Fairytales of Famous Authors Compared to Disney Cartoons with proper respect etc

TheHorseAndHisBoySometimeWrittenin1950-1954-C.S.LewisP6

Please do not copy these chapters to any other website, this is a private book for reference to those who write and read and are unfamiliar with the stories since they may not have had access to them. I have no intentions of publishing this publicly at all if you see someone doing that they violate copyright law, you must report them immediately. This is a second edition book in which the stories were reprinted and not the exact original copy from all book set of three books containing every book in the Narnia Series in Chronological order and they made up three big book boxset and I own this set. This is just for me as a reference and private Wattpad only book so that others unfamiliar with these stories may be able to read and catch up even if they do not own the book, do not have access to a computer or wifi for that matter. C. S. Lewis was and is to this day one of my favorite authors. He served in the World Wars and when he got too old to do that he rescued four real children of which Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy are inspired from. So these characters aren't just characters they're more real than any other characters I know. And since I've put up one Christmas story it is only right I should do an even more beloved version. And the way I update this will be out of chronological order this story and the stories that follow will become huge points of cultural learning about Earth and how it works giving young Fairies a big shock in The Problems of Negativix. I will also continue my reference notes and opinions in my special () so that is not just the story,  my dear Skylights. -Lumna10.

A comparison of the Disney movie "The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe," based on C. S. Lewis book is pretty close, but when it comes to the Narnia side of the story they seem to be skipping over every other couple of days to save runtime. I will also be giving serious critique onto reviews from one of which I have already covered. Chapters 12,and 13 are contained within from this book and totals up to 23 pages, this is a story when slaves exist so brace yourselves, C. S. Lewis also avoids describing the skintone of Calormens just as he does with his main four children in the first book, because that is not an important part of the stories. Please remember this is a story you're aware this was written for kids so read it like a kid not an adult, People.-Lumna10. (It does have elements of Turkish life from Turkey, but I do not consider the Calormens to be real people period-Lumna10 out.)

Chapter 12: Shasta in Narnia

"Was it all a dream?" wondered Shasta. But it couldn't have been a dream for there in the grass before him he saw the deep, large print of the Lion's front right paw. It took one's breath away to think of the weight that could make a footprint like that. But there was something more remark. able than the size about it. As he looked at it, water had already filled the bottom of it. Soon it was full to the brim, and then overflowing, and a little stream was running downhill, past him, over the grass.
Shasta stooped and drank –– a very long drink –– and then dipped his face in and splashed his head. It was extremely cold, and clear as glass, and refreshed him very much. After that he stood up, shaking the water out of his ears and flinging the wet hair back from his forehead, and began to take stock of his surroundings.
Apparently it was still very early morning. The sun had only just risen, and it had risen out of the forests which he saw low down and far away on his right. The country which he was looking at was absolutely new to him. It was a green valley-land dotted with trees through which he caught the gleam of a river that wound away roughly to the North-West. On the far side of the valley there were high and even rocky hills, but they were lower than the mountains he had seen yesterday. Then he began to guess where he was. He turned and looked behind him and saw that the slope on which he was standing belonged to 3 range of far higher mountains.
"I see, said Shasta to himself. "Those are the big mountains between Archenland and Narnia. I was on the other side of them yesterday. I must have come through the pass in the night. What luck that I hit - at least it wasn't luck at all really, it was Him. And now I'm in Narnia."
He turned and unsaddled his horse and took off its bridle –– "Though you are a perfectly horrid horse," he said. It took no notice of this remark and immediately began eating grass. That horse had a very low opinion of Shasta.
"l wish I could eat grass!" thought Shasta. "It's no good going back to Anvard, it'll all be besieged. I'd better get lower down into the valley and see if I can get anything to eat."
So he went on downhill (the thick dew was cruelly cold to his bare feet) till he came into a wood. There was a kind of track running through it and he had not followed this for many minutes when he heard a thick and rather wheezy voice saying to him.
"Good morning, neighbour."
Shasta looked round eagerly to find the speaker and presently saw a small, prickly person with a dark face who had just come out from among the trees. At least, it was small for a person but very big indeed for a hedgehog, which was what it was.
"Good morning," said Shasta. "But I'm not a neighbour. In fact I'm a stranger in these parts."
"Ah?" said the Hedgehog inquiringly.
"I've come over the mountains - from Archenland, you know."
"Ah, Archenland," said the Hedgehog. "That's a terrible long way. Never been there myself."
"And I think, perhaps," said Shasta, "someone ought to be told that there's an army of savage Calormenes attacking Anvard at this very moment."
"You don't say so!" answered the Hedgehog. "Well, think of that. And they do say that Calormen is hundreds and thousands of miles away, right at the world's end, across a great sea of sand."
"It's not nearly as far as you think," said Shasta. "And oughtn't something to be done about this attack on Anvard? Oughtn't your High King to be told?"
"Certain sure, something ought to be done about it," said the Hedgehog. "But you see I'm just on my way to bed for a good day's sleep. Hullo, neighbour!"
The last words were addressed to an immense biscuit-coloured rabbit whose head had just popped up from somewhere beside the path. The Hedgehog immediately told the Rabbit what it had just learned from Shasta. The Rabbit agreed that this was very remarkable news and that somebody ought to tell someone about it with a view to doing something.
And so it went on. Every few minutes they were joined by other creatures, some from the branches overhead and some from little underground houses at their feet, till the party consisted of five rabbits, a squirel, two magpies, a goat-foot faun, and a mouse, who all talked at the same time and all agreed with the Hedgehog. For the truth was that in that golden age when the Witch and the Winter had gone and Peter the High King ruled at Cair Paravel, the smaller woodland people of Narnia were so safe and happy that they were getting a little careless.
Presently, however, two more practical people arrived in the little wood. One was a Red Dwarf whose name appear. ed to be Duffle. The other was a stag, a beautiful lordly creature with wide liquid eyes, dappled flanks and legs so thin and graceful that they looked as if you could break them with two fingers.
"Lion alive!" roared the Dwarf as soon as he had heard the news. "And if that's so, why are we all standing still, chattering? Enemies at Anvard! News must be sent to Cair Paravel at once. The army must be called out. Narnia must go to the aid of King Lune."
"Ah!" said the Hedgehog. "But you won't find the High King at the Cair. He's away to the North trouncing those giants. And talking of giants, neightbours, that puts me in mind -"
"Who'll take our message?" interrupted the Dwarf. "Anyone here got more speed than me?"
"I've got speed," said the Stag. "What's my message? How many Calormenes?"
"Two hundred: under Prince Rabadash. And -" But the Stag was already away - all four legs off the ground at once, and in a moment its white stern had disappeared among the remote trees.
"Wonder where he's going," said a Rabbit. "He won't find the High King at Cair Paravel, you know."
"He'll find Queen Lucy," said Duffle. "And then –– hullo! What's wrong with the Human? It looks pretty green. Why, I do believe it's quite faint. Perhaps it's mortal hungry. When did you last have a meal, youngster?"
"Yesterday morning," said Shasta weakly.
"Come on, then, come on," said the Dwarf, at once throwing his thick little arms round Shasta's waist to support him. "Why, neighbours, we ought all to be ashamed of ourselves! You come with me, lad. Breakfast! Better than talking."
With a great deal of bustle, muttering reproaches to itself, the Dwarf half led and half supported Shasta at a great speed further into the wood and a little downhill. It was a longer walk than Shasta wanted at that moment and his legs had begun to feel very shaky before they came out from the trees on to bare hillside. There they found a little house with a smoking chimney and an open door, and as they came to the doorway Duffle called out,
"Hey, brothers! A visitor for breakfast."
And immediately, mixed with a sizzling sound, there came to Shasta a simply delightful smell. It was one he had never smelled in his life before, but I hope you have. It was, in fact, the smell of bacon and eggs and mushrooms all frying in a pan.
"Mind your head, lad," said Duffle a moment too late, for Shasta had already bashed his forehead against the low lintel of the door. "Now," continued the Dwarf, "sit you down. The table's a bit low for you, but then the stool's low too. That's right. And here's porridge –– and here's a jug of cream –– and here's a spoon.
By the time Shasta had finished his porridge, the Dwarf's two brothers (whose names were Rogin and Bricklethumb) were putting the dish of bacon and eggs and mushrooms, and the coffee pot and the hot milk, and the toast, on the table.
It was all new and wonderful to Shasta for Calormene food quite different. He didn't even know what the slices of brown stuff were. for he had never seen toast before. His dint know what the yellow soft thing they smeared on the toast was, because in Calormen you nearly always get oil instead of butter. And the house itself was quite different from the dark, frowsty, fish-smelling hut of Arsheesh and from the pillared and carpeted halls in the palaces of Tashbaan. The roof was very low, and every.
Everything was made of wood, and there was a cuckoo-clock and a red-and-white checked table-cloth and a bowl of wild flowers and little curtains on the thick-paned windows. It was also rather troublesome having to use dwarf cups and plates and knives and forks. This meant that helpings were very small, but then there were a great many helpings, so that Shasta's plate or cup was being filled every moment, and every moment the Dwarfs themselves were saying,
"Butter please", or "Another cup
of coffee," or "I'd like a few more mushrooms," or "What about frying another egg or so?" And when at last they had all eaten as much as they possibly could the three Dwarfs drew lots for who would do the washing-up, and Rogin was the unlucky one. Then Duffle and Bricklethumb took Shasta outside to a bench which ran against the cottage wall, and they all stretched out their legs and gave a great sigh of contentment and the two Dwarfs lit their pipes. The dew was off the grass now and the sun was warm; indeed, if there hadn't been a light breeze, it would have been too hot.