TWO OF A KIND

At last, a new chapter! Man, writing is tough stuff, that's all I got to say. I expect reviews, as always (of course, it's not the end of the world if you don't), and if you are just here to flame me, go away.

Characters (excluding Terence) © C.S. Lewis and Disney/Walden Media

Terence and Story © unicorn-skydancer08

All rights reserved.

Chapter 3

It was, indeed, a beautiful day, just as Lucy had said. The sun shone brightly on everything, the flowers grew thick and sweet, and the trees were ripe and heavy with fruit. The birds graced the day with their sweet music, while butterflies danced on the air, like drifting flower petals. The pleasant warmth of the sun and the gentle coolness of the breeze that blew idyllically felt wonderful on Tumnus's face, and helped to soothe the faun somewhat. The faun wandered slowly about the wood, letting his hooves guide him.

Though he exerted his utmost efforts to not focus on Terence, somehow he couldn't seem to get the unicorn out of his mind.

He remembered how Terence would often walk with him, how it was in the woods that he'd met the stallion for the first time.

He remembered how Terence had tried to hide from him at first, but then slowly emerged from the trees and bushes, allowing himself to be seen fully.

The faun recalled the feeling of awe that washed over him at the beast's white majesty, the golden splendor of his horn, the blue intensity of his eyes. Tumnus himself had blue eyes, but Terence's eyes were even bluer—they were as blue as the weeping ocean, as a pair of glowing sapphires, rimmed with long, perfect lashes. They were warm, sweet, and lively, yet strangely profound. They seemed to be always holding some sort of secret. They were like a set of clear, deep pools, taking in everything, reflecting all they saw. Even though Terence could speak as fluently as anyone Tumnus ever heard, his eyes often did most of the talking for him.

Unicorns were very rarely seen in Narnia. Where Terence had come from, or where he made his true home, no one knew. When asked, Terence would just say he'd never had much of a home, that he never truly belonged anywhere. He was here one day, and there the next day. He was, after all, not a tame unicorn. Even so, Tumnus couldn't understand why Terence would just up and leave them and not come back, most especially without saying anything. Didn't he want them anymore? Didn't he care anymore?

As terrible as it was to imagine Terence wounded or imprisoned somewhere, or dead, at least such thoughts were more bearable than the notion of Terence willfully turning his back on them and choosing to never return, of casting Tumnus aside like some scrap of waste.

Everything was catching up quickly to Tumnus. He felt that old, familiar pain rise up once again, as sharp and as potent as ever. He tried to gulp back the painful sobs that clogged his throat, but that didn't stop the tears from spilling down his face afresh. His heart started racing. His mind began spiraling out of control. The whole forest seemed to tilt, and Tumnus might have fallen had he not grabbed onto a nearby tree to steady himself. With his frail form huddled up against the tree, his forehead pressed to the rough bark, he closed his eyes and wept in silence…silence save for his occasional sniffling, and the soft, ragged gasps of his breath. His tears fell, hot and heedless, down his face and neck, clear down his bare shoulders.

Though the wretched faun hardly made much outside noise, inside he was screaming.

Why, Terence? he kept agonizing. Why did you have to go? Why have you gone, and left me alone? Why, why?

"Tumnus?" a voice spoke unexpectedly.

The voice sounded remarkably close—and remarkably familiar. With a sharp intake of breath, Tumnus immediately looked up, his eyes still streaming, his ears pricked. Looking to one side, he realized he was no longer alone, or that he had never been as alone as he'd thought in the first place. Among the dense green of the trees, about a stone's cast from him, stood a solitary figure. Blinking to clear his vision, Tumnus saw it was a man…a man unlike any he'd ever seen before in his life. This particular man had a strange distinctiveness to him.

Though he appeared quite young, his hair shone a luminous white, almost like fluid moonlight. The long beard that trailed from his chin was just as white and shining. Though he was wrapped in a simple, unadorned black cloak, he stood very straight and tall, holding himself with an unusual dignity, and a startling grace that rivaled that of a nymph or a dryad.

Tumnus had never seen such a man before, yet he seemed oddly familiar…

Taking a light step forward, the mysterious young man called out in disbelief, "Tumnus, is that you?"

How was it that this stranger knew his name, Tumnus wondered bewilderedly? Had they met before? And, there was something about the way the man spoke that caught the faun's ears. He spoke in a clear, lyrical voice: incredibly youthful, but with a lively pitch, and his lush accent was exactly like the one that Terence maintained.

In fact, Tumnus could swear—oh, no, surely he had to be mistaken!

It couldn't be—not him—not after all this time—certainly not in that shape—

As the white-haired foreigner started toward Tumnus, Tumnus impulsively turned and bolted into a run. "Tumnus!" he heard the man call urgently after him. "Wait!"

For some reason, his call only spurred Tumnus on. Never saying a word, only breathing harshly while his heart beat savagely against his ribs, the faun tore through the wood at his most feverish pace, as a terrified deer fleeing from a wolf. He hurdled nimbly over rocks and fallen logs, ducking on occasion to avoid a whiplash from a low tree branch.

Then, quite suddenly, the faun caught his right hoof in a hidden, tangled root.

With a startled cry, Tumnus stumbled and fell, landing flat on his front, the force of the blow knocking the wind clear out of him.

As he lay there on the forest floor, his face pressed into the ground, struggling for breath, struggling to control his wildly beating heart and his rapidly spinning mind, he sensed someone was standing over him. Sure enough, the young man's incredulous voice spoke from overhead: "What are you doing on the ground?"

Very slowly, Tumnus lifted his head from the earth, his sweat-streaked curls trailing limply in his eyes, and dared to look into the stranger's face. Up close, he saw that the man was very young, indeed; despite the gleaming whiteness of his hair and beard, he hardly seemed older than eighteen or nineteen. His hair spilled well over his forehead, hanging untidily yet appealingly in his lean, angular face, which would have easily won the heart of any girl. Tumnus didn't know where this boy had come from, or how he'd even managed to keep up with him.

For that matter, while Tumnus's legs and lungs burned from the exertion of the run, the youth was hardly even panting, or showing the least sign of fatigue.

"What happened?" the youth asked the faun, in his fine, tuneful accent.

"Tripped over a stupid root," Tumnus grumbled, as he continued to lie there. He tried moving his leg, which hurt considerably, but thankfully wasn't broken or too badly sprained.

"Now, why'd you have to go and do something like that?"

"I don't know!" Tumnus couldn't help snapping. "It's not like I did it on purpose!"

For some reason, the white-haired boy laughed at that. It was not a cruel or mocking laugh, or even a true laugh, but more of a hearty chuckle. "Now, don't lose your fur, mate," he said with a smile that revealed perfectly straight, white teeth. "I meant, why did you run away from me like that, like I was something out to get you?"

Tumnus's ears pricked up slightly at the word "mate". Precious few people in Narnia called him that…

"Do I really look that intimidating, to you?" the foreigner continued. "Has there been some kind of threat in Narnia recently? Or, is it a custom to take off running like your tail's on fire?"

Tumnus didn't know how to answer those questions, and frankly, he didn't want to. Instead, the faun just closed his eyes, unable to help groaning a little from the pain of his fall.

The man's face grew sober. "Are you all right?" he asked, sounding genuinely concerned this time.

"I'll live," Tumnus murmured, opening his eyes once more. "At least I haven't become permanently crippled."

"Here." The man bent down and offered Tumnus his hand. Tumnus somewhat hesitantly accepted it, and was pulled gently to his hooves. His right leg throbbed as he rested his weight upon it, and it buckled slightly, but it held. As Tumnus proceeded to brush off the dirt, the man commented, "That must have been a nasty fall. You need to be more careful, Tumnus."

Tumnus froze at that last bit.

"How do you know my name?" the faun demanded, narrowing his eyes at the stranger distrustfully. "Who are you?"

The young man looked taken aback, at first. But then a look of gentle concern filled his piercingly blue eyes.

"Tumnus…it's me," he said softly. "Don't you remember me?"

Tumnus just stood there, staring at him.

When the faun would say nothing, the mysterious youth said, "I was your old mate—Terence."

Terence! The name struck Tumnus like a swift kick to the gut, and he nearly staggered.

For a split moment, the faun wasn't sure whether he'd heard correctly, or whether he was awake, or dreaming with his eyes open.

"No, you're not," he found himself saying out loud.

"Are you saying I'm not who I say I am?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying," Tumnus retorted, speaking rather tersely.

"But it is me, mate," the man protested. "I swear it!"

Tumnus didn't believe it. He refused to believe it.

How was it that Terence and this boy with the shimmering white hair could be the same? The idea was not only unfeasible; it was downright unnatural.

"Don't you remember how I came to you in the woods, as a unicorn, and how we became fast friends?" the boy asked.

Now Tumnus was sure he'd completely lost his mind. He had seen many strange things before in his time—but this topped them all. The faun made no response, but turned once more to leave. The boy didn't hesitate to follow him. "Tumnus!" he persisted. "Hold on there, mate! Let me explain, please—" Quite abruptly, Tumnus whirled around, startling the youth into stopping as well.

"Look," said Tumnus sharply, "I don't know who you are, or where you've come from, but you'd better leave me alone!"

"Mate…" the youth began, reaching out to lay his hand on Tumnus's shoulder.

Tumnus drew back before he could touch him. "What part of 'leave me alone' did you not understand?"

"Come on, Tumnus," said the man doggedly, "just hear me out, will you? Is this really the way for old friends to greet each other, after all these years?"

"You're no friend of mine," said Tumnus adamantly. "I've never seen anyone like you in my life!" Yet even as he spoke thus, there was something in the odd man's face that caught his eye. The more Tumnus looked at him, the more familiar the boy became, which was both confusing and unsettling. It couldn't be—no, it was impossible!

The young man looked as if someone had just slapped him.

"Tumnus…"

"Go away!" Tumnus all but shouted, not even realizing that tears had sprung up in his eyes. "I do not want to see you, nor do I want anything to do with the likes of you. Goodbye!"

With that, the faun took off in a flash, never stopping, never once looking back, heedless of the man's fervent cries behind him, unable to hold back his tears that flooded his face.

Tumnus ran all the way back to the Cair. By the time he got there, breathless and just about ready to collapse, Lucy came outside to meet him. All three of her siblings were not far behind her.

"Tumnus?" said Lucy, looking and sounding surprised. "Tumnus, what's wrong?"

"Are you all right, Tumnus?" Edmund asked, furrowing his brow in worry.

"You look discombobulated," Susan added.

Tumnus was too upset to even ask what the word "discombobulated" meant.

Lucy knew Tumnus had been out of sorts lately, but never before had she seen the faun this shaken.

Even when she was younger, when she first met him, and he confessed of his intentions to kidnap her, he wasn't nearly as distraught as this.

"What is it, Tumnus?" she asked again. "What?"

The faun could hardly speak, due to his ragged breathing, the unmanageable pounding of his heart, and the swirling emotions in his breast that threatened to choke him.

"Some…crazy lunatic…in the woods…pretending to be…acting as if he were…"

Peter made a swift beeline to him, placing his large hands firmly yet gently upon Tumnus's visibly trembling shoulders. "Calm down," the High King urged. "Just take it easy, Tumnus. Take a deep breath. In, and out…in, and out…" He made several demonstrative inhaling and exhaling sounds, and Tumnus followed his example. After a few good breaths, Tumnus was able to settle down somewhat. When Peter felt the faun was in the right condition to speak, he inquired, "Now, tell us—quietly and calmly, if you'd be so kind—what is this all about?"

"You're not going to believe this," Tumnus said. "I was out walking in the woods, minding my own business…when all of a sudden, out of the clear blue, I came across this most peculiar man."

"A man?" said Susan incredulously. "Who was he?"

"What about him?" Edmund questioned.

"I don't know who he was, but his hair was solid white, notwithstanding he was very young—hardly much older than the rest of you, I'd say."

"A young man with white hair?" Peter said, knitting his brows in disbelief.

"How very unusual," said Lucy bewilderedly.

"What's more," Tumnus continued, "he claimed that he was…that he was…" He nearly faltered, and half-swallowed the name: "T-Terence."

"Terence?" Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy all said at the same time, their voices blending into one.

"Are you serious?" Lucy gasped.

Edmund shook his head and added, "No, that couldn't be!"

"I don't believe it!" said Susan.

"Are you sure about this?" Peter asked Tumnus skeptically. "Or, do you think you just might have been seeing and hearing things?"

Before Tumnus could answer, a voice sounded in the near distance. "Tumnus!" the voice was crying. "Tumnus! Tumnus!"

To Tumnus's great dismay, he looked over his shoulder to see that the white-haired man he was just referring to was swiftly heading their way. The others saw him, too.

So it hadn't been an illusion, after all.

"Oh, no," Tumnus groaned, bending his head and covering his face with his palm.

When the young man caught up with them, Peter parked his large body in front of him, blocking his way.

"Who are you?" Peter inquired, looking the boy squarely in the eye. "What is your business here, stranger?"

The white-haired youth, who was as tall as Peter, though not quite as powerfully built, began, "I was following Tumnus, and I—"

But then he stopped mid-sentence, and stared at Peter as if he were seeing a ghost.

"Peter?" he said incredulously. "Is…is that you?"

"I'm the only Peter I know of," Peter said, perplexed.

"As in, High King Peter, of Narnia?"

Peter didn't know what sort of tricks this man was up to, but he answered, "Yes, that would be me."

Then the man's entire face lit up, like the sun at midday. "I don't believe it!" he cried. Turning to the others, he said elatedly, "Then you must be Susan, Edmund—and Lucy!"

"Have we met before?" asked Edmund, lifting an eyebrow in a question mark.

"How do you know our names?" Susan demanded.

"I know you."

Now everyone stood stone-still, not daring to believe it. Tumnus slowly looked up from his hand, but he remained as silent and motionless as the rest of them.

Then Lucy was the first to break the ice.

"Terence?" she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Is it truly…?"

With his head held high, his eyes clear and unwavering, the man replied, "In the flesh."