BellatrixTheStar was kind enough to build a few ideas on chapter 15, where the trees on the Narnian side of the wardrobe remembered the Queen who walked through them. This epilogue is therefore not my idea nor my world, and written for my friend.

More trees remember than just the ones in Narnian air. Long, long before they grew, before their seeds were sown, another tree was planted; another tree grew to fullness, each day remembering.

Sown from the apple seeds of the tree of protection, the tree in England held deep the memories of that other world.

"... inside itself, in the very sap of it, the tree (so to speak) never forgot the other tree in Narnia to which it belonged. Sometimes it would move mysteriously when there was no wind blowing: I think that when this happened there were high winds in Narnia and the English tree quivered because, at that moment, the Narnian tree was rocking and swaying in a strong gale."*

The tree it came from was sown at Aslan's command. The first tree was made to protect the land of Narnia, and the English tree always remembered. As a seed it had heard the deep and golden Voice; as it grew it remembered the voice, and the command.

And it remembered the land from which it came.

It felt, too, when the first tree fell. It felt when the protection ceased.

It remembered the purpose for which the first tree was sown. It remembered the purpose grown in its very seed.

And so, on a day of high winds and pouring rain, the English tree remembered, and loosened its roots. It allowed the wind to tear it from the ground, from the English soil it lived in, and it laid itself down to die.

Even then, the tree remembered. Though it died, still the wood held the memories of another world.

The Son of Adam, that once planted its seed in the ground, mourned its fall and made it into a wardrobe.

The wood has been cut, polished, and shaped. There were no branches, no roots, no trunk. Yet still the wood remembered.

And when, at last, that wood felt the hands of one whose spirit belonged in Narnia, the wood called to the trees of the land it remembered, and the door within it opened.

A breeze blew from its open doors into that other world, and with it came the Narnian Queen, to walk beneath the Narnian wood. A gift, from the tree that remembered, to the wood that welcomed her.

*The Magician's Nephew