The suggested categories are:

a. an emotion

b. a color

c. an adjective

d. an element (fire, earth, air or water)

e. a Creature or Animal (must be mentioned somewhere in one of Lewis's Narnia books).

From OldFashionedGirl95 I have: happiness, grey, lithe, fire and badger. Here's the story I made from them.

Disclaimer: Edmund and Peter Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.


The first thing Peter noticed was the fire. At least he noticed it on one side of himself. His front side was practically roasting. His backside, however, was nearly frozen. It was an odd feeling to have, to be sure, but not as odd as being not quite certain where one was or how one got there.

Apart from the fire, everything around him was dark and close, and he realized he was in a den or a warren of some sort, something dug into the ground and intended for someone a bit more compact than a long-legged boy of seventeen. There was a proper hearth and a few pieces of furniture, and he realized he was lying on his side on a bed of heather (it was rather nice) with his knees pulled up to his chest (that part wasn't so nice). He felt stiff and sore, his head ached and he desperately wanted to stretch his legs out. But when he tried to stretch, his feet crashed into something heavy that made a rattling noise which sounded suspiciously like teacups.

"Here now!"

He turned his head to see a wary old She-Badger peering down on him with pursed lips and little wire-rimmed spectacles perched on the end of her long nose.

"All that's left of my grandmother's china is in that cupboard, young man, and I'd like to keep it whole."

Peter blinked at her. "S-sorry."

She put her paws on her wide hips. "And if you don't keep that door shut, I'll never be able to get the place warm."

He pushed himself up and saw that the door behind him, a lovely, sturdy little door painted green and fitted out with a shiny brass doorknob, was open to the winter night. No wonder his backside was freezing. He must have kicked it open (more than once?) when he was trying to get comfortable. Somehow, he managed to twist himself around and pull it shut.

"Thank you." The Badger adjusted her paisley shawl. "Now on to important matters. Do you like sugar or honey in your tea?"

"Honey, please, ma'am, if it's not any trouble."

She made a little huffing sound as she watched him struggle into a sitting position with his legs crossed under him. Even seated, he had to duck his head a bit.

"I don't know what in the world I'm going to do with you, you know." She waddled over to her stove, poured some tea into a minuscule little cup, added a generous dollop of honey and handed it to him. "Good thing you're finally awake. I couldn't possibly move you around on my own, and I'd like to get out of my front door someday, thank you very much."

Peter thanked her for the tea and then glanced back at the little door. "I beg your pardon, ma'am, but how did you get me in here in the first place?"

"Well, it wasn't easy, I can tell you." She poured herself a cup of tea and sat in a little overstuffed chair by the hearth. "It took Crofton and Mr. Reynard a good twenty minutes to get you stuffed through that door. I thought they'd skin the paint right off! And then it took another ten to get those long arms and legs of yours situated where they weren't knocking into everything in the blessed house!"

"Crofton and Reynard?"

"Crofton's a Dwarf. Mr. Reynard's a fox." The Badger chuckled. "You'd be hard pressed to say which of them was redder than the other. Crofton was all for leaving you out in the weather, mind you, but that would hardly be right, would it?"

Peter smiled a bit. "I shouldn't have liked it, I'm sure, ma'am."

"No, of course not. How's your head?"

He put one hand up to his right temple, prodding gingerly and then wincing when he touched a good-sized lump. "Doesn't hurt much. I'm sorry to have intruded on you."

"Nonsense." She took a sip of her tea and then picked up her knitting and started turning the heel on a soft-looking grey sock. "We're all neighbors together, aren't we? Though I don't remember any Sons of Adam living nearby."

"Forgive me, ma'am, but I'm not quite sure where I am, so I can't tell you whether I live nearby or not." He gave her a rather sheepish smile. "I'm still not sure what happened."

"Boys," she muttered, as if that were explanation enough, and didn't look up from her knitting. "Whether you were hunting or racing or running from something, I can't say, but you definitely fell from your horse and got quite a crack on the head. Mr. Reynard says the beast must have run off eastward by the tracks it left. He didn't see anyone else about. Isn't anyone missing of you by now?"

Racing. That was it. He and Edmund had been coming back from a visit with Mr. and Mrs. Beaver, and with night coming on, they'd squabbled over the quickest route back to Cair Paravel. They'd agreed to each take his own way and see who made it back home first. Obviously, it wasn't going to be Peter.

"I suppose my brother will be looking for me in time, but it may be a while before he realizes I'm gone. We were racing home and–"

"I see." Again the Badger pursed her lips. "And your mother will be that worried."

Peter shook his head. "But I have a sister who worries enough for three mums and an auntie."

"A brother and a sister, too. Lovely."

"Two sisters, actually, ma'am, but the younger one doesn't spend much time worrying, I don't think."

"Two Sons of Adam and two Daughters of Eve. Sounds like our Kings and Queens, Aslan bless 'em and send 'em happiness." The Badger smiled fondly at him, knitting needles still for once. "Come to think of it, you do put me some in mind of our High King, tall and lithe-limbed as he is. Perhaps it's the look of all Sons of Adam. I've not seen many, mind, and only saw His Majesty once back when he was crowned. I could imagine him grown into such a lad as you by now, but you'd have to go some to match the look of him. All golden and magnificent he was. I'll never forget if I live to be a hundred."

Peter smoothed down his tawny hair, again a touch of a sheepish grin on his face. "No, ma'am. But not everyone can be the High King."

"Don't you worry, young man." She reached over to pat his cheek. "You're a pleasant-looking boy in your own way. And I'm sure that knock on the head and lying in the snow for an hour or two did nothing to improve your looks."

Peter suppressed a chuckle. "No, ma'am."

"Now what about some more tea?" She peered over at his empty cup. "I suppose that wasn't more than a swallow or two for a great lad like you."

"Thank you, ma'am. That would be most kind."

She set down her knitting and took his cup. Before she could reach the teapot again, there came a thunderous pounding on the little green door.

"Hullo? Anyone home?"


Peter flung open the door to see Edmund on hands and knees on the little doorstep outside, his dark eyes equal parts relief and reproof.

"What do you think you're doing disappearing like that? Good thing I found your horse and tracked you back to where you fell. A Fox told me where they'd taken you."

Peter grinned. "Sorry about that. Ummm, I'd tell you to come in except I don't think we'd both fit. Besides, the lady of the house mightn't approve."

"So this is your brother, eh?" The Badger waddled over to the door, looking Edmund up and down. "Doesn't eat enough."

Edmund's mouth dropped open. "Why does everybody say that?"

"Excuse my brother, ma'am," Peter said to the Badger. "He's not used to civilized company."

Edmund scowled at him. "Peter."

"Edmund." Peter scowled back and then grinned. "I hope you brought my horse back with you. I think it's time I got out of the way here. And Susan's going to scold enough as it is."

By this time, the Badger was staring at both boys, eyes wide, paws over her mouth.

"Peter? Edmund? Susan? Oh, dear. I suppose your younger sister is Lucy."

Peter nodded, giving her an apologetic half-smile.

The white patches in her cheeks turned a deep shade of rose as she curtseyed. "Your Majesties. Oh, I do beg your pardon, King Peter. King Edmund. Oh, what I said!"

Peter took one of her paws and pressed the back of it with a courtly kiss. "You've been more than kind, ma'am. Beggar or king, I couldn't have asked better, especially since you had no way of knowing which I was."

Soon, after they had both had a fresh cup of tea (Edmund stayed out on the doorstep), the two Kings made their farewells, and the still-blushing Badger stood in her little warm doorway waving to them until the dark forest swallowed them up.

The next day, Peter sent one of his Tigers back to the Badger's house with a package and a note. The yarn, in an array of bright colors, was from Susan. The jar of honey was from Lucy, and Edmund sent a variety of fine teas. But Peter sent her one of Cair Paravel's best tea sets, "for the next time I drop in."

Author's Note: Anyone who is interested is welcome to leave me a review with a list of words based on the above categories. I can't guarantee I'll write stories for all of the suggestions I get, but I might. :)