FERIAE CIVITAS

And we proceed with part 2! You may have already figured this out by now, but this story is similar to the story of Abraham and Isaac, found in the book of Genesis in the Holy Bible. I said there would be religious themes incorporated into this story, and they're there! Once again, I'm not trying to force my religion upon anybody, and I'm not trying to force you to agree with me.

I'm only sharing what I believe in, is all; it's up to you whether or not you accept those beliefs.

Characters (with some exceptions) © C.S. Lewis and Disney/Walden Media

Story © unicorn-skydancer08

All rights reserved.

PART 2

Many years later, when the Four Monarchs of Narnia were fully-grown, and Tumnus had taken the youngest, Queen Lucy the Valiant, to wife, Aslan blessed the faun and his beautiful wife with a gift beyond all measure. It was not long after Tumnus and Lucy were married that Lucy discovered, to her disbelief and inexpressible delight, that she was with child.

Tumnus could scarcely believe the good news when she first revealed it to him, and so it was with all else residing at Castle Cair Paravel.

Yet it proved to be true, for within the following year, Lucy could be found nursing a newborn faun at her heart in her bedchamber.

When Tumnus laid his eyes upon his son for the first time, when he beheld for himself the child of his own flesh and blood, the feelings that overwhelmed him there and then would be essentially impossible to describe. Almost believing it to be a dream, the faun fell to his knees at his wife's side and dropped his head to the bed, giving tearful, silent thanks to Aslan for this glorious fortune, knowing full well he would never be able to thank the Lion enough. At length, Lucy allowed her husband to take the warm bundle from her, into his own arms. Very carefully, Tumnus folded a bit of the blanket back, so as to get a better look at his son's face. As he gazed down upon the little faun nestled against his breast, he was sure his very heart would burst. "Oh, Lucy," he breathed, as he brushed one finger ever so lightly over the delicate fuzz that rimmed the youngling's leaf-shaped ear, "he's perfect! He's absolutely perfect!"

"Aslan be praised for such a wonderful gift, my beloved," Lucy whispered rapturously.

Tumnus closed his eyes and laid his cheek against the baby faun's soft blonde curls, inhaling deeply the smell of him. Were he to live to be a thousand, he knew he would never forget that sweet smell. Almost hypnotically, he began to rock the child back and forth. As he did so, he kept repeating over and over, like a prayer chant, "My son…oh, my son…my son…"

When asked just what they were going to call their son, Lucy and Tumnus both opted for the name Puck. It was a rather simple name, but it suited him perfectly.

Everyone grew to love the little faun—especially Terence, a young white-haired man who was a unicorn at heart, and Tumnus's best and most devoted friend in the whole world. Tumnus and Lucy unanimously appointed him as the godfather to their son. Terence was nothing short of thrilled, and undertook this responsibility in all seriousness.

Time passed, and Puck grew, and Tumnus's love for his son grew along with him. You never saw a sweeter, more touching relationship than the one Tumnus and Puck shared. Puck meant more to Tumnus than anything in the world. Naturally, Puck grew extremely fond of his father; his little angelic face always glowed whenever he saw Tumnus right there. When he was old enough to walk on his own two hooves, he would literally fly into the older faun's arms, every time Tumnus came into the room. Tumnus would hug him tightly and smother him in kisses, or get down on the floor with him and they'd engage in some good-natured horseplay. Sometimes, when Tumnus was sitting alone, Puck would come to him, as if from nowhere, and insist that they play or do something fun together; or else he would climb up into Tumnus's lap and Tumnus would hold him close. At night, after Puck had drifted peacefully off to sleep, Tumnus would often remain at his side, holding his hand, keeping a faithful watch over him. And every day and night, Tumnus never forgot to get on his knees and thank Aslan for his precious son.

Then one day, when Puck was around five years of age—just old enough to talk properly, and do most things of his own free will—Tumnus was out for a private swim in a small lake not far from Cair Paravel. Tumnus loved swimming in the Jewel Lake, where the water was always so refreshingly cool, and always so clean and clear; he could put his face in it and easily see everything, right down to the bottom. The faun spent a good hour or so just stroking and paddling, or lying very quietly on his front, holding his breath, allowing the gentle current to carry him.

By the time he finally emerged from the lake, soaked to the bone and dripping profusely, he was astonished yet elated to discover that Aslan accompanied him in the cool green coppice.

Aslan had not been to see him in person for a good number of years—not since before Puck was born.

While Tumnus always knew the Lion was there, his heart leaped all the same to see him standing there, in the flesh. "My lord," the faun said in a hushed voice, never hesitating to kneel at Aslan's feet and touch his forehead reverently to the Lion's paw. "It is a pleasure and an honor to once again be here, in your presence. Truly, I am the most fortunate of all fauns."

"Tumnus, my child," acknowledged Aslan, in his smooth, regal voice. "It's good to see you again."

When Tumnus straightened up, he looked Aslan squarely in the eyes and requested, "What may I do for you, sir? Tell me, please, what is it you would have of me?"

"Tumnus," said Aslan, after a minute of deliberate silence, "I have a commandment for you."

"And I am here to receive it," Tumnus said solemnly, closing his eyes and dipping his head in submission. "Tell me what it is I must do, my lord, and I shall abide by your word. As your humble servant, you know I will gladly do anything for you…even to the laying down of my very life."

"We shall see about that, my friend," Aslan informed him. "To say outright that you will do something is one thing. To actually perform the task is quite another matter."

"Please, Aslan, tell me what I should do."

"Behind you, Tumnus, in the second hollow stump to your left, there is something for you to retrieve. Retrieve it now."

"Yes, my lord." Tumnus promptly rose up and did as he had been instructed. When he withdrew his hand from the stump Aslan spoke of, the faun was somewhat surprised to discover he clutched a long, thin knife with a jet-black handle, and a gleaming silver blade that was whittled to a deadly point.

He just barely brushed the razor-sharp edge with his finger, and the blade forthwith drew blood, making Tumnus gasp and withdraw his hand immediately.

"Now, Tumnus," Aslan said, drawing level with the faun, "this is the commandment I give you. Listen very carefully. Do exactly what I say, as I say it. And tell no other living soul what I tell you here and now—not even your wife, or your friend Terence. You are to take your young son, Puck, your one and only child, and bring him to the Hill of the Stone Table."

Tumnus remembered that place. The Stone Table, as its name designated, was a massive slab of cold gray stone established upon a high hillock south of the Great River, not far from the Great Woods. It was only a few days' journey from Cair Paravel. Up until not too far back, the Table itself served as a sacrificial dolmen, where traitors and tormentors were slain as part of a religious rite. Now, due to the ultimate sacrifice made by Aslan himself, the Stone Table lay in broken, desolate fragments. "What am I to do then, when we get there, Aslan?" Tumnus questioned.

Here, Aslan stood very still, and looked the faun very gravely in the face.

"There, Tumnus," he said, speaking very slowly, enunciating every syllable, "you are to sacrifice your son to me."

Hearing this, Tumnus felt his heart all but stop beating, and his blood run to ice. The knife immediately slipped from his fingers, dropping with a dull thud by his hoof.

Paralyzed, unsure of whether he heard properly or not, Tumnus could only stammer, "W-what?"

"You must plunge that very knife I have just bestowed upon you into your son's heart," Aslan said. "You are to surrender Puck to me."

His profound eyes never once shifted from Tumnus's face, their expression remaining absolutely serious.

Tumnus still wasn't quite convinced he had heard what he thought he'd just heard.

"What…what are you saying, Aslan?" His voice was scarcely a whisper; so great was his shock and bewilderment.

"You must kill Puck, Tumnus."

"Kill him?" Now Tumnus felt his numb shock dissolve into pure terror, as well as heart-wrenching anguish.

"Yes. And you are to do it on the next full moon, with no one else accompanying you. You are to be entirely alone when you carry out the task. Now, go, Tumnus, and do as I command. Remember, make no mention of what you and I discussed. Do you understand? Not one word, not to anyone."

Tumnus couldn't believe what was happening to him, couldn't believe what Aslan wanted him to do.

Just take his son away, without telling anybody, and kill him? On purpose?

Why would Aslan ask him to do such a thing?

No, Tumnus's heart protested, no—that couldn't be! He had never killed anyone in his life! He couldn't do it, not to his own son! Surely Aslan had to be joking! Yet one look at the sorrowful solemnity in the Lion's noble face told Tumnus this was anything but a joke. Almost without realizing it, hot tears sprung up within Tumnus's eyes, making Aslan and the trees go blurry around him. His whole body began to quake, like a fragile leaf caught in a violent windstorm. Pain and agony such as the faun had never felt or would have believed possible pierced him, like the knife Aslan had given to him. His long, goat-stag legs buckled beneath him, and he fell awkwardly to his knees, barely noticing the impact as he crashed to the ground.

"Aslan." His voice emerged small, broken, and despairing. "Why do you ask this of me? How can you expect me to butcher my son like a piece of meat? What would Lucy say, if I took Puck away from her, and he never came back? How could I ever face her again? How could I ever face all the others? Isn't there another way, Aslan? Puck's just a child! More than just a child, he's my child! As his father, I could never bring myself to harm him!" The faun shook his head adamantly, his tears spilling to the ground like rain. "No…no, Aslan, I can't do this! I can't—I won't!"

Aslan merely looked at him, and said, "If you do not do this, Tumnus, you have no place with me."

The next thing Tumnus knew, the Great Lion was gone from his sight, as if vanished into thin air. Startled, Tumnus glanced about every which way, but Aslan was nowhere to be found. When Tumnus called for him, there was no answer—nothing except for the melodious trill of the birds in the trees, and the gentle splash of the water against the rocks in the lake.

"Aslan?" Tumnus shouted to the heavens. "Aslan!"

But Aslan was gone.

"Oh, Aslan…" Tumnus's emotions got the better of him, and he plunged his face into his hands and began to weep bitterly.