Barely posting this on time, but it still counts! Turns out typing with one hand is more difficult than I anticipated. Typos most likely abound, but I will do my best to fix them in the next couple of days-mainly I just wanted to get this chapter up since you have all been so wonderfully encouraging!

NarniaGirl: Great to hear from you again; I am glad you are still enjoying this story! Don't worry about always being able to review (don't get me wrong, I love reviews!) But if you don't get a chance to leave one every chapter that is perfectly alright :-) Thank you for your very kind words about my writing; I try to do as well as I can :-) And also for your good wishes on my recovery!

Aslan's Daughter: I am feeling a bit better now, thank you for your good wishes! I'm glad the description of the knife was to your satisfaction-it took a surprising amount of work to make it seem real to me, so I am glad you could see it from my descriptions. And yes, I do have quite a bit planned for Obridesh in later chapters...

Also, it is interesting you should mention Miriam...you'll have to wait and see!

Guest: Thank you again for your immensely kind words! I am glad I managed to capture Edmund's character as it gave me a good bit of trouble in the last chapter. Glad you are still enjoying the story and thank you for reviewing!

She existed in darkness—tossed on unkind waves like a piece of the debris that surrounded her. Hearing and sensation passed beyond the realm of consciousness as the sea buffeted her—seeming like a living thing and tossing her to and fro as a child might toss a ball.

Then the waves calmed, and she drifted for an interminable age—no longer with stiffly frozen limbs—until slowly thought, hearing and sense returned, and Lucy found herself drawing in a gasping breath with aching lungs and coughing the salt water back into the sea.

She floated in water that as no longer chilled and angry, but was warm as the gentle surf breaking against the beach of Cair Paravel in high summer. The sea was her friend now, the sound of waves breaking against old, worn rocks was her lullaby, and the water on which she floated felt like the softest bed she could ever have imagined—and Lucy slept.

11th. Greenroof, 1012—Sixthday

When Lucy woke it was to find that she was laying on warm sand and the sea was lapping against the shore a few feet to her left (she knew this because she very accustomed to being near the sea and could hear the gentle sound of waves breaking against the sandy beach). She was reluctant to open her eyes for she felt very comfortable lying where she was and knew that once she did open her eyes Susan would doubtless be hovering over her—ready to scold her about the state of her gown.

I must have fallen asleep on the beach again, she thought blearily, stretching the cramped muscles of her legs and burying her toes in warm sand. It was odd that her body ached, and she cast her mind back, trying to remember if there was a reason for it. Surely I can't have fallen from the cliffs. If she had there would have been a commotion, running feet, Peter shouting her name, but she did remember a vague sensation of falling.

Still, the sand was comfortable beneath her back, the sun was warm on her face, and the sound of the sea was so peaceful that the gap in her memory did not trouble her overmuch. She wiggled her toes, giggling as the sand tickled the bottoms of her feet, and borrowed more comfortably into her sandy bed. She might have fallen asleep again in mere moments had it not been for the answering, and rather shrill giggle, that emanated from the water to her left.

There was a splash and warm salt water sprayed across her face as she heard another giggle.

"Mummy, I think the strange creature is waking up!" a very young voice exclaimed, as more water showered over Lucy's head and shoulders.

She smiled, yawned, and cracked her eyelids open slightly to stare up at the azure dome of sky stretching above her. It would hardly be possible to keep sleeping on such a beautiful day, she thought contentedly, no longer feeling particularly sleepy at any rate. The voice, combined with the splashing water, left her with no doubt that it was one of the Merfolk who had been watching for her to wake.

Once her eyes had adjusted to the brightness of the mid-day sun, she pushed herself up on one elbow and turned towards the voice. A Sea Girl, of about nine or ten years with a round, slightly blue face and a tangled mop of kelp green hair was splashing merrily about in the shallow water a yard or so off shore. She looked rather startled when she saw Lucy watching her and dipped her head beneath the shallow water—sending another spray of water over Lucy as her fish tail slapped against the surface of the sea in alarm.

Lucy realised then that she couldn't possibly be on the beach below Cair Paravel—the Merfolk she was used to swimming with did not have blue skin, and she only knew one elderly Sea Woman who had such dark green hair.

"It's alright," she called after the girl, hoping her voice would not frighten her more. "Please don't swim away!" Now that she knew she was not at Cair Paravel she very much did not want to be alone until she could be certain something terrible had not happened.

The green head emerged cautiously from beneath the water a few yards further off shore and Lucy smiled at her. "Mummy!" the Girl called again, still seeming rather alarmed. "It can talk!"

A second head emerged from the water—this one crowned by a tangle of greenish-brown hair—and an older Sea Woman smiled kindly at Lucy, as she wrapped an arm around her daughter's shoulders.

"Of course she can talk, Maera," she scolded gently. "She's a Daughter of Eve."

The Girl, Maera, splashed back towards the shore—clutching the folds of her mother's kelp gown in one hand—and staring at Lucy with wide, amber eyes. "A Daughter of Eve?" she asked, shrilly curious, and Lucy smiled at her.

"My name's Lucy," she explained, keeping her voice low so as not to frighten the child again. "I'm sorry I startled you—I often go swimming with Merfolk and thought you must have been one of my friends at first."

Maera regarded her seriously before a smile flashed across her face and she giggled again. "That's alright! We can be friends now, and then you won't be scary!"

Her mother gave a long-suffering sigh and shook her head, though she too was smiling. "Lucy did you say your name was?" she asked, brow furrowing with thought. "You must be named after the Narnian queen at Cair Paravel."

Lucy frowned, wondering if she should tell them that she wasn't merely named after the Narnian queen. They seemed very kind, and she had never known Merfolk to bear any animosity towards her, or her family, but she still didn't know quite where she was.

She remembered now that she had been sailing for the Lone Islands—she had left her cabin to take a walk above decks, she had spoken with Captain Rhegus, but after that she couldn't quite remember. If they had reached the Lone Islands safely then why was she on an unknown beach—alone save for strange Sea People?

I do so hate keeping secrets, Lucy thought regretfully as she sat up the rest of the way, and brushed most of the sand from her tangled hair.

"Where am I?" she asked the older Sea Woman—blinking away the strange dizziness that swept over her when she moved. What ever is the matter with me?

The Sea Woman shook her head and her face flushed a darker blue. "You're on Felimath, young one. Nor are you the first to be washed ashore here—my sister told me of a group of Galman merchants who she found the day before yesterday. It's the work of pirates, you see—they steal ships and throw the crew overboard. We save those we can," she paused and shook her head sadly. "But some have perished beneath the waves before my sisters and I can reach them. We found you in a tangle of wreckage and brought you to shore to recover."

Wreckage. That sounded familiar—she remembered burning lifeboats and the acrid, smoke thick air filling her lungs. The Hyaline! That was it—they had been attacked—the Galman ship had crashed into them. She had fallen, she could remember now the brief flash of terror that filled her as she plummeted towards the sea. But where is everyone else? Surely I can't be the only one who made it off the ship.

Lucy thought her face must have paled considerably because the Sea Woman drifted closer to the shore, her own face displaying very motherly concern.

"Are you alright, young one?" she asked gently, motioning for Maera to be silent when the girl opened her mouth to speak. "You've gone quite pale—nearly blue enough to be one of us."

Lucy nodded miserably, wishing she knew if she could trust the seeming kindness of her rescuers. Her first instinct was always to trust (else she would scarcely have followed a strange Faun home for tea), but her siblings had spent many years trying to make her use proper sense, rather than instinct, when trusting those she met.

Edmund would say she did not know enough about these Merfolk to trust them yet—he would likely add that many evil things seem fair at first, and (seeing as he spoke from experience) Lucy would find that a very valid argument against blind trust.

Susan would warn her, yet again, about the dangers of befriending anyone who may only be interested in her rank as Queen. Susan was nearly as bad as Edmund when it came to trusting—though her reasons were based on a fear of Lucy's kindness and generous nature being taken advantage of. Lucy had to admit Susan had been right in the past—there had been more than one Faun who, having heard of her friendship with Tumnus, traveled to Cair Paravel seeking more favour than he had earned.

Peter—what would Peter do?—a moment later he found herself smiling at the foolish question. Peter would not have worried about betrayal. He was confident in his ability to defend himself if anyone attempted treachery. Then again, she reflected ruefully, Peter wouldn't be in this situation.

"Are you alright dear?" prompted the Sea Woman when Lucy did not respond to her previous query, drifting as close to shore as she could while still remaining mostly submerged in the blue water.

Lucy forced a smile, though now that she remembered how she came to be here her head had begun to ache. "Was there anyone else?" I have to know what happened to Rhegus and the others. "From my ship, I mean?"

The Sea Woman frowned and pressed her green tinted lips together in a thin, line. "Your ship? Young one, we found no ship, only you—drifting amid too little debris to account for more than a small boat."

"But I'm not looking for the ship," Lucy protested desperately. "I'm looking for the crew!" Lucy did not often lose her temper—most Narnians were unaware that she even possessed one—but her head throbbed with pain, her whole body ached, and, combined with the fact that she was alone in the company of strangers, these circumstances were enough to make her voice far sharped than she intended.

"Perhaps one of my sisters has found your friends," the Woman suggested, frown fading to be replaced by a sympathetic expression. Maera, who had splashed away to chase something that Lucy could not see beneath the water, resurfaced in a spray of water—still grinning exuberantly—and sent a wave of sea water crashing into Lucy.

"Maera!" scolded the older Woman, and Lucy was certain that—had she been human—she would have put her hands on her hips in an almost perfect imitation of Susan.

The flash of annoyance Lucy had felt moments before faded just as swiftly as it had come, and she smiled at Maera as she shook most of the water from her hair. Maera's mother sighed again and propelled her daughter further out to sea with a firm hand on her shoulder.

"Go and play, little urchin. Perhaps you can find one of Tritus' daughters to exhaust with your boundless energy."

Maera contorted her face in to an expression which Lucy was certain must have been a common one on her own face when confronted with the similar tactics employed by Susan. She gazed up at her mother with impossibly wide eyes—the perfect model of innocent and guileless pleading—but the older Sea Woman seemed as remarkably unimpressed by the feat as any mother might be expected to be.

"Go on, perhaps our visitor will feel like playing with you later. Now off you go, little imp." The final words were accompanied with an affectionate splash of water in Maera's direction and the Girl at last turned with a final indignant huff and swam away with a great deal of graceless, and unnecessary splashing.

Lucy couldn't help smiling as she watched her go, though she felt slightly wistful as well. How long had it been since she felt as truly carefree as Maera—free from duty and expectation.

"Now then," the Sea Woman said with a smile as she drifted closer to shore. "My name is Amathia, and perhaps you, your majesty, would tell me how I may best aid you?"

Lucy stared at her in shock, but she also couldn't deny the feeling of immense relief at being recognised. Now I don't have to lie, though I suppose she might still be dangerous. Still, she couldn't truly entertain the notion that Amathia meant her any harm. There was no hint of evil in her smile, and nothing that made Lucy feel even remotely uneasy. Edmund would likely still have warned her to be cautious, but the Merfolk had asked nothing of her and offered her no kindness that might have been considered a bride. Surely not all the kindness of strangers can come from evil or greed. Aslan would not allow His world to be so tainted by darkness.

She found herself smiling at the Sea Woman, and pushed away utterly any lingering misgivings she would have been urged to feel by others. There is no danger here.

"I need to find my crew." She straightened her shoulders, brushed the last of the sand from her hair, and did her best to straighten her rumpled dress. "You mentioned there were Galmans who had been brought ashore—might my people have landed near them?"

Amathia seemed to consider the question for a moment, dipping her hands beneath the gentle waves and seeming to listen to the voice of the sea as the water ebbed and flowed around her webbed fingers. Lucy watched her curiously and wondered if the sea really did speak to her.

The rivers of Narnia were alive with Naiads and Water gods, but she had always considered the sea to be different. Merfolk were not the spirits of the sea—they merely lived in it as Fauns, Satyrs, and other Narnians lived in the woods—but perhaps that did not prevent the sea itself from being alive. She wondered if the spirit of the Sea would be like the River gods, or if it would be too vast for her to comprehend—if such a thing even existed.

Perhaps Amathia could tell me. I do so want to know! She was just opening her mouth to ask, when the Sea Woman withdrew her hands from the water and sighed.

"I cannot be sure if it has anything to do with your people, but there is some great disturbance along the southern coast. It is not far from here, your majesty, if you wish to seek your people there." She looked up at Lucy expectantly, as if expecting her to jump back into the sea and swim halfway around the island.

Lucy actually considered doing so for a moment. She was a reasonably strong swimmer (though Susan could swim farther and more gracefully) and usually loved to throw herself into the waves with an enthusiasm her elder sister viewed as reckless, but her head and limbs still ached from her fall and subsequent buffeting in this very sea.

"Is it far along the coast line? Could I walk there?" She wondered with a vague sense of embarrassment if that was the wrong sort of question to ask someone who did not possess legs, but rather than seeming offended Amathia only considered the query for a moment.

"I believe it could be done before the Sun sinks below the sea," she answered with a grave nod. "But I must ask your pardon that I cannot accompany you properly on land. I must swim some distance from shore where the water is deep enough that I need not risk becoming mired in the sand when the waves recede."

Lucy nodded, assuring her that she should consider her own safety above all else, Amathia instructed her regarding her direction of travel, and Lucy found herself setting out on her trek. She decided almost immediately that it simply wouldn't do to continue walking so near the water. The sand was deep and very fine, and she kept slipping when she tried to walk. And, seeing as she had been barefoot when she fell from the Hyaline the soles of her feet had no protection against the jagged edges of the shells hidden in the sand.

The sea was to her right, but to her left was a low embankment of pale clay that led up to a flat, grassy land which appeared perfect for walking barefoot across. It took a good bit of breathless scrambling and a few harmless tumbles (the clay was soft and chalky, and it kept giving way beneath her weight as she tried to climb up the embankment), but at last she succeeded in reaching the slightly higher grassland.

Lucy paused and caught her breath in wonder—she had never before seen a land so flat and quiet. Most of Narnia consisted of wooded slopes, and plunging, misty valleys through which rivers ran—and no matter where she traveled there were always an abundance of Talking Animals, Dryads, Fauns, and the occasional tribe of secretive Black Dwarves or loquacious and jolly Red Dwarves. Narnia was a merry land, full of life and variety, and Lucy loved it with all her heart—but that did not lessen the rush of joy she felt when gazing out across the silent, peaceful meadow before her.

A few sheep dotted the grassy expanse, but they were a good distance away, and Lucy doubted they were Talking Sheep anyway. Aside from those silent grazers she seemed to be alone, save for the few gulls whirling high in the light blue sky above her.

The ground was soft and cool beneath her bare toes as she walked, and there seemed to be very few stones to cause her grief. Lucy drew in deep lungfuls of the warm, sea scented air and felt herself relax. She knew that she ought to worry—after all, she was shipwrecked on a largely deserted island and still couldn't be sure if the rest of her crew were there too—but it was impossible for her to feel anything except a peaceful warmth as she continued her trek along the edge of the embankment.

Would it be so terrible to stay here always? she wondered, tilting her head back to stare up at the sky as she walked. It's so very beautiful, and I can't remember when I last felt so free. The carefree nature she had earlier felt envious towards Maera because of seemed to sweep her up in its embrace now. There were no dusty books, no shoes, or ladies in waiting, and no seemingly insurmountable challenges facing her.

I do love Narnia, and my family of course, and my people, but would it do very much harm to stay here a bit longer? If Rhegus and the others are here than I'm sure they're safe and mightn't they have a lovely time too? She looked to her left, away from the sea and out over the gently sloping land of the island that stretched away in waves of knee high green grass.

"Amathia!" She leant over the embankment and called out to the distant speck of green against the blue water that marked the Sea Woman's location—it seemed she had stopped to wait for Lucy to catch up. "I'm going to explore the island—I'll meet you on the southern shore tomorrow!"

She barely waited to see one of Amathia's long, blue arms wave at her in what she took as acknowledgement before she was turning back towards the open grasslands.

"Your majesty, wait!" But by the time Amathia's call reached her, Lucy was already running.

The light breeze was cool against her face and tugged gently at her hair as she ran—finding that it seemed marvelously easy to cover a great deal of distance and scarcely realise it. It was a wonderful feeling and she laughed aloud, feeling that it was somehow easier to laugh with sheer joy when there was no one to hear or question her.

She was thoroughly winded but still exuberant with freedom when she stopped at last and threw herself down to lie panting among the softly waving blades of grass. She lay there for some time, staring up at the grass that arched above her like a vaulted ceiling, and thinking of nothing in particular. It was very peaceful, but Lucy found at last (as always happened after she ran) that she was dreadfully thirsty. Presently she sat up and looked about her, wondering if there might be stream nearby.

The sea was a distant blue line in the direction she had come, and she knew there was no fresh water back along the path her steps had made through the grass. Before her the land sloped down gently for another few hundred yards, and at the bottom of the slight valley created by the slope she saw a cluster of trees. If she sat very still and listened intently Lucy thought she could just barely hear the sound of running water.

She got to her feet, a little stiffly after running so far and then lying so very still, and made her way much more slowly down the gentle slope. The peace of the place had not diminished, but she felt strangely wistful now—almost sorrowful.

How odd—I was so pleased by the thought of being alone and exploring, and now I have the strangest feeling that I'd rather someone here with me. She paused to look back over her shoulder at the distant sea, wondering if Amathia was worried about her. I'm lonely! she realised suddenly, with a feeling of great surprise.

Lucy was not used to being lonely—she was so rarely alone that it had never been much of a concern for her. Still, it had been her choice to go off on her own and explore the island, and it had been marvelous.

"I suppose I'll go on and look for the stream," she said aloud, almost hoping the sound of her own voice would make her feel less alone. "Then I'll go back and try to find the others."

She was in amongst the trees now and the sound of running water grew steadily louder until she pushed her way through a tangle of wild rhododendron and saw the source of the sound. It was not a stream at all, but rather a spring that bubbled up merrily from between two mossy boulders and trickled into a small, almost perfectly circular pool that reflected the leaves and sky above. It was a beautiful sight, but what made her breath catch in her throat and her heart give a great leap of joy was the huge, golden Lion who lay beside the pool.

Forgetting the urgency she had felt to find water Lucy ran to Him and threw her arms around His neck. "Aslan!"

The Lion chuckled and caught her between His two front paws in a strong, unimaginably comforting embrace. Lucy felt her earlier sense of peace return to her, only it was magnified beyond anything she had felt before. "Welcome, dear one," said the Lion quietly, and Lucy buried her face against His mane.

"Oh Aslan! I'm so very glad you're here! I-I think I was lonely." Lucy found that she was rather embarrassed by the admission and was very glad that her face was hidden in the golden fur—although she was certain Aslan knew anyway.

"Do you understand better now, Daughter of Eve?"

"Understand?" She sat next to Him, leaning against His side and staring down into the sky reflected on the smooth surface of the pool. "You mean understand why I wanted to go exploring on my own and then didn't want to be alone?"

"Yes."

Lucy shook her head. "No, I don't think I do. It was so wonderful to be free, to run through the grass with no destination and no necessity for doing so, but then I couldn't help seeing how beautiful everything was and realising how no one was here to see it with me. And now—oh bother! I've worried my friends, haven't I, Aslan?"

"Look into the pool, dear one," Aslan told her kindly, nudging her forward with His nose until she sat at the very edge of the still water. "Tell me, what do you see?"

Lucy blinked confused, and stared down. Her own face looked back up at her, brows furrowed in a slight frown and hair a wild tangle—above her arched the green of the trees with patches of blue visible between the leave. "Myself, and the sky," she answered, confused and feeling that surely she was missing something.

Aslan breathed out, long and slow, and His breath rippled the pool's surface—sending flashes of colour dancing outwards. "Look again."

And when she looked again she did not see her own face, or the trees and sky above. She saw a man in Calormene clothes kneeling before a terrible altar made of heavy black stone and there were tears streaming down his face.

She saw Cair Paravel—its outer wall hung with the black banners of mourning—and Susan standing tall and proud beside a man whose face she could not quite make out.

Then the scene shifted, and she saw Peter sitting before an unfamiliar hearth, shoulders slumped, and head dropped forward into his hands as if in sorrow or great exhaustion. Brickle hovered solicitously at his elbow, and seemed to be speaking in an animated fashion, but Peter was taking no notice of him. She wanted to call out to him, to offer comfort, but before she could open her mouth to speak he was gone.

Next Rhegus' face flashed across the still water. He looked worn and exhausted, his wild red hair in an even greater state of disarray than usual and his sun darkened face lined with worry as he spoke with a very old man who stood hunched next to him. Lucy wondered what it was that made him frown so when he seemed almost perpetually merry.

Then she saw Edmund, lying on a low sofa with a richly embroidered coverlet pulled up to his chin. His face was pale and bruised, and he didn't look quite the same as she remembered somehow, but before she could begin to decide what was different, the scene rippled and broke apart.

There was a sound like shattering glass and she saw something dark and almost metallic breaking against stone. The shards fell to the ground with faint tinkling sounds and vanished when they struck it.

The water rippled once more, dispersing the images and she was staring down at her own face again and could see Aslan's face reflected above her. She turned back to him, shaking her head to clear it of the strange images, and frowned. "I'm afraid I still don't understand, Aslan."

"No," agreed the Lion, sounding as though He were smiling. "But you shall in good time. I have not come to scold you, Lucy, but to show you what you must see. Remember what you have seen, and when the time comes you will understand. Now, tell Me, what do you think of this island?"

"It's lovely! I could almost wish to stay here always," Lucy admitted with no trace of embarrassment this time. "But, I have worried my friends, haven't I?"

"What you did was necessary so that I might show what you needed to see," he answered gravely. "But there was another purpose to your escape from duty as well. Do you now feel differently about what you sought to escape? Do you miss those you were so eager to leave behind before?"

"Yes." She smiled at the realisation. "Is that why I needed to get away? So that I could know how much I would miss everyone else if I was alone?"

Aslan chuckled and dipped His head forward to drink from the pool. He raised his muzzle a moment later and splashed her with water droplets as He shook them from his whiskers. Lucy laughed and danced back a step to avoid being soaked. After all, it wasn't as though Aslan was always serious.

"It is, and also so that you might know peace and joy, even if only for a few moments. Do you feel prepared now, to return to your duties with an eager heart?"

Lucy considered for a moment, remembering first the freedom and joy she felt when running across the meadows and lying in the tall grass, and then remembering the strange longing for the companionship of other living Creatures that had followed. "Yes," she said at last, feeling that it was far more true than it had ever been before. "Yes, I think I'm ready now. Thank you, Aslan for showing me that."

He purred and rested his still damp muzzle atop her head. "Remember, dear heart. Remember what you have seen." And then He was gone, and Lucy found herself standing alone beside the pool, listening to the merry bubbling of the water, but feeling a certainty of purpose that had been lacking before.

She knelt beside the pool and drank her fill of the sweet water, before rising and turning her face resolutely towards the south. Her crew was waiting, she was certain of that, and she had a duty to fulfill.

I hope I did alright with this chapter! Also, read the bit about the pool carefully...some of those things will be VERY important later ;-). Review if you can, I love you reviews and you all make my day when you share your thoughts! Also, this hasn't been beta read yet, so please excuse any minor errors. I will be posting an updated, beta read version with grammatical corrections in the near future.

Thanks so much for reading!

Cheers,

A