Part Two of

The Narnia Trilogy:

When Children Cry

My first fanfic, so be merciful, I beg of you!

SUMMARY:

Part One: Basically, Tumnus' story of his friendship with Lucy.

Part Two: Their friendship after Lucy becomes Queen Lucy the Valiant of Narnia.

Part Three: Lucy and Tumnus reunite many years later, and how their friendship progresses into love.

And then we'll have a little Epilogue.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lucy or Tumnus or Narnia. In Part Two, however, I'm in control of my own plot-line!

This chapter is a present for IridescentEpiphany, who I've fashioned Chrystmay after. Happy 13 and three-eighths birthday!

I've realised now that no one really give a pair of dingo's kidneys about the whole LucyTumnus friendship, so I'm getting Part II over as quickly as I can, so all of you lovesick Tumnus fans can finally get to all the lovey-dovey parts (as if this fanfic isn't filled with enough fluff already...) It isn't going to extremely romantic anyway, I'm sorry to tell you.

Also, I apologise, my readers, I hope you are patient. This is the longest chapter yet:

Chapter Fourteen

What Happened with the Dryad

Rain continued to create wet star-bursts on the window for the fortnight following, although Tumnus and Lucy had long since been rid of their illness. This was not to their loss, however; Tumnus remained at Cair Paravel for days, and the two spent these days in the warm, dry rooms of the castle. It was not short of perfect, for they laughed and wrote and retold a hoard of anecdotes, being not for the worse.

Yet the weather did end at a point, and Tumnus came to realise that life was not all merry days in the Narnian castle. Once again he would have to return to his familiar den and although it was not quite home, it was as home-like as many more things that he'd experienced lately. Fauns were meant for simple lives, and he'd soon have to return to his.

It was by luck that the sun shone on the day he chose to leave Cair Paravel, for he was not greatly looking forward to the trek home in mud and rain. Nay, he emerged with the sun from behind the clouds. And as he tread on the stone steps of the castle, he turned around to Lucy.

'You know,' he began. 'it is a lovely day.'

'Yes, I know,' said Lucy, smiling. 'Absolutely perfect, isn't it? The sun is back out, the earth is still damp and smelling sweet –'

'I wonder,' Tumnus cut in, 'if you should like to meet a friend of mine.'

'Oh, could I?' cried Lucy in excitement, and raced down the steps to him. 'Yes, please! I would so love to!'

Chuckling mildly, Tumnus said, 'Perhaps it would be best if you asked the High King first. You recall what's happened the last few times you've decided to go gallivanting on your own adventures.'

'But they're not my own adventures; I've always got you there with me!' Lucy grinned. 'And it is so much better that way.'

'All the same...' Tumnus gave the child a gentle shove back to the doors, where King Peter was standing at the foyer, leaning against the frame.

'Peter, please?' asked Lucy, and though she had her back to Tumnus, the faun could almost see the hope in her eyes.

The king laughed. 'Of course. Mr Tumnus,' he said, now turning his attention to the faun, 'if you could please have her back before dark, that would be most convenient.'

Tumnus bowed so deeply that he felt sure he could touch the stone ground if he liked. 'Yes, Your Majesty.'

'Tumnus, stop, please,' laughed Peter. 'You know we're only just the Pevensie children to you.'

Tumnus allowed a small smile to curl upwards on his lips. 'That I do, Majesty, but I think it's best if I follow protocol.'

'Mr Tumnus!' said Lucy, nudging him. 'Might I remind you of something?'

'And whatever may that be?'

A great, toothy grin spread over her face like butter on bread. 'Dash the formalities!' she giggled. Tumnus, too, laughed out loud.

'Dash the formalities indeed!' And hand in hand, Tumnus lead his friend into the forest.

'Mr Tumnus?' asked Lucy, once they were well into the thick wood. 'Who are we visiting?'

'Oh– and old friend,' said Tumnus. 'We played together as children, and we went to the nightly dances together.'

'Who is he?' asked Lucy.

'She, Lucy. Her name's Chrystmay.'

'Oh!' said Lucy, a little embarrassed. 'Then is she . . . Is she a faun, like you?'

'No, Lucy.' Tumnus shook his head. 'She's a dryad. Ah, here she is!' Tumnus stopped, smiling, facing a tall dogwood tree.

Lucy looked at him, looked at the dogwood, then looked at him again and said, 'Mr Tumnus. It's a tree.'

'No, look!' he whispered, bending down to her and pointing. Lucy could hardly suppress a gasp as she saw the figure climbing down the branches like fluid. She was beautiful, with dark hair and palest skin. She somewhat resembled the tree she lived in, being in a gown sewn of leaves and four-petaled white blossoms. Her fingers and toes seemed to be especially tree-like; they were long and spindly, like twigs and roots growing from her body.

'Why, it can't be...' said the dryad in merry astonishment. 'Tumnus, is that you?'

'Chrystmay!' Tumnus loudly said in joy. 'It's so good to see you again!'

'I can say the same,' laughed she, and tucked a strand of long, dark hair behind her pointed ear. Lucy noticed small purple flecks smothering her hair– violets! 'It's good to see you, old friend,' said Chrystmay, eyes sparkling the colour of green earth. 'And – oh, who is this?' The tall dryad bent down to Lucy. 'Hello, little friend!'

'Chrystmay,' began Tumnus, 'might I introduce Queen Lucy of Cair Paravel, ruler of the –'

'Oh, Mr Tumnus,' sighed Lucy. 'I've told you, just –' But it was far too late to begin to tell him off, for the dryad Chrystmay had already swept a fine curtsy and was gasping, 'Your Majesty! I meant no offense...' and I do believe she would have kept going like this in such a state if Lucy had not grabbed her by the shoulders and said firmly (and, Tumnus was surprised to see, in a very grown-up way indeed), 'Please, Miss Chrystmay, I'm only Lucy. I've come as a friend, with a friend, and I'd very much like it if you didn't curtsy at every word.' Chrystmay, of course, was honoured to be treated in such a way by royalty, but she didn't show it. On the contrary, she stood abruptly and spoke as if the previous conversation had not taken place.

'Hello, Lucy dear,' she said, smiling. 'I have a feeling we're going to be most excellent friends.'

And that was that.

In moments, Tumnus and Chrystmay were talking like the old friends they were. Lucy was feeling quite lonely indeed until she realised Chrystmay's apparent liking to her. It was rather nice, although she suspected that the dryad wished to make a pet of her.

'Lucy, darling,' said Chrystmay, after they'd all finished a lovely afternoon sitting of cider and cakes, 'Would you like to learn some of the dryad dances?'

'Yes, please!' said Lucy, and leapt up in eagerness, which left Chrystmay giggling (though it was in a most ladylike manner).

'Tumnus, could you play something for us on the pipes?' asked the dryad.

Tumnus forced a laugh. 'Chrystmay, you know how long it's been since I've played those old pans! I've started the flute now, you recall.'

'Oh, you remember!' she said, pleading. 'Come, Tumnus. Play us the Silver Mist!' Chrystmay flung her set of panpipes into his arms. 'Now, Lucy, the Silver Mist. It's a spirited dance that is usually played in the middle of a gathering, because, done properly, it conjures up a lovely fog that swirls about until the end of the party. Now, Tumnus, if you'd begin. A bit slower, please.'

Chrystmay turned to Lucy. 'Right, then. Lucy, if you'd take my hand... yes, that's it.'

Over the next half hour, Lucy spent a marvellous time being led into a lively series of twirls and sprightly footwork. It was positively astounding to watch the dryad bend into such beautiful and bizarre positions that one knew she couldn't do if she'd not had such a flexible wood quality to her.

It was not long before Chrystmay was utterly delighted with Lucy's progress as a dancer, and declared, 'Why, she's an absolute natural! You try it, Tumnus!' And in one quick movement, she swept away from the girl, pulled the pipes from Tumnus's hands and put them to her mouth, then jostled him into position before Lucy.

Tumnus was amazed at how indeed talented a dancer she was, now that she had been taught actual steps. And it did not take more than a few minutes for a fine mist to seep into the air around them. Curiously enough, Tumnus did not take any notice to it. The matter seemed to be that he was not aware of anything beyond Lucy's face.

The author shall remark here that this is, by no means, anything beyond the purely platonic relationship between the two friends. It was, simply, that she did not seem as much like a child anymore. For the briefest glimpse, Tumnus saw something different about the little girl. As if a flash of sunlight had passed swiftly over her face, Tumnus could see her as she was not. He saw before his very eyes the woman that he'd suspected was yet to come: the adventurous, beautiful warrior-queen. It frightened him. What made the issue so more perplexing was his complete obliviousness to the fear. And all such confusing thoughts swarmed about his mind until he was so utterly bewildered that he could not say anything intelligent if he tried.

This was, though, a temporary state, as Lucy suddenly shouted out, 'Look, Mr Tumnus! It's working!' and then Tumnus became suddenly aware of the mist surrounding the woods around them.

A proud admiration shone in his eyes, almost a brotherly reflex. 'Lucy, you've done it! You've called the mists.'

'Have I?'

'Yes, and—' Tumnus was silenced by a sound. 'Did you hear that?'

'Hear what?' asked Chrystmay, whom Tumnus had presently forgotten.

'That, it's a... Lucy, someone's calling you.' Tumnus thought. 'Oh, bother!' he yelped, after some ponderings. 'Lucy, I'd promised Peter you'd be home before dark.'

'It's not yet dark,' pointed out Chrystmay.

'Yes, well, it's jolly well near here,' said Lucy, and shouted, 'Over here!' rather loudly to the hollow voice calling her name.

Not moments later, the king Peter emerged from the mist. 'Lucy! There you are!' he sighed, and scooped his sister into his arms.

'Peter, it's not dark yet,' fretted Lucy, releasing herself from his grasp. 'Must I really go?'

' 'Fraid so, Lucy. But –' Peter stopped. He did not speak again for quite some time.

'Peter? Are you all right?' inquired Lucy, and when he did not answer, she followed his gaze. The little girl subdued a giggle erupting from her mouth. Although she felt sure he wasn't listening, she said, 'Peter, this is Chrystmay.' because the High King seemed to have suddenly lost all interest in everything but the dryad.

'Mr Tumnus, I think he's ill,' she said in a bubbly whisper.

Tumnus gave a dry cough that sounded very much as though he were holding back a mocking laugh. 'Chrystmay, too, it seems.'

Lucy gave a sly look to Tumnus. 'Should we just... you know... leave them here?'

'And wait until fall comes for them to finally notice that they're breathing?' laughed the faun. 'No, lets... ah, wake them up.'

Both Peter and Chrystmay gave a slight jump as they were 'woken up', as Tumnus so aptly put it. The king finally came to his senses and insisted that he take Lucy home to Cair Paravel. Though he did not protest when Chrystmay offered to come as an escort. Tumnus thought it best to go with them till they reach the crossroads (but secretly, he wanted to be there, should anything notably humorous pass between Peter and his apparent affection), and then he would take the opposite path to his own home.

On the path to Cair Paravel, he and Lucy watched with merry eyes as the dryad and Peter continued ahead of them, silent. He was so utterly amused by this that he hardly noticed the gooseflesh on Lucy's arms and the chattering of her teeth.

'Why, Lucy! you're shivering,' he exclaimed.

'Yes, well,' Lucy said briskly, 'the fog does make it a bit chilly.'

Without so much as a second thought, Tumnus pulled the red muffler from around his neck and draped it over Lucy's shoulders. 'There,' he said.

Lucy smiled and rubbed her cheek against the dyed wool. 'Thank you, Mr Tumnus. But... won't you be chilly?'

'Me? Oh, no, Lucy. You can give it back tomorrow, I suppose.'

'Thank you, Mr Tumnus,' she repeated.

The thought did not ever cross her mind that she would never get a chance to return it to him.