II

Spare Oom

There are certain things in this world no one can question. The greatness of Aslan is one. Another is love. And some loves are so great that they are the cause of the noblest of things: the biggest adventures told, the greatest lives led. All for love.

Whether it was love for Lucy, love for Tumnus, or a love for love that sent the White Stag, none but Aslan can say for certain. Whatever the reason, there it was. Tumnus stared at the delicate nostrils, curled at his scent. Tumnus was on his feet, his book forgotten. Snow caught in his eyelashes until they drove him to distraction. He shook his head and the Stag took off, leaping silently across the clearing, towards a stand of pines.

Tumnus had no choice. He ran after. Here was what he had been so patiently waiting for. One of great faith, Tumnus the Faun; although he did not know for what he waited, he waited all the same.

Aslan once told the Children of Adam that to follow the White Stag is to have the chance to know the answers to all questions. To know the truth of things. To catch the White Stag—a thing beyond dreams. But Tumnus was going to, now. The only word in his frantic mind was "Lucy". Not a face, not anything written. The word, the sound on her lips when she introduced herself. In his hand, her handkerchief. He would never leave that behind. He tore after the Stag, swatting angrily at the braches of pines that whipped at him.

The Stag had led him through the grove for only a moment before it seemed to crouch and enter a tunnel, except nothing was there but trees. Tumnus mimicked the Stag (for reasons unknown to him) and stooped, pushing himself closer, his muscles aching. And suddenly the trees were different. He reached out his hand and his fingertips brushed the flank of the White Stag. All air left his lungs as he crashed through something solid and landed on hard ground.

He looked up. No forest here. Solid wooden walls surrounded him, but not in any home he knew. The Stag disappeared through the door to this…room? He did not have time to think about what it was. He flung the door wider as he reached it, watching the Stag flee outdoors. He put out his foot and then he was falling, banging his hips and knees against sharp stairs, nothing like the mellow rounded steps he was used to. He landed in a heap at the bottom, his head reeling. He put his hands underneath him to stand, and then stopped. His blue eyes widened.

His hands were the same size but the fingers were longer now. There was no fur on them save a faint fuzz one could barely call hair. His arms were barely shaded with this strange new fur. He pulled himself up to his feet.

His feet.

Tumnus stared in horror as he swayed, slightly, on top of long-toed feet. Toes. Ten toes. Thin legs, also with fine hair, knobby knees, muscles barely covered by thin skin.

Tumnus turned red. Barely any hair anywhere.

He was naked, but the sudden realization dawned on him even more surprising: he was not a Faun. He was…what? Surely not a Son of Adam?

He spotted a glass in this hall and he hurried to it. He shouted in fright.

"What enchantment is this?" he said, touching his face. His curly hair was normal, still, and his eyes the same blue with heavy lashes. But his nose was straight and pointed at the end. And his ears—no longer the ears of his distant goat relatives. Small and curling, like an intricate shell. He touched them and almost laughed at the ticklishness of them. He pawed aside his hair. No curving horns. He shyly turned around. No ridge of fur over his spine. No tail.

"It's impossible," he said, awe-struck.

"What the HELL are you doing in here?" came an angry shout.

Tumnus wheeled and looked to his right. A tall, well-muscled young man stood in the outside doorway, wielding some sort of paddle-bat-club (Tumnus would later find out it was a cricket bat), with a funny sort of skirt made out of what looked like a towel. His blonde hair was wet and his chest bare. Across the left pectoral, the shape of a lion. "Where did you come from? This is private bloody property, you pervert!"

"Aslan?" Tumnus whispered, but realized that the young man was advancing towards him. He turned and tried to run, but his new legs failed him and he tripped up in the carpet runner of this hallway. He fell and cowered at the feet of this Son of Adam.

"Get out," growled the young man.

"Aslan?" Tumnus asked again. The lion on his chest flexed as if in answer. The boy dropped his arm, the club hanging limply.

"Who are you?" his voice was suspicious. Tumnus trembled and brought his knees together, trying to cover himself. And then it dawned on him. Blonde hair and such unfailing courage.

"Peter?" he asked, incredulous. His eyes widened and lit up. "High King Peter!"

Peter looked at him like he was mad, but he offered his hand to help him up. Tumnus scrambled uneasily to his feet and stood rocking, his face flushed from embarrassment and excitement.

"Who are you? Did you…did you come from Narnia?"

"It's Tumnus! Lucy's Tumnus." And Peter blinked once before grinning and slapping Tumnus on the shoulder. Tumnus winced.

"Mr. Tumnus! What are you doing here? How did you get in? Not…not the wardrobe?"

"Is this Spare Oom?" Tumnus was looking about frantically. "Are we in Spare Oom?"

"Er, we're in England," Peter said gently.

"Yes, War Drobe, Spare Oom, England," Tumnus waved his hand impatiently. "Where is Queen Lucy?"

"Peter? Is everything quite all right?" came a voice from another door off the hall.

"Yes, just a minute, Professor!" Peter cried quickly, turning Tumnus back to the stairs. "Let's get you in some clothes," he muttered, helping Tumnus up.

"Where is Lucy?" Tumnus asked again, as he sat naked on Peter's bed. Peter retrieved a pair of trousers, a collared shirt, and suspenders.

"She's visiting at our cousin's. Put these on." And as Tumnus dressed in Peter's castoffs, Peter proceeded to tell Tumnus about the Pevensies' second adventure in Narnia, involving a young Prince named Caspian.

"Never heard of him," Tumnus shrugged. "And, anyhow, you and King Edmund and Queens Susan and Lucy are the true rulers of Narnia, with Aslan, as far as anyone's concerned." Tumnus sat still and let Peter do up his suspenders. "These are rather… restrictive."

"You'll get used to them," Peter assured him. "But what are you doing here, Mr. Tumnus?"

"I was at the Lamp-Post, reading, waiting for Lucy," said Tumnus simply. "I saw the White Stag. And you know what that means. So I followed it into Spare Oom. But I saw it leap through the main doorway of this place."

"Tumnus…I haven't been to Narnia in ten years," Peter gently told him. Tumnus looked distressed. "And as far as I know, neither has Lucy. But who knows when Narnia shall call on her again? I daresay only Aslan. How long has it been in Narnia, since we left?"

"Only a little over a year," Tumnus said mournfully. "I don't understand. How you have grown! And you say when you returned to Narnia, hundreds of years had passed. How can this be? Is it still near Christmas? Do you not have snow in Spare Oom?"

"It's only the first of August," Peter said gently. "It's something the Professor explained to me. Time is different here and there. No one can quite explain it—it can't be easily converted. D'you know that when Edmund and Susan and Lu and I all came out of the wardrobe again, we were all children?"

"We have been mourning you," Tumnus said in disbelief. "All of Narnia has been mourning you. We thought you dead, or worse."

"Nah," Peter said. "Just back here." Peter pulled on a pair of shorts and trousers, buttoning his own shirt. Tumnus watched the tattoo of Aslan swallowed up by light blue fabric. Tumnus' shirt was a dark, crisp color, gray-blue like the sea. He started when Peter said that.

"What happened!" cried Tumnus, standing up. "The day you took Lucy to hunt, her birthday? What happened?" And as Peter told again the story of finding the lamp-post as if a dream, the stairs on the landing creaked.

"What on Earth is going on?" Peter looked with Tumnus to the doorway. There stood the good Professor, spectacles in hand, looking completely baffled. Peter quickly introduced the two, but the Professor had heard all about Tumnus from Lucy. It lifted Tumnus' spirits immensely to hear it, Peter noticed. And as Tumnus practiced pacing about on his human legs, he explained his journey to Spare Oom to the Professor. The Professor sat on the bed next to Peter, dumbfounded. "I thought the Wardrobe was sealed up."

"So did I. Don't you remember how Lucy used to prowl around for it to open?" Peter confirmed the Professor's words. "And, Tumnus, by Aslan! What has happened to your body?"

Tumnus looked down at his bare feet, wondering at the way his strange toenails shone. "I do not know for certain," he said slowly. "I touched the White Stag in War Drobe. That is the only explanation I have. Perhaps it thought I would be better suited to a Son of Adam's body than that of a Faun, here in Spare Oom."

"That was wise of it," Peter laughed, "for there are no fauns here."

Tumnus then regarded both Peter and the Professor seriously.

"I need to know where Queen Lucy is. I need to see her." He looked so forlorn the Professor should have wept, he was so confounded by the whole scene (had he been a weeping man). "King Peter, why can't you summon her here?"

"I told you, she's with her cousin," he said, although a suspicion had been creeping in his mind. "Although it would not surprise me in the least if she were in Narnia."

"Why is it you have not returned since your adventure with Caspian?"

"I am not able to, nor Susan," Peter explained glumly. "We are too old now, Aslan says. It is the worst pain I have known. But Edmund and Lucy are young enough yet. And if any of us would return to Narnia, it would be Lu. You know how she loves it so." And you, he said to himself.

"I think our major concern right now should be catching this White Stag," the Professor said, rising from the bed. "And perhaps a cup of tea."

"Yes," Peter agreed eagerly. "Mr. Tumnus, you said it fled out the door?" Tumnus nodded and Peter could tell he was still very much upset about not finding Lucy here. "There is a bit of Narnia running about and we need to catch it, before we can get you to see Lucy."

"It's impossible to catch the White Stag," Tumnus said roughly, and it took Peter by surprise. "The White Stag is only an idea—I touched it, and that's as close as anyone ever gets to any idea. It's like trying to carry water in a broken jar."

"I know," Peter said, "but we've got to try. It may help us discover just where Lucy is."

Tumnus sat on the front stoop of the cabin, taking in the scenery. Peter had wanted to finish his study for that day (only a couple more hours, he promised) and Tumnus was awe-struck at this new world he found himself in. And so Tumnus spent the day getting used to his new legs, fussing with his clothing, and exploring the cabin's large yard with all the joy and curiosity of a child. And sunset led Peter to him, the barefooted former-Faun, his blue eyes glazed and distant. He stared off down the road, and he started when Peter spoke.

"So what do you think?"

"Spare Oom is the most beautiful and curious place I've ever been," Tumnus said breathlessly. "Well, I've never left Narnia. But I imagine no place could be as charming as this."

"The Professor's old home was more enchanting," Peter admitted, sitting down on the steps beside Tumnus. "But he ran into money problems. This place does well, though. He gets lonely. You have no idea," he said, suddenly serious, "how much the Professor is thrilled by your arrival."

"The Professor? Why?" Tumnus did not take his eyes from the dirt road.

"He created Narnia, you see," Peter said. Tumnus laughed.

"Aslan created Narnia."

"That's true," Peter agreed. He should not try to explain it all to Tumnus just yet. "I suppose the Professor really created the link between here and Narnia. He is an amazing man, Mr. Tumnus. But of course, like me, he is too old to ever get back there. And he is excited to meet a citizen of Narnia."

"But, King Peter," Tumnus was confused, and took his blue eyes from Spare Oom and set them on Peter. "You are a citizen of Narnia. You and Queen Susan and King Edmund. And Lucy," he was quiet. Peter could tell how much he longed for her.

"You do miss her terribly, don't you?" his voice was gentle.

"More than I have ever missed anyone," Tumnus said firmly. "I don't believe you can understand what it feels like."

"I do," Peter replied quickly. "The first time we visited Narnia, our father was off fighting in a terrible war. Perhaps Lucy told you?"

"Yes," Tumnus said. "I recall her saying that. Forgive me for saying you do not understand, King Peter."

"Mr. Tumnus, I'll stop talking to you unless you call me Peter. It is only in Narnia I am King."

"You are always a King of Narnia, no matter where you are." Tumnus looked very seriously at him. "You will forever be the High King. But I shall do as you say, so long as you do not call me Mr. any longer. I believe we are about the same age—in Spare Oom time."

"Yes," Peter realized suddenly that this was true. "For I am twenty-three, and you cannot be more than a year or so older."

"And so how old is Lucy?" Tumnus looked anxious.

"She is eighteen this month."

"She was that age when you disappeared," Mr. Tumnus nearly wailed in despair. He did not understand how such magic could work. There was no pattern to it. There was no way to know what was happening in Narnia; and he realized that as the Pevensies had been on their adventures with Prince Caspian, they had passed by the same places he was. They had been in the future, in the same space. Tumnus shivered. It must explain those tugs on my heart, he said to himself. Those were the times Lucy was near. "So it as if no time at all has passed."

"In a way, I suppose it is like that," Peter agreed. "But I have no doubt she will know you instantly, although you look so…different."

"Do I look as awful as all that?" Tumnus laughed, but it was forced and worried. Peter realized instantly what he had said, and he regretted it.

"No, not at all. You are quite handsome, actually. I would not have imagined you could ever be a man."

"Neither did I," Tumnus said honestly. Dreamed about it, he thought wistfully, but never thought it would happen. "You think…you think Lucy will know me?"

"Absolutely," Peter said, and he had no doubts. "And it will not be so long before she comes home. Her birthday is at this month's end, as you know. My parents will be returning from America—

"Amereeka?"

"It is another land, across an ocean," Peter explained quickly. "My parents took a holiday, and Susan went with them. And soon I should expect Edmund and Lucy to join us here, to visit for a bit with the Professor before we go home to Finchley."

"So Lucy will be here soon."

"I should think so," Peter nodded. "Come on. Aren't you hungry? It's practically supper-time."

Tumnus took one last look at the sunset. "Truly, Peter," he said quietly, "it is a beautiful world."