Owning nothing but gratitude to C S Lewis for his creation of Narnia and its friends of all sizes and sorts; Lions or not - I realised that what is written below had not been a part of the original disposition but deserved a chapter of its own. So here it is - please forgive me if you become surprised!

HOSTING

The birthday party had been a huge success. I had been up in the morning to lay the table, actually on a card board box on top of my kitchen table, and then freshened myself up and re-dressed to look proper to the occasion. At the very moment my clock chimed for noon, I opened the door to the closet and saw very little of everything having had during the years found their way in there. Instead in front of Aslan were all the little Narnian heroes, who had travelled between the worlds to fulfil a dream home work assignment.

They were all talking beasts. There were, of course, other orphanages for humans, other again for mermaids etc., but these were in other places in Narnia. This one was somewhere in the Western Marches, had been founded by the very famous king Edmund of Old. And was now famous, not only for brining up children, but making of them excellent scholars. Quite a few of the top stewards of the Narnian court came originally from here; and of course that was in a bit leading the way for the kids.

- "I want to go to the university in Anvard," sad a raven with so black feathers they actually seemed blue.

- "As long as Taasban not changes its mind of talking beasts," smiled with us a badger, he himself seeking the librarian's profession, seeking an internship in the Narnian royal archives.

Most brave of all seemed to me be a talking mouse, wanting to be a knight. Sticking out his nose so violently in this purely academic group has to be considered outstanding. Under boohs and protests from the kids, I assured him that he would surely become a very good Knight; but I steered safely away from why such were his choice, as Aslan had forewarned me.

We ate and we sang, they told their stories; actually one of the same for all of them, as they began in the moment they arrived in the orphanage. And, even though they were prepared by their homework they awed at my story of as a young orphan being shown the Way to Aslan in my worlds by a caring aunt - Alberta? No, she was actually an older cousin of mine, ending up marrying - ah, what is his name now?

- "Dear friends, if we were actually outside Narnia, in a World where the Creator of the Worlds was not known in the shape of a Lion," begun a talking fox his address. "And we are! And if we were at the seat of judgement (which we definitely are not), which in this World would be presided not by a lion, but by a human!" Here shudders erupted in the audience, so intense, I had to laugh. "Then books would be brought forward!" And a talking Cat came forward to me with a leather bound book named "How to address Aslan in other Worlds – a travellers guide to the Multiverse." During our conversation earlier, this cat had told me how much she loved art and calligraphy, and I suddenly understood that she was actually the producer of this book.

- "This humble gift is our birthday present to our lovely host. To him!" the glasses were raised.

- "What sort of gluttony is this? And what sort of excessive festivitas in such troubled times?"

The voice was high pitched, the imitation of the Witch very well done, and the toast was interrupted by a gasp. Me, however, recognising a certain accent, did not even have to see who had spoken.

- "Well, now young mister Skandar Keynes, why are you here? And were are your manners?"

- "Dearest little birth day boy, when Aslan told me we have visitors form the foreign Narnia, would I linger at home? Or go to see them? How judges thou, O learned one?"

It was at this time the party totally broke down. How could we try to explain to the kids that no longer lived the Pevensie children on this earth, but their lives had been rendered motion pictures (here the kids gasped and awed, and were confused and laughed), so this was the actor playing king Edmund the Just, not the real king; but the kids turned into an equivalent of the Spanish Inquisition and wanted to know absolutely everything. I ushered them out into the living room, where one chair would always be out of symmetry as a remembrance.

When poor Skandar was almost out of breath, I called them back to the table for a cup of hot cocoa. Then I saw some of the kids beginning to get weary, and feeling exhaustion creep onto me, I did not regret it, when the closet door opened, muyhome was filled with golden light, and a booming voice called:

- "I have come!" This time however, it was not for any one to go to his Country.

We enjoyed him and then He wanted it to be the time for our farewells.

- "But; Aslan, we will se him again, will we? And should we not having visit our home, too?" The kids pleading superseded even Lucy Pevensies' and finally Aslan simply had to give up. And He promised!

With the Narnians out of the way (or the World), Skandar helped me to get the dishes washed up, and leftovers sorted. Then we lit the fire, made more cocoa and lingered eagerly together – until Skandars phone rang and it was time for him to go home and get his children to bed. Story to be read: Prince Caspian.

I sat for a while looking into the flames, but when I thought I began to see Narnian knights on tourney, and naiads and satyrs dancing, I decided I had grown to tired and decided to go to bed. For a moment I thought I saw Aslan's face made up by the flames, an hear Him summarise the day:

- "Well done, you good and faithful servant!"