A/n: I'm not your typical Narnia fan. I had a love/hate relationship with the series when I was a Christian, but now I'm an agnostic atheist who has massive reservations toward Christianity but can enjoy Narnia as a work of literature while looking past the sermonizing and apologetics.

Recently, however, my re-reads and re-listens of the Narniad have been increasingly dissatisfying. Lewis's storytelling makes less and less sense as time goes by; the world's magic doesn't seem to have any rules or laws attached to it, its relationship with the real world is even more mysterious (the lapsing of time here and there is inconsistent and capricious), and characters say and do things that come out of left field, as if these people are the puppets of a master who feels compelled to tell a sermon at the expense of telling a story. It's as if Lewis made things up as he went along or filled his stories with anything he thought was cool, and held it all together with an ulterior motive of making Sunday school lessons as powerful and poignant as they were meant to be, but couldn't decide whether to be a storyteller or an apologist, so he settled with doing whatever he damn well pleased, and whatever lessons he wanted us to learn from Aslan mostly get lost in translation.

On top of that, his theology simply doesn't mesh with the Bible's words. Aslan and Jesus are two wildly different characters with wildly different personalities, appearances, goals, and motives. Jesus comes to earth to be the hope of all the world and save His people from their sins; Aslan seems to do nothing but keep people perpetually mesmerized by his majesty and power. As a result, Jesus is the Son of God incarnate, whereas Aslan is the embodiment of Lewis's beliefs, and despite Lewis himself saying Aslan is the Son of Man coming to a fantasy world as a lion, Jesus and Aslan are not the same person. It's a little hard to treat this as Christian literature when it really feels like a Bible fanfic.

I don't know why I feel this way. If I had to guess, I'd say it's because I'm seeing Narnia for what it is: masterful wordsmithing and undeniable charm enclosing a poor work of literature, demonstrating that plot, logic, and substance can bend knee to packaging and sermonizing. But thanks to fan fiction, I get to tell the stories Lewis didn't and come up with the satisfying read I wanted. (Or at least, try to. I'm rarely satisfied with anything I write, and I'm hoping to buck the trend.)

The Adventures in Narnia challenge is my attempt to tell that story. For the next 30 consecutive days, I'm writing a short story every day that will attempt to fix the problems of Narnia and bring the Bible to life in ways Lewis didn't. This will be tough, and not just because I'm an atheist with a less-than-masterful knowledge of the Bible. Every day is a different writing prompt, and I don't know these in advance nor get to choose them. But working within the confines of each prompt and attempting to tell a story that I'd want to read if I were still a Christian is an exciting challenge. And I do love a good challenge.

Peace out, y'all,
John

Prompt #1: A King, Queen, or warrior of Narnia is forced to improvise a weapon.

† Splash †

23 July 1000...

The ring of Talking Beasts hollered and cheered as the Sons of Adam locked arms over the mud, teeth gnashing and tendons bulging in the sunset glow as their feet slipped in the mud. The practice fight was always a grand spectacle when it was held in the puddle of mud near the woods along the Great River, especially when someone fell in and made a splash, but today's fight was something different. Every move was smoother than the last, every maneuver was cleverer than all the ones before, the looks on the Kings' faces were more and more stern and bilious, and what looked like a practice fight was now the real thing.

"Oh, you're a real brick, aren't you? All clever and brilliant with all your books."

"Take it up with Aslan. He made me the hero this time, so you can take that and shove it!"

Peter grunted back, and the two locked arms over the mud pit as the Talking Beasts cried and gasped in dismay. A leopard started to break away from the ring of Beasts and dashed into the din with his dappled tail whipping through the air—

"Stay out of this, Juma!" roared Edmund over his shoulder. "He wants to prove he's a warrior, and I'm going to show everyone he's a fool!"

"No, Sire, this ends now," said the leopard. "As your courtier and advisor, I order you to—"

But the boys screamed at each other once more, locking arms over the mud pit, their feet slipping and sloshing in the ground and kicking mud into the air.

"Oh, confound it," said the leopard as he swung to the ring of Beasts. "Oreius, will you get over here and help me?"

But the centaur didn't budge. He kept folding his powerful arms over his chest, his face solid rock in the storm of noise.

"What, are you blind?!" said the leopard with a stamp of his paw. "This isn't a practice; this is a brawl!"

"Who are you to order them about, Juma?" said the centaur. "Will you rescue a caterpillar from the cocoon? Will you crack the egg of a bird?"

"Oh, there you go, being all philosophical," said the leopard snidely. "The only thing you should be ruminating over is your oats."

Oreius cocked an eyebrow in indignation, but a golden eagle waddled up and lifted his wings. "Let him say what he wants, General; there's no need to have another row," he said. "Juma, you were an only child, so you wouldn't know. Brothers don't have to be rescued from every little thing. They have to work out their childishness when they're young, or they'll have to do it when they're set in their ways."

"Fletcher's right," said Oreius. "They came to us as children, so we should let them grow up in front of us. Besides," he added with a lilt in his voice, "I've been rooting for the High King ever since this started."

"And I, ever since I met him," said Fletcher.

"Unbelievable," said Juma as he rolled his eyes. "I'm surrounded by gamblers and layabouts..."

The crowd was gasping and crying out as Peter started to pull Edmund off his feet, but in the blink of an eye Edmund scrabbled away and flung a clump of mud out of his hand. Streaks of wet dirt flew across Peter's cheeks and eyes and landed in his gritting teeth, and the two were locking arms again and grappling with tendons protruding in their arms.

"I'm not just a King, you little git," said Peter through gnashing teeth. "I'm the High King…something you don't seem to remember."

"People need a judge, not a warrior," grunted Edmund.

"I'm the High King; I get to rule on their behalf, not you!"

"You just want them to shower you with love and make you feel like a King!"

"I'm already more of a King than you. Aslan made me High King, because I wasn't the one who fell in with the Witch!"

Edmund started gritting his teeth and prepared to lunge over the mud at Peter, but the words landed on him and all the wind went out of his lungs, and a pang of sheer devastation broke across his face. His eyes went misty and cheeks went red as if he had just been slapped.

All around him, the whole ring of beasts had gone silent. Juma sat in place staring dully and unperturbed, nodding as if his own suspicions had been confirmed. Fletcher wagged his head in disgust, his bill hanging open in disbelief. Even Oreius had been torn from his calm solemnity, and now he stared at the High King with unconfined disappointment.

Peter gulped for air and hung his head as he sloshed out of the puddle and gobsmacked gasps and cries rippled around him. Through his upturned eyes he saw the wide faces gazing at him, and a pang of remorse rushed through him. He held his head low to hide his reddening face, but out of the corner of his eye, he got a look at Edmund, still standing there vulnerable and inconsolable and without resolve, and Peter's frown turned upward in a nauseating smile of triumph.

Edmund's dumb stupor went out of him in a blink as he gathered his wits and hurtled across the lawn. His hands were reaching out to yank Peter by the collar and shove him off his feet, but Peter scrambled to his feet and gave an incredible leap across the puddle. He snatched him by the shoulder and shoved him off his feet with a savage yell, and Edmund toppled over and went face-first into the muck. The beasts gasped and groaned all around as a thick SMACK rang out across the lawn, and all fell quiet and still again.

"There you go, Ed," said Peter. "If this were a real battle, you'd be dead." He turned away and snatched his crown off the grass, and once he laid it on his head, he turned back around and said, "One of us deserves to be King, and he's not covered in mud."

He stood at the edge of the puddle, staring triumphantly at Edmund, waiting for him to make a move. Edmund sat there on his knees, glaring furiously at Peter, mud dripping off his face and arms, hands starting to clench into fists...but the Just King didn't budge. He shook his head and looked away, kneeling in the mud and waiting for his breath to come back to him.

But then the crowd of Beasts gasped again, and Edmund jolted up with a shout of "BLIMEY!"

He didn't have time to say more, for as soon as he let out that word, he tumbled out of the puddle and sloshed into the lawn. Peter's back was still turned as a great blur rushed up out of nowhere and shoved him into the mud with a mighty splash. A fan of mud sprayed out from his head and shoulders, scattering like a filthy rain across the lawn, and mud and dirt filled his ears and deafened him to the cries of the Beasts. Peter's body pounded as if it had been driven like a car into a wall, and his chest and face stung from the impact into the mud. His limbs shook and his breath trembled out of his mouth, and he was gulping mud into his throat.

Without warning his head jerked up above the surface, and he coughed up mud and saliva with a hack. And when he found the strength to climb onto his knees, he reached blindly for his eyes to wipe his face. And when his eyes cleared and the muddy blear was wiped away, his heart went up into his throat and his limbs went all shaky again. It was Aslan, standing there on the lawn, blazing majestically in the sunset, and his great golden eyes were narrow and stern.

"You hate what I have wrought, and you punish your brother for it," said the Lion. "I commanded you to put the past behind you, but you used it against him."

"I know," said Peter in a shaky tone. "I should've come to you...I thought I could handle it...seeing my brother get all the glory and love..." With a sigh, he started to reach for his crown, but as he got his hand around the circlet, he looked up and saw all the Beasts staring at him. The sight nauseated him and made him taste bile in his throat as he opened his hand up and let the crown fall away, and he knelt down in the puddle and wagged his throbbing head. "My God, what have I done?"

A solemn silence filled the ring of Beasts. Some fidgeted and nickered, speaking to each other in hushes and tones. Edmund knew what it meant. They were all saying the same thing Peter did. Then without warning, Edmund cleared his throat and said, "It wasn't that bad, Peter, seeing as how grown-ups have done worse. And anyway, I could've been better to you. When I said all that rot, I was a bit full of myself—"

"But you were right, Ed," said Peter sadly. "I was a fool. They haven't needed me; they've needed you. And I was so full of myself that I couldn't bear to see it." With a scoff, he said, "Some King I turned out to be. How can I be a King when I'm acting like a kid?" And with a doleful sigh, he sloshed out of the puddle and waddled across the lawn, dribbling muck with every step.

"Have you forgotten, Peter?" said Aslan. And with a tilt of his head, his eyes wandered toward the circlet of gold half-sunken in the mud.

"Why, Aslan?" said Peter. "Even after this?"

"A man is a King because I make him so. Not even this moment in time will change that. But when a boy grows into a man, it doesn't happen through my power alone."

A flash of despair went through Peter's face, but one look into Aslan's face, and it fell away as quickly as it came. With a mournful sigh, the High King knelt down again, picking up the circlet in his muddy hands and starting to smear away the grime. "Maybe that's really the point," he said softly. "You may have shoved me into the mud, but it only shows me what I'm like inside. And even though that crown's as dirty as me, it doesn't have to stay that way...and I reckon I don't, either. It's our choices that make us who we need to be. Anyway, if I'm going to act like a kid, it's better I do it now, in front of my friends, and not in front of the world."

Aslan chuckled solemnly and laid a paw on Peter's shoulder. "Blessed is the man who learns that while he is young," said the Lion gently. "Some never do."

A moment passed before the leopard said, "Well, then! I reckon our Kings should call it pax and save this field for another day, especially when there are cooler heads and kinder hearts at work. And I must say I'm glad I never had to deal with this sort of rot. Brothers are all well and good, but I am particularly pleased to have escaped the misfortunes that seem to plague you both."

"Well, it's not all terrible," said Edmund with a wry smile. "Some things are better with a brother."

"Oh, indeed," said Peter, for he had gotten the same idea. "Here, we'll show you."

He and Edmund whipped around and ducked down to the puddle, and they swept up handfuls of mud and flung them at Juma with merry grins, and the leopard swung away and yelled, "OH, CONFOUND IT!" as he bolted for the laughing crowd, with Aslan's booming guffaw the loudest and merriest of all.