Author's
note:
As
many have noticed, at least I think they have, I'm started to
revise the tale a little. A year ago (yes, a year, shame on me) I
carelessly threw this tale here on , not really caring
how it looked or if it had any errors.
And obviously, I really am
ashamed for my lack of interest in this story. Tumnus and Lucy do
deserve much better!
So I'm editing a little, revising the
tale here and there, making it longer at some points, or shorter.
And
I'm apologizing for all those people who have actually faved the
story!
I'm so surprised, because this tale was actually more or
less for fun! I didn't really pay any real attention to what I was
writing!
But, I will try to do my best now and add a few new
chapters soon.
And of course they'll include Oreius and Susan, I
mean, duh. Those two are made for each other. Just like Lucy and
Tumnus.
And how on Earth could I have written Lucy the Gentle smacks self I art ashamed, I truly art…
Anyways, hang on everybody! I promise I'll add a new chapter soon!
Noble thoughts and wishful thinking.
The
Lamppost, it had been a very long time since he had seen the elegant
iron pole standing in the middle of the wood, now blooming and alive,
not cold and frozen as last he had seen it.
He had met her here,
for the very first time. It had been a coincidence, but thankfully,
not a regrettable one.
He had been on his way to his home,
carrying food and all kinds of stuff he had traded and purchased from
the animals of the wood, who were always happy to trade, sell and
buy, especially at those days. The frozen days, where the forest was
covered with snow and ice, where food and company, loyal company was
scarce.
He had not been loyal, he had been scared, but here at the
very lamppost he had found something which resembled hope, although
the hope was very tiny at the time.
The Lamppost had been where he
had met her, his own little hope. So cute, and friendly and
forgiving. Valiant little Lucy.
He had to admit that his thought
had been everything but friendly at first. Of course he had been
surprised, and then shocked.
Then his mind had wandered, thinking
about the possibilities her presence could bring. After all, had the
Witch not asked to bring any human to her? It would secure his
safety, and perhaps it would bring peace to the land long suppressed
by cold and evil.
After all, if the Humans no longer posed a
thread, the Witch would most certainly calm down.
But things had
turned out differently.
He had taken her to her home, feigning
friendship to lure her into his house. He gave her tea and cookies,
and all the goods all little children liked, and at last he had
proposed to play a song for her. Of course it lulled her to sleep, it
was a lullaby, and as she lay there he conceived that the opportunity
had come for him to take her to the Witch.
But
as he saw her laying there, vast asleep, softly snoring like only
small children could his heart broke. He could not give her to the
Witch, not in his entire lifetime. His heart cried that it would
rather die than give such an innocent little girl to such evil as the
Witch.
He had studied her in the light of the fire. Her chubby
cheeks, her brown hair, her closed eyelids. She would be a beauty
beyond compare when she grew up, a true Queen.
He did not have the
heart to take her away, her beauty, her kindness, her future. So he
did nothing, feeling guilty and utmost ashamed as she slept
silently.
He had felt so ashamed.
But
the prophecy had come true. Narnia survived the onslaught of winter,
the Witch had been beaten in a marvelous battle. Fauns, Satyrs,
Centaurs and all the talking animals had fought for their
freedom.
While he stood in the courtyard of stone, frozen in stone
himself. It had been because of the grace of Lucy and Aslan that he
returned to life to see a new Narnia.
Dear little Lucy, so kind
and friendly, she had indeed been valiant. He simply knew it,
although he had never actually witnessed the battle, or seen the
miracles which happened during his absence.
She had made a
beautiful queen, the youngest of the four. One of the Daughters of
Eve, sister to the Sons of Adam. He had met Edmund before, seen him
in the dungeon. He had pitied him, young and innocent like his
sister, although slightly older. He had learned from his mistakes, he
had forgiven the boy.
Edmund the Just. The name fitted him
well.
Susan. He had instantly liked her, she was wise beyond her
years. She was kind and warm, and she cared for her brothers and
sister. Susan the Gentle, they could not have picked a better
name.
Peter. He had been in awe with Peter. He was just a boy, the
oldest of the four yet not yet an adult. But already courageous, wise
and cunning. He would truly be the greatest king of all, and he felt
honoured to serve him. Peter the Magnificent. He could not think of a
better title.
And
he, he was chosen as the main advisor of the Kings and Queens of
Narnia. A great honor, certainly for a Faun who had thought at first
to give the youngest of the four to the coldest of Witches. But she
had forgiven him, and in time he had forgiven himself.
And he had
been her finest advisor and best friend. She had often relied on him,
even for the smallest of things. Which dress did fit her well? He had
always liked the auburn one, it matched her hair, making her look
like autumn. He loved autumn, it meant hot chocolate and it made you
look forward to winter and snow.
Good snow, for once, not
everlasting snow. Snow which would disappear after a while, together
with the snowman, or faun you made.
She liked autumn as well, the
falling leaves, the beautiful color whom she liked to paint. In his
eyes she could paint very well, but she was never satisfied. He kept
each and every painting she threw away.
Through the years she grew
and grew, into the fine young woman she was now. He could no longer
pick the dresses she had to wear, she wanted to, but he had refused.
He could no longer look at her with all honesty and say that she did
nothing to him. She often pulled at his scarf in a playful manner, as
she had done when she had been younger, but now it did not only make
him laugh, it also made him blush.
She was turning into a
beautiful woman, perhaps a bit of a tomboy, not as ladylike as her
older sister but he loved it.
He loved to run across the fields
with her right on his heels trying to catch him, as he led her away
from the castle, and the worries which always came with being a
queen.
In time, she became more beautiful than any of the Kings
and Queens of Narnia, more beautiful than her sister Susan, more
noble than her brothers.
In time he started to notice that he
could no longer sleep when she was away from the castle, away on some
mission or when she had a task to do. He started to miss her whenever
she was not around, longing for her presence, her smile, her
eyes.
All his thoughts soon turned to the beautiful Lucy Pevensie,
and he felt ashamed, very much ashamed. Perhaps just as ashamed when
he had realized that he could not give her to the Witch.
She was a
Queen, and above that, she was human. His love for her was futile,
his longing to be with her perverse.
She trusted him, she trusted
their friendship. He could no longer think straight whenever she
playfully tugged at his ears of scarf, or when she asked which dress
she should wear for a certain occasion, or when she just asked to
share lunch together.
Everything suddenly seemed linked, every
action she took a sign that she wanted him as much as he wanted
her.
And he wanted her so bad, choking him, making him feel
ashamed.
He
started to avoid her company, leaving other advisors in his stead. He
did this with the utmost care. He did not wish her to think that he
did not wanted to be with her anymore.
He did wished to be with
her, but his intentions were no longer pure, his thoughts no longer
innocent. He could not lay her bare to his perverse mind. Not his
beautiful, innocent, beautiful, adorable, beautiful Lucy. His
everything. Every breath he took, every step he made, it was all for
her.
But it could not be. Humans and Fauns did not mingle, could
not mingle.
Finally he noticed that the time had come, a chance
had shown itself. Lucy had left Cair Paravel together with her
brothers and sister, some land needed their aid. He usually didn't
come long on journeys far away. He could ride no horse, and he was
too slow, his legs could not carry him as fast as horse legs could
carry his beloved Lucy.
He
had left Cair Paravel, at night, so no one noticed him leaving. He
made sure no bird or beast saw him. He traveled all the way through
Narnia. Past the broken stone table, the battlefield. He even came
past the house of Mr. And Mrs. Beaver.
But he did not knock on
their door, he kept walking.
It was autumn, and leaves had already
started to fall. The forest had turned bright red, brown, some yellow
and green, leaves were scattered on the floor. Lucy's season, his
season. Their season.
Not anymore.
He had soon reached his old
house, the small cozy cave. The door was still open, his belonging
old and still tattered as wolves had attacked his home long ago. He
could make new furniture, his bed was still intact, the fireplace
would still burn.
Yes, here he could live the rest of his years,
or Lucy's years. No one needed to know he was here.
Lucy was
safe now. Safe from him and his ridiculous love. She would not miss
him, he had made sure of that. He had left enough Fauns to replace
his duties, to aid her in her dress choice, what she wanted for
lunch, or which horse she had to ride for which hunt.
She no
longer needed him, not as he needed her.
He sat down in the old
chair before the fireplace, the seat torn, but he did not notice. All
he noticed were the tears running down his cheeks, the sobs escaping
his throat, his broken heart pounding in his ears.
It was better
this way, much better. She was a queen, he was a Faun, it was better
this way.
He loved her, she could not love him.
It was better
this way.
It became a tantrum in his head.
It was better this
way, way way better.
He
already missed her, already missed her so much.
