A/N: Since I am re-reading The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe by C. S. Lewis for the upcoming movie, and since the two fics I am currently working on are either already dark or about to be dark, I decided I'd write a Phantom of the Opera/The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe crossover for something a little lighter. This may not be terrific, since I am no where near as good as a writer as C. S. Lewis or Gaston Leroux, or even a lot of the writers here…but I'm going to try! I also thought it would be fairly interesting, what with Christine's love for fairy tales. Now she can be in one!

Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia belongs to C. S. Lewis. The Phantom of the Opera should, at least, belong to Gaston Leroux. I own nothing…well, I own SOME things, just nothing in this story. Only a HINT of Susan Kay's Phantom is in here (the use of the Persian's 'name'). And only a hint of Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical, for Christine and Meg's friendship.

Coupling: Read and find out!

I have no idea where I'm going with this…oh, well. Enjoy!

Once there was a woman named Christine Daaé. This story is about something that happened to her when she was kept prisoner in an underground house by a genius madman who said he was in love with her. He had told her he was the Angel of Music, and had given her voice lessons until one day she performed at the Paris Opera and did magnificently. Not being able to handle the applause, she had fainted onstage and was taken back to the dressing-room, where, once she had woken up, she met with an old childhood sweetheart. Not wanting to upset the Angel, she pretended she had never seen him before and sent him away. When the room was clear, her Angel took her through the mirror of her dressing-room. Once through, she discovered that he was not, in fact, an Angel, but a masked madman whom many referred to as 'the Opera Ghost'. She fainted again. Once she had woken, she and this so-called 'Ghost' continued their journey down the cellars of the Opera, until they reached his underground home. Once there, he admitted to her that he had tricked her, and told her he loved her. She demanded to be released, but he sung her to sleep instead. The next day when she awoke again he was gone, but once he came back they had lunch and he showed her around the house, including his own room, which was black and had a coffin in the center of it. Christine didn't pay much attention to the room but to the coffin, and soon they left the room to sing. While singing, Christine removed the mask and discovered that this 'Ghost' (named Erik) looked like a corpse. After much…violence and screaming, the Ghost retreated to his room. Christine, gathering her courage, entered the room and told him to show her his face without fear. He did, and for a week afterward she pretended to be happy, and led him to believe she loved him.

And it is at this point out story begins.

Christine Daaé sat in front of a mirror, brushing her long golden hair while waiting for Erik to return from some 'errands'. She had been waiting what seemed an eternity (and what was really an hour and a half). Sighing, she set the brush down and picked up a book she had already read twice. She flipped through it, but didn't have the heart to read it again. Christine stood and set aside the book. She had to find something to keep her occupied before she went insane! Looking around, she settled on exploring a little. She hadn't really paid much attention when she had first arrived…maybe, since he was gone, she could look around his room a little more?

She left her room and glanced around the…sitting room?...a little, making certain Erik had not returned yet. Slowly, she walked to the door to his room and tried the handle. The door opened. She opened the door further and stepped inside, her eyes searching the room.

If she ignored the coffin, it really wasn't too horrible of a room…well, yes, it was still horrible, but it was spacious and there was a beautiful old wardrobe of beautiful dark wood, and there were beautiful carvings on the door, and it was just…beautiful. She walked around the coffin and ran her hands over the smooth wood. Curious, she tried the handle and smiled as it opened. She looked inside and found three other evening dress suits (what Erik always wore), and several lovely black cloaks. She ran her hands down them, and then pushed them aside. She frowned when she could not see the back of the wardrobe. Hesitantly, Christine stepped inside, he hands outstretched in front of her. She continued through the wardrobe, wondering how much further to the back it was.

Curious…she thought, it did not look this big from the outside. Suddenly, she heard a 'crunching' noise that sounded oddly like snow under her feet. It was becoming very cold…and the further she went, the lighter it seemed to become. Christine was scared, yet also excited and curious. What was happening?

Suddenly, she was walking through a forest of trees, and little white snowflakes were falling from the sky. Christine looked behind her. No, the wardrobe and Erik's room was still there. Christine continued ahead, thinking, What an unusual thing for Erik to put in his wardrobe…a snowy wood!

Christine soon saw what was causing the light, up ahead...and with a few more steps in the snow, she reached it: a lamppost!

Why is there a lamppost in the middle of a wood…? Christine wondered. She ran her hands up and down her arms, suddenly wishing she had taken one of Erik's thick cloaks. However, Christine closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. How real it all felt! The chill of the winter air, the snowflakes falling onto her hair, the smell of the wood, the cool of the fresh air. She had missed this feeling, and she hadn't even realized it!

Christine's eyes popped open as she heard the crunch, crunch of someone else walking in the snow. Searching around her, she saw a very strange person approaching her.

He was a little shorter then Christine, and carried over his head an umbrella that was white with snow. From the waist upwards he was like an ordinary man, but his legs were shaped like a goat's (the hair on them was glossy black) and instead of feet he had goat's hoofs. He also had a tail, but Christine did not notice this at first because it was neatly caught p over the arm that held the umbrella so as to keep it from trailing in the snow. He had a red woolen muffler around his neck, and his skin was sort of reddish, too. He had a strange, but pleasant little face, with a short pointed beard and curly hair, and out of the hair there stuck two horns, one on each side of his forehead. One of his hands, as stated, held the umbrella; in the other arm he carried several brown-paper parcels. What with the parcels and the snow it looked just as if he had been doing some Christmas shopping.

But it isn't even December…Christine thought briefly. Then her eyes went wide with realization.

"You are a Faun!" she exclaimed in shock, before she managed to catch herself. The Faun looked up, and dropped all his parcels.

"Goodness gracious me!" exclaimed the Faun.

"Good evening," Christine said, once she remembered her manners. She bent down to help the Faun pick up his parcels. Once they had finished, the Faun gave her a little bow.

"Good evening, good evening," said the Faun. "Excuse me – I don't want to be inquisitive – but should I be right in thinking that you are a Daughter of Eve?"

"I'm afraid," Christine said, "That I do not understand you. My name is Christine Daaé."

"But you are – forgive me – you are what they call a woman?"

"But of course!" Christine exclaimed.

"You are in fact…Human?" the Faun asked cautiously.

"Yes, of course I am human."

"To be sure, to be sure," said the Faun. "How stupid of me! But I've never seen a Son of Adam or a Daughter of Eve before. I am delighted. That is to say-" and then he stopped as if he had been about to say something he had not indented to say. "Delighted, delighted. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Tumnus."

Christine smiled and clapped her hands together in delight. "A pleasure to meet you indeed, Monsieur Tumnus."

"And may I ask, O Christine Daaé Daughter of Eve," said Monsieur Tumnus, "how have you come into Narnia?"

"Narnia?" Christine asked, in confusion, "What is that?"

"Why, this is the land of Narnia," said the Faun, "where we are now; all that lies between the lamppost and the great castle of Cair Paravel on the eastern sea. And you – you have come from the Wild Woods of the West?"

Christine laughed. Surely this was all part of Erik's game! "Not at all, Monsieur Tumnus. I came in from the wardrobe, in Erik's room."

"Ah!" said Monsieur Tumnus in a rather downhearted 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."

"But they are not countries at all!" said Christine, laughing again, "It's just back there." Christine pointed in the direction she game, and then frowned. "At least – I'm not sure! But it is not so cold there…" Christine finished, wrapping her arms around herself again.

"Meanwhile, it is winter in Narnia, and has been for ever so long, and we shall both catch cold if we stand here talking in the snow. Daughter of Eve from the bright city of War Drobe in the land of Eriksoom, how would it be if you came and had tea with me?"

"Thank you very much, Monsieur Tumnus, but I was just wondering whether I should be going back. Erik will be very worried…"

"Oh, but it is only just around the corner." Pleaded the Faun, "And there'll be a roaring fire – and toast – and sardines – and cake."

Christine frowned. Well…surely Erik would not be back yet, and even if he was, he must know about the wintry land in his wardrobe. He'd know where to find her…and she had always wanted to meet a Faun.

"Well, I shall not be able to stay long," Christine said, "but that is very kind of you and I will gladly accept your offer."

"If you will take my arm, Daughter of Eve, I shall be able to hold the umbrella for both of us. That's the way. Now – off we go."

Christine smiled and hummed a soft tune as they walked, and they had not gone far before they came to a place where the ground became rough and there were rocks all about and little hills creating small valleys. At the bottom of one very small valley Monsieur Tumnus turned suddenly aside as if they were going to walk straight into an unusually large rock, but at the last moment Christine found he was leading her into the light of a wood fire. Then Monsieur Tumnus stooped and took a flaming piece of wood out of the fire with a neat little pair of tongs, and lit a lamp.

"Now, we shan't be long." He said, and immediately put a kettle on. Christine thought she had never been in a nicer place. It was a small, dry, clean cave of reddish stone, with a dark carpet on the floor and two little chairs ("One for me and one for a friend," said Monsieur Tumnus), and a little wooden table and a dresser and a mantelpiece over the fire and above that a picture of an old Faun with a grey beard. In one corner was a door which Christine thought must lead to his bedroom, and on one wall was a shelf full of books. With her curiosity and love of stories, Christine could not help but to look through them while Monsieur Tumnus set the table for tea. The titles were such things as The Life and Letters of Silenus or Men, Monks and Gamekeepers; A Study in Popular Legend and Is Man a Myth or Nymphs and Their Ways. Christine's hand reached out the latter when Monsieur Tumnus said,

"The tea is set, Daughter of Eve!"

It was really a wonderful tea. There was a brown egg that was lightly boiled for each of them, and plain toast, and then buttered toast, and then toast with honey, and then toast with jam, but Christine refused the sardines on toast once she couldn't decided which she hated more: sardines or toast. Then there was sugar-coated cake, and when Christine was tired of eating (and so full she felt a little sick), the Faun began to talk. He had wonderful tales to tell of life in the forest. He told her about midnight dances and how the Nymphs who lived in the wells and the Dryads who lived in the trees came out to dance with the Fauns; about long hunting parties after the milk-white stag who would give you a wish if you caught him; about feasting and treasure-seeking with the wild Red Dwarfs in deep mines and caverns far beneath the forest floor; and then about summer when the woods were green and old Silenus on his fat donkey would come to visit them, and sometimes Bacchus himself, and then the streams would run with wine instead of water and the whole forest would give itself up to jollification for weeks on end. Christine listened intently with wide eyes, delighted to hear stories once again, and such stories that reminded her so of her Father.

"Not that it ever happens anymore," said the Faun sadly, "now that it is always winter now." Then to cheer himself up, he took out from a beautiful wooden case a strange little flute that looks as if it were made of straw, and he began to play. The tune he played made Christine was to cry and laugh and jump up and dance around the cave, or sing, and it made her want to sleep all at the same time. Soon, she decided on sleeping, and fell into a deep sleep, dreaming about dancing with Nymphs and Dryads.

RubyMoon's Secret Place

RubyMoon: Yes, I know. A lot of this is just ripped off from the book. But I PROMISE, as time goes on it'll be more and more original. There just wasn't that much to change yet, and I liked the way C. S. Lewis described things, and I know I can't do a better job, so I left that, too. But things will get more interesting, I promise.

Also, I don't think there were lampposts back then, but since a lamppost is kind of important to Narnia and isn't that important in Phantom, I decided to keep it.

And yeah, this fic doesn't really know if its going to be a humor or serious fic when it grows up…so I guess it'll be kind both.

So, for now…please review. Please don't flame, but I enjoy criticism (but stating AGAIN that I just basically copied the book again isn't going to help much, mind). Ja Ne!