THE WHITE WONDER
Ever wondered how Tumnus and Lucy first met with Terence? I did write a small one-shot about Tumnus's encounter with the unicorn at one time, but then I figured I ought to make their encounter into a real story. So, I decided to try it. Leaving a review when you are through reading would really please me, especially if it's a favorable review.
Characters (at least the majority of them) © C.S. Lewis and Disney/Walden Media
Terence © unicorn-skydancer08
Story © unicorn-skydancer08
All rights reserved.
Any theft or copying of this story is prohibited. Your honesty is sincerely appreciated.
Chapter 1
"Faster, Candance!" young Queen Lucy the Valiant urged her small, fleet-footed bay mare; while not far behind, Tumnus the faun urged Diallo, a tall, thickset black stallion, onward as well.
Together, they raced through the autumn-tinged trees of the sun-dappled Western Wood, the horses' hoof beats sounding rhythmically against the hard earth. Their paces matched almost flawlessly. Lucy reveled in the cool rush of the wind in her face, the sensation of flying over the ground, and the pure exhilaration of being free. Even Tumnus, though he was a faun, and had been initially skeptical about riding like this, found this to be perfectly glorious. He gave out a whoop as Diallo carried him swiftly along, and Lucy dug her heels in Candance's flanks to make her go even faster. Diallo and Candance were almost parallel with one another as they galloped through the wood, hurdling over rocks and fallen logs and gouges in the earth, and once in a while Lucy and Tumnus were compelled to duck down to avoid a whiplash from a low branch.
As they neared the Diamond River, which marked the finishing point of their race, Tumnus glanced sideways at Lucy and boasted, "I'm going to win!"
"No, you're not!" she answered with a cheeky laugh, and Candance gathered up her stride and launched herself ahead of Diallo.
Ultimately, Lucy turned out to be the winner, with Tumnus no more than a hand's breadth behind her. "Ha, ha! I won!" Lucy gloated, reining Candance to a complete and total stop.
"Ah, I don't believe it!" said Tumnus in mock outrage, as Diallo also dwindled to a halt. "Outwitted by a Daughter of Eve—and a queen, at that!"
"Better luck next time, you old goat," she teased him gently.
Diallo and Candance, clearly used up, simultaneously dropped their heads to the ground, panting heavily, their flanks heaving, their glossy coats wet and sparkling with perspiration. Bits of gray-white foam flecked the corners of their mouths. "Looks like the horses have had it," Tumnus commented, reaching down and gently patting one side of Diallo's sleek neck. "Why don't we let them catch their breath, and take a rest ourselves, while we're at it?"
"Suits me fine," said Lucy compliantly, and she promptly jumped down from the saddle.
Tumnus dismounted as well, and they slowly led their horses further, until they were at the edge of the river, which flowed tranquilly along. Diallo and Candance didn't hesitate to lower their muzzles into the water and quaff it down. The cool, sweet, pure water was heavenly, and the horses practically inhaled it by the gallons.
While the horses drank, Tumnus and Lucy rested side by side on the soft grass for a few minutes. It felt good to be alone in the woods like this, where it was calm and quiet.
Lucy had grown weary of her queenly responsibilities at Cair Paravel, and had been anxious to get away from everyone and everything, if only for a while.
If she had to stay in that castle for one more minute—if she had to endure one more of Peter's boring lectures or Susan's absurd pedantries, listen to one more speech or grievance concerning this or that—she was going to lose her mind. Lucy Pevensie (also referred to as simply Queen Lucy, or Lady of the Glistening Eastern Sea) was an independent, spontaneous sort of girl; she was not content with living life solely by the rules. She liked to be wild and free, and hated anything that held her back, kept her pinned to the spot.
She understood her duty as queen of the realm, and before she came to Narnia, she had always dreamed about being royalty.
But, as it became apparent all too soon, a life of royalty wasn't all it was cracked up to be. The responsibility that weighed down on the girl's young shoulders was overwhelming. She had been queen for barely four months, and already she was sick of the business. Being the youngest of the Four Monarchs, everyone else—particularly Peter and Susan, her two eldest siblings—took it upon themselves to dominate her, and order her around. Peter and Susan controlled where Lucy ought to go, how she ought to dress, how she ought to conduct herself, and overall, how she ought to live her life. At least Edmund was more understanding and lenient toward her, and Lucy didn't know what she would do without Tumnus.
Tumnus seemed the only individual in the castle—better yet, in all of Narnia—who truly understood her, and treated her like a perfectly normal person.
He never bullied her or bossed her around, nor did he demean himself in any manner around her, and he often went with what she wanted to do, although he was constantly cautioning her to be careful. He was always so warm and gentle and friendly; he was the first creature Lucy had come across when she set foot in Narnia in the beginning, and they had maintained a very close relationship ever since. In Lucy's eyes, no one had ever found a truer friend, and Tumnus could say the same for her.
"So," said Tumnus, in an attempt at light talk, "how have you been faring these days, Lucy?"
Lucy groaned, and rolled her eyes heavenward.
"Must you really ask, Mr. Tumnus? Had it not been for you and Edmund, and a couple of others, I probably would have run away from Cair Paravel by now and gone to live in the wild."
Tumnus could tell she was only half-kidding. "Life at the castle's really as bad as all that?"
"Oh, sure," said Lucy, with a shrug, "living a life of luxury and power does have its pleasures. But I hate having everyone push me around all the time, especially Susan and Peter. They're always telling me what to do, never letting me make my own choices and decide for myself. And I've always got to do everything just right, and be perfect. I can't afford to make mistakes. As Susan puts it so kindly, 'a queen must set an example for her people'."
In spite of himself, Tumnus had to smile at Lucy's droll yet accurate imitation of her sister.
At that time, unbeknownst to either of them, a tall, slim, mysterious creature was watching them secretively from the thick trees. Although the creature stood quite close, it was so silent and wary that not even the horses were aware of its presence. It was the sort of creature that few people saw straight on, and it was something that could easily vanish within the twinkling of an eye. The creature would never let Lucy or Tumnus see it if it could be helped, but it liked to watch them, and listen to their conversation.
"You're lucky, Mr. Tumnus," Lucy continued. "You get to pick what you want to do with your life. You have the freedom to do whatever you please. If only I had that kind of freedom."
Tumnus felt a wave of compassion wash over him at this statement, and he obligingly reached for Lucy's hand and gave a light squeeze. Lucy smiled up at the faun, and scooted a bit closer to him. "Well, whatever happens, Lucy," he said, now slipping his arm around her shoulders, "whatever path you take in life, I will be at your side…every step of the way."
His reassuring words, in addition to his soft touch on her skin, warmed Lucy's heart.
Ah, the girl thought, if only everyone in the world could have such a friend. If only Peter and Susan were more like Tumnus, then life at Cair Paravel wouldn't be such a drag.
Lucy lowered her gaze and began to absentmindedly straighten the rich, silken skirt of her gown. It was one of her very best, most expensive dresses—made of the finest blue velvet, with gold trimming and a pearly white bodice. Susan would have a fit if she'd found out her sister had gone riding in the forest in such a dress. And none of Lucy's ever-present servants and valets would have allowed her out of the palace in such a state. Regardless of her entourage, Lucy could be quite sneaky, when necessary.
Once the horses had drunk their fill, they proceeded to nibble a little grass, and Tumnus decided to take advantage of the time to freshen himself up a bit.
Since his apparel consisted solely of a scarf, he simply unraveled the scarf from his shoulders and set it aside before wading into the river.
The water was cold, but it was the pleasant, revitalizing kind of cold. At first, the water only covered Tumnus to his pasterns; then, as the faun ventured out farther, it slowly crept up to his hocks, then his thighs, and finally past his waist. Here Tumnus stopped altogether, knowing he would sink like a stone and drown if he went too far.
While her friend bathed, Lucy set off to pick some late-blooming wildflowers that didn't grow too far from the bank. She easily recognized most of the blossoms she came across, having learned the various types from Tumnus himself. She found a fair abundance of goldenrods, hardy mums, white snakeroot, tree mallow—and even a bit of sneezeweed, a term that made her giggle outright when Tumnus first explained it to her. Even now, the funny name still brought a grin to the girl's face.
Lucy knelt down and proceeded to gather some of these flowers together, weaving the long stems carefully together to form a dainty chain. She sang softly to herself while she worked at her task, a song she had heard a nymph sing at one time. While she didn't understand the full meaning of the song, it had an appealing rhythm to it.
Tumnus dipped his face into the water. The water was so crystal clear that the young faun could see everything, right down to the bits of granule at the bottom. Keeping his head down, he proceeded to rub diligently at his cheeks and brow, washing away the dust and anything else that might be clinging to his face. When he couldn't hold his breath any longer, he lifted his head just long enough to let the old air out and draw in new air, before submerging himself once again. He repeated this several more times, and even after he felt he was clean, he continued to relax in the water for a while longer, just savoring the caress of the cool water on his face, looking up every now and again to breathe.
Pity he couldn't hold his breath for very long, really.
As Lucy continued to sing, weave, and daydream, something strange and white in the autumn foliage suddenly caught her eye.
She couldn't be certain, but she thought she saw something that resembled a four-legged beast, blazing white, with a horn as dazzling as the sun.
Startled, Lucy jerked her head around—but whatever was there, if anything was there at all, was gone.
"What…?" the young queen gasped.
Tumnus, who was just lifting his head again, turned immediately to his friend upon hearing this. "Lucy?" he called out.
She didn't answer or acknowledge him, but only continued to stare into the weald, wondering if what she had seen was for real—or if her eyes were simply playing a trick on her.
Knowing something was up, Tumnus promptly splashed his way onto dry land and made a beeline to the girl, trailing water behind him.
"Lucy?" he repeated solicitously, when he reached her. "What is it? Is everything all right?"
"I thought I saw something," said Lucy perplexedly, not bothering to look at him while she spoke.
Tumnus looked in the same direction the girl was focused on. But he saw nothing there, aside from the trees, the leaves painted red and orange and gold in the autumn.
"I see nothing," the faun commented at length. "Nothing out of the ordinary, anyway."
"But I could've sworn there was something there," Lucy muttered. "Something…or someone."
She and Tumnus continued to survey the trees together for a minute or so longer. Then, finally, Tumnus declared, "Perhaps it's time we headed back for Cair Paravel, don't you think?"
Lucy said nothing to this, but she dutifully followed after Tumnus as the faun retrieved his scarf and made way for the horses, who by now were well-fed, well-rested, and satisfied; though she couldn't help glancing over her shoulder every now and again. Tumnus took a moment to dry himself off a bit with one of the saddle blankets, and then he heaved himself astride Diallo and took up the reins. Diallo nickered slightly as Tumnus gently swiveled him around. "Come on," the faun now grinned at Lucy, "I'll race you to the castle!"
And then he urged Diallo into a full-fledged run and bolted ahead, to get a good head start.
"Hey!" Lucy yelled out in protest. "No fair, Mr. Tumnus!"
He just laughed in response, and in almost no time, he and his horse were out of sight.
"So, that's the way he wants to play it," Lucy told herself aloud, as she straddled Candance. "Well, two can play at that game!"
Rather than simply go after Tumnus and Diallo, she decided to take a shortcut. And so, she guided Candance to canter another way.
Candance did not object to this route—but as the bay mare bore Lucy along through the multihued area, a squirrel suddenly darted out of nowhere and cut into the horse's path.
Unfortunately for Lucy, Candance harbored a tremendous phobia of squirrels and other rodents, and she immediately shrieked at the sight and balked, very nearly tipping Lucy off her back as she rose onto her hind legs. "Whoa!" Lucy cried out, in both surprise and alarm. She fought to maintain her grasp on the reins. "Whoa, whoa, Candance—easy! Easy!"
Candance temporarily dropped to all fours before rearing up a second time, flailing the air with her front hooves and whinnying frenziedly. The squirrel seemed just as shocked and outraged to see Candance, and the thing gave out a piping chatter before scurrying for its life, brushing inadvertently against one of the horse's ankles in its haste to get away.
That was all it took for Candance to totally flip out, and she broke into a dead gallop.
"Whoa!" shouted Lucy, as she desperately strained to control the wild mare. "Whoa, girl!"
But Candance was out of control, and she tore through the forest at a breakneck speed, rushing about aimlessly from here to there, shrieking and squealing all the time.
Lucy pulled back on the reins, but didn't dare pull too hard, lest the horse should buck her off. The whole world rushed past Lucy's eyes in a dizzying blur, and the wind and sharp branches of the passing trees whipped her face unmercifully. And Candance only continued to plunge onward.
As they neared a sizable ravine in the earth, Candance's left forehoof abruptly caught on a tangled root, and the horse tripped and fell forward. This pitched Lucy straight out of the saddle, completely over the horse's head. Before Lucy even knew it, she was flying freely through the air—and ended up sailing right over the edge of the cliff!
By the time the girl at last acknowledged what was happening, it was already too late.
All she could do was scream as she flew, and then she hit the solid precipice with a grunt and took a helpless tumble downward, the sharp rocks battering her body and jarring the wind out of her. The precipice was very steep, almost vertical, and there was nothing Lucy could do to stop herself, or slow her momentum.
She must have tumbled a good thirty feet or so, before ultimately reaching the bottom…and there she lay, in a broken, unconscious heap.