(In much need of additional editing)
- The High Rulers Recalled to Narnia
The sea is rising, the darkness grows,
And Narnia needs help once more,
From the sons of Adam and the Daughters of Eve
Who have hung their swords up over the door.
The blades have rusted to their sheaths,
The leather on their hilts has crumbled,
They are forgotten kings of a forgotten land
And queens of a forgotten time.
The call of the good King Tirian rings
On their ears as from far away
But from armchairs by the fire they rise
To fight at least for one more day.
The three lost rulers of that land
From the wall their weapons pried,
The steel bit cruelly into their palms
And the luster of their blades had died.
But confident in one thing they went,
Not knowing when they would die.
They dressed and went for Narnia to find
Because they still remembered why.
The wind swept hard and the world spun,
To stand upon its head once more;
And the three remaining kings and queens
Found the wardrobe with an open door.
Peter had once been a noble king,
Magnificent as long ago had been his name.
He had led that land with a humble heart
And always for Aslan’s fame.
His sword swung as level as his head
And its blade struck as true as his heart.
But heavy it hung now by his side
To see the forces which would tear them apart.
Edmund became the unlikeliest of kings
Of a land he had once betrayed.
But when darkness fell upon his heart
He fell upon knees and prayed
Edmund who had not believed now held the banner high,
Of Aslan’s might and the Narnian land upon the darkening sky.
He held his ground and looked upon the hopeless sight before,
And Edmund sighed and bowed his head
For a time when their company had been four.
Lucy had long been the valiant queen
Of the land where her heart did reside.
She alone had always been strong and sure
Even when the great Aslan had died.
And now she stood, all that endured
Who had seen the great lion cast death aside.
Lucy with a solemn look beside her brothers stood,
Her heart still burned with the fire of love
For a land she had known since her childhood,
So she wept to see winter had crept again
Into the hearts of the Narnian land.
Then the three rulers took a knee and finally began to speak,
But they did not speak to each other yet,
And the few onlookers began to fret
For only saints and madmen beget
Answers from speaking to silence.
- The Force of the Righteous Few
The three rulers stood tall once more
And gazed upon their castle of old,
As it overflowed with an enemy force
Pouring from the threshold.
The words of old rang true in the chaotic enemy force,
That greed was an ape and pride was an ass
And they had won the hearts of those amassed
But the rulers simply laughed, a great and hearty sound.
Peter, Ed, and Lucy laughed and turned upon the hill,
And at that age old lamppost blew the horn of ages past.
All creatures that were pure of heart who were near to hear the blast
Gathered what weapons they could find
And to their true rulers sides they massed.
They did not make a mighty force
And their numbers stood but few,
Yet they did not waver in their course
And for Aslan’s cause their hearts rang true.
Peter gave a rousing cry to that righteous few,
“We small force are now what’s left to defend this land,
Winter has fallen on Narnian hearts but not on our small band!”
They laughed and cheered for the magnificent King
And off they went proudly, bearing sword and sling,
With joy in their hearts they did laugh and sing
As off they went to die.
“What hope have you against such foe?”
The trees asked as they passed.
“From noble faun to centaur, your number stands but few,
You’re poorly armed and darkness falls,
What can you hope to do?”
Answer rippled throughout the host, “We are dead men gone to war,
We have meager weapons and forces small, but faith and joy stand sure.
We have more heart to die for a righteous cause
Than you to live under Tash’s laws”
Then Lucy spoke to her host of brave creatures ready for death,
“Though we may be but a host of dead men gone to die,
We have more life within our souls alight with saintly outcry.
Even if we die today, we will live but greater lives,
For Aslan lives within our souls and with him they will survive.”
So off they went, that company true
To break the darkness hold,
To fight ass and ape and Calormen gods
For the true Narnian land of old.
Whether by their hands or by their death, and upon the judgment day,
The host was sure the Calormen would fall to Narnian truth,
For Aslan’s mighty roar would sound and drive out the uncouth.
So to truly gain their life, that valiant few did cheerfully go to die.
III. The First Battle
So upon the field where once had stood a witch of winter past,
Edmund, Peter, and Lucy stood, their forces all amassed.
Ready for battle once again against a different force,
They stood true and steeled their hearts in Aslan’s name again.
Edmund took the western flank
Against a centaur cold of heart,
They readied to take one another apart
In battle breaking upon the field.
With flat grey eyes the centaur gazed,
His heart grown cold as his great steel blade
A hearty call the Centaur made
To spur his troops in a crashing wave
Upon their stalwart foe.
Edmund clashed with the centaur
In a calamitous clang of swords,
Until with one fell blow upon rusted steel
Edmund’s sword shattered with a deafening peal
And the Centaur’s sword shallowly pierced his breast.
His flat grey eyes took on a taunting leer,
“Tuck tail and run, O coward king.
Of your traitorous ways we already sing,
Now go or die and finish this thing.”
He dispassionately gestured and jeered.
Edmund smiled and calmly said,
“Once I stumbled, now I know my mark.
I learned a great and terrible name
That lets me go singing to my shame
And gaily atone my sins in the dark.”
Edmund who once betrayed his land
Now felt his heart burn bright.
He mustered one last rallying cry
Then thrust forward on the centaur’s sword to die
Aiming the broken hilt of his sword high
Reaching the centaur’s heart with the last of his might.
King Edmund fell tangled in the centaur’s hooves
Nobly fallen in faith as he’d stood
His forces pressed, “for Edmund, in Aslan’s name!”
Falling almost as fast as they came
But their joyful strength stirred an old Narnian flame
In a handful of enemy hearts.
King Peter wept to hear the battle cry
That went up when his brother fell,
But his attention stood fixed on the center force
Led by a great Ash set on his course
To sound Peter’s funeral knell.
With heavy hands and stony hearts
The stone table was smashed to pieces,
Which now battered the Narnian men
Crashing from trebuchets over field and fen
Drawing their focus from where it might have been
And Peter was left standing alone.
The great ash moved to meet the king
With ghoul-eyes and ghastly face
Peter hefted his sword and sadly sighed
To see the Ash’s heart had been petrified
And the spark of life knew no trace.
His sword found no purchase against smooth bark
And no more help could Peter implore,
For the Narnian trees were now sleeping
To rest from the frost that was creeping
Across the land once more
With hideous hand outstretched
The Ash cast Peter’s sword aside
And unfathomable horror gripped the king’s heart
As the brittle hand reached to pull him apart
And closed around his chest but stopped with a start
To see a Beech approach with purposeful stride.
The heart of the Beech called out to the Ash
Like a Belfry burst in song,
But the heart of the Ash had petrified
So he crushed the King’s chest in his stride
And carried his prize along.
The Beech wept for his stony heart
As she met him on the field,
Even as bare and wintered limbs swung to stike her down,
She wrapped him in her leafy boughs sinking roots into the ground
Branches sunk into her trunk as around them her bark sealed
The pure light of life inside the Beech
Struck the Ash’s heart like a blow,
To temper his bloodlust and awaken his heart
But enough to sustain them both the Beech could not impart,
So they grew together and lost their Narnian spark
As the great fused tree of wounded heart, settled in the twilight glow
Able to walk and speak no more.
A horn sounded and battle slowed
Until finally the crimson fields stood still
Narnian creatures and Calormen alike
Retreated to camp in the twilight
Around the tree now forever standing a silent sentry in the field.
- The Aftermath
Lucy looked across the fields and murmured to herself,
“Their gods were sadder than the sea,
Gods of a wandering will,
Who cried for blood like beasts at night,
Sadly, from hill to hill.”
She knelt under that great tree
And wept as she gathered Peter from his leafy throne
Before two satyrs bore their broken king
Back over the sanguine fields of his home.
Next Lucy crossed the field with heavy heart
To find her other fallen king,
She untangled Edmunds stiffening limbs
And saw he died feeling he’d finally atoned for his sins
By the soft smile still gracing his lips as the mice bore him away in a sling.
Lucy slowly made her way back to where it all began,
Where they laid their kings on the forest floor
Where only Lucy knew the wardrobe stood
A world away from that once magical wood
She had discovered back in her childhood
Through an unassuming wardrobe door.
Narnians celebrated the lives of their fallen kings
As the long day drew to a close,
The fauns sang an old Narnian lullaby
And Lucy sang along so she wouldn’t cry
And then they danced off cheerfully again to die
In the battle when the sun arose.
Lucy smiled as she readied her force,
Sharpening a mouse’s sword,
She heard a tune she recognized from long ago,
And turned to look when it started to snow
But her breath caught and she was unable to say a word.
A lonely faun sat on a tree stump
Facing the other way around.
He played the flute and his scarf was red
And Lucy imagined Mr. Tumnus in his stead
Almost missing a different sound.
A branch snapped and a ghoul appeared
Bearing in his hand a wicked blade
He crept unnoticed towards the faun
His intention clear in the breaking dawn
And Lucy’s pure heart moved her to his aid.
Almost too late she reached the faun
With almost nothing left to do,
But move between the faun and knife
Giving the dream of Narnia her life
And at once, the lamppost was rent in two.
The sky that had been striped most horribly
With the crimson rays of dawn,
Was suddenly cut by a blinding light
Burning through all with white hot bite
And a distant train whistle cut the last vestiges of night
Erasing the lines that had been drawn.
As the light cleared from their eyes
And the whistle from their ears,
Every creature in that place
Saw Narnia with newborn grace,
They readied themselves for what they yet may face
And wiped away their tears.
Commonplace Poetry 
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