The_Complete_Chronicles_of_Narnia_(volumes_1-7,_in_order_of_publication)

think he's very strong? Constitution ruined with living underground, I shouldn't wonder.
Looks the sort that might go off any day."
"Puddleglum!" said Jill. "You're a regular old humbug. You sound as doleful as a funeral
and I believe you're perfectly happy. And you talk as if you were afraid of everything,
when you're really as brave as-as a lion."
"Now, speaking of funerals," began Puddleglum, but Jill, who heard the Centaurs tapping
with their hoofs behind her, surprised him very much by flinging her arms round his thin
neck and kissing his muddy-looking face, while Eustace wrung his hand. Then they both
rushed away to the Centaurs, and the Marsh-wiggle, sinking back on his bed, remarked to
himself, "Well, I wouldn't have dreamt of her doing that. Even though I am a goodlooking
chap."
To ride on a Centaur is, no doubt, a great honour (and except Jill and Eustace there is
probably no one alive in the world today who has had it) but it is very uncomfortable. For
no one who valued his life would suggest putting a saddle on a Centaur, and riding bareback
is no fun; especially if, like Eustace, you have never learned to ride at all. The
Centaurs were very polite in a grave, gracious, grown-up kind of way, and as they
cantered through the Narnian woods they spoke, without turning their heads, telling the
children about the properties of herbs and roots, the influences of the planets, the nine
names of Aslan with their meanings, and things of that sort. But however sore and jolted
the two humans were, they would now give anything to have that journey over again: to
see those glades and slopes sparkling with last night's snow, to be met by rabbits and
squirrels and birds that wished you good morning, to breathe again the air of Narnia and
hear the voices of the Narnian trees.
They came down to the river, flowing bright and blue in winter sunshine, far below the
last bridge (which is at the snug, red-roofed little town of Beruna) and were ferried across
in a flat barge by the ferryman; or rather, by the ferry-wiggle, for it is Marsh-wiggles who
do most of the watery and fishy kinds of work in Narnia. And when they had crossed they
rode along the south bank of the river and presently came to Cair Paravel itself. And at
the very moment of their arrival they saw that same bright ship which they had seen when
they first set foot in Narnia, gliding up the river like a huge bird. All the court were once
more assembled on the green between the castle and the quay to welcome King Caspian
home again. Rilian, who had changed his black clothes and was now dressed in a scarlet
cloak over silver mail, stood close to the water's edge, bare-headed, to receive his father;
and the Dwarf Trumpkin sat beside him in his little donkey-chair. The children saw there
would be no chance of reaching the Prince through all that crowd, and, anyway, they now
felt rather shy. So they asked the Centaurs if they might go on sitting on their backs a
little longer and thus see everything over the heads of the courtiers. And the Centaurs said
they might.
A flourish of silver trumpets came over the water from the ship's deck: the sailors threw a
rope; rats (Talking Rats, of course) and Marsh-wiggles made it fast ashore; and the ship
was warped in. Musicians, hidden somewhere in the crowd, began to play solemn,