The Magician's Nephew: Chapters 11–15

But you must remember that the animals knew nothing about clothes. They thought that Polly’s frock and Digory’s Norfolk suit and the Cabby’s bowler hat were as much parts of them as their own fur and feathers.

He had been desperately hoping that the Lion would say “Yes”; he had been horribly afraid it might say “No.” But he was taken aback when it did neither.

“She woke up,” said Digory wretchedly.

If she had had time to put on her good clothes (her best hat had imitation cherries on it) she would have looked dreadful; as it was, she looked rather nice.

“I never could abide such goings on, sir, and that’s the truth. I’d give ’em what for if I caught ’em at it,” said the Cabby.

And you and your children and grandchildren shall be blessed, and some will be Kings of Narnia, and others will be Kings of Archenland which lies yonder over the Southern Mountains.

Have you forgiven the Boy for the violence he did you in the Hall of Images in the desolate palace of accursed Charn?

For the tawny face was bent down near his own and (wonder of wonders) great shining tears stood in the Lion’s eyes.

At the end of the lake there is a steep, green hill.

And now they were so high that they could see tiny-looking jagged mountains appearing beyond the northwest moors, and plains of what looked like sand far in the south.

At last Fledge alighted. Digory rolled off and helped Polly to dismount.

Polly and Digory stared at one another in dismay.
"Well, I do think someone might have arranged about our meals,” said Digory.

This was a difficult and delicate job but they managed it in the end.

The horse scrambled to its feet with a great noise and a great upheaval; the children were already on theirs.

Have you ever bathed in a mountain river that is running in shallow cataracts over red and blue and yellow stones with the sun on it?

Come in by the gold gates or not at all,
Take of my fruit for others or forbear,
For those who steal or those who climb my wall
Shall find their heart’s desire and find despair.

There, on a branch above his head, a wonderful bird was roosting. I say “roosting” because it seemed almost asleep, perhaps not quite.

It was larger than an eagle, its breast saffron, its head crested with scarlet, and its tail purple.

Fledge glided down, spread out his four legs, closed his wings, and landed cantering.

Then Digory knew that all the Narnians had heard those words and that the story of them would be handed down from father to son in that new world for hundreds of years and perhaps forever. But he was in no danger of feeling conceited for he didn’t think about it at all now that he was face to face with Aslan.

No hand but yours shall sow the seed of the Tree that is to be the protection of Narnia.

“Let us now proceed to the coronation of King Frank of Narnia and Helen his Queen.”

The Squirrels bombarded him with volleys of nuts, but he only covered his head with his hands and tried to keep out of the way.

Several birds flew to and fro diligently dropping worms on him.

And it was sheer bad luck that he sat down on the pile of thistles.

“He thinks great folly, child,” said Aslan.

“Sleep and be separated for some few hours from all the torments you have devised for yourself.”

Next moment (how those dwarfs loved their work!) the fire was blazing, the bellows were roaring, the gold was melting, the hammers were clinking.

But while that Tree flourishes she will never come down into Narnia. She dare not come within a hundred miles of the Tree, for its smell, which is joy and life and health to you, is death and horror and despair to her.

“Child,” he replied, “that is why all the rest are now a horror to her. That is what happens to those who pluck and eat fruits at the wrong time and in the wrong way. The fruit is good, but they loathe it ever after.”

And soon, very soon, before you are an old man and an old woman, great nations in your world will be ruled by tyrants who care no more for joy and justice and mercy than the Empress Jadis.

Fortunately the front door of the house was open and the housemaid was standing in the doorway staring at the fun (what a day that girl was having!) so the children had no difficulty in bustling Uncle Andrew indoors before anyone asked any questions.

They got a trowel and buried all the magic rings, including their own ones, in a circle round it.

Aunt Letty did everything that Mother liked; windows were opened, frowsy curtains were drawn back to brighten up the rooms, there were new flowers everywhere, and nicer things to eat, and the old piano was tuned and Mother took up her singing again, and had such games with Digory and Polly that Aunt Letty would say “I declare, Mabel, you’re the biggest baby of the three.”

Sometimes it would move mysteriously when there was no wind blowing: I think that when this happened there were high winds in Narnia and the English tree quivered because, at that moment, the Narnia tree was rocking and swaying in a strong southwestern gale.