumped into another wave.

Feeling absolutely confused, and plopped into the sand and opened the journal again. Forgetting it was blank, I slammed it shut. I should have brought something with words in it. I didn't feel like getting wet today.

"Oops!" cried Edmund, flinging water in my direction.

"That's it!" I threw the book down and ran, grabbing Edmund around the waist and jumping head first into an upcoming wave.

He came up spluttering and coughing. "You idiot!"

"You idiot!" I replied.

"You idiot!" mocked Susan, dunking me. I came up spluttering and hacking.

"Why a journal?" I screeched when I surfaced. "I don't write!"

"It's time you have learned!" Susan shouted back above the roar of another wave.

After the last one receded, we resumed our shouting.

"I know how to write, I just don't keep a diary!"

"It's not as girly as you think," said Susan, "It's good for you."

"I never said it was girly, it's just dumb!"

"It is not!"

"Yes, it is."

In the end, we were both severely crushed by a wave larger than usual, and Susan won. I promised her I would try and write in it daily until it killed me—which would happen in less that two days—I informed her, and it should be on her conscience.

I wasn't able to write that night. A strange visitor came in the night and informed us of a strange, old wizard living in the Archenland mountains. Sounds peculiar and no less—

Until our visitor, a faun that looked very, very old, said these words:

"Your Majesties will be wondering what is happening back home, no? Maybe you wonder if your dear Mother even lives at this moment? For a small sum, perhaps I can help you find out."

When I went to bed, I tried to pray again.

"Aslan?"

No answer.

"I mean, God? Aslan? I need wisdom tomorrow. I really want to know what is happening to Mum. I can't abandon her. But I don't trust the faun. Something doesn't seem right. Why should he wait till now, in the middle of the night, to inform us of a wizard that can show us what is going on? I'm very confused."

I didn't sleep a wink all night.

Sorry so short! I just got a myspace and it is stressful and addictive.