Narnia:

When Children Cry

Part III

DISCLAIMER: I don't own it, la-lala lalalalala...

I love this chapter. Hehee. It's the end of Part III, but it's not the end of the book, so keep reading, please, because it's almost finished and I need to add in my TumnusLucy romance!

I got rid of the song I originally put in here, because it's my own language, so someone can steal it. Plus, publishers consider online publishing (such as Fanfic) to be actual publishing, so I won't be able to put my language into my book. Anyhow, enjoy this next chappie:

Chapter Thirty-Four

A Song for Remembering

A tear rolled down Lucy's cheek, dripping off her delicate face and shattering on the cold marble railing. She remembered a song she'd once heard; the song must've been lost somewhere in her mind, for it was a song Tumnus used to sing long ago. He wouldn't return now, there was no way life would ever breathe in him again. Why, then, did the song echo now? She thought that the song was coming from beyond the balcony where she stood... but she'd imagined many things that weren't there, lately.

She grasped tightly the thing in her hands – it was the one thing she'd paid any attention to in months. With a sad smile, she buried her empty face into the warm folds of the red muffler, taking in a deep breath. The scarf still smelt of him. If she concentrated enough, she could almost hear his laugh again...

'Lucy,' said a voice by the door.

Lucy whipped her head around and sighed. 'Edmund.'

'I wonder... Lucy, could I speak with you?'

'Say what you will, and I cannot stop you.' When Lucy spoke at all, it was all in riddles and proverb.

Edmund took in a deep breath. 'Lucy, I've been speaking with Peter and with some of the generals. We think... Well, I've seen you in armour, and you apparently defeated many enemies out there on the battlefield. Anyone can see you're a skilled warrior in battle and in the ring.' He silenced, waiting for her to say something, anything, but she didn't. He inhaled another deep breath.

'We want to give you your title now.'

She said nothing.

'Lucy, this is your title,' said Edmund disbelievingly. 'This is what you've been waiting for year after year, and you're finally getting it! Maybe you don't understand.' He was playing now. 'I, the Just, and Peter the Magnificent, and Susan the Gentle. Lucy, you'll be among us now. We're giving you your title.'

'I heard your words the first time spoken,' Lucy intoned. 'You needn't repeat yourself.'

Edmund could still not understand. 'Lucy, what is it?'

'I've died, Edmund.'

The sad thing was that he knew it to be true.

'Lucy, I'm worried about you,' Edmund said, after a significant pause. 'We all are. What happened to you?'

'It's the price everyone pays for friendship; all love has losses. This is my mark – what else do I have?'

'Lucy, perhaps you should talk with Corin – or the councillors – anyone!'

They were both silent for a while, pensive. A while later, Lucy whispered to herself: 'Where have you gone?'

Tumnus, where have you gone?

'I will come with you, Edmund, to accept this title you wish to bestow upon me,' she said stiffly. 'Take me where you will.'

Edmund frowned, as he usually did to her new demeanor, but stood and lead her out of her bed-chamber and out into the hall, with Lucy still clutching the old scarf in her pale, weak hands. It had been so long since she'd emerged from her room that she winced at the brightness of May shining in through the windows. He'd slept for five months...

The battle was won, their kidnapped birds had returned from the Winged Empresses' army, and they'd won the small western kingdom of Beruna. Yet in the five months, she'd been forbidden to see him by her fiancé, Corin. He was only a boy of thirteen years and far younger than her, but he had power over her through marriage engagement. He'd used it frequently. The only positive thing about Corin lately was that he'd postponed the wedding until she was herself again.

They trod down the stairs, Lucy following mechanically. At the ground level, Peter appeared out of a doorway. 'Edmund, might I speak with you?' he asked, and Edmund followed him. Lucy knew her place and didn't trail them.

She stood alone in the marble hall, squinting at the sunlight through the windows. Oh, it had been so long since she'd been outside... What was stopping her now?

With timid, barefoot steps, she placed one foot on the outdoor stair. She always walked in that peculiar manner now: toe first, then heel. Down the cool steps and into brightness... ah, it felt marvellous. She'd forgotten what it felt like to have the sun on her face, to have the smell of spring melting sweet all round her.

As she walked into the forest, she heard the song in her mind again. But... no, that couldn't be right. That translated into 'Where have you gone, my Queen, my friend?' Those weren't the proper words at all. Lucy sighed and leaned against a tree, hugging the red scarf close to her chest.

And here, she heard the words again: You'll find me there.

There, again! It was far away in the back of her mind, whispering words that were never written in the song: I wait for you still. The voice began singing again, sending its voice in ripples through Lucy's mind. The voice was a rich, earthy voice, like heather and night dances... she knew that voice...

'I've always waited for you,' said the voice from behind her.

Lucy leapt up from the tree, staring at the materialised voice before her. At once, she cast herself onto him, throwing her arms around his neck and weeping heavily into his shoulder. This was the console she needed; to feel his bare skin against hers, to feel their arms wrapped around each other, to know that and equal amount of need was pouring out from both of them. She needed him.

'Lucy,' he said faintly into her ear, caught in the wild delirium of the reunion. 'Lucy, Lucy, Lucy.' He ran his hands frantically over her head and neck, as though to confirm her solid existence, that this wasn't a mere dream...

'I knew you wouldn't leave me,' she wept, pressing her face into his neck. 'I hoped you wouldn't.' Lucy held him more closely than she ever had before.

He cupped her chin, lifting her head so that their foreheads touched. At the sight of her wet eyes, he became suddenly aware of his own. In a daze, he reached with ginger fingertips to touch her tears gently. He wished he could save the tears... each became more precious than the last...

From his hand, he brought out a small, white secret and pressed the fabric between their palms, and their fingers folded together. 'Of course I'd never leave,' he whispered, and now pressed his cheek to hers. 'I promised.'

E N D O F P A R T T H R E E