Susan takes Lucy shopping for her seventeenth birthday. Fluffy sisterfic.
Thanks to Red Marauder, whose Writing Contest entry was the basis for this comic.
DATE: 2007-04-24 00:00:00.0
SUBJECT: Give Up!
Susan, Queen of Narnia,
Really, darling, do you think you have really gotten the better of me? I mean, honestly, did you actually think I wouldn’t find out about your little scheme? I know it was you who sent that virus which completely destroyed everything I had pertaining to the O Enlightened Prince Rabadash and myself. Darling, I must say that of all the jokes that I myself have played upon my fellow Tarkaans and Tarkheenas, nothing could compare to this. And do not think for a moment that I am complimenting you. I believe that it would be wise of you to confess to this charade, for I am long since having lost my patience and being forced to write to you with some manner of civility. You will know from here on out that the Prince is mine, and you will never have him. And there is nothing you can do about it, darling, so don’t even try. Give it up now.
Not at all sincerely,
P.S. That dress you wore last year when you came to visit us here in Tashbaan was absolutely unfashionable. It did not match your shoes at all.
~ Don’t Hate Me Because I’m Beautiful. And Rich. And Clever. And Beautiful. ~
As part of our Y2C (Year to Caspian) Celebration, we’ve decided to post a special writing contest. Your assignment: write a missing scene from Prince Caspian. For example, you might include the scene where Nikabrik first contacts the hag and werewolf, or the scene where Miraz dismisses Caspian’s nurse.
The Telmarine lord knelt at his lady’s feet. “Your Majesty, it is all true, I fear, and there is more. They have a terrible Lion and He has created a gateway in the air. The usurper Caspian says that our people must choose, to go through the door to an island in another world, from whence our ancestors came, or to remain in Narnia, living in harmony with these Talking Beasts.” Prunaprismia hissed through her teeth, clutching her son ever more tightly. The baby whimpered. “Leave Narnia! I am a queen, and this animal says I should go into exile on a desolate island, to face slow starvation with my son, who by rights should be ruler of this land?!” “Madam,” cried the Telmarine lord, “You cannot stay. Think you that Caspian will leave the heir of Miraz’ to grow up and threaten him?” The former queen paled, looking particularly eerie against her red hair. From behind the Telmarine, Glenstorm the Centaur stepped forward. Prunaprismia shrieked at the unknown creature, who cleared his throat. “Madam, I beg your pardon. I bear tidings from your nephew, Caspian, King of Narnia by the grace of Aslan and the favor of the high King Peter. His Majesty wishes to express his condolences at your loss, and to assure you that you are free to come and go in Narnia as you please, to leave it entirely, or to stay, as seems best to you, and live in honor in your husband’s house. Your son, by Caspian’s word, will come to no harm, and will, when he is old enough, be welcome in the court beside heirs of the king’s own body.” Prunaprismia stared in shock for a moment, attempting to process this offer, which was utterly incomprehensible to her, not being the sort of thing she would ever have considered doing herself in Caspian’s position. She seemed to be struggling for breath, but after a moment’s indecision, she straightened. The thought of life on an island must have seemed the greater of two evils, and she answered, “We will stay.”
Brothers by Swanwhite
Deep in the forests of Narnia in a cavern below ground, two Dwarf brothers by the names of Rorgin and Fundle sat infront of a hearth talking in low tones so as not to wake their sleeping families. They had left their homes and were hiding in this cave, for fear of the Telmarine army.
“Cair Paravel has fallen now, a sparrow brought the news earlier today.” said Rorgin sullenly as he filled his pipe with tobacco.
“We all knew it was only a matter of time,” said Fundle “It won’t be long now before even here isn’t safe.”
“Perhaps we can find a better hiding place.”
“That still won’t keep us hidden forever, I have another plan.”
“What would that be, brother?” Fundle paused for a moment as if he wasn’t quite comfortable with the idea himself.
“The Telmarines are building settlements along the great river in the West. I’m taking my family to live there.” His brother stared at him in shock but he continued. “We’ll cut our beards and wear platform shoes. They won’t know the difference. I’ve even managed to get a hold of some clothes of the sort they wear. Right now the only way of survival is to blend in with them.”
“You call that survival! Becoming just like the accursed Telmarines!”
“If it keeps my family alive it’s worth it,” he replied quietly, looking towards part of the cave where his family slept all huddled together. Rorgin looked away from his brother shaking his head and Fundle went on. “I expect I’ll be able to get some work as a blacksmith.” Rorgin looked up suddenly.
“You would even forge the very swords for our enemy to kill us with!”
“I won’t make swords for them Rorgin. I’ll make plough shares, axe heads… anything but weapons.” Rorgin puffed his pipe and stared into the fire on the hearth. There was silence for a moment. “Please come with us,” he said looking his brother in the eye. “Think of your family. There is no way you can stay hidden here.”
“We’ll take our chances.”
“Have it you own way.”
“Fundle,” Rorgin said looking up “I wish you and your family all the best. I really do, and I hope this works out for you but I just… I can’t do that.”
“When are you leaving?”
“First light tomorrow.”
“Then this is goodbye.”
“Yes, I guess it is.” They sat in silence a while longer then went to bed. In the morning they went their separate ways. A renegade Dwarf and a Narnian in hiding but firstly brothers where ever they might go.
The Well (finished version) by Alambil
“Shortly after the last apple had been eaten, Susan went out to the well to get another drink…”
Susan shivered in the still night air, longing for the warmth of the fire she had left behind. The ancient well surprisingly still held clear water in its depths, for which Susan was grateful as she drew some up in the old wooden bucket. Its taste left a refreshing wetness in her mouth, which she savored as she let the water slide down her throat.
Her thirst satisfied, she was just about to walk back to the ruins where her siblings sat waiting when a golden shine in the overgrown grass caught her eye. She stepped forward and gingerly picked up the small object that was embedded in the ground.
“Goodness,” thought Susan. “For such a small trinket it has considerable weight.”
She examined it in the small amount of moonlight that filtered through the dense trees above her. All of a sudden, she realized what it was, and it took all her strength to keep herself from fainting with shock.
It was a little chess-knight, made of pure gold and crafted with skilled hands. It was exactly of the kind that the four monarchs used to use to play chess during the Golden Age of Narnia. Susan remembered vividly the wonderful memories of playing chess with fauns and good giants, of feasts and great dancing, and of galloping through the fresh green forest on her lovely white horse. Thoughts of silky dresses and archery tournaments, her gold crown and different battles raced through her numb mind. With the flood of memories that rushed back to her like the glistening eastern sea that used to rush on the sandy beach beneath her old balcony, it was a wonder that she didn’t collapse.
She stood there, frozen, for what seemed like an eternity, while a deep, painful sadness pierced through her heart and filled her soul. Oh, how she missed those times! She wanted to fall down and weep bitterly for the loss of her true home and her true self.
“Does this mean… No, it couldn’t,” she murmured. “It’s only been a year since we left. Cair Paravel would still be here.”
She turned to look at the remains of what would have been a magnificent castle in its day. It looked strangely familiar… she could just imagine Cair Paravel standing in its place, its banners flying high, blown by a northern wind. She saw a light from within the broken walls and remembered that the others would soon get worried about her. They thought she was only getting a drink, but she had stayed much longer than that. Silently, she moved down the broken path to where they sat huddled by the fire, the little knight clutched tightly in her hand.
“…’Look,’ she said in a rather choking kind of voice. ‘I found it by the well.’ ”
Wimbleweather and the Seasick Dwarves by InChrist-Billios
Well, I suppose we must go, the dwarf said gruffly (and somewhat reluctantly) to his brothers.
Must we? inquired one, wrinkling his nose in distaste which screwed up all of his little wrinkled face, wreathed as it was in thick black hair.
The youngest of the lot tugged the speaker’s beard quite disrespectfully and said with scorn,
Of course we must! Pattertwig says the true King of Narnia has arrived, didn’t he?
Have you forgotten, beard-for-brains-Branwhick, that this Caspian is as much a Telmarine as Miraz himself, hm? said an argumentative red-haired dwarf, pulling on the youngest’s beard in recompense.
This resulted in a long fit of beard pulling which was ended rather abruptly when a loud booming voice spoke from above them.
What is the trouble, small ones?
The original speaker stopped in the act of pulling the redhead’s beard and turned about swiftly, addressing the giant Wimbleweather.
No trouble at all good Wimbleweather. We were merely deciding whether or not to go to Dancing Lawn and meet this king Pattertwig spoke of.
The giant laughed a deep chested and merry laugh before replying.
And you go about your decision in odd dwarfish ways; pray take no offense at my laughter. Why need you decide? Why don’t you go?
All at once he was set upon with a deluge of challenging questions.
What if Pattertwig is wrong?
What if he’s a spy from Miraz?
Why waste all the time walking there to be betrayed?
I’ll murder him first! Cowardly humans!
Or find that there is no one there after all?
Or that the person is no one of consequence?
What have you to say to that, tall one?
Well, Wimbleweather said slowly. I could carry you, which would save you the walk, and if his aim is to kill, surely I could defeat a man, yes?
The dwarves did agree, after passing their eyes up and down his bulk several times.
Then it’s settled! Wimbleweather said happily, pulling the basket off his back and shaking out its contents.
Watch where you drop those trees! a few yelped, scrambling out of the way of the falling limbs.
Dreadfully sorry, Wimbleweather said quickly, brushing them off the path with a gentle stroke of his hand.
He then set the basket on the ground and bid them all climb in.
I don’t know about this; is it dwarflike to ride in a basket? the youngest asked doubtfully.
I wouldn’t think so, a particularly fat one said amiably, crawling into the basket, but I’d risk the reputation to save my legs the trouble. Agreed?
One by one the dwarves agreed, with much grumbling and muttering, and made themselves comfortable in the basket. Wimbleweather cheerfully picked the basket up and settled it onto his back before setting off at a brisk walk along the path.
and the winner
Discovering the Prince by Lobuck
Stormy this evening, is it not? Trufflehunter began amiably.
Stow that! Nikabrik snapped, throwing his booted feet violently onto the table, Youve been trying to sidle up to me all day. If you want to make up, just say youre sorry out front!
Beards and bedsteads, Nikabrik! The red dwarf, Trumpkin, reprimanded. You ought to be the one apologizing! Trufflehunter hasnt offended anyone in all his days. And get your great clobbering feet off my table. If your going to live in my cave, youll behave yourself!
Your cave. I see it now. Nevermind that I lived here peaceably for years before you two ever arrived!
Trufflehunter sneezed. One couldnt be certain if he were genuinely allergic to foul tempers, or was simply complaining the peaceably statement on Nikabriks part.
Behind my back, Nikabrik, but I let it pass. Trumpkin replied, and with pardonable annoyance, went on.
This hole has belonged to my ancestry for a thousand years! It was passed to me from my father, and his father, all the way to my great-grandfather ten times back: the good dwarf Bricklethumb, who dug it out of the earth with the help of his two brothers. So if you want a to argue the ownership
Nikabrik hissed, For a thousand years and more, its been my ancestry whos never had a place to live! We are the oppressed! he retorted with a mordant glare in his eye, Let a red dwarf waltz in on his stubby legs, and invade a chaps home, aye, its called reclaiming whats his, but when a black dwarf is found in an otherwise uninhabited cave (one he defended against any number of nosing things, mind you) its called sneaking about where he doesnt belong and a load of other unpleasant things
Bricks and bellows! Trumpkin roared, his little face growing red as his beard, This isnt to be stood for! Arent we all exiled together? Ive never heard such lies! Im a dwarf too, if youve forgotten! And dont we all suffer from the Telmarines? Ive no scruples on you quarters!
As long as its known Im living on your charity, I suppose he would have gone on with his ugly querulousness, if Trufflehunter had not stopped him with a low,
In those times, a warning in that manner stopped even a riled black dwarf. The three Narnians froze, Nikabrik just in the act of rising from his chair, his face twisted with ire, his thick hair standing up all wild, and his keen eyes glittering. Trumpkins pipe was clenched firmly in his mouth, and the smoke clouded around his expression, which was still stern, but a half-amused grimace showed him to be not quite as angry as he would have liked. Trufflehunters eyes were dark and unreadable in the dim light.
Horses. Nikabrik finally snarled.
One horse. Trufflehunter corrected, turning his head sideways like a dog, to listen harder, And it goes on alone now!
All three heard the crack of a skull on wood, and the thud of a heavy body, and rushed outside into the torrent, Trufflehunter bearing a lantern.
Do you see it? Trumpkin shouted above the clamor of crashing trees.
The black dwarf screamed in answer, drawing a long knife from his belt.
Hie! Trumpkin wrapped his stout arms around the infuriated Nikabrik, to keep him from stabbing the poor creature that was sprawled on the ground.
Hammers and tongs, Nikabrik! What has gotten intoeh? Whats this?
Its a Human. seethed Nikabrik, struggling against the firm hold of the other dwarf, Kill it!
Fie and shame! Trumpkin panted, for the black dwarf was as slippery and sinewy as a weasel, Let it a chance! Poor creature cant help its head being bashed outside our hole!
Its a young boy, Trufflehunter spoke tenderly, as if unheeding the brawl amongst the clamor of the storm, We must get it inside.
This brought another outburst from black dwarf, but Trumpkin and the Badger finally convinced him to control himself, and he sullenly agreed not to murder the humanyet. Nikabrik sat sourly in his chair while the red dwarf and Trufflehunter drug the boy (as gently as possible) into the cave, and onto a soft bed.
Giants and junipers! What a knock on the noggin! Trumpkin pointed out cheerily, motioning with his pipe. Ive never seen one of this age. I wonder what it was up to?
The Badger said nothing, as he lay the boys head on a heathery pillow, but his face was deep with joy.
Don’t forget to check out the winners of the last contest.
A little poem concerning the Stone Table