Like Parent, Like Child – Writing Contest #51

Mother’s Day is this month, and Father’s Day isn’t far behind. Who knows if they celebrated such holidays in Narnia, but the Narnians certainly had parents! Write a short scene between a Narnian and one of their parents, and what sort of antics they might have enjoyed.

The little badger lumbered up to his father and whined a bit. “Tell me another story, please?” Sighing, but agreeing, the older of the two badgers moved to a corner of the room and sat down, beckoning his son to him. “I suppose, Trufflehunter.” Scampering over, the young Trufflehunter grinned as he sat next to his father. “You know a lot of stories, don’t you?” “Well, we’re badgers. We’re supposed to remember things like that.” “We are?” The elder badger chuckled as he ruffled his son’s fur. “It’s what we do best. Remember. Hold on. You’ll see, one day.” Trufflehunter tried to bat his father’s paw away. “How’m I supposed to remember stories if you won’t tell me one?” “All right, all right. Now, this story is about something that happened a very long time ago…”

Honorable Mentions

Mother and Child by Lirenel
Humming softly, Perinella gently rocked her son. He looked up at her with quiet, intense eyes that would likely remain just that vibrant blue. Knowing her husband and brother-in-law were away, she did not fear being disturbed. The servants knew better than to interrupt the Queen’s time with her child. Therefore, Perinella did not fear being overheard as she whispered the story of her family to her son. She knew he would not understand now, but she vowed to tell him again and again until he knew his heritage. His *true* heritage. “Oh, my darling Caspian. Your father is a Telmarine, as was his father and his father, down through the ages. But never forget, my son, that not every Telmarine family’s blood is pure. Remember the story of my ancestress and namesake: Perinella, daughter of Perin son of Peridan, knight of Narnia. Remember the vow of our family: to keep the memory of Old Narnia alive and to one day return her to her former glory.”
Perinella smiled and let her son suck on her finger, his eyes never leaving hers. “And always, always remember, my child, that I love you and will do everything in my power to protect you. I swear by the Lion.”
And with that, Perinella returned to her humming until little Caspian’s eyes fluttered and closed in the sweet, innocent sleep of a babe safe his his mother’s arms.

Evening rituals by Stonefire
The moon had risen long ago, but the light and warmth of day still shone very brightly within the small, cozy home belonging to Reepicheep and his father. Each with a stick in his paw, the two mice sparred valiantly, parrying and thrusting, blocking and guarding. Finally, Reepicheep knocked the small stick out of his father’s paw, his face glowing with triumph. “Haha! I have won the battle! What say you, Mouse?” His father feigned fear. “Oh no! You’ve got me! Please, I beg of you, have mercy!”
Small Reepicheep laughed wildly and pounced upon his father, squealing with delight. Chuckling, the older mouse gently set his son on the bed, tucking him in. His gaze quickly passed over a picture next to his son’s bed, a family portrait that had been painted before the death of his beloved wife. Learning that nothing in life was set in stone, he had vowed to cherish every moment with his son. “My dear Reepicheep,” he sighed. “You’re going to make a fine warrior some day.”
“When?” the young mouse asked.
His father tweaked one of his whiskers. “Well, I suppose when the need arises.” He smiled. “But that is most definately not this minute. So, my mouseling, sleep until the sun wakes, dream until the dawn breaks…”
“I know, I know. When sparrows’ song welcomes the light, we shall wake with whiskers bright,” Reepicheep finished. “Good night, Father.”
“Good night, Reep,” he replied,still smiling. With that, their evening ritual came to an end, and the candle’s flames were blown out, leaving nothing but the sound of the crickets and light from the twinkling stars to usher in the quiet of the night.

“The Joke’s Book” by Beloved
It was once told long ago to me by a young jackjaw named Mabel. Her father told her the most wonderful bedtime story about the only book of jokes in all the world of Narnia.
It is not uncommon knowledge that the first jackjaw was the very first joke in the world. He was very proud to be given such an honor that he spent all the rest of his days laughing at anything at all proclaiming that it was the newest joke. Mrs. Jackjaw was given the title ‘prettiest joke ever’ and their first child was named Joke.
Now Joke wasn’t a bit like his father, he never even laughed at a good joke while his parents and younger brothers and sisters would laugh at every little thing they came across.
When Joke was older and moved away from the tree house he made a small home in the mountains to the south so that he could live alone in silence. It wasn’t long before Joke discovered how sad he had become over the last few months. He decided to ignore the feeling and go on. Years went by and Joke went on without friend or compainon.
Early one sring he decided he didn’t want to live like this anymore. With an urgent speed he went towards his home where happiness reigned all the time. He arrived to find not the laughter of his father but the weeping of his mother over his father’s grave. Joke, now overwhelmed with despair, sat on the ground unable to move.
A great crowd of Narnians arrived not long after to pay respects to the ‘laughing one’ whom they all loved. Joke was greeted by many who gave their respects and their sympathies to him and his family.
Joke didn’t know what to do. He came home to find joy and laughter only to be filled with more pain and sadness over the death of the father he should have admired.
An idea…
The next morning he went to see King Frank. Joke wished to have penned for him the story of his father which was to be called, “The Joke’s Book.” King Frank granted his wish and as a token of honor Queen Helen took dictation from Joke with her own hand.
Joke began his journey out to the world to make sure they all laughed once. He never returned to Narnia and neither did his book but Joke’s younger brother passed down his story to all the Jackjaws so that Narnia may never forget to laugh.

A Glummy Father’s Day by Edmund_fanatic
A tall, gangly creature clumsily walks up to a dark figure posted at the edge of a swamp, carrying a fishing pole along with it.
“Ah, your finally here,” said the dark figure.”I was expecting that you wouldn’t make it ,or that something horrid would happen to you along the way.I suppose that all the fish are gone by now ,and we shan’t have anything to eat for dinner,but we might aswell try if by Aslan we get some luck ,but I highly doubt that.”The figure casts his pole out into the water with low enthusiasm as if he expects failure.The smaller figure awkwardly trys to throw his pole but gets the strings tangled instead.The figure sighs and puts his pole down while trying to free the tangled young one.
“I expected something like this to happen.It is your first time fishing so course either this or falling in to the water or sticking yourself with the hook was bound to occur.Things like this always happens to Marshwiggles like ourselves,Puddleglum.Yet we are still alive but by Aslan I don’t Know how.” As he finished talking,Puddleglum was set free and once again prepared to cast off his pole.
“Now this time son,”said the older Marshwiggle,”Try to throw it straight forward if you can ,but I expect it will just get tangled up again or fly to a spot where there are no fish.”But this time,the line flew gracefully into the muddy swamp right when a eel swam by,and got snatched up by the hook.Puddleglum had a somewhat smile on his face,yet at the same time a sad expression as if he expected the it to wiggle itself free.The other Marshwiggle ,clearly surprised by the catch, announced pessimistically,”Well, it seems like Aslan HAS blessed today ,though I shan’t see why he would bother blessing mere Marshwiggles like ourselves.But we might aswell take it home to eat ,though I expect it won’t have that much meat on it ,or it will only be skin and bones.Still, good throw my boy,but I expect in the future we won’t be able to catch anything,seeing as how this has been a harsh season.The Marshwiggle gathered his things and started to head home.”You coming son or have you got an injury that requires me to carry you all the way home,” asked the father.
“No,father,I’m fine for the most part, even though I wasn’t able to get any sleep last night because…..”

Miss Beaver by Brenna Rathbun
Little Miss Beaver helps her mother set the tea Miss Beaver asks,” Mother Beaver? Please tell me about Aslan again!” mother Beaver sighs and pouring the tea answers,” Dear little one, You’ve heard it so many times, how could you possibly forget?” Little Miss Beaver answers,” Oh, I don’t forget I just want to here the story, because I love Aslan more than your fried fish! Mother, will the Fried Fish and tea be ready yet?” Mother beaver chuckles and answers,” Soon, Little one, Soon why do you ask so many questions? Oh, well after lunch I’ll tell you the story again, but the table with have to be cleared and the dishes washed,” ” Yes, Mother Beaver,” Little Miss Beaver said and quickly set the fried fish out on the table. After lunch Mother and the little beavers helped clean and put away the dishes then gathered around the cozy room and Father Beaver came in and told them the story,” Along time ago, There was a lion,”

and the winner

Aravis and her son by Laura E. A.
The castle of Anvard was silent for the most part; the fire was crackling in the fireplace, and the rocking chair made a slight creaking. That was all. The lady in the rocking chair was rather dark skinned, and her hair was black. She had lovely brown eyes. At her side sat a little boy; his hair was fair, like his father Cor’s, but his eyes were as brown as his mother’s. “Mother,” he said. “Tell me about how you and father escaped from Calormen.” Aravis looked at him fondly, and passed her hand through his curly locks. “Very well, Ram, though I’ve told you at least a hundred times already, and you are only four.” “That’s alright, mother,” Ram said with a cherubic smile. “I want you to tell me a hundred times more!” “Well, Ram, you see, your father was brought up by a fisherman named Arsheesh…” As Aravis told the story, Ram laid his head against her knee and sighed contentedly.


Don’t forget to check out the winners of the last .