Sing Along Parade
Roocersoc
The morning I lost her, I proudly held a golden banner.
Vibrant banners fluttered in an enticing breeze through the thick wood of the Western Woods. Centaurs in their finest armor stood tall as the four Rulers of Narnia galloped past towards the entrance to the forest I call home.
Friendly cheers and familiar joking was tossed back and forth, King Peter in his handsome glory basked in the comfort of companions. His beautiful Queen Susan quirked her eyebrow at his bright smile before swatting him delicately on his back. He glanced down at her before mounting his steed.
"My friends, today will be a wonderful day for Narnia! " Peter spoke confidently, "we will embark on a hunt for the White Stag."
A voice of many erupted, "may the Lion be with you."
Susan climbed on her horse with the aid of Orieus before trotting to her younger siblings who tended to shy from such public displays. Shamefully, my eyes wandered the the golden hair woman beside her brother, her sparkling blue eyes shifting affectionately to her companions. They never fell on me, but I'll remove what's left of my horns before I admit I was disheartened of such an innocent act.
Dressed in the finest hunting garments, Edmund slowed his horse as he passed by so he was parallel to me. King Edmund wasn't much taller than me, though I am kind a tall Faun, but on his steed he towered regally over the other close friends of the Rulers. His eyes found mine, and with a knowing twitch of his lips he was off. My eyes found a golden figure that turned its head back once, a smile, then became engulfed in dense trees.
Night came, the sun slowly dripping over the edge of Cair Paravel as if it too was anticipating the return of the four Rulers. I sat in my cozy seating room, a glowing fire crackled and popped loudly filling the silence where her voice would be.
At this time of twilight, she and I would lay back sipping piping hot tea, hers with honey the way she always liked. We would jibe about playfully about nonsense such as the Beaver's children getting stuck places and her hapless suitors. She would titter politely behind her hand until I would raise my brow at her, then she would burst into laughter almost spilling her tea. I fingered my filed horns thoughtfully, surely I can go one day without seeing her.
Yet in my darkest dreams I hold no control of my thoughts; thoughts of what her skin would feel like, what I might see if she ever looked up into my eyes. Would her small hands be smothered by my large, awkward fingers, her shoulders slight and beautiful to my broad ones? I swallowed these emotions and carnal thoughts for the sake of my dear friend, it was not her fault I awoke with a name on my lips. Her friendship was more sacred to me than my desire to have... more.
Morning came again, I must have drifted into sleep sometime ago since the first drops of sunlight now began leaking through my windows. Rubbing the crick in my neck, I heard a sharp knock on my door, standing swiftly, I hoped it was her.
---
The morning after I lost her, I was in denial. Trotting as fast as I could to the Beaver's dam I immediately threw the flimsy door open. Mr. and Mrs. Beaver sat with their heads bowed, tears bulging from those beady eyes.
"Say it isn't so dear beavers!" I cried, one hand instinctively searching for something to hold onto.
I lost my footing, grasping the crude door frame for support, my chest constricting painfully against the deafening silence. Silence that lingered in my home, silence now spreading thickly through Narnia, silence now compacted within the tiny dam, flowing through the cracks until I felt myself suffocating under the pressure. Surely it was a false alarm? They must be taking longer than expected, yes, that's it.
Mrs. Beaver gathered her youngest child in her short arms, stroking its fur forcefully to relieve her own pain and protect the child from the painful revelation. The young beaver simply lay on his mother, oblivious to the bone crushing tension in the kitchen. I could only stand there with a tremble in my knees at the scene before me, their agony speaking volumes I just couldn't take.
So I ran, a long time, as fast as I could through trees and over upturned roots. It was almost sundown when I reached the pounding and mystical waterfall of Cauldron Pool, the sound of its loud rushing water soothing my exhausted but exhilarated body.
Carefully, like a man dying a slow death, I lay in the thick grass bordering the large pool. She always came here, whenever she wanted time to think. Mostly of the time she would go alone, but then she began requesting I accompany her.
Hours would pass as the two of us lay staring up at the sky, words were murmured; questions, endearments, teasing. And it was during those few moments I felt like a young Faun again, not one riddled and worn with the War and barely clinging to the dawn of a welcome Golden Age, an age that might not last long. When I had told her my fears one night ashamed by my own skeptical thoughts, the moon reflected on her face turning the pale skin an ethereal blue. She only smiled kindly, soothing the quake of sudden insecurity in me.
"It is not how long we wait for peace, or how long it lasts, Tumnus," at this she glances to the sky, "rather, I like to think it is what we do with such peace. That, is what matters in the end." Dumbly, I nodded, words were always lost to me when I am with her.
Shifting against the ground she rolled over to face me a glint in her eye. "Mr. Tumnus, what exactly do you plan on doing during this... Golden Age, as you put it."
Though I gave no reply, I told myself time would be spent with her.
---
Two months after I lost her, I arrived at the Cair Paravel. The journey had been one I did not want to make, but after Mr. Beaver's gentle pushing, I found my way up the stairs. Guards lined the entire castle, ever on the alert for intruders or their beloved Rulers.
A stern looking Centaur eyes me callously before I present the worn button from her old dress she had sewn onto my favorite scarf. With a smile she told me it would be a way of remembering her; at that I had mused lightly on the thought the button would let me slip past the guards without their suspicious eyes trailing me. Her only response was a thoughtful 'hmm' and the brush of fingers lasting longer than necessary.
I stumbled slightly through the massive doors, tears that should have been shed months ago were fighting their way to the surface. I didn't cry though; crying and mourning the loss of them would only further the fact that she is gone. The only reason I would ever cry is from frustration that everything I owned, everywhere I go reminds me of her, her memory lingering like a lone ghost, too enticing to give up. I even stopped playing my flute.
I can't live like this.
The empty stone halls seemed to sing with deep sadness, and for a moment I hummed along.
---
One year after I lost her, I began courting a lovely tree Nymph by the name of Lucia; a slender dogwood with a slight figure and shining white blond hair that was painfully familiar.
We had met during a dance celebrating the Winter Solstice, a fire chasing the bitter cold from our bodies. Lucia and I enjoyed the dancing, drank a sweet mead smelling of honey; we laughed, and smiled at the erratic steps of the Satyrs and Fauns. She told me about her orchard of her family, and I told her of my friends; of Mr. Beaver's dislike of bathing, of Fox's love of playing jokes on people, especially on his neighbors. I even told her about the excitement I shared with the Kings and Queens, but I never mentioned her; I wanted to keep her a close secret only I knew of.
In the glow of the fire Lucia's grey eyes gleamed blue, and in an instant I captured her lips desperately while for a fleeting moment I felt her again. Opening my mouth to apologize profusely, Lucia silenced me with a smile, took my hand and lead me into the denser and more concealing part of the woods.
The next day Lucia greeted me at my door with her charming smile, without another word, I invited the Nymph in.
---
Four years after I lost her, I became serious with Lucia. Treating Lucia the way I would have treated her was no difficult task; their features were uncannily alike after all. Lucia, like her, accepted my bumbling attempts at courtship, my stutter and easy flustering with an cool grace. Whenever I would trip on a word, Lucia would always pick up for me.
However, even in our most affectionate moments, it was not enough.
Every morning looking into a foggy silver mirror I tell myself I should be grateful to have Lucia. Besides, I am not a very attractive Faun; a round face, gaunt and far too thin for my size, dark amber eyes a straight give away for my age. I was abysmal at making friends and opening up to others. Lucia is always telling me I am handsome and that I do not need to be socially adequate, but I believe she is trying to convince herself more.
Sinking to the damp floor, my eyes shut tightly against the stinging salt water; I wonder what she would have seen in me.
---
Ten years after I lost her, I resigned from waiting. Blankly examining my hands, now sprinkled with lines from years of work, I wonder why I waited so long.
Sighing loudly stirs Lucia from her slumber, fluttering her grey eyes hard and cold. Maneuvering from the bed she flits around tensely looking for her robe. Shifting into a more comfortable position I quietly ask what is wrong. Her mouth a thin line I find appealing whenever we playfully spar gives no warmth as she snarled her name ends with an 'a.'
Stunned, I watch her leave without another word. Watching her walk out the door brought back an image of a different woman I watched walk out that door many times, not knowing it could have been her last.
It was no comfort.
---
Thirty years on the day I lost her, I went to the Cauldron Pool again. My knees creaked as I sat among the tall grass, the pounding of the waterfall still crashing it calming rhythm in my ears.
I closed my eyes, thinking back to the day I waved a golden banner in bittersweet joy as she and her siblings galloped off in the quest for their heart's desire. What would she have wished for anyway? The mate of her dreams? She had dozens of suitors. Peace? Already had that. What?
Half-heartedly, I opened my eyes, a tired chuckle formed in my lips.
It seems the hunt for the White Stag had longer than I preferred.
I moaned in agony, curling onto my side and clutching my favorite scarf I shut my eyes and wept. I wept for the time wasted, the things unsaid, if only, if only...
Peace settled over me suddenly, soaking deep into my bones. Tears staining my face I gave into it and the world went white.
---
Thirty years after I lost her, I found her.
My eyes opened to white, reflexively blinking against the brightness before slowly adjusting to the light. Lifting myself off the floor, I noticed I was in a pure white room; draperies, decoration, all of it snow white. Instantly I knew where I was, but for how long I do not know. Darting to the heavy-looking door I swung it open with surprising ease. My eyes widened to see countless creatures in a never-ending expanse of green.
It was breathtaking, just like Aslan promised.
Awestruck, I walked down the many steps of the castle. Talking Beasts weren't the only ones here; Humans too. All of them looked in their prime and radiant, I stood a moment observing the Men. They weren't anything like what the books said, nothing like the Kings and Queens.
Quickly looking at my own physique I saw not grey hair tinging my reddish skin, rather the deep chestnut sheen of my youth.
If I was here...then maybe...
I began looking for her. I lost track of time, maybe there was no time here as I met many new people, Fauns, Nymphs, Humans. Nervously, I fidgeted with my scarf, groping for the familiar button that so often grants me comfort.
My eyes were quick again, slipping through throngs of people I halted, paralyzed with trepidation.
She stood there, beautiful and quite battered looking; the only thing taking away from her was several bruises and cuts on her body, a gruesome stain of blood had butterflied on her thin dress. Her face was blotched red from something I can never bear seeing. My panic eased as I watched the shallow wounds on her face healing, leave her skin flawless. Her Eden eyes slid from her wounds to carefully scan among the people seemed; she seemed to be looking for someone.
For the first time in thirty years, our eyes met and like the wounds on her body, I felt a hidden, lonely chasm within me slowly, hesitantly beginning to close.
end.
a/n:it has been awhile, so I might be kinda rusty. I was watching 'Castaway' (wonderful movie) the other day and this popped into my head. Don't know why, really. As you can tell, Tumnus and Lucy. This was my own interpretation of life after the Pevensies. I read up on the Last Battle so I know what really went on. The train wreck and all was implied here, yet I decided to quietly push the other details out. Forgive me. But I was interested in how Tumnus and Lucy met once again, something was missing. I like to think they saw each other before the King met Lucy and the other Kings and Queens. And how did Tumnus react to her being gone? Did he move on half-heartedly? I'm steeling myself for the uproar against Lucia and Tumnus's obviously futile attempt at moving on. (No, they were not married.) Pardon his OOCness, the plot bunny called for it all, I swear. I hope you enjoyed reading it.
disclaimer: do not own the characters stated or implied. all owned my C.S. Lewis and his descendants.