A Year and a Day [Narnia Fanfic]

(While I was writing about Queen Swanwhite a month ago I wondered just what it would mean to leave a reflection of yourself in whatever pool of water you looked into, a reflection that remained for a year after you were gone. The Queen might not care, or those who carried her legend. But for the common folk of Narnia it was a different story.)

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A Year and a Day

 

It was said that when Queen Swanwhite looked into any forest pool the reflection of her face shone out of the water like a star by night for a year and a day afterwards.

 —  from Tales of Elder Narnia, by Purseplum the Marshwiggle

 

After a third round of leisurely lovemaking Drutessa rose from the bower of moss and leaves that cushioned her and her partner from the hard forest floor.

“I’m off to wash up a bit,” she said with a quick kiss on Phoedus’s left horn.

The faun grinned at her cheekily. “Don’t be long, love.”

Drutessa wrapped her filmy garment around her and, soft-footed but sure, padded through the trees to little pool they had nested by.

Phoedus had been the picture of gallantry earlier, but now he was free to grin from pointed ear to pointed ear. Drutessa was quite a prize. It had taken weeks of honeyed persuasion, hard wooing, and countless gifts before she’d been softened up enough to lay with him.  Such was the life of a faun, and the females of their species, the phaunae. Oh, the phaunae looked nothing like him, of course, with his goat legs and hooves. Phaunae were like the nymphs, comely, slim and graceful. But like the fauns they had pointed ears, and on their foreheads small rudimentary horns. And on their shapely backsides, the stub of a small tail.

A loud scream split the air. Phoedus leapt up, erotic daydreams forgotten, and rushed off to find Drutessa.

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Announcement: Narnia Fanfic

Starting this week I’ll be publishing some Narnia fanfic on this site. I’ve had too much fun reading it not to join in!

The Lady of the Green Kirtle:
Sisters in Green

Previous parts of this series can be read here (Part I) , here (Part II) 
and here (Part III)

Absinthe, the Green Fairy, by Nadine Dennis

Now that I’ve established The Lady of the Green Kirtle has Green Fairy lineage, I thought it would be fun to look at some of her cousins, the Green Fairies interpreted by contemporary artists.

These images range from sinisterly playful to semi-pornographic, fueled by the popular depiction of absinthe-the-drink from the 1880s on. These Green Fairies are not as calculating and cultured as The Lady of the Green Kirtle, but are just as seductive and deadly. The artist can portray them with an arch sense of humor, or a sloppy inebriated one.

The above image surrounds the winged fairy with absinthe leaves, and she holds a glass of the stuff.  Her dress is falling off her shoulders, perhaps with drunkeness.

Lair of the Absinthe Fairy, by Laurie Lee Brom

This female is more tough broad than fairy as she pours a poisonous glowing drink and stares straight at the viewer. Like Lewis’ witch, she is blonde.

The Absinthe Fairy, by Laurie Lee Brom

A more gleeful fairy by the same artist in the same pose, plump-faced like the Art Nouveau poster models. She’s got the hooded eyes of a Silent Movie siren.

This fleshy cartoonish fairy is slowly dissolving herself in the absinthe drink to bewitch someone.

Absinthe Fairy by Lucas Graciano

This Green Fairy as Lady of Death, going by all the skulls. She’s living in a forest of dead trees.

Another inebriated fairy, joyfully slobbering up the water sweetened by the sugar cube.  Her wings are sprigs of artemisia leaves.

Art by Olivier Ledroit

This kinky creature is Olivier Ledroit’s work. I’ve actually stayed away from most of the “traditional” winged fairy girl depictions, because they tend to look more like Harley Quinnesque bad girl tartlets. But this one is interesting, if only for her utter lack of passion and leather bondage getup.

Artwork by Jehan Choo

A very pickled fairy actually living in the bottle!

Illustration by Jessica Oyhenart

This Green Fairy is a Belle Epoque vamp rising from the bottle’s fumes.

And now, what all that absinthe does to you…

Worldbuilding Wednesday 7/20/22: Narnian Female Names (Narnia XXXVII)

I don’t know what the heck  these Pre-Raphaelite women are doing, but they’re wearing the kind of flowing, early Medieval costumes Pauline Baynes loved to depict in her drawings of Narnia.

One of the weird things about the Narnia world (not just Narnia the country) is that very few Narnian-born human women are mentioned by name.  Of them, the nation of Calormen has three: Aravis, Lasaraleen, and Zardeenah. (Perhaps Zardeenah doesn’t count, because she is a goddess.) The males of Calormen are mentioned a lot more — perhaps two dozen names are thrown around, admittedly much of them battle casualties from the Hermit’s scrying pool in The Horse and His Boy.

From all the other Narnian countries, there’s only a handful: Queen Swanwhite and Lady Liln, who are mentioned in passing as figures of legend; Queen Prunaprismia, who may not count because she’s a Telmarine; and Gwendoline, a town girl mentioned in Prince Caspian, who is also a Telmarine, or of Telmarine descent. Unlike the three Calormene names, the “European” women’s names are all over the place. (Note: I did conjecture about Prunaprismia and other Telmarine women’s names here.)

In fact, Lewis left out the names of even the important women characters of the books. Ramandu’s daughter, The Lady of the Green Kirtle, and Caspian’s deceased mother and old nurse don’t get names; neither did Cor and Corin’s deceased mother, or the squinty, freckled potential bride of Caspian mentioned in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, who he met in a Galman tourney. The White Witch barely got hers: her name is mentioned on a document, but not spoken. Perhaps the lack of female names is a Medieval European trope, one old storytellers were fond of using. But we don’t know for sure.

If Lewis had chosen to give endemic names to female Narnians, we need look no further than the British Victorian Age, the era of his birth and childhood, when odd-sounding names for baby girls were as much in vogue as they are today. There were plenty of Margarets and Catherines, of course, but also Alcedies, Dulcibelles, and Quillianas. These distinctive names have yet to come back into style and were likely made up by the parents. I’d think they’d work well for Narnia. From these, I randomgenned a few more.

 

Narnian Names for Human Females

Abbavenna

Abolene

Adeliza

Adnah

Alcedie

Algitha

Allida

Almatina

Alwina

Amira

Anesta

Aquilisa

Athelinda

Avonnia

Azena

Azubah

Balmena

Barbarina

Belina

Beshuma

Bethalina

Blossie

Casiphia

Celestina

Charmah

Christabella

Clelia

Clytie

Crissada

Darlotte

Damaris

Delina

Dinorah

Dorabeth

Dulcibelle

Edaine

Edelga

Edenelle

Ederica

Esterlie

Ezela

Favante

Favella

Favoretta

Felette

Flamicia

Glenova

Glenthora

Hethecca

Ianthe

Imantha

Ismena

Itherica

Jerusha

Keturah

Lauretta

Leillette

Lendella

Lenidcy

Liena

Lissiana

Lyra

Maida

Maskely

Mathulda

Melita

Merelina

Mietje

Morlena

Nephelitta

Ozelah

Pathenia

Pedora

Pembula

Querina

Quillianna

Regencia

Remincy

Salva

Sanamirah

Savilla

Tamar

Telidwen

Theolinda

Thirza

Thyra

Trianda

Trintoffy

Tryphena

Ubertha

Venua

Vesina

Wrenny

Zelaide

Zelmira

Zerlina

 

Jadis 2022: Rising

Art work by Emily Keown

Some new images of Jadis I found, this post concentrating on more graphic and comic depictions. First, this  Joker-faced, sneering White Witch who is glamorous but creepy.

Art by Christopher Ables

Another cartoon Jadis, this one better-looking and imperious rather than maniacal. She reminds of Yzma in The Emperor’s New Groove.

Artwork by Liliribs

A simple but very effective Jadis by Liliribs, part of a monthlong art challenge in which each day the artist creates a different character according to a pre-determined list.

Artwork by Jordan Jones

An elaborately costumed Japanese-inspired Jadis that includes a reference to the Japanese flag, or the red sun of Charn. I like the costume and headress but remember, Queen Jadis was a warrior and general as well as monarch; she had to move, and move swiftly. In that costume there’s no way she wield that oversize sword, run through the halls of her palace, or hijack a London cab.

The White Witch of Narnia - sketch in pencil

The White Witch of Narnia, by Cherryclaires

A deceptively innocent Jadis on her throne after she became The White Witch. Even with her doll-like appearance she doesn’t seem very welcoming.

Sketch by Voz

From a storyboard by the artist. Jadis as seductress with Edmund in her clutches, just as she’s about to generate a hot drink for him. Even though the sketch is simple, all the dynamics of the scene are there: the gloating dwarven driver; the imperious Queen who’s thinking of her next move, only playing at kindness; and Edmund’s eager acceptance.

Art by Elyk Rindon

White Witch vs. Lion in this composite drawing.

Finally, Jadis and one of her victims.

The Lady of the Green Kirtle:
Green as Absinthe

Previous parts of the series can be read here (Part I) and here (Part II)


The Lady of the Green Kirtle and her mandolin

Ever wonder why The Lady of the Green Kirtle — also known as The Green Witch — seems to have little sprigs of greenery decorating her gown and hair in Pauline Baynes’ illustrations of her?

Well, it’s because of this.

The plant above is Artemisia absinthium, a bushy perennial shrub also known as wormwood. As you can guess by that name, its scent is not pleasant. In fact, it reeks. I know. I’ve grown it. Not only does it reek, it’s extremely bitter, so bitter most animals will not eat it. The plant has many medicinal uses and was also cultivated  to flavor spirits and wine. In late 1700s Switzerland it was combined with anise and fennel, and out of this Holy Trinity, the bright green, mind-numbing, alcoholic beverage known as absinthe was born.

Popular in fin-de-siècle France, especially Paris, absinthe was immortalized forever in the impressionist paintings of Manet, van Gogh, and Toulouse-Lautrec. Back then it was traditional to serve absinthe by decanting a portion into a glass, then slowly dripping cold water into it over a cube of sugar held over the glass’s mouth by a small slotted spoon. The sugar alleviated the drink’s bitterness, the water cut its high alcohol content, and the chill brought out in the absinthe a louche —  a cloudiness derived from chemicals in the herbs that created a pleasant aroma and refined taste. The woman in the gown holding up up the contraption was the very embodiment of this exotic ritual. She was called The Green Fairy, The Absinthe Fairy, or, sometimes, The Green Witch.

So you see where I am going with this, right?

Green Muse, by Albert Maignan (1895). A poet descends into madness in The Green Fairy’s clutches, even burning his own work in the pot-bellied stove.

Absinthe was a drink embraced by the bohemian crowd, artists and writers who enjoyed its little rituals and the special bars and cafes set up for enjoying it. As the painting above suggests it was also called The Green Muse, said to especially befuddle the senses and cause hallucinations leading the drinker into damnation and death. How much of that evil glamor was debauchery rubbed off by the likes of Rimbaud and Oscar Wilde, the high alcohol content of the drink (90–148 proof!) or toxic additives used by unscrupulous brewers remains to be seen, as modern scientific analysis confirms absinthe is no less addictive or hallucinogenic than any other alcoholic beverage. Nevertheless, the beguiling Green Fairy was blamed.

She was a traitorous mistress, leading drinkers to ruin.

Of course, ordinary folk enjoyed the drink too; it was popular throughout the European continent and even in America, where the likes of Mark Twain and Theodore Roosevelt sampled it, thanks to attractive Art Nouveau posters like these.

It’s hard to say if these green-clad, comely maidens are meant to be physical embodiments of the absinthe drink or just indicators of absinthe’s good times. Many adverts of the Victorian Age featured  similar cheesecake  even when they were shilling baking chocolate or sewing thread. Note their red or blonde hair, however; Lewis’ Green Witch also had flowing blonde locks.

Another embodiment of absinthe was this Classical, toga-clad lovely who is wearing a crown of artemisia leaves. The plant itself can be seen to the lower right of the Swiss shield.

The Swiss remained the premier manufacturers for absinthe throughout its Golden Age.

I’ve yet to read, in my admittedly shallow, research on Lewis that he took the template of The Green Fairy and used it for his more infamous Lady of the Green Kirtle. But Pauline Baynes, Lewis’ trusted illustrator, certainly did, going by the witch’s anodyne face and flowing gown with its scattered artemisia leaflets… leaflets which are nowhere in the text of The Silver Chair. Lewis had full approval over Baynes’ depictions, so it’s likely he understood, as a child of the early 20th century,  the visual reference to absinthe and let it stay.

Pernod advertisement showing artemisia leaves and flowers behind the bottle. Note that it says “Drink responsibly” in French at the bottom.

Absinthe culture and its reputation for death and decadence, crime and social disorder, had so permeated the Western world that by 1905, after a particularly violent murder blamed on absinthe consumption, petitions were circulated to ban it in Switzerland. This inspired another outbreak of Green Fairy depictions, this time showing them as deserving victims (pro-ban) or martyrs (anti-ban.)

This one is against the ban, which would have hurt Swiss distillaries the most and cause a major loss of revenue.

Despite posters like these absinthe was banned from Switzerland in 1908, the constitution even being rewritten to accomodate it. Other countries followed suit. The U.S. banned it in 1912 and France, its biggest market, in 1914. It was the end of an era, the decades afterward only cementing absinthe’s reputation as a poisonous, decadent destroyer of lives.

The perfect drink for Lewis’ Green Witch.

Worldbuilding Wednesday 7/13/22: Flowers of Narnia (Narnia XXXVI)


C. S. Lewis went into great detail about many aspects of Narnia, but one thing he didn’t was what kind of plant life it had. We know there was a magic tree that had silver apples and a toffee-fruit tree from The Magician’s Nephew, and white water lilies or lotuses from the Silver Sea of the Utter East, and … um, that’s it. Flowers are mentioned in the text, and depicted in many illustrations of Narnia, but for specific kinds, there’s nothing.

So I decided to fill in the gap with some randomgenned ones.

 

Narnian Flowers

Archenlandean Mazebuttons

Aslan’s Sunbreath

Beeblush

Bowl-of-Joy

Dryad Blood Iris

Ettinsmore Harshberry

Everlasting Summer

Fairynose

Faunhooves

Fiddle-Fax

Frogtongue

Harespike

Kingscover

Lion-cotton

Maenad Thimbles

Marshdart

Narnian Weaselwand

Reepicheep’s Mouseblade

Telmarine Toad Marigold

Terabinthian Capped Roses

Aslan on Stage (Part IV)

Now we get to the last part of this series, where I’ll look at what Aslan could be, or might be, in some future production.

Take the costume sketch above. This Aslan stands apart from all we’ve seen before, the concept part African and part Indonesian or maybe Ceylonese. He brings to mind the Indian monkey god Hanuman. As is standard the designer included some fabric samples stapled to the corner.

An 18th-century military or pirate look would be nice too. This was a design for another play that had a lion character, but it could work well for Aslan.

Or perhaps the production decides on a Scottish, rather than British, feel?

Or one in which Narnia is stuck in the Tudor Age? Though I can’t see Aslan slouching so nonchalantly on a throne.

Here’s an Aslan that might work for The Horse and His Boy, which had an “Oriental” (Turkish / Indian / Middle East) setting of Calormen. The girl might be Aravis.

Most artwork of warrior lion men was too full of bared teeth, battle fury, and oversized weaponry to convey a convincing Aslan, but this character is thoughtful and sedate.

The world of furry and anthro art opens up more possibilities. This is a nice tribal fantasy look for Aslan, with or without the lion face.

And who says Aslan has to be a male, even? This getup might do nicely for a gender-swapped version. One might have a White Warlock instead of a witch.

With some time and patience, it’s always possible to create your own Aslan costume with some discarded cardboard, glue, and a utility knife.

Worldbuilding Wednesday 7/6/22: Narnian Desserts (Narnia XXXV)

Turkish Delight, as it might have been presented by The White Witch

Turkish Delight is THE most iconic dessert, and most iconic food, of all the books in the Chronicles of Narnia, and I’ll put it up there with Lembas as the most iconic fantasy food, period. In fact, most people today would have never heard of it if not for The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. It would have been relegated to the island of Lost Desserts, like Lady Baltimore Cake and syllabub.

In the book it works as a symbol of temptation, addicting Edward, warping his judgment, and binding him to the witch. And so from how it’s presented most readers would think it’s something super special. But the sad news is, it isn’t. Basically, it’s a semisolid gel, cut into small squares, made from a syrup of starch and sugar, and flavored with various foods of the East: rosewater, bergamot orange, pistachio, dates, walnuts, hazelnuts. The squares, when solid enough to be cut, are dusted with powdered sugar or the like to prevent clinging to each other. Not very appetizing to me. Liberty Orchards of Cashmere, Washington used a similar recipe to create their version, which is widely sold to tourists visiting Washington state. It’s OK, but not worth selling your soul to a witch for.

So, why did Lewis choose this, and not, say, strawberry shortcake or chocolate pudding? It could have been  something he enjoyed in his younger days, and in post-WWII Britain, when the book was written, it likely wasn’t available because of the austerity rations which lasted until 1958. In my opinion, though, it just sounded exotic —  exotic and old-fashioned enough for an inhumanly beautifully White Witch. In other words, an indulgence in Orientalism, which Lewis returned to later with the introduction of the nation of Calormen.

There are other sweets and desserts mentioned in the books, but all are resoundingly British. There are no candy bars, no cookies or eclairs or strudels. There are  fruits endemic to Western Europe (no pineapple or mango), dried dates and figs, marmalades, a sugar-cake, puddings, pies, ice cream, fools, ices, and jellies. Some scholars think this is Lewis’s longing for the lost sweets of his youth: “I myself like eating and drinking, I put in what I would have liked to read when I was a child and what I still like reading now that I am in my fifties.”

Since the movies came  out there’s been an explosion of fan-created recipes, as well as recipe books both official and unofficial.

What desserts might have been served in Narnia by the Narnians themselves, AND be something C. S. Lewis would liked to have eaten? Here’s a randomgenned list.

 

Narnian Desserts

Archenlandean berry biscuits

Caspian’s malted syrup

Chivalry pudding

Coronation cocoa rolls

Dryads’ Cake covered with flower petals from Aslan’s Country

Dufflepud shortbread

Father Christmas’s nutmeg breakfast rolls

Flaming Phoenix jellies

Goat milk sherbert from Tehishbaan

Jewel the Unicorn’s biscuits drizzled in diamond-juice glaze from Bism

King Edmund’s crunchy wafers

Maenad spongecake, served with a sweet wine of Archenland

Milk pudding from Glenstorm the Centaur

Mrs. Beaver’s spiced lemon curd tartlet

Narnian buttermilk bread served with barley sugar ice cream

Queen Helen’s apple and clotted cream biscuits

Queen Susan’s butterhorns

Seafarer’s treacle from The Dawn Treader

Sorloisian camel bread

Strawberry and gooseberry whip from Ramandu’s Island

Tapioca of the Stars’ Great Dance

Telmarine whiskey pudding

Terabinthian spice cake

The White Witch’s scarlet ice

Toffee-fruit bars served at Queen Lucy’s birthday

Tournament buns from Galma

Tumnus’ sweet rum butter shortbread

Winter white chocolate layer cake

Witch Country guardian apple dumplings

Wizard’s ripple ice with plumberries

Aslan on Stage (Part III)

The medium of dance calls for a different approach to the character. In the ballet version of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, the characters do not speak and convey motion only with their bodies. This Aslan  has a more catlike costume, but one that can let him move freely, at least as well as he can with that oversized lion headpiece. Then again, most Nutcrackers and Rat Kings dance competently despite the bulkiness of their getups. Aslan’s tail is long and free, allowing it to lash and twirl around when he dances.

This Aslan dancer is more stylized, with bare legs and feet, fur around his wrists, neck, and head, and a superhero-like costume. (Well, Aslan IS a superhero of a sort.) The tattoos are likely the dancer’s.

Another dynamic Aslan dancer, with three dryads, a leopardess, and an eagle behind him.

There are variations in staging even in the world of dance. This version of the ballet was a street / hip hop one, with sneakers, braids, and sweatpants for Aslan as he battles The White Witch.

As with play versions, some directors judge it better to have Aslan represented by a puppet. Here some dancers are putting him through his paces during practice. The wire and silk construction ensures he won’t be too heavy to carry.

How the puppet worked in the Stone Table scene. The dancers around the table I guess to be the hags, haunts, and werewolves of the story, the evil crowd. But here it’s obvious they’re played by dancers who were in previous scenes, wearing baggy black robes to disguise the costumes they can’t change in and out of. Aslan seems to be giving them a skeptical look. “Really? Is that the best you can do?”