FERIAE CIVITAS

Hello, again! Got another story in the works, and another Narnia story at that. Call me nuts for making an entirely new story, when I've got so many stories left unfinished. But, on the positive side, this gives me a breather from the other stories—and, you know, I can always go back to them later. Sometimes you do have to step away from a story for a while before you're able to resume writing it. And when a good idea for a fresh story comes along, you might as well grab it on the spot before it flees from you and vanishes forever.

Now, you're probably wondering what in the world "Feriae Civitas" means. So, I'll enlighten you. It's Latin for "holier state", or "more exalted state". In other words, it means rising up from the low and pathetic spot that you were once in, becoming a better, stronger person than you were before. Knowing Tumnus and his story, in the book as well as the movie, it seemed fitting. Yes, there is a great deal of spirituality contained in this story. This is where I slot in a lot of my religious beliefs. I don't expect you to agree with those beliefs, but I do expect you to be courteous and respectful of them.

Respect my beliefs, and I will respect yours.

Characters © C.S. Lewis and Disney/Walden Media

Story © unicorn-skydancer08

All rights reserved.

PART 1

A great flood of tears spilled unreservedly down Tumnus's face, as the weak, pathetic creature prostrated himself to the ground at the feet of Aslan—otherwise known as the Great Lion, the Great Golden Lion, the King of All Beasts, the ruler and savior of Narnia. The faun's tears fell upon the Lion's paws like drops of rain, and his whole frame heaved and shook with the intense sobs that forced their way out of him. Aslan remained where he was the whole time, never moving a muscle. Nor did the terrific beast speak a word, or make a single sound. He only sat there, straight and still as a statue, his mighty golden head held high enough to show nobility and dignity, yet not so high as to indicate haughtiness or conceit. His bright, infinitely wise amber eyes surveyed the poor creature at his feet with a mixture of pity, sorrow, and intense love, and without so much as a particle of hatred or disgust.

Tumnus knew he should try to control himself, but he honestly couldn't. The tears simply gushed out of him, as water through a rift in a barrier, and everything he was feeling in his heart and soul came forth with the deluge. Between the agonized sobs, in broken, almost indiscernible words, the wretched faun confessed to Aslan all that he had done in the past years, bringing his old treachery and impiety to light, and begging for the Lion's mercy—while all the time swearing that Aslan would do well to slay him on the spot.

"I'm so sorry, Aslan!" Tumnus wept bitterly. "I am so sorry…I have done everything wrong! Everything! I am the worst faun in Narnia; I am the most despicable creature to have ever existed since the beginning of the world! I have turned my back on you and all that is good and right for the sake of my own life, and now my life is forfeit. Oh, if only you had heard the things I had said, seen the things I had done—you shouldn't even be here. How can you ever have anything to do with me? Why should you care about me? I have failed you, Aslan. I have sinned against you. I am unworthy and undeserving of you, in every way. You may as well eat me, or rip me to pieces, here and now; you'll be doing yourself and everyone else a favor!"

It was a wonder Aslan was able to even comprehend Tumnus, the way the faun sobbed and wailed and carried on like that.

But the Great Lion truly seemed to understand just what Tumnus meant to say, and what he stood most in need of, long before the faun had given voice to it.

"Tumnus, my son," the Lion said at length, in a voice that was as rich as the honey from the comb, and as majestic as the sea, "I know full well what you have done, and it truly breaks my heart to know of all that has come about. But," he added, lowering his voice significantly, "nothing you have said or done can or will ever make me love you any less."

Hearing this, Tumnus felt nearly every ounce of his strength leave him, and he was quite sure he would have fallen, had he not been down on the ground already.

Very slowly, he dared to raise his head and look directly into the Lion's amaranthine eyes, the tears upon his face glinting like diamonds in the faint light.

"Y-you love me?" was all the lachrymose faun could bring himself to sputter.

"More than you will ever know, my son," Aslan told him very softly, and there was not even the slightest indication of deceit in the noble beast's tone, or countenance.

He stooped his own head, bringing his and Tumnus's faces closer together, and solemnly brushed Tumnus's fevered forehead with his damp nose. The splendid gold mane that shrouded the Lion's head and shoulders came spilling down as he did so; it tickled Tumnus's bare skin in a most pleasant and reassuring way. Tumnus could scarcely believe his ears, yet somewhere in the core of his being, he knew Aslan spoke the truth. Perhaps—perhaps he could ask Aslan the questions he did not dare give thought to before.

He was sure he may have long since crossed the line; he was more than convinced he was as good as lost. But, maybe, just maybe…if there was but the slightest, slimmest chance…

"Aslan?" Tumnus ventured timidly.

"Speak on, my child," Aslan encouraged him.

"Is it…is it…" Tumnus fought to gulp down the massive lump that hovered in his throat. "Is it possible to make things right again, Aslan? Is it possible for me to change all that I've done?"

He faltered for but a moment, and somehow managed to give voice to the one question that taunted him above all the rest.

It was the one he feared to ask the most, yet the one whose answer he anticipated the most: "Can you…c-can you…f-forgive me?"

"We cannot change what is already past, my son," said Aslan prudently. "What is done, is done."

He brought his face even closer to Tumnus's, so that Tumnus could feel the gentle tickle of his whiskers on his own cheek, and smell the sweetness of his breath.

"Yet if you truly regret what you have done, if you truly repent of your sins and seek forgiveness, forgiveness is indeed attainable."

Hearing this, seeing the promise reflected in Aslan's eyes, Tumnus felt a flame of hope stir within his heart. Even if he couldn't change the past, he thought, he could still repent of it—and perhaps release himself from the devastating guilt that plagued him. Therefore, the faun didn't hesitate to accept the Lion's proposal. "I do," he said humbly, dipping his head, exposing the nape of his fur-lined neck. "I do truly regret it all, Aslan, from the bottom of my heart. I fully renounce my servitude to evil, now and forever. I repent of all I've done wrongly, and I sincerely pray there is yet a chance for me to come back and put myself right." His voice broke, like a piece of delicate glass, and he bent his head a little further. "Forgive me, Aslan," he implored, the tears threatening to flow afresh. "I know there is no excuse or justification for my sins, but I beg you to forgive me for them all the same. Please, Aslan…please forgive me."

"I forgive you, Tumnus," Aslan never hesitated to proclaim, and the words wove their way into the darkest, most distant recesses of Tumnus's being, unearthing them and cleansing them. "I forgive you for all that is past, for the great in addition to the small. From this time forth, Tumnus, you belong to me, and you stand justified in the eyes of my father."

Tumnus never believed such words could sound so beautiful, or so glorious. Once again, he felt his physical strength vanish from him altogether, as though drained from a spigot. With a great sob, the faun slumped all the way to the ground once more and pressed his forehead to the Lion's paw, the tears that he could no longer restrain soaking into the velvet fur.

But this time, rather than tears of sorrow and penitence, the faun shed tears of pure joy, of sheer gratitude.

"Oh, thank you, Aslan," was all he could bring himself to gasp. "Oh, thank you, thank you…"

He wept at Aslan's feet for what must have been ages, while Aslan stayed put the entire time and nuzzled the faun lovingly. By the time Tumnus managed to get some hold of himself, and had risen to a kneeling position so that he and Aslan faced one another more properly, the faun couldn't help questioning, "How, Aslan? How is it done?"

"There is always hope for creatures such as you, my son," Aslan answered him, "with hearts such as the one you possess. Those who have the humility to confess their faults, rather than attempt to hide them or make excuses for them, those who possess the meekness to ask forgiveness for their sins shall be granted such a desire. Humility, my son, is the foundation of all virtues. It is a virtue far more precious than gold or silver, or any earthly fortune. It is a treasure beyond price."

"Oh, Aslan, my lord…how good you are to me," Tumnus whispered tremulously, his eyes welling up afresh, "and how I love you."

"And I you, my dearest child," Aslan replied benevolently, giving Tumnus a sweet lick on his brow.

Moving in closer, immersing his wet, begrimed face in the sea of mane, Tumnus vowed, "I shall never betray you again, my lord. Here and now, I surrender my life to you, and only you. Whatever it is you shall have of me, from this time forth, you shall have it. Whatever you ask of me, whatever you will have me do, whatever burden you wish me to bear, I'll do it if I die trying."

Tumnus never knew it at that time, of course; yet Aslan, being the supreme, all-knowing creature that he was, knew the day would come when Tumnus would have to indeed shoulder such a burden—when he would be forced to decide between Aslan, and that which was most dear to the faun's heart.