nerdtopia

I'm not sure what's funnier.

Shasta being an orphan with unknown origins meeting a prince who's his exact double and going, "Those two things are completely unrelated."

Or Corin, who presumably grew up knowing about his long-lost twin brother, meeting this exact double and then just letting him leave.

MOTIONPICTURESOURCE’S 25 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS

THE CHRONICLES OF NARNIA: THE LION, THE WITCH, AND THE WARDROBE (2005) dir. Andrew Adamson

That one scene in the Magician's Nephew where Jadis bites into that apple.

The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (2005) dir. Andrew Adamson

Illustrations for The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe, art by Anastasia Ryzhkova.

once there were four children, by Liridi.

The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (2005) dir. Andrew Adamson

Okay so when a bird painting says it’d sell you to satan for one corn chip everyone laughs, but when I, Edmund Pevensie—

She was ladylike and lively, not "the type you would expect."

Some of the oldest members of court still remembered how as a child Queen Lucy had always been black and blue from practice yards she wasn't supposed to visit as often as she did. Raffin the Dwarf, who'd been the royal armorsmith back in the day, could tell endless stories about her: how Lucy had stolen swords and sparred with the boys; how she'd been slight and quick and laughed as she sparred; how she'd sometimes even beaten her brothers. It had taken all the High King's force of will to pry the sword and dagger out of his little sister's hand and replace it with a bow.

But even so, Alabast the unicorn, who'd carried her wounded from battle once, claimed in his old age that she'd scarcely ever ridden astride. "She was still a lady, for all that she was a warrior. She wore skirts and armor both," he would say. Peridan remarked that in the command tent she'd had none of the masculine coarseness of the other commanders. She had a temper occasionally, but she did not elbow or jostle to make herself heard. When she spoke, everyone listened.

She laughed loudly and often. That was the main thing that everyone said. The archers, the commanders, the beasts and the centaurs and the giants and the satyrs all said she had a great, carrying laugh that could be heard up and down the battle column.

With a braver heart than many and a slot-shot to respect.

"Queen Susan wins her tournaments and Queen Lucy her battles" people would sing in praise of their sovereigns. While Susan had the better aim in the precise, level field of a fairground, Lucy was dauntless with hell all round her.

The old archers said they never served under a captain that was her equal. Queen Lucy held on whatever ground her archers were stationed. She placed herself as far forward as the High King would allow her. The rows behind her would speak of her small figure poised among so many tall warriors, of her braid being tossed about below her helmet, gold like the Narnian standard.

Hardrum, an old centuar who had been fierce with a flail in his day, told his children about the day the Narnian army had fallen back from the mouth of the River Shribble. "Queen Lucy covered our retreat with no more than fourty archers at her command. I remember seeing her when I galloped past. She was firing arrows two at a time, with a lioness's snarl on her face."

And I guess she'd once decided this was where she'd like to be,

"Why?" Tumnus asked her once. Lucy was growing older; her spun-gold hair had threads of silver in it, but she had yet to hang up her bow.

"When I was a child, because I wanted to be brave," Lucy answered thoughtfully. "But now, I think, I just want to be the sort of person who doesn't put down her weapons until Aslan asks it of her."

When Lucy and the others disappeared beyond Lantern Waste, Tumnus told stories about his best friend: how brave she was, and what kind of person she'd decided to be.

And I thought, if she could do it, why not me?