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

Book3:PrinceCaspianWritten(1950-1954)C. S. Lewis P5

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 9 & 10 total up to 27 pages.

Chapter 9: What Lucy Saw

Susan and the two boys were bitterly tired with rowing before they rounded the last headland and began the final pull up the Glasswater itself, and Lucy's head ached from the long hours of sun and the glare ob the water. Even Trumpkin longed for the voyage to be over. The seat on which he sat to steer had been made for men, not Dwarfs, and his feet did not reach the floor-boards; and everyone knows how uncomfortable that is even for ten minutes.(True, I can't for the life of me sit on any bar stools or high chairs because the moment I sit down, I instantly wanna get back up since my feet are too far away from the floor. I hate that feeling like you're going to slide right off in no time at all and I have slide off multiple times beforehand-Lumna10)
And as they all grew tired, their spirits fell. Up till now the children had only been thinking of how to get to Caspian. Now they wondered what they would do when they found him, and how a handful of Dwarfs and woodland creatures could defeat an army of grown-up Humans.
Twilight was coming on as they rowed slowly up the windings of Glasswater Creek –– a twilight which deepened as the banks drew closer together and the overhanging trees began almost to meet overhead. It was very quiet here as the sound of the sea died away behind them; they could even hear the trickle of the little streams that poured down from the forest into Glasswater.
They went ashore at last, far too tired to attempt lighting a fire; and even a supper of apples (though most of them felt that they never wanted to see an apple again) After a little silent munching they all huddled down together in the moss and dead leaves between four large beech trees.
Everyone. . . Lucy went to sleep at once. Lucy, being far less tired, found it hard to get comfortable. Also, she had forgotten till now that all Dwarfs snore. She knew that one of the best ways of getting to sleep is to stop trying, so she opened her eyes. Through a gap in the bracken and branches she could just see a patch of water in the Creek and the sky above iy. Then, with a thrill of memory, she saw again, after all those years, the bright Narnian stars. She had once known them better than the stars of our own world, because as a Queen in Narnia she had gone to bed much later than as a child in England. And there they were –– at least, three of the summer constellations could be seen from where she lay: the Ship, the Hammer, and the Leopard. "Dear old Leopard," she murmured happily to herself.
Instead of getting drowsier she was getting more awake –– with an odd, night-time, dreamish kind of wakefulness. The Creek was growing brighter.She knew now that the moon was on it, though she couldn't see the moon. And now she began to feel that the whole forest was coming awake like herself. Hardly knowing why she did it, she got up quickly and walked a little distance away from their bivouac.
"This is lovely," said Lucy to herself. It was cool and fresh; delicious smells were floating everywhere. Somewhere close by she heard the twitter of a nightingale beginning to sing, then stopping, then beginning again. It was a little lighter ahead. She went towards the light and came to a place where there were fewer trees, and whole patches or pools of moonlight, but the moonlight and the shadows so mixed that you could hardly be sure where anything was or what it was. At the same moment, the nightingale, satisfied with his tuning up, burst into full song.
Lucy's eyes began to grow accustomed to the light, and she saw the trees that were nearest her distinctly. A great longing for the old days when trees could talk in Narnia came over her. She knew exactly how each of these trees would talk if only she could wake them, and what sort of human form it would put on. She looked at a silver birch: it would have a soft, showery voice and would look like a slender girl, with hair blown all about her face, and fond of dancing. She looked at the oak: he would be a wizened, but hearty old man with a frizzled beard and warts on his face and hands, and hair growing out of the warts. She looked at the beech under which she was standing. Ah! -– she would be the best of all. She would be the best of all. She would be a gracious goddess, (it's just a compliment it doesn't mean she is a goddess more likely a Queen over the Tree Spirits that are on the Good Side-Lumna10) smooth and stately, the Lady of the wood.
  "Oh, Trees, Trees, Trees," said Lucy (though she had not been intending to speak at all). "Oh, Trees, wake, wake, wake. Don't you remember it? Don't you remember me? Dryads and Hamadryads, come out, come to me."
Though there was not a breath of wind they all stirred about her. The rustling noise of the leaves was almost like words. The nightingale stopped singing as if to listen to it.