IV

A Port in the Storm

The deck of the "Dawn Treader" was slick with oil and dirt as well as with water. The crew skidded over the planks as they bailed, battened down sails, hauled in ropes. Caspian himself stood at the helm, his captain sweating over the steering.

"My Prince, I fear this is the worst storm I've seen in years," sputtered the captain, wiping seawater out of his face as a monstrous wave struck the small ship.

"I must see that our guests are safe," Caspian said, mostly to himself, and hopped down from the wheel to the main deck. Steadying himself as only a King of Narnia can, he fought his way to the cabin at the stern. As he reached the door, Lucy flung it open.

"Is the storm not lessening?"

"No," he said grimly. "You should get below deck, Queen Lucy."

"I am fine right where I am," she said firmly. "I do not fear the sea."

"You ought to," his voice was hard. "Now, come below deck while your brother and cousin help the men on deck."

"And can I not help the men?" Lucy looked hurt and aggravated. Caspian noticed dark circles beneath her eyes.

"Not this time," he said, his voice softer. "Lucy, I would feel much better if I knew you were safe below deck."

"Very well," she sighed. "It is your ship." She bundled herself in a large woolen blanket and tripped down to the hold, Caspian holding her elbow. He helped her to get settled, and left her with a lantern and a book. Lucy curled up on a narrow bunk, shivering. Even the lantern did not make her feel more secure. She settled down to try to read, but her head was with the sailors up on the deck. She worried for Edmund's and Eustace's safety, but there was nothing for it. She thought she heard a muffled shout of surprise, but she ignored it. "All I can do now is wait," she told herself, and opened her book.

Tumnus fell onto something hard and wet, smashing his nose against wooden planks. He stumbled blindly to his feet, clutching his face. Blood smeared under his fingers. He felt Peter slam to the ground next to him.

"Ho there! What's this?" a rough sailor with black hair looked at them, startled. "Did the storm blow you in?"

"So to speak," Tumnus said raggedly, holding his head up as best he could without getting water down his nose. "Where are we?"

"On the good ship "Dawn Treader"," the sailor told him, offering Tumnus a sopping bandana. "Here, mate."

"Thank you," Tumnus answered. Peter rose shakily. Tumnus offered him a hand and Peter took it gratefully.
"By Aslan, how many more of you?" he joked. Peter looked at him sharply.

"Are we in Narnia?" the High King asked.

"You most certainly are," the sailor answered promptly. "Or, at least we were before this bloody storm started. No telling where we've blown to." Peter looked up. He could see the clear streak in the air. So, he thought, the hole is still there. "I'm going to get the Prince to see this curious affair. Come along!" Tumnus and Peter looked at one another and followed the man, slipping and sliding across the deck. Their feet were bare and Peter winced as a splinter bit into his left sole.

"Whose ship is this?" he asked the sailor.

"Why, Prince—or King, rather—Caspian's," the sailor sounded surprised. "Certainly you know the new King. The story is legend!"
"I fear I have not been to Narnia in some time," Peter admitted. The sailor looked interested.

"Oh? Where are you from, then?"

"Spare Oom," Tumnus spoke up. Peter smiled, despite the circumstance.

"Never heard of it," the sailor grunted, making his way to the bow.

"Not many have," Tumnus assured him. Peter looked cross, but patted Tumnus' arm reassuringly.

"Ah! Here is our good Prince Caspian," the sailor said. "Pleasure to meet you, lads."

"Likewise," Peter returned, and the two men both looked up to the new King of Narnia.

Peter dimly remembered him, his lip curling in vague dislike. He was not so unlike Peter: blonde and handsome, obviously brave. He was much younger; Peter guessed not over sixteen. Him again, Peter thought.

"Who are you, now?"

"My name is Peter," Peter spoke up. "I was wondering—this is such an off chance, but—there wouldn't be a woman aboard this ship called Lucy?"

"What business of yours is the Queen?" Caspian looked suspicious.

"My own. And if King Edmund happens to be with her as well, I wish to see him, too. Please." Peter said coolly, and Caspian regarded him with contempt.

"You really do take me for a fool!" Caspian cried incredulously. "It's the middle of a storm, no one even knows I have the King and Queen with me, and you just happen upon my ship?" The boy drew a dagger and pointed it at Peter. "Who are you? Assassins?"

Tumnus felt his heart clench in his chest. He knew Caspian's dagger was no empty threat, but Peter didn't seem bothered by it.

"Peter Pevensie," he said, calmly. "I am here for my siblings."

"I do not believe you to be High King Peter," Caspian said, malice in his voice. "How can you prove it?" At his words, Tumnus was moved to anger, snapped out of his reverie.

"Here!" Tumnus cried suddenly. He ripped open Peter's shirt to reveal the Lion's Head tattoo, such a symbol unmistakable. "I am his servant and you would do well to show respect to him, the King of Kings."

Caspian's jaw dropped, despite his best efforts to control it, and he looked from Tumnus to Peter's chest to Peter's eyes.

"Is that what I think it is?" The dagger fell uselessly at his side.

"Yes, it is." Tumnus looked smug. Caspian paled and shifted uncomfortably. He'd heard the stories.

"I beg your pardon, King Peter." He did not sound like a boy used to apologizing.

"Don't think of it," Peter said. "My siblings?"

"Right," Caspian said, rising. "I shall summon Edmund and his cousin presently. Lucy is in the cabin." And with that, the Prince vanished down the steps, onto the deck.

"I shall fetch her," Peter told Tumnus in a low voice. A distressed grimace settled about his mouth. "You stay out of trouble." And then he, too, was gone.

Tumnus found himself alone on the prow of the ship. He looked across the rain and the deck, his eyes straining in the dark, blood racing.

By the port, he saw the shining figure of the Stag in the gloom. He hurried towards it but was intercepted by strong arms.

"Mr. Tumnus!" Edmund embraced him warmly. "I did not dream I'd ever see your face again." He frowned suddenly. "But—you are no longer a Faun?"

"It's a long story," Tumnus said glibly. "It is an honor to see you again, King Edmund."

"This is my cousin, Eustace," Edmund introduced the two. Tumnus looked anxiously at the port again. "What is it? You look as though you've seen a ghost," Edmund asked. Tumnus' face was obscure in the dark.

"Do you remember the White Stag? And the story behind it?"

"Of course," Edmund answered, unsure where this was going.

"It is here, on this ship," Tumnus said earnestly. "That is how your brother and I fell through. It tore—a hole in time, I suppose."

"Strange," Edmund said. "Can you see it?"

"No," Tumnus said, forlorn. "I glimpsed it for a moment and now it has gone."

"Well, come," Eustace piped up, a pale boy of fourteen. "It can't have gotten far. No animal would jump into this storm."

"Eustace is right," Edmund said firmly, and the three clattered down the wet stairs, to scour the deck.

Peter threw open the cabin door, and although he spotted Lucy's belongings and clothes, he did not find his sister.

"Are you looking for the Queen?" A man hurrying by asked.

"Yes," Peter said gratefully.

"Caspian installed her under deck," he told Peter. "Safer down there."

"Thank you," Peter called, after the sailor pointed out the hold's doors. He wrenched the wet, clammy wood up and nearly fell down the steep steps to the darkness inside. He shut the storm door firmly behind him.

"Edmund?" Lucy's thin voice came out of the dark; Peter spotted a pinprick of watery yellow light.

"Lu?" He made his way to her voice and she hushed, listening.

"Peter?" her voice was rich with wonder. "Peter, that—that can't be you!" She leapt up and found his arms, hugging him fiercely. "However did you get to Narnia again?" Her face was alight with joy. "Oh, Peter, isn't it wonderful?"

"There is not time now to explain," Peter shushed her. "Come, we must hurry. You must come home, you and Edmund and I suppose Eustace."

"I can't go home," Lucy looked horrified. "I promised I would help Prince Caspian on his quest!"

"Where are you going?"

"To the end of the world, I suppose," she laughed.

"Absolutely not," Peter forbade it. "You're coming home with me." He grabbed Lucy roughly by the arm. "Come on."

"Peter, you're hurting me!" she cried. "Stop it—Peter!" she wrenched her arm free. "What's come over you?" Her wet hair hung limply down her back. "Do not treat me like a child!" she looked furious. "You do not control me, Peter Pevensie!"

"Very well, I'm sorry," he said, "but Lucy, there is no time. We have to go."

"Why?"

"I can't tell you now!" Peter very nearly yelled. "Hurry, for I do not know how long the hole will last."

"Hole?" Lucy was confused. "Peter, what are you talking about?" He did not reply. He simply caught her hand, wrapped the blanket about her like a shawl, covering her head, and pulled her through the storm doors.

On deck, Edmund, Tumnus, and Eustace fruitlessly searched for the White Stag. Edmund turned, as the howling wind carried Peter's calls.

"We must go," Edmund said briefly, and the three men turned. Tumnus felt his heart leap. By Peter's side, there was a shapeless figure that must be Lucy.

"Hurry," Peter said, pushing the shrouded Lucy towards her brother. Edmund caught her and pulled himself and his sister up through the hole in the air. Eustace followed.

"Where are you taking them?" came a fierce cry, and Tumnus turned to look at Caspian, descending upon them in fury.

"We are going home," Peter said firmly, getting ready to climb through the hole himself.

"High King or not, you are kidnapping my guests!" Caspian cried, laying hold of Peter's collar. Peter lost his balance and tumbled through the hole, dragging Caspian with him. Tumnus stared, but he saw the storm rippling around the rip in the sky. Knowing he must hurry, Tumnus threw himself through. He was spinning, and suddenly, he hit the ground.

Tumnus opened his eyes. He sat under the clear night sky, on the cool grass, his clothing soaked through. His wet hair was chilly against his skin. On the grass to his side, Edmund and Eustace. Farther away stood Peter, arguing violently with Caspian. And by Peter's feet, the sopping blanket around her shoulders, sat Lucy.

Tumnus stopped breathing for a moment. There are fragments of time that you remember all your life. This was such a moment for Tumnus. He tried to stand and found he had forgotten how to work his legs. He crawled forward a pace, and then stopped. He could hardly see. He feared that, at this crucial instant, he would go blind. He felt his chest swelling, despite himself. His throat blocked up. He was hopeless.

Lucy sat shivering in the grass, her head spinning. Traveling through air and time is not the easiest on the body, you can imagine. Edmund rested heavily against his cousin. Only Peter and Caspian, it seemed, had strength to do anything. They could not fight, Lucy could tell. They were too tired. Peter appeased his temper by shouting. She feared he would wake whoever's house this was.

"Are we in England?" Edmund asked dimly. Peter looked away from Caspian for a moment.

"Yes," he replied. "At the Professor's."

"Oh! The dear Professor!" Lucy's lilting voice piped. "Oh, shouldn't we go greet him?"

"It seems we took someone back with us by mistake," Peter growled, facing Caspian again, irritation clear on his face.

"You're the one who tried to kidnap the King and Queen of Narnia," Caspian pointed out.

"I am a King of Narnia," Peter spat, his voice venomous. "I have no need to kidnap anyone. You happen to be an unfortunate bi-product of an unfortunate situation. Now, do you really think I have need for an arrogant little snot like you?"
"How should I know?" Caspian's gray eyes were narrowed. "You're the sick mastermind here."

"Stop it," Edmund said shortly. "You're upsetting Lucy. This is no place to talk, anyway. Let's get inside and get dried off. I assume our things are still here, Peter?" Edmund and Lucy were supposed to join Peter here, anyway, before their parents returned home.

"Yes, I should think so," Peter said, and suddenly he remembered Tumnus. He looked towards him, where he sat on the grass, weakly. Peter's heart fluttered. Well, he thought, now we'll see if time weakens love. Across the grass, Edmund watched his brother quietly.

Tumnus could not tear his eyes from Lucy.

"Lu? There's a lot to explain," Peter said, swallowing nervously.

"What do you mean?"

"Lucy—" Peter began, but a hoarse cry interrupted him.

"Lucy," Tumnus said, and finally Lucy turned her green eyes towards the last figure on the grass. Her whole world was swallowed up in a moment.

They say that love is blind. Tumnus would disagree. If you were to ask him, he would tell you that he was blinded by Lucy. All the fire in the world could not burn as he did for her. Just her smile lifted him too high. The danger of falling and shattering into a million pieces was very real.

She looked at him, her eyebrow arched. That voice. "How about you come and have a cup of tea with me?" said the young man's blue eyes to her.

All flashed before them. Tumnus felt her hand in his while he slept. And somewhere in the past, the ghost of lips brushing Lucy's forehead. Same place, different time. Tumnus knew that now. All his life he had been next to her. He had not been able to see her and he could never quite touch her. But some things are stronger than the stuff of clocks.

"Lucy," he said again desperately, his voice breaking. He could barely see. Her scent came strongly to him—a peculiar smell of ocean and pine trees, a tiny spring breeze carrying all the petals it could hold. "Lucy, don't—don't you know me?"

She stared blankly at him. A lullaby in her head, rocking her as mother's arms would. He opened his mouth to speak, and no words came out.

Finally, Caspian turned from Peter with derision, and he noticed the wet, frazzled-looking man on the grass, whose eyes seemed ready to fall out of his skull.

"Who is this? He is not one of my sailors." Caspian stared at him, haughty gray eyes demanding an answer. "Well? What's your name?"

"…Tumnus," he answered at last. Flustered, he shifted his gaze unwillingly from Lucy and met that Prince's gaze. "My name is Tumnus. I am a citizen of Narnia."

Lucy stood up; dress cold in the night air, rough woolen blanket slipping from her shoulders. "How about you come and have a cup of tea with me?" echoed in her head. She ran forward stiffly, eyes on his strange, handsome face, and when she reached him she threw herself against him. Tumnus fell back on the cold grass. Her arms almost broke his bones.

"Mr. Tumnus," she whispered, burying her face in his neck. He clutched onto her and did the only thing he could think to: he laughed.

"Lucy." No bothering with formality, no fussing about titles. Lucy and Tumnus and that was all.

Peter had stopped bickering with Caspian, and the four of them—Edmund, Peter, Eustace, and the Prince— regarded this scene quietly. Neither brother looked surprised (though Edmund thought he saw Peter's smile falter), but Caspian sputtered in confusion. "What—what are you doing? Unhand her! She is a Queen of Narnia!" He moved to yank Tumnus to his feet, but Edmund clasped his elbow and stayed his advancement. "You would do well to show respect."

"You will respect Mr. Tumnus," Edmund said quietly and sternly. "He is Lucy's oldest, dearest friend."

Lucy and Tumnus ignored them all. Her hands were in his hair and she grinned, unable to control her expressions. Her hands were hot against his scalp. He remembered watching her asleep in front of his fire. Boiling up in him was hate for the witch, but more even was love for this girl. She accepted him immediately and just as he was. He had never known someone to be so forgiving.

"I can't do it to you," he murmured in his memory, watching the thin eyelids flutter in the enchanted firelight. "I can't give you up."

"I was not Lucy without you," she said, smoothing back his wet hair.

"You flatter me," he murmured, pushing her long hair behind her shoulders. He felt like a child, mimicking her. He did not know what else to do.

"What has happened to you?" she asked, picking at his furless hands. "You are…"

"I am a Son of Adam now." He pulled her to her feet, still laughing between words. "We will explain everything when we get you inside and dried off."

"Well spoken," Peter agreed (perhaps too loudly), and he turned with Eustace, Edmund and Caspian to the house. The shouting and the ruckus had woken the Professor and lights blazed in the windows. Tumnus pulled Lucy's head to his chest as they stood for a moment, clasped with the fullness of each other.

"I missed you with everything I am," he said. His voice trembled.

"I am here now."

"I almost miss you standing right here."

"My dear," she took his hands in hers. "We could not be closer than we are now." He rested his forehead against hers. "Come," she told him finally. "To the house, and then we'll talk."

"I can't seem to move," he whispered.

"Are you ill?"

"No," he told her. "I am full."