Noble thoughts and wishful thinking

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.