A wardrobe, a lamp-post and a... Faun?

It was their first morning there at Professor Kirke's mansion. They had hoped they could at least have a little fun in their new environment; unfortunately, it was raining outside, so they couldn't go out as they had previously planned. The rain was so thick that when you looked out of the window, you could see neither the mountains nor the woods nor even the stream in the garden.

"Of course it would be raining!" said Edmund. They were on their way to the dining room to eat breakfast.

"Do stop grumbling, Ed," said Susan. "Ten to one it'll clear up in an hour or so. And in the meantime, we're pretty well off. There're lots of books."

Edmund rolled his eyes. "Yes, because they're soooo much fun!" he exclaimed sarcastically as the four of them walked into the dining room.

The Pevensies sat at the dining table, helping themselves to the surprisingly delicious breakfast Missus Macready had made them. It was quiet as it was only the four children and the care-taker; Professor Kirke hadn't come down yet, nor had his granddaughter.

A few minutes passed, and the old man finally came down, grabbing the newspaper from the small table at the entrance of the dining room on his way through. Ella must have already finished reading it. But then, where was she? A small greeting was shared between the children and the Professor before he took his usual seat at one end of the table and helped himself to some breakfast as well.

The silence lingered a bit more before the lightest footsteps resonated from the staircase, barely audible. A second ticked by before the door opened and the four Pevensies stopped eating as a dark-haired beauty glided ever so gracefully into the room. The Professor, though surprised, instantly put his newspaper down, ready to greet his granddaughter whom he hadn't seen or heard much from in the last month. To his saddened disapproval though, she soared her way past the table, without sparing either of her fellow inhabitants a glance, and went straight for the kitchen, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

No one said anything as they were all quite shocked about this action, the Pevensie children more so than Missus Macready and Professor Kirke as it wasn't anything unusual from Ella. They all finished eating and left to wander around, Missus Macready leaving the house while Professor Kirke went to his study.

After making sure no one was left in the dining room, Ella slipped out of the kitchen. Closing the door as quietly as possible, just in case someone was still around, she spun on her heels before sprinting through the room, then up the stairs, thanking God that Missus Macready was out buying groceries again, and ran to her room. Once she shut the door behind her, she skipped— literally— over to her wardrobe and brought out a new outfit she made herself; she's had a lot of spare time.

She slipped off her dark blue, knee-length dress and put on a pair of tight black jodhpurs, a large dark green-khaki blouse, one of Charles' old black blazers, and a pair of black, knee-length boots she may or may not have snatched from the establishment where the soldier recruitment took place. Grabbing her personally handcrafted bow and arrows, and sword she may or may not have borrowed from a Bronze Age fair with no intention of returning it, she made her way to her window and slid it open, wide enough to climb out and stand out on the edge.

Subconsciously clenching her teeth as she concentrated, she took a step into empty air. The ground seemed to move toward her so slowly that it was nothing at all to place her feet exactly right so that landing was no different than stepping one foot forward on a flat surface. She absorbed the impact in the balls of her feet. Her landing was quiet, though it shouldn't have been considering the fact that the jump was about three stories high. Though for her, that was nothing. She was used to it. Ignoring the pouring rain, she ran forward, disappearing within the tree shadows.

The Pevensies weren't so sure how to spend their time; the rain was still pounding beads outside, and there weren't actually any board or card games for them to play with. They were upstairs in the room Professor Kirke had set apart for them— a long, low room with two windows looking out in one direction and two in another.

Susan, being the most "creative," opted for a guessing game. She grabbed an enormous book, which ended being a dictionary, and settled in a two-seated sofa. Peter went for the armchair right beside it while Lucy sat at the window seat, staring out at the woods in awe; she was watching an older beautiful girl shoot arrows, in the rain, at wooden targets, making perfect, graceful bull's-eyes while riding a beautiful raven-haired horse.

She knew who the girl was, she recognized her from the previous night and the nearly passed morning, and though the girl seemed very cold and reserved, Lucy could not help but feel some sort of admiration toward her. The girl must have gone through a lot to want to join the army; not everyone would want to do that.

Edmund was really in a whole other level of boredom. He lay on the floor, his fingers fiddling with a chair that was placed beside Peter's armchair.

"'Gastrovascular,'" said Susan. She looked up at Peter and frowned. "Come on, Peter. Gastrovascular."

Peter sighed out of boredom. "Is it Latin?"

Susan nodded. "Yes."

"Is it Latin for 'worst game ever invented'?" Edmund asked, causing Peter to chuckle and Susan to slam the book in irritation.

Reluctantly pulling her gaze from the window, Lucy got up and walked over to her siblings. "We could play hide-and-seek!" she suggested.

Peter sighed. "But we're already having so much fun," Peter said sarcastically, earning himself a glare from his other sister.

"Come on Peter, please!" she pleaded with a pout. "Pretty please?"

Peter stared at her for a moment before starting to smile. "One, two, three, four..." he started, causing Lucy's pout to turn into a full-blown grin as she turned and ran off, happily.

"What?!" Edmund complained, but stood up all the same and ran in another direction as his sisters were already gone.

Ella climbed up the few stone steps to the entrance of the mansion, body soaking wet from head to toe. The second she entered the house and closed the door behind her, she could hear a voice she easily distinguished as belonging to the eldest of the newcomers. Her usually blank expression turned into a frown full of confusion when she noticed he was counting.

"... five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven..."

What on earth are they doing? she wondered before shaking her head, dismissing it. Taking a deep breath, she decided to take a short-cut to her room as she was sure the children were running all around upstairs.

Lucy went to hide behind a curtain, but Edmund ran up and pushed her out. "I was here first!"

Slightly pouting, Lucy spun on her heels and ran in another direction. She ran up and down the stairs, though, eventually came to an inevitable stop when she bumped into someone, causing her to fall back, her rear hitting the wooden floor.

"Ow," she mumbled before looking up, only to feel her breath get caught up in her throat when she saw the girl she had previously been watching from the window, staring down at her with a blank expression on her beautiful face.

"Sorry," the little girl squeaked. "It's just that we're playing hide-and-seek, and I have to find a place to hide, quickly, before my brother finds me..."

The girl continued to babble aimlessly, though she eventually stopped and found herself fighting back a smile when she noticed the girl's lips slightly twitch upward. She held a hand out to Lucy, who gratefully took it, and helped her up.

"Just don't get lost." Her voice was just as Lucy remembered it, like golden wind chimes, though unlike last time, when it was low and dark, it was soft and comforting. As beautiful as music.

After saying that, she walked past the youngest Pevensie, but not before calling over her shoulder, "You can find a hiding place on the last floor. No one goes there, so I doubt your brother would think of looking there. But mind you, be careful of where you snoop. Have fun." And with that, she gracefully whisked down the hall, out of sight.

Smiling to herself, Lucy turned around and continued to look for a hiding place on the floor she was in before finally deciding to go to the last one, as Ella had suggested.

"... seventy-five, seventy-six, seventy-seven..."

She ran and ran until she finally came upon an underused door. Entering the spare room, she tilted her head to the side in curiosity when she saw a large white, dusty sheet draped around what appeared to be a movable. She stepped forward, grabbed an end of the drape, and pulled it off

"... eighty-five, eighty-six, eighty-seven, eighty-eight... eighty-nine, ninety. Ninety-one..."

But Lucy's mind was no longer in the game.

Her eyes and mind were stuck on... one big wardrobe; the sort that has a looking-glass in the door. There was nothing else in the room at all except a dead blue-bottle on the window-sill and the dusty sheet Lucy had pulled off the movable.

"... ninety-two, ninety-three..."

She glanced over her shoulder, biting her lip hesitantly as she looked back toward the wardrobe. She thought it would be worthwhile at least trying the door of the wardrobe, even though she felt almost sure that it would be locked. To her surprise, it opened quite easily, and two moth-balls dropped out.

"... ninety-five, ninety-six..."

Looking into the inside, she saw several coats hanging up— mostly long fur coats. There was nothing Lucy liked as much as the smell and feel of fur. She immediately stepped into the wardrobe and got in among the coats and rubbed her face against them, leaving the door open, of course, because she knew that it is very foolish to shut oneself into any wardrobe. Soon she went further in and found that there was a second row of coats hanging up behind the first one. It was almost quite dark in there and she kept her arms stretched out in front of her so as not to bump her face into the back of the wardrobe. She took a step further in - then two or three steps always expecting to feel woodwork against the tips of her fingers. But she could not feel it.

This must be a simply enormous wardrobe! thought Lucy, going still further in and pushing the soft folds of the coats aside to make room for her. Then she noticed that there was something crunching under her feet. I wonder, is that more mothballs? she thought, stooping down to feel it with her hand. But instead of feeling the hard, smooth wood of the floor of the wardrobe, she felt something soft and powdery and extremely cold.

"This is very queer," she said and went on a step or two further.

Next moment she found that what was rubbing against her face and hands was no longer soft fur but something hard and rough and even prickly.

"Why, it is just like branches of trees!" exclaimed Lucy.

And then she saw that there was a light ahead of her, but a few inches away where the back of the wardrobe ought to have been, but a long way off. Something cold and soft was falling on her. A moment later she found that she was standing in the middle of a wood at night-time with snow under her feet and snowflakes falling through the air.

Lucy felt a little frightened, but she felt very inquisitive and excited as well. She looked back over her shoulder and there, between the dark tree trunks; she could still see the open doorway of the wardrobe and even catch a glimpse of the empty room from which she had set out— she had, of course, left the door open, for she knew that it is a very silly thing to shut oneself into a wardrobe— It seemed to be still daylight there.

I can always get back if anything goes wrong, thought Lucy.

She began to walk forward, crunch-crunch over the snow and through the wood towards the other light. In about ten minutes she reached it and found it was a lamp-post. As she stood looking at it, wondering why there was a lamp-post in the middle of a wood and wondering what to do next, she heard a pitter patter of feet coming towards her. And soon after that, a very strange person stepped out from among the trees into the light of the lamp-post.

He was only a little taller than Lucy herself and he carried over his head an umbrella, white with snow. From the waist upwards he was like a 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 Lucy did not notice this at first because it was neatly caught up over the arm that held the umbrella so as to keep it from trailing in the snow.

He had a red woolen muffler round his neck and his skin was rather 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 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 his Christmas shopping.

He was... a Faun?

And when he saw Lucy he gave such a start of surprise that he dropped all his parcels.

"Goodness gracious me!" exclaimed the Faun.

Lucy stared at him, for a moment, with wide eyes.

Then she screamed. Fortunately for both of them, her fright, surprise, and shock disappeared within seconds. Her scream died down and her plump lips curled up into a now excited smile. She wasn't exactly sure of what he was, but she knew without a doubt that he wasn't just any creature. She had, standing before her, a mythological creature. How could she not be excited by such a fact that should be impossible?

"GOOD EVENING," she said.

But the Faun was so busy picking up its parcels that at first, it did not reply. When it had finished it made her a little bow.

"Good evening, good evening," said the Faun before stammering to himself, "Uh, CH... ch.. child."

"Were you hiding from me?" she asked, motioning toward the trees where he had just come from.

"No. Uh, well," he stammered. "I just... I... No. No. I-I-I just... I was just, um... I didn't want to scare you."

Lucy tilted her head to the side. "If you don't mind my asking... what are you?"

"Well, I'm a..." He sighed. "Well, I'm a Faun. And what about you? You must be some kind of…beardless dwarf?"

Lucy blinked back in surprise. "I'm not a dwarf. I'm a girl! And, actually, I'm tallest in my class."

The Faun looked at her for a moment, hesitant and unsure. "Should I be right in thinking that you are a Daughter of Eve?"

"My Mum's name is Helen," said she, not quite understanding him.

"You are in fact Human?"

"Of course I'm human," said Lucy, still a little puzzled.

"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... well; frankly you look very much like... Oh! But I am delighted. That is to say—" and then it stopped as if it had been going to say something it had not intended but had remembered in time. "Delighted, delighted," it went on. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Tumnus."

"I am very pleased to meet you, Mister Tumnus," said Lucy as she extended her hand. "I'm Lucy Pevensie."

Mister Tumnus stared at her hand in confusion. "... Oh, you shake it."

"Uh…why?"

Lucy shrugged. "I... I don't know. People do it when they meet each other."

Mister Tumnus shook her hand left to right. "Well, then, may I ask, O Lucy Pevensie Daughter of Eve," said Mister Tumnus, "What are you doing here?"

"I— I was hiding in the spare room, in..." said Lucy.

"Spare Oom? Is that in Narnia?"

"Narnia? What's that?" said Lucy.

"This is the land of Narnia," said the Faun, "where we are now; all that lies between the lamp-post and the great castle of Cair Paravel on the eastern sea. And you— you have come from the wild woods of the west?"

"I got in through the wardrobe in the spare room," said Lucy.

"Ah!" said Mister Tumnus in a rather melancholy 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 aren't countries at all," said Lucy, almost laughing. "It's only just back there— at least— I'm not sure. It is summer there."

"Meanwhile," said Mister Tumnus, "it is winter in Narnia, and has been forever so long, and we shall both catch cold if we stand here talking in the snow. Daughter of Eve from the far land of Spare Oom where eternal summer reigns around the bright city of War Drobe, how would it be if you came and had tea with me?"

"Thank you very much, Mister Tumnus," said Lucy. "But I was wondering whether I ought to be getting back."

"It's only just 'round the corner," said the Faun, "and there'll be a roaring fire— and toast— and sardines— and cake."

"Well, it's very kind of you," said Lucy. "But I shan't be able to stay long."

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

And so Lucy found herself walking through the wood arm in arm with this strange creature as if they had known one another all their lives. For a moment, she couldn't help but wonder... had Ella known what was to be found beyond the wardrobe? She had, after all, suggested the last floor and made sure to point out to her to be aware of where she "snoops" as she had clearly emphasized. She made note to ask Mister Tumnus later.

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 up and little hills down. At the bottom of one small valley, Mister Tumnus turned suddenly aside as if he were going to walk straight into an unusually large rock, but at the last moment, Lucy found he was leading her into the entrance of a cave. As soon as they were inside she found herself blinking in the light of a wood fire.

Then Mister 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.

Lucy thought she had never been in a nicer place. It was a little, dry, clean cave of reddish stone with a carpet on the floor and two little chairs— "one for me and one for a friend," said Mister Tumnus— and a 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 there was a door which Lucy thought must lead to Mister Tumnus' bedroom, and on one wall was a shelf full of books.

Lucy looked at these while he was setting out the tea things. They had titles like The Life and Letters of Silenus or Nymphs and Their Ways or Men, Monks, and Gamekeepers; a Study in Popular Legend or Is Man a Myth?

"Now, Daughter of Eve!" said the Faun.

And really it was a wonderful tea. There was a nice brown egg, lightly boiled, for each of them, and then sardines on toast, and then buttered toast, and then toast with honey, and then a sugar-topped cake. And when Lucy was tired of eating the Faun began to talk. He had wonderful tales to tell of life in the forest. He told about the 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 could give you wishes 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.

"Not that it isn't always winter now," he added gloomily.

Then to cheer himself up he took out from its case on the dresser a strange little flute that looked as if it were made of straw and began to play. And the tune he played made Lucy want to cry and laugh and dance and go to sleep all at the same time.

It must have been hours later when she shook herself and said:

"Oh, Mister Tumnus— I'm so sorry to stop you, and I do love that tune— but really, I must go home. I only meant to stay for a few minutes."

"It's no good now, you know," said the Faun, laying down its flute and shaking its head at her very sorrowfully.

"No good?" said Lucy, jumping up and feeling rather frightened. "What do you mean? I've got to go home at once. The others will be wondering what has happened to me."

But a moment later she asked, "Mister Tumnus! Whatever is the matter?" for the Faun's brown eyes had filled with tears and then the tears began trickling down its cheeks, and soon they were running off the end of its nose, and at last, it covered its face with its hands and began to howl.

"Mister Tumnus! Mister Tumnus!" said Lucy in great distress. "Don't! Don't! What is the matter? Aren't you well? Dear Mister Tumnus, do tell me what is wrong."

But the Faun continued sobbing as if its heart would break. And even when Lucy went over and put her arms around him and lent him her handkerchief, he did not stop. He merely took the handkerchief and kept on using it, wringing it out with both hands whenever it got too wet to be any more use so that presently Lucy was standing in a damp patch.

"Mister Tumnus!" bawled Lucy in his ear, shaking him. "Do stop. Stop it at once! You ought to be ashamed of yourself, a great big Faun like you. What on earth are you crying about?"

"Oh- oh- oh!" sobbed Mister Tumnus, "I'm crying because I'm such a bad Faun."

"I don't think you're a bad Faun at all," said Lucy. "I think you are a very good Faun. You are the nicest Faun I've ever met."

"Oh- oh- you wouldn't say that if you knew," replied Mister Tumnus between his sobs. "No, I'm a bad Faun. I don't suppose there ever was a worse Faun since the beginning of the world."

"But what have you done?" asked Lucy.

"My old father, now," said Mister Tumnus; "that's his picture over the mantelpiece. He would never have done a thing like this."

"A thing like what?" said Lucy.

"Like what I've done," said the Faun. "Taken service under the White Witch. That's what I am. I'm in the pay of the White Witch."

"The White Witch? Who is she?"

"Why, it is she that has got all Narnia under her thumb. It's she that makes it always winter. Always winter and never Christmas; think of that!"

"How awful!" said Lucy. "But what does she pay you for?"

"That's the worst of it," said Mister Tumnus with a deep groan. "I'm a kidnapper for her, that's what I am. Look at me, Daughter of Eve. Would you believe that I'm the sort of Faun to meet a poor innocent child in the wood, one that had never done me any harm, and pretend to be friendly with it, and invite it home to my cave, all for the sake of lulling it asleep and then handing it over to the White Witch?"

"No," said Lucy. "I'm sure you wouldn't do anything of the sort."

"But I have," said the Faun.

"Well," said Lucy rather slowly— for she wanted to be truthful and yet not be too hard on him. "Well, that was pretty bad. But you're so sorry for it that I'm sure you will never do it again."

"Daughter of Eve, don't you understand?" said the Faun. "It isn't something I have done. I'm doing it now, this very moment."

"What do you mean?" cried Lucy, turning very white.

"You are the child," said Tumnus. "I had orders from the White Witch that if ever I saw a Son of Adam or a Daughter of Eve in the wood, I was to catch them and hand them over to her. And you are the first I've ever met. And I've pretended to be your friend an asked you to tea, and all the time I've been meaning to wait till you were asleep and then go and tell Her."

"Oh, but you won't, Mister Tumnus," said Lucy. "You won't, will you? Indeed, indeed you really mustn't."

"And if I don't," said he, beginning to cry again. "She's sure to find out. And she'll have my tail cut off and my horns sawn off, and my beard plucked out, and she'll wave her wand over my beautiful clove hoofs and turn them into horrid solid hoofs like wretched horse's. And if she is extra and especially angry she'll turn me into stone and I shall be only the statue of a Faun in her horrible house until the five thrones at Cair Paravel are filled and goodness knows when that will happen, or whether it will ever happen at all. And to top it all off, I'm sure the Princess will hate me when word of this gets to her!"

Lucy was now puzzled once more. "The Princess? What's her name?"

The Faun gave her a shocked look. "You do not know Princess Ella?"

"Princess... Ella?" Lucy's brows furrowed. Why did the name sound familiar?

"Why yes, the daughter of one of the three daughters of the Great King. Alas, she knows him and of him, but not about her relation to him. Though she has just as much power, whether she knows so or not, I would not know so myself. It will be a great pain, knowing she will hate me for what I've done."

"I'm very sorry, Mister Tumnus," said Lucy. "But please let me go home."

"Of course I will," said the Faun. "Of course I've got to. I see that now. I hadn't known what Humans were like before I met you. Of course, I can't give you up to the Witch; not now that I know you. But we must be off at once. I'll see you back to the lamp-post. I suppose you can find your own way from there back to Spare Oom and War Drobe?"

"I'm sure I can," said Lucy.

"We must go as quietly as we can," said Mister Tumnus. "The whole wood is full of her spies. Even some of the trees are on her side."

They both got up and left the tea things on the table, and Mister Tumnus once more put up his umbrella and gave Lucy his arm, and they went out into the snow. The journey back was not at all like the journey to the Faun's cave; they stole along as quickly as they could, without speaking a word, and Mister Tumnus kept to the darkest places. Lucy was relieved when they reached the lamp-post again.

"Do you know your way from here, Daughter o Eve?" said Tumnus.

Lucy looked very hard between the trees and could just see in the distance a patch of light that looked like daylight. "Yes," she said, "I can see the wardrobe door."

"Then be off home as quick as you can," said the Faun, "and— c-can you ever forgive me for what meant to do?"

"Why, of course, I can," said Lucy, shaking him heartily by the hand. "And I do hope you won't get into dreadful trouble on my account."

"Farewell, Daughter of Eve," said he. "Perhaps I may keep the handkerchief?"

"Rather!" said Lucy, and then ran towards the far-off patch of daylight as quickly as her legs would carry her.

And presently instead of rough branch brushing past her she felt coats, and instead of crunching snow under her feet she felt the wooden board and all at once she found herself jumping out of the wardrobe into the same empty room from which the whole adventure had started. She shut the wardrobe door tightly behind her and looked around, panting for breath. It was still raining, and she could hear the voices of the others in the passage.

"I'm here!" she shouted. "I'm here. I've come back I'm all right."