A/N: This is a short little story I wrote about Lucy from the Chronicles. It features a ritual that she adopted from Tumnus. Set pre-Last Battle
They had never understood this strange practice. Yet no one tried questioning her; it had never worked before. She simply remained silent, performing her ritual daily and quiet remembrance.
The rest of the time, Lucy was a normal young girl. At twelve years old, she was already developing into a beautiful young woman. And to all, she appeared to be just as normal as every other child.
But on the inside, Lucy was falling apart. Being twelve reminded her of Susan, when they had first entered Narnia, and of Edmund, when they had sailed on the Dawn Treader on their last trip to Narnia. And this, of all things, was what tore at her heart, and made her sad.
Narnia. The word meant so much more to her than anyone could ever know. It meant a country; a land that she could call home. It meant a home, where she felt safe. It meant a place of safety, where she was loved. It meant love, and a place where love reigned over all.
And she couldn't go back.
No, Aslan had said no, she could not return, not ever. It had been a painful idea at first, but it had not struck home until this summer, the second one since leaving the Dawn Treader.
Perhaps that was why she had taken up this ritual. It reminded her of Narnia, of that magical land where she was loved, and it comforted her beyond belief.
Her family wondered at this. Edmund knew some of what was going on, and Susan and Peter, knew a little less. Each day, they watched their sister prepare a small plate of biscuits, and set them on the table. Then she would leave the house, and go on a walk. She would be gone for a good while, then she would return. Upon her return, she would devour the biscuits slowly.
All Peter and Susan knew was that their sister had done this during their reign in Narnia.
Edmund remembered that it had been a ritual that she had adopted from someone.
Her parents were the most curious at the ritual. She had no prior cooking experience, nor a recipe. In addition, she would not allow others to touch her biscuits, and she never spoke of her reasoning.
The reason, as Lucy knew, was quite simple. It had been the daily habit of her dear friend, Mr. Tumnus, during the Hundred Years of eternal winter. He had originally done this in order to prepare for any human child, but it had turned into routine. When asked why, he merely said, "Routine makes the great things of life exciting and worthwhile."
And now, that was Lucy's only reply. When asked about her ritual, she answered calmly, "Routine makes the great things of life exciting and worthwhile." No one understood the meaning behind this, not even her siblings.
Today, as she walked, Lucy considered her ritual. She missed Tumnus, her dear friend, and she wished more than anything that she could see him again, even if just once more.
But, she thought, that is impossible. Tumnus is long dead in Narnian time, and Aslan said that we could never return.
Without warning, tears began to fall from her face. Lucy felt comforted by the soft tears, but thinking of Tumnus, and Aslan, brought her to tears.
I'd better return home, she thought. And with that, she began her walk home.
This was the last walk she would take; before they would take the train, and return to Narnia, forever.
