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 Rayven49 I have: exhaustion, green, content, water and frog. Here's the story I made from them.


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

THE FROG PRINCESS

Peter had journeyed from Cair Paravel to the River Shribble, above where the icy castle of the White Witch once stood, to settle a longstanding dispute between some Naiads and the Marshwiggles. Neither party had been completely happy with his ruling on the issue, but as Edmund always said, that most likely meant that he had ruled fairly, and now he was happy to be heading home again. He had taken only his personal guard and a few of his soldiers with him, hoping a small party would make the journey easier and quicker, and it had proven so.

But he was tired of travel, tired of riding, tired of seeing the same few Centaurs and Fauns and Beasts and not his brother and sisters. This, he was happy to note, would be their last night before reaching home, and as it drew towards dusk, he called a halt.

"We'll camp here. This clearing is well grassed for those who prefer to graze, and there is a pond beyond the trees for drinking and bathing." He turned the Eagle who had accompanied them. "Will you hunt for us, good Greywing?"

"Of course, Your Majesty."

The Eagle shot into the sky, and Peter turned to his soldiers. "The rest of you set up camp. I'll gather some wood for the fire and–"

"Please, My King." Bast, one of the twin Tigers of his personal guard, nudged his hand with her broad nose. "You look very weary. Will you not rest and let us see to things?"

"But I ought to–"

"You ought to rest," her brother Babur said, baring his gleaming teeth in what was equal parts threat and grin. "We insist, Your Majesty."

Peter smiled gratefully. "I would like to freshen up a bit at that. I'll just leave the two of you to see to things here, shall I?"

The two Tigers gave him their perfectly synchronized bows, and Peter made his way through to the still little pond that lay beyond the trees. With a sigh, he lowered himself into the lush grass, realizing all at once the true depth of his exhaustion. The sun was sinking, and the trees threw long, cool shadows over him, and he surprised himself with an enormous yawn. Maybe he would let the others do the work for just this once. He'd just wash some of the grime from his face and hands, and then perhaps he'd take a bit of a nap until supper was ready.

He rolled his shoulders, loosening the kinks, and then stretched his arms over his head. Then he leaned over the smooth, clear water and scooped up a handful. It was cold and delicious to drink, and he sated himself with it. Then he splashed his face and neck, feeling a bit more awake now and considerably fresher. Just as he began tugging at the lacings on his shirt, ready to wash in earnest, he heard a sweet voice beside him.

"Good evening, Your Majesty."

He blinked and looked around him. There was no one there.

"Are you not High King Peter?" the voice asked, and he finally looked down.

There on a dark rock at the edge of the pond sat the most beautiful frog he had ever seen. She, for judging by the voice, she was certainly female, was very small, perhaps two inches long, and of the purest gleaming emerald green. Her eyes, large and golden, blinked at him solemnly.

"I am." He bowed slightly. "Good evening."

"Please, Your Majesty," she said in her mellifluous voice, "will you help me?"

"If I am able, good Cousin. What is it you would ask?"

"My name is Ianthe, Sire. I am a princess among my people. I was always accounted as beautiful, and that, I suppose, brought with it envy and enmity. A sorceress, vain and jealous, has laid upon me a curse. In daylight hours, I am a Frog. When night comes, I am a woman. It would have been kinder had she condemned me to be forever live as what I am not rather than allowing me a few hours of beauty before again turning into sheer hideousness."

Peter nodded as she spoke. For, though he thought her a most lovely Frog, he could imagine that was rather small consolation when one had been accustomed to being a beautiful princess.

"What must be done to break the spell, Princess Ianthe?"

She blinked her golden eyes and then looked demurely away. "An easy thing, Sire, if you will grant it."

"Yes?"

"There is but one way to free me from this curse." She looked up at him once more. "I must have just one kiss from the High King."

Peter smiled, blushing faintly. The request was simple enough, and if he could break this spell so easily, he could hardly refuse her. He opened his mouth to tell her he would comply, but then he shut it again.

What manner of magic was involved here? Was it so simple a thing as he had at first thought? Or was there something more sinister at work? Perhaps rather than freeing her, this kiss would ensnare him. He most certainly didn't want to end up being a Frog himself. Edmund would never let him hear the end of it!

"I– I'm not certain, Your Highness, whether I should–"

"Oh, please! Please, Sire!"

She looked up, and he followed her gaze. The sun was just sinking behind the western mountains, and she turned back to him, golden eyes wide and frantic.

"Please, King Peter! You must! Before–"

She gasped and there was a puff of smoke. Then, in place of the tiny frog, there on the rock sat the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Her hair fell in lush golden waves around her milk-white shoulders. She was clad in emerald green silk that clung to her slender body, modest and yet alluring, and her dainty bare feet peeped out from beneath it. Her graceful hands reached out to him in appeal as she opened her pink lips to speak, but instead of the mellifluous voice, all that came out was a loud croak.

He gasped, eyes wide, and she immediately covered her mouth with both hands, blood rushing to her cheeks.

"Princess Ianthe?"

She nodded, her golden eyes filling with tears.

"I– I'm so sorry," he murmured.

Even the Gentle Queen herself, renowned for beauty throughout Narnia and all the lands, was not so beautiful as this. Little wonder she took no pleasure in spending her days as a Frog. And even her beauty now was marred with the loss of her glorious voice. It was not to be borne. As King and Knight of Narnia, he couldn't allow it.

She reached her hands out to him in a wordless plea, and he clasped them tightly.

"By the Lion, Fair One, of course I will do as you ask and break the spell."

She fell to her knees before him, bathing his hands with grateful kisses and tears, and he drew her to her feet.

"Only one kiss?" he asked again, and she nodded hopefully.

"Then, dear Princess, in Aslan's name . . . "

He leaned down to her, and she closed her eyes, rosy lips turned up to his. He felt a spark of magic as their lips touched and, again, there was a puff of smoke.

She was gone.

"Princess?" He looked around the clearing, dazed. "Princess Ianthe?"

"Oh, thank you! Aslan's blessings upon you, dear King Peter, for what you have done!"

He looked down at his feet. There, still on the rock, sat the tiny Frog, her golden eyes shining.

"But, Princess, you're– you're a–"

"I'm a Frog! Thank the Lion, I'm a Frog again, even though it is night. I'm only sorry, dear High King, that you were compelled to kiss me when I was in such a hideous state."

"But you–"

"I mean no offense to Your High Majesty. You who were created to look so are, of course, lovely after your own fashion. But just as it would be unnatural for you to have the appearance of one of my people, so it is for me to have the appearance of one of yours. I am, as we all should be, content to be as Aslan has made me."

He smiled and gave her his most courtly bow. "You are as wise as you are fair, Dear Princess."

"Ianthe?"

Her eyes lit at this new voice, a voice low, soft and loverlike.

"Amyntas!"

She hopped over to the edge of the pond. There sat another Frog, slightly larger, gazing at her with adoration.

"You are free," he said in wonder. "At last, the spell is broken."

"It was the High King," she told him. "He's been most kind."

The He-Frog made a slight bow. "Your Majesty, we are most honored."

Peter bowed in return. "The honor is mine, good Cousin. May I be so bold as to ask when the wedding will be?"

He was certain, though he couldn't say just how, that the Princess blushed.

"Very soon, Sire," the He-Frog said, "now that the curse has been overthrown. And we would be most honored to have Your Majesty attend."

They made their farewells and hopped away together. Peter watched after them for a long moment and then rubbed his eyes. He was still exhausted and longing for home, but somehow he, too, was content.

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. :)

WD