The air is laden with love at this time of year. What sorts of gifts, poems, etc might the Narnians have for their sweethearts this year? Funny, serious, or just plain cute; canon pairings or not, bring them on!
Example: “A Little Birdie” by Ariel_of_Narnia
Lucy had a headache. Her room was heavy with the scent of roses and perfumes, her wardrobe seemed to bulge with gorgeous gowns, and more exotic sweets than she could eat made her table groan under their weight. That was why she was slipping out to clear her head in the open air of the archery range, where she was guaranteed to be alone with just her target mannequin.
Or so she thought.
Lucy stifled a sigh, smiling instead (after all, he and Edmund seemed to get along very well). “Prince Yeru. Fancy meeting you here.”
“I was told I might find you here, your grace. I wish to present you with a gift, but away from the prying eyes of the other gentry.” He gave a deep bow and placed a carved box in her hands. “I hope you will enjoy them, my lady.” He bowed again.
Lucy opened the box cautiously. “Oh, how lovely!” she gasped. “Why, Prince Yeru, how did -” But he was already halfway back to the palace and was joined by another young man with dark hair and a silver crown. Lucy grinned and shook her head. “Oh, Edmund, you told him, didn’t you?” The jewelled throwing knives looked rather dashing embedded into her mannequin.
Don’t forget to check out the winners of the last contest!
To Aravis (Prince Cor’s Proposal) by hobbit_of_narnia
I love the way you smile when I take your hand in mine.
I love the way you get all girlish when the weather’s fine.
I love the way you twist your curls the wrong way when you’re glad.
I love the fact you come to me for comfort when you’re sad.
I love the way you call me Shasta when you’re mad at me.
I loved the face you made that time you chased me up a tree.
I love the way you stamp your foot when things don’t go your way.
I loved it when you pushed me in the lake the other day.
I love the way we always make up after any fight.
I love the way we talk outside on every starry night.
I’ll love you every day, my princess, true love of my life.
Aravis, my darling, might I have you as my wife?
I Will Be a Queen by Writer for God
The great stone pillars of the castle at Charn could scarcely be seen in the early light of dawn. A little girl tiptoed down the open courtyard, the bitter cold nipping at her bare toes.
“What have we here?” She skidded to a stop in front of the speaker, a bear-like man in a fur coat.
“For you, papa.” She handed him the package in her hand. With a booming laugh, he swooped both his daughter and the gift into her arms.
“Your hands are cold, my little Ice Queen.” The little girl cupped her father’s face in her hands.
“I will be a queen someday,” Jadis promised. “I will.”
And the winner…
Grow Old Together by Aravis
“Oh dear oh dear…” Mrs. Beaver ran around the kitchen searching for the jam. She certainly couldn’t serve the toast without jam! Then she suddenly remembered she had run out when she packed her last bottle for the Pevensies children on their journey.
Supper was almost set for two. “Ah, there,” sighed Mrs. Beaver in satisfaction. She made the finishing touch by putting a handful of daisies in the center of the table. Oh how she hoped her husband wouldn’t forget what day it is! He forgets every year, she thought to herself, I wish he wouldn’t forget this one.
A half hour passed, and Mr. Beaver still hadn’t returned from fishing. Mrs. Beaver passed the time with worrying how her fur looked. Too rough, she thought. She used to have a soft, silky coat when she and Mr. Beaver first met. Now, 30 years later, she had aged.
She smoothed out her whiskers in a fuss, when the door burst open. She rotated to see Mr. Beaver out of breath, holding something behind his back. “Oh, there you are, Beaver! I, erm, was wondering where you were, hehe..” she said timidly. Mr. Beaver, still catching his breath, walked over to the cupboard to get a drink. Mrs. Beaver nervously played with her paws, “Supper’s all ready, dearie! I prettied the the place up just a bit, because, oh…nothing special of course! But…”
Mr. Beaver finally came towards her and said “Sorry I’m late, love. I ran the whole way, but I still came late. Well, I made you something…” He pulled wooden plaque behind his back and put it on the table. Mrs. Beaver gasped and smiled with joy. He didn’t forget!
He took her paw in his own; old, fragile, and gray-tipped hairs.