Parents are important, no matter what world you are in.  They do so much for their children to help them grow into the men and women they become. Write a short piece about a Narnian’s parent in any way you’d like: a moment between a parent (or both) and the child(ren), a eulogy or other form of remembrance, a poem; funny, sad, fluffy; teaching, soothing ,bonding ; whatever strikes your fancy!

example: “One Hundred Winters Past” by Ariel_of_Narnia

Corban very rarely saw such worry in his Papa’s face and had never seen such gruesome visitor to their peaceful, green home – all covered in sores and deep gashes as he was. Corban supposed that was why Papa was so worried.

“Put that cup down,” Papa said. “You’ll have to stitch some of these wounds while I try to stop the internal bleeding.”

Corban swallowed hard, but he obeyed. He had seen Papa stitch wounds before, but that was quite different from doing it oneself. All was silent but for the little noises Papa made in his throat – a “tsk” at trouble, a grunt of approval, a “hmm” while he re-inspected his work. Corban peeked at the patient’s face and saw that he was still awake, though stupefied by the tonic they had given him. That was good. Sleeping now could cost him his life. Only after Corban had completed his last stitch and Papa finally gave an approving “There!” did Papa administer the last of the tonic, releasing the patient to rest till daylight. Now it was just a matter of watching him while he slept.

“Why did we do it, Papa?” Corban finally asked.

“It is right, my son. Good or ill, all things have their purpose.”

“But you said he would bring about evil.”

“It is not our place to judge such things: only Aslan knows what will transpire as a result.” Papa turned his very serious brown eyes to look deep into Corban’s. “Just as He allows the Witch’s presence in Narnia, so He allows this man’s life in bringing him to us. We cannot know what good may come of the evil I forsee, but until then, we can only trust that He holds all between His paws.”

This and more does Corban remember when, one hundred years later, when he sees a ragged boy arrive at his door to realize the centaur’s prophesy from his infancy, a fulfillment made possible the day Corban and his father saved the life of Lord Bar’s grandfather.

And the winner is…

“War and Duty” by 1aslanfan

“Dad?” a boy whispered in the night, standing outside his parents’ bedroom door. “Dad?” A quiet shuffle came from behind the boy, and he jumped in surprise. He turned to see his father’s tall form slipping out of his sisters’ room before shutting the door. When his father turned to face him, the man whispered gently,
“Ed? What are you doing out here, Scamp? Didn’t I just tuck you in?” Edmund nodded his head and looked up at Mr. Pevensie with moonlight streaked across his face.
“I don’t want to go to bed Dad,” he loudly whispered. “I want us to play.” Mr. Pevensie chuckled and shook his head.
“We can’t play now, Scamp. We would wake up the ladies and your brother. Now come on, off to bed with you.” He placed his hand on Edmund’s shoulder and began to push him toward the bedroom he shared with his brother Peter, but Edmund planted his heels firmly into the floor.
“Wait!” he whispered hoarsely. “We don’t have to play! We just–I just…” Edmund’s voice dropped so low, his father almost didn’t hear him. “I just don’t want you to leave.” Mr. Pevensie gave a great sigh and slumped onto his knees before his son.
“Edmund,” he whispered. His son’s eyes widened a bit in surprise. Mr. Pevensie rarely used the full names of his children; he always had some little nickname for them. Edmund made sure to listen as his father continued.
“I don’t want to leave you and your brother and sisters and your mother, but I must. England is at war. Do you know what that means?” Edmund nodded slowly.
“It means whole entire countries are fighting like Peter and I do over our toys.”
“That’s right.” Mr. Pevensie chuckled at his son once again, but this time his heart wasn’t quite in it. “When countries fight… sometimes the grown up men have to go and help. England has asked me to help, and I can’t refuse her.” He took a deep breath. “Men feel what is called duty to their country, Edmund. And that duty is why I must leave. Someday you and Peter will understand what duty is, and you will know what I mean,” he reassured. “But for now, just know that I love you, Edmund, and your mother and siblings, and I will be praying for all of you until I return. Can you do the same for me?” Edmund blinked a few times, looking into his father’s face. He nodded silently.
“Don’t worry for me, Edmund,” Mr. Pevensie whispered. “I’ll be home before you know it.” He smiled one of his dazzling smiles that his children loved so much, but Edmund could see it didn’t reach his eyes.
“Dad?” Edmund whispered.
“Yes, Scamp?” Edmund let out a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding.
“Dad, I’m afraid I won’t remember you when you get back,” he hissed in one long breath. Mr. Pevensie smiled again, but did not show his teeth.
“You have your mother’s hair, Ed,” he began. “And Lucy’s nose, and Peter’s courage, and Susan’s heart. But you have my eyes, Ed. When I’m away, I want you to look in the mirror and look at your eyes. If you focus long enough on those eyes, I promise the rest of me will follow.” The two were still for several moments, the son standing in the moonlight, the father kneeling in shadow. Then suddenly, Edmund flung his arms around his father’s neck, squeezing with all his might, and whispered, his voice thick with a child’s tears,
“I love you, Dad.”
“I love you too, Scamp.”

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