A/N: Huge thanks to Ghilanna Faen Tlabbar, elektrum, and Almyra for the lovely reviews! I'm glad you all enjoyed the rude little Nymph. She doesn't appear in this chapter, unfortunately, but I can promise that we'll see her in chapter 5.
Disclaimer: This story was written for entertainment purposes only. But if I get inordinate amounts of positive reviews, then it was written to inflate my ego.
Year 899, WINTER:
Is Man a Myth?
""Ah!" said Mr. Tumnus in a rather melancholy voice, "if only I had worked harder at geography when I was a little Faun, I should no doubt know all about those strange countries. It is too late now."" – The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.
"'Narnia, Narnia, Narnia, awake. Love. Think. Speak. Be walking trees. Be talking beasts. Be divine waters.'" – The Magician's Nephew.
Two dainty sets of hoofprints meandered through the snow. They travelled over little hills and wound through the trees, until eventually reaching the two very beings who were making the tracks. One was a Faun with curly black hair and a red scarf. The other had brown hair and a yellow scarf. Each of them swung a lunch-bucket from his mittened hand.
"Snow, snow, snow," grumbled the black-haired one. "I hate snow. I wish it never snowed. I hate winter. I wish it was spring." He kicked at the white powder with his hoof in a fit of bad temper.
His friend regarded him with amusement. "What's bothering you, Tumnus?" he asked with exaggerated innocence.
"I never said that anything was both–"
"No, but I can tell." Girbius' blue eyes were twinkling. "I knew you disliked winter, but not this much. It can't only be the snow. What is really on your mind?"
Tumnus fidgeted for a moment before giving in with a deep sigh. "It's just – well – I've been practicing the flute since summer. And I don't seem to be getting any better at all!"
"That happens to everybody," said the other Faun lightly. "My father wanted me to learn singing, not flute, but it's the same. Just keep working at it. It's all about practice and confidence."
"I have too much practice and not enough confidence," muttered Tumnus gloomily, causing his friend to laugh.
By this time, the two young Fauns had finally reached their destination. It was a small hut in the middle of the woods, a hut that belonged to a very old Faun called Mirluns. He taught the young Fauns everything that a well-educated Narnian should know. His lessons included grammar, logic, geography, astronomy, philosophy, and several other things with equally horrible-sounding names. But for a few days each winter, old Mirluns would tell stories to the young Fauns after they had finished their lessons. Such a day was today.
Girbius and Tumnus entered the hut, and hung their scarves on hooks next to the scarves of Fauns who had already arrived. They took their seats in little wooden chairs, which had been placed in a semi-circle before the fireplace. Old Mirluns was snoozing in the largest chair closest to the fire, and the young Fauns chatted quietly as they waited for the lesson to begin.
Mirluns awoke with a snort, and blinked as he adjusted his cut crystal spectacles. "Now," he harrumphed, stroking his white beard. "Quiet, please. Let us begin with the noble subject of philosophy…"
Tumnus allowed himself to drift off as Mirluns droned on and on. The ancient Faun made philosophy sound about as interesting as stale bread. The young Faun examined a curiously-shaped clock on the mantelpiece which had broken and was stopped at three minutes to lunchtime. Speaking of lunchtime, he was feeling rather hungry…
"Master Tumnus! Perhaps you would be so kind as to provide us with the answer."
Tumnus jerked his head around to look blankly at Mirluns, who wore an expression of profound displeasure on his wrinkled face. The young Faun felt a twinge of panic. He hadn't been listening. Were they still talking about philosophy? In desperation, he snuck a glance at Girbius, who was trying to mouth the correct answer to him.
Tumnus squinted at his friend, trying to form the right words. "An… Han… Hand fog?" Immediately he wanted to kick himself for saying something that stupid.
"The answer is Anvard, Master Tumnus. The last time I checked, the pass to Archenland was not called "Hand fog". I suggest you pay more attention during class, and to your geography."
Tumnus felt his ears burning, and made a point of paying close attention to the rest of the lesson.
When lunchtime finally arrived, the young Fauns opened up their lunchpails and shared their food. In a rare show of benevolence, Mirluns brought out some hot apple cider, which the students eagerly sipped. Tumnus munched on his blackcurrant bun, feeling very content as he waited for the old Faun to begin his story. For one whole afternoon he wouldn't have to worry about learning strange names and dates. He could just sit here before a crackling fire, eating buns and sipping cider as he listened to the legends of Narnia. He loved winter.
"Today I will tell you about the beginning of the world," said Mirluns softly. The young Fauns shifted excitedly and shushed their neighbours, leaning forward to listen. "I will tell you how Aslan created everything we see, how the Fauns came from the trees, and how Aslan crowned the first King and Queen of Narnia." Contrary to the philosophy lesson earlier that morning, Tumnus was now spellbound by the old Faun's voice. He let his imagination fly out over a new green land, swooping down to see the first Fauns emerging from the trees. But when it came to picturing King Frank and Queen Helen, his imagination faltered.
"What do humans look like?" he asked as soon Mirluns had finished the extraordinary tale.
"Nobody knows for sure," answered the old Faun. "That is not important. All tales of Humans being seen in Narnia are myths, Master Tumnus."
"My father says they're real."
Annoyance flickered over Mirluns' face. "Some Fauns, like your father, do believe that humans actually existed in Narnia at one time," he admitted grudgingly. "But just like the Tree of Protection that was said to have kept evil at bay, men – are – myths."
"The Tree of Protection is a myth?" Girbius asked, cocking his head to the side.
Mirluns waved his gnarled hand. "Of course. If the Tree of Protection was supposedly planted by a Son of Adam, then it is surely a myth. Besides, many Narnians have searched for the tree with silver apples on all the riverbanks in the land, and it has not to be found."
"Then that means we are not protected from evil!" a particularly young Faun squeaked, his large eyes bugging out with fear.
"Nonsense!" snapped Mirluns. "These stories are just allegories for what actually happened. Just because the Tree is a myth does not mean that we have no protection. I have no doubt that Aslan will protect us from anything that is out there, without depending upon the existence of some silly tree."
Most of the young Fauns seemed satisfied with that answer. But Tumnus noticed that Ventius, a Faun slightly older than he, was scratching his head. "What about the White Lady who calls herself Queen?" asked Ventius, frowning a little. "Is she a Daughter of Eve?"
"Certainly not," Mirluns answered. "Frankly, I'm not quite sure what she is. But we're out of her jurisdiction so far West. And you Fauns are too young to be talking of such things anyway." The old Faun glanced at his silver pocket-watch. "Class is dismissed. Go on home, then." Mirluns shooed the younger Fauns out of his hut and slammed the door.
Tumnus and Girbius strolled together through the snow, heads bowed against the chill wind. "What do you think?" Tumnus asked his friend as he struggled to keep his scarf from blowing into his face. "Is man a myth?"
Girbius shook his curly head. "I don't know about humans," he admitted, "but I can't believe that the Tree of Protection is just a made-up story. How does Mirluns know all about it, anyway? He wasn't at the beginning of the world – although he looks like he could have been."
"I guess the only one who really knows is Aslan," Tumnus said thoughtfully, "and he hasn't been seen for so long now."
His friend flashed a quick smile at him. "Well," he remarked, rubbing his mittened hands together to warm them, "If he decides to show up one day, be sure to ask him!"
A/N: Two quotes for you today! The first is from pages 12 and 13 of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. The second quote is from page 108 of the 1971 Puffin edition of The Magician's Nephew. I can sympathize with Tumnus; I hated geography!
