Laura Peterson sat on the bank of the pond leading back to her world, very confused and melancholy. Things just hadn't been going her way lately. Her three elder siblings- Phillip, Sally, and Emilio- weren't being very nice to her; their mother had shipped them off to her smelly great-aunt Polly's house because she had to escape from her children's angsty tripe and also spend more time with their Peruvian gardener/spy, Kelly; her father couldn't come rescue Laura and her siblings because he had been off experimenting on top-secret bombs in New Mexico with his fellow nuclear physicist/spy, Kelly (the similarity in names was just a coincidence; Kelly was a very popular name in the late 1930's); and on top of all that, Laura was a 16-year-old heap of hormones and mood swings who just couldn't cope with her newfound breasts and acne. So, in a desperate attempt to end the terrible sting of unlucky misfourtunes that she called her life, Laura walked into a sparkling pond nestled in a wood nearby her great-aunt's cottage with the intention of drowning herself. Little did she know that this pond was a gateway into a magical world!!111!!1!!

It was winter in this land; Laura nearly bumped her head on a piece of frozen ice floating in the pond when she was coming up. Soft white snow blanketed the branches of the pine and spruce trees scattered around the pond. Well, these wet clothes were of no use to her now; if she kept them on, she would suffer from hypothermia, and she really would be dead, except she'd be dead in a foreign land where none of her siblings or parents could see her and feel guilty for treating her so meanly. She quickly shucked off everything but her underwear and shoes, laid them out on a nearby branch cleared of snow, and built a fire underneath it. (She knew hoe to build a fire because she was a girl scout once and it's common knowledge that all girl scouts must know how to build fires, camps, and nuclear bombs before graduating to young woman scouts/spies. Squatting next to the fire, Laura took another look around.

"I wonder where I am," she wondered aloud.

"Why, you're in the magical land of Narnia!" came a voice from behind.

Mr. Tumnus' Wild Night

written warily by anotherblastedromantic

Laura turned around with a start. Standing before her was the strangest man she had ever seen! Well, he wasn't really a man, at least she didn't think so. He had the head, arms, and torso of a man, fully equipped with killer abs and a furry Happy Trail, but he had the legs and tail of a... well, she wasn't quite sure. It could be a goat, but it also could be a llama or a two-legged Scottie. Some sort of animal. He certainly was odd, but he had clear blue eyes and a nice-looking though oversized nose, and she found him rather pleasing. Whatever specie he was, he was probably the most handsome, probably a half-lady-half-furry-animal's man.

"I say, who are you?" she called. "Or rather, what are you?"

"Me?" the furry thing replied. "I'm a faun. A half-man, half-goat."

"Oh, half-goat. I was thinking of a two-legged Scottie."

"It's a common misconception. My name is Tumnus. Mister Tumnus." He bowed, putting a hoof forward.

"What's your first name?" Laura asked.

"Well, it's... it's Mister." He blushed, then said quickly, "Mister is an old name is Faunish. It means 'furry'."

"What does 'Tumnus' mean?"

"Warrior."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Mr. Mister 'Furry Warrior' Tumnus," Laura smiled. "I'm Laura Peterson."

"It's very nice to meet you, Laura Peterson." Mr. Tumnus took her hand and kissed it. Then he straightened up. "I say, would you like to come to my place for a spot of tea? You look awfully cold."

It hadn't occured to Laura that accepting an invitation to go to the layer of a furry man- especially when Laura was soaking wet and scantily clad- could be potentially dangerous, but she was cold and hungry and on the edge of hypothermia. What harm could it do?

"Ummm... okay." Laura took Mr Tumnus by his furry arm and he led her away.

!pretendthesearesnowflakes!

It was freezing outside, but Tumnus' burrow was warm and snug, and Laura was grateful for the company. Mr. Tumnus told Laura all about Narnia, and of the hundred-year winter, and of the White Witch.

"She an evil witch who thinks she's queen, but she's really just an ethreal tyrant. She's so evil that she cast a spell on Narnia, making it winter here forever, but never Christmas."

"Not even Hannukah?"

"Not even Kwaanza."

Laura gulped. Not only was the White Witch a tyrant, but she was also politcally correct.

"But never you mind about her," Mr. Tumnus smiled, trotting over to the stove. He took out two teacups, and poured a sweet-smelling liquid into them from a pot. Then he handed one to Laura.

"Here. This will warm you up."

"I thought we were having tea." Laura sniffed the liquid.

"Ah. Well, I was going to serve tea, but I remembered I had some Roofus Root left over from a dinner party a while ago, and I thought that would be better."

"Oh." Laura took a sip. "This Roofus Root stuff is delicious! It tastes like chocolate and raspberries and oranges and yoghurt and all my favorite things!"

"It has different flavors depending on who's drinking it." Mr. Tumnus sloshed his around. "Mine tastes like peppermint and whiskey."

"Oh." Laura stared. "That's... lovely." I wish I cold take some of this back home."

Mr. Tumnus jumped up. "Um... I wouldn't go around telling people about Roofus Root. It's... kind of rare. There's even a required drinking age for it."

"How old are you?"

"I'm one hundred and forty-four years old," Mr. Tumnus said proudly.

"And what's the required drinking age?"

"One hundred and thirty-six."

"Um... I'm only sixteen."

"Well then, we'll just make it our little secret." Mr. Tumnus smiled at her. "A special drink for my special guest. Now, how about a little music?"

"Oh, that would be terrific!" Laura clapped her hands.

"Wonderful." Mr. Tumnus bent over his chair, and fished out something that looked like a tree branch. "This," Tumnus said, "is an ancient Faunish pan-flute. Different pan-flutes have different magical powers. Mine has the power to tell stories. I once met a faun who played a pan-flute that blew lightning out of it's pipes. He... didn't have many friends."

Mr. Tumnus put the flute to his lips, and began to play. Out of the pipes came the sweetest sound Laura ever heard; its melodies and harmonies filled the room with a sense of merriment, but it was a bittersweet sort, like remembering happier times in the past. Laura closed her eyes and smiled, the music and the warm liquid in her belly were making her drowsy.

"I really should be getting home," she mumbled, before everything went black.