The strangely brilliant Hitherby Dragons reconciles Objectivism and Christianity:
The lion lays himself down on the table. â€œPeter,â€ he says. â€œHave you a sword?â€
Though only 13, Peter is a general in the military of three separate countries, and so he answers, â€œA dress sword.â€
â€œThen draw it,â€ says Aslan, â€œand cut open my heart.â€
â€œI can’t,â€ says Peter.
The lion is silent.
Peter’s face contorts with a terrible grief and shame. â€œYou cannot ask this. It is too much.â€
â€œDo you know,â€ asks the lion, â€œhow spring comes to Narnia?â€
Peter looks at Susan, who is the closest to a natural scientist amongst the Pevensie children.
â€œIt’s usually fairly standardized,â€ Susan says.
â€œWhen it is a winter such as this,â€ says Aslan, â€œbrought by sin compounded upon sin, incompetence compounding inefficiency, the king must give his life to break the winter cold. This is the thing that the witch could never do.â€
â€œBut how can you sacrifice your life?â€ weeps Peter.
The lion’s words are terrible, and they lash at Peter like the winter cold. â€œHave I not told you, Son of Adam? Have you no ears? I do not make sacrifices.â€
â€œI’m sorry,â€ whispers Peter.
â€œI am not sacrificing my life,â€ says Aslan. â€œI am exchanging it for a thing of greater value. I do this for the animals, that they may know another spring; for the centaurs, and the women of the wood and well, and the fauns, and the unicorns; and for Edmund, who was tasted the Turkish Delight and cannot otherwise be redeemed.â€
â€œDin’t taste it,â€ says Edmund. â€œJust touched it. Maybe with my tongue. Just a little. But not really tasting.â€
Peter looks at Edmund.
â€œI do not do this thing,â€ rumbles Aslan, â€œbecause you are unworthy and small. You are not. I do not do this thing to save an evil land. It is not. I do this because Narnia is good. I do this because you are good. I do this because you are worth this to me. Because in a world that seems very dark I will prove to you that you are worthy of my life.â€