I had been arrested. Yes, me. Law-abiding, never-a-trouble me had been taken by the secret police, interrogated, thrown about like a rag bag, and finally locked in an icy cell.
They had given me a small portion of stale bread and stagnant water, which I only half-heartedly attempted to choke down before setting it aside.
"If you're not going to eat that..." a small voice whispered from the adjoining cell.
I looked up, startled, only to see a battered creature that greatly resembled a human, but at the same time looked nothing like one. I shook my head and pushed the bread and water over to the pathetic creature. She, or, at least, what I presumed to be a she, practically swallowed the meager meal whole, tearing into it with blued lips as a starved animal would. I wondered exactly how long she had lived in this icy prison, and saw a glimpse of what I could become.
She had licked the stone bowl and plate clean of any remnants of food and water before she turned to me and said in her quiet voice, "I'm Shona."
"I'm Tumnus," was my only reply. We sat in silence for a few long moments before she asked, "So Tumnus, why exactly is a seemingly upstanding faun such as yourself here?"
"I met a Daughter of Eve in the wood near my home and didn't turn her over to the Witch, as I was instructed to do. And you, Shona?"
"I refused the Witch when she instructed me to do the very thing you were arrested for."
"But that was more than a century ago!"
"I know," was the hollow response.
"You...you have been here for over a century?"
"Give or take a decade or so."
"Why have they not--I--I mean, why are you still here?"
"They haven't killed me yet simply because it is my wish. They know I may very well live for several centuries more and they wish me to suffer every moment of it."
Several centuries? From what Lucy had told me, I understood that humans lived no more than a few decades, at most, so why was she speaking of a life of several centuries?
"Excuse me, but am I not correct in thinking that you, also, are a Daughter of Eve?"
"Me? A human? Hardly. More like...an extremely distant relation. My mother was a Siren of the Lone Islands, and my father a dwarf. I am about as much of a human as the Witch is."
"Do you have the Siren's song?"
"I suppose I must have the ability, but it lies dormant within me. Otherwise, I might not be here, though I do not regret my choice," she stated with a defiant glint in her eyes.
"If only I had your bravery."
"Do not fret, Childe. I assume you returned this human child to her home?" At my nod, she continued. "Then no harm has been done."
"You sound as though you were as old as Aslan," I said. If her appearance was anything to judge by, she was still young, even if she was a century old.
She chuckled. "Not quite, though I am not as young as I once was." I looked at her, puzzlement obvious on my face, until she added, "I am nine-hundred and twenty-seven years of age."
"Nine...hundred and twenty seven? You are nearly as old as Narnia herself. Not to say that--I didn't mean--I--"
She merely smiled at my gauche attempts at an apology.
"You have nothing to atone for. I realize that I am no longer young, while I am by no means old by the standards of either of my people. Both dwarfs and Sirens are known to live for millennia."
We lapsed into silence again. Words were not necessary, and neither of us saw the value of filling the air with mindless prattle that accomplished nothing.
I found myself having scooted closer to the opening of her cell. If she noticed, she did not comment. I took a moment to study her. You could see something of both Siren and dwarf in her. Even though she was dirty, starved, and frozen, you could see the Siren in her. There was light webbing between her slightly elongated fingers and toes. Her eyes, also, had a Siren's sparkle to them, a dulled one, but a sparkle none-the-less.
Her dwarfin heritage showed itself most prominently in her height. Even hunched in the small, cramped cells, I could see that I was at least a head taller than she.
I readjusted myself and thought about the strange...feelings I suddenly had. Almost a warmth, a connection, if you will. I wondered briefly if it was caused by the Siren in her, but dismissed it immediately. In order for me to have fallen under a Siren's spell, I would have had to hear her sing their deadly song. Besides, the false feelings they caused are that of maddening and obsessive love, not this feeling.
"You will die here. You realize this, do you not?" I looked back up at her, startled, but said nothing. "I have seen so many...so many come into that very cell. They are put through trials that try creatures' souls. Then, they finally die. They lost faith."
Silence, once more.
"There is no hope anymore," said she, sounding most dejected.
"There is always hope. Even now, the freedom of Narnia is approaching."
She looked intrigued for a moment before pulling herself closer to the cell opening, as did I, wincing all the way. The light clink of metal against ice told me all that I needed to know.
"The Sons and Daughters of Adam and Eve are near. The prophecy is coming to pass. Aslan draws closer, and the freedom of our land is at hand, even if we do not live to see it."
"Aslan is coming?" she asked, her face lighting slightly.
"So I have heard," I replied, perhaps colder than I meant. A pang of envy shot through me.
"He always was a dear friend," she replied softly. It sounded as if a special emphasis had been put on 'friend', but she spoke so faintly, I still cannot fathom whether it was real or dreamed up by my now hopeful imagination.
What is the matter with me?
She smiled again, and for a moment I feared that she had somehow heard my internal struggle, but pushed the fear down quickly.
"You are right. The freedom of our home is coming. We may perish, but we shall do so proudly, with our heads high, glad to die for our land." She briefly drew herself up proudly, as she had said, but quickly doubled over in violent coughing fits that racked her whole body.
Unsure of what to do, I drew her into my arms, holding her in a warm embrace. I felt so wonderful to have her there, and in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to keep her there always, to hold her and protect her from harm.
Finally, they stopped, but she made no attempt to move away. Evidently, she was thinking along the same lines as I had been, for she stayed there all night, both of us falling asleep together, dreaming pleasant dreams, and both of us fearing that those dreams would end all too soon.
We woke in each other's arms the next morning. We lay still, resting comfortably. Then, our world shattered as we heard the screech of the iron doors leading to our cells.
"Well, well, well. What have we here? Separate them."
A sharp pain shot through my shoulder as wolves ripped us apart. I heard her scream as they bit into her with razor teeth, and tried to fight over to her, but was soon overpowered.
"It seems our little cell mates have become...friendly, does it not?" the Witch stated, contempt dripping from her words. "We shall have to remedy this." I looked over at Shona. She was bleeding lightly from the bites, but her left arm was held close to her side, her hand over it. Crimson seeped through her fingers.
She turned her attention to Shona.
"Tell me, mutt, do you know why you are here?" It was not a question. Contempt dripped from her words.
Shona drew herself up slightly before replying, "Because I believe in a free Narnia."
"No. You are here because you are a traitorous, lying wench that does not deserve to live, but that shall soon be amended. Take her."
"NO! Shona! Get off of her! Shona!" I attempted to reach her, but she raised her head to look at me as they led her out, shook her head, and mouthed a single word at me.
Proudly.
My arms fell limp at my sides, and they all left me then. Left me to my pain and to my grief.
She tells me that they led her upstairs to the throne room then. Even now, she still cannot speak of all they put her through, but I saw it. I saw what she looked like when they were done. Her head was up, but she was not standing. She could not. They had removed her legs at the knee, and one of her arms was completely gone. The other had several fingers missing, the webs torn. They had cut off her ears, and her eyes were open, the sockets empty.
"Awful, isn't it? Shame, really, especially considering that it did not have to happen. Renounce your ways, join me, and she shall be brought back good as new. All you have to do is join me, and she shall be yours."
I looked at her, taking her mangled hand in mine.
All you have to do...
We may perish, but we shall do so with our heads high, proud to die for our land.
I squeezed the stone hand, steeled myself, raised my head, and uttered naught but a single word.
"Never."
I knew no more for a long time.
Sudden warmth broke through my icy prison. I felt myself begin to thaw. I stumbled forward slightly, steadied by a pair of small hands. Lucy. We smiled briefly at each other, before I turned my attention to the mess that had once been my Shona.
My Shona? No, Shona, not my Shona. Shona.
Aslan was there. As I raised myself from a bow, I noticed a centaur coming towards us, a bloody sack in his hands.
I think I fell then, tears obscuring my vision. The children were ordered out. Aslan took a moment to sort through the contents of the sack, checking to make sure that everything was accounted for. He spread them all out in a neat row: eyes, legs, ears, arm, fingers, and finally tongue. He breathed gently on them, and they all disappeared, reappearing in their appropriate places on her statue self. He then breathed on her, and she, too, thawed out, swaying as she stood, her eyes wide.
"Shona," I whispered. She looked up at me, her face and eyes lighting softly. It was then that I noticed that her eyes changed colours each time she moved. She stumbled towards me, falling softly into my waiting arms.
"Tumnus," was all she said, and we held each other, lost in the moment.
And so, the battle was won, the kings and queens of Narnia were crowned a few weeks later, and we were finally free. In celebration of the Witch's fall there was to be a grand festival that would end in a dance that was to last until well past midnight. There was a certain someone I was desperately hoping to attend it with.
After roughly a month in the healing wards, Shona was finally being let out today. Under their strict supervision, she was thriving. Gone was the grime and blood-matted hair of a gaunt skeleton, and in its place was a still frightfully skinny woman with flowing auburn hair and clear eyes that never stayed the same colour from one minute to the next. She was pale as snow, and her skin was thin, like paper. They thought it was from decades of malnourishment and lack of sunlight. She was extremely small in stature, only reaching up to my shoulders. She seemed incredibly delicate, fragile, like she would shatter if held too tightly. You could still see faint pink and white lines around the places where Aslan had replaced her limbs, even around the edges of her eyes. The scars would never fully heal.
I walked to the healing wards, a path I had tread many times during the past month. I had meant to meet her upon her release, and planned to take her down to the shores. It was a short walk down, and the beach had many places to rest if need be, for she tired easily.
I quietly stood in the archway leading to the wards. I watched her sitting on the bed listening to Mrs. Beaver's post-release lecture. She stood, her dark forest green dress falling elegantly around her. She saw me, and her eyes lighted briefly before her face passed into a neutral mask.
"Why, Tumnus! What brings you here? Not ill, I hope," said Mrs. Beaver.
"Not in the least. Actually, I was hoping to steal your patient, here, while you weren't looking and whist her off to the shores. Could you be so kind as to look the other way?"
Mrs. Beaver chuckled. "Luckily for you, she's being released today."
"Even better," I turned to her. "My lady, would you allow me to escort you down to seaside?"
She smiled. "That would be delightful." I released a breath I did not know I had been holding.
Offering her my arm, we walked through the corridors of Cair Parvel, out the entrance doors, and finally down to the sandy beach below. Once there, she sighed and smiled happily. Releasing my arm, she walked to the water's edge, lifted her arms above her head, and breathed the salty air in deeply.
Turning to me, she asked, "Isn't it lovely?"
"Yes, it is," and so are you.
Walking over to me, she took my hand in hers and said, "Come with me."
"Well, that depends," I replied, ready to follow her anywhere, "on where exactly you are taking me."
"Why, into the shallow water, of course."
"Into the water?"
"Yes, into the water. Why, don't you like the sea?"
"Mmm...no, not really. I mean, it's nice to look at and everything, but I never really went into it."
She looked at me like I had just told her the sun didn't shine.
"Well, I do believe we shall have to fix this," and with that, she started pulling me by the hand towards the lapping sea with an almost child-like eagerness. She looked so happy to be here, how could I refuse her?
Apparently, though, I was not moving fast enough for her liking. So, she turned and took both of my hands in hers and pulled me towards the water's edge. Unfortunately, she could no longer see where she was headed, and her long gown was her downfall and mine. Literally.
Somehow, the skirt of her gown got under her feet, causing her to trip and fall backwards, taking me along with her. Not only that, but we had just reached the water's edge when we fell, myself on top of her. She was completely soaked, the water lapping up around her, as was my lower half.
I suppose the look on my face was rather amusing. Or, at least that's what I tell myself to explain her sudden outburst of laughter, which was followed shortly by my own. As our laughter died down, I looked at her. Even as a water-soaked wrench, she was beautiful to me. I found myself leaning forward. It felt so good, so...right to have her warm weight underneath me.
Someone clearing their throat made me jump up. It was Mr. Beaver.
"Well, this looks cozy," he laughed. "I really hate to interrupt, you know, but Mrs. Beaver will have my hide if I don't have this one back before dark," he gestured at Shona, who was still laying in the water.
I reached out a hand to help her, and when she was up, Mr. beaver started away.
"Come along, then, Miss, or Mrs. Beaver will have us both."
She started to follow, but turned at the last moment, running back to me. She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and whispered, "Farewell, Tumnus," before hurrying after Mr. Beaver.
I placed a hand to my cheek, still feeling the brief warmness from her lips.
"Farewell, my Shona."