Disclaimer: I don't own Lucy, Tumnus, or anything, really, in Part One. I get to own more stuff as the book progresses... but for now, I own nothing; I am simply a phanphiction hobo.

Chapter Two:

What was at the Lamp-Post

It was not a long walk to the corner store, partially due to the fact that no snow was descending, which left his umbrella to be useless. When he arrived at the store and shaken the snow off his hooves, he felt a twang of loneliness. Since the Long Winter began, everything had been drenched in greyness and hostility. Visits to the corner store, once a lovely stroll in summer, now became something to find an excuse for. It was awfully chilled inside, what with the cracks in the plaster walls, and the old dwarf who ran it had grown an encasing of ice around his heart, just like everything in Narnia.

Ankney, the dwarf, hobbled to his customer. 'What is it you'll be looking for, then?' snapped he. 'Get it and begone!'

Tumnus smiled uncertainly at the dwarf, realised it was fruitless, and sighed. 'I'll be needing some cakes, I suppose.' He furrowed his brow in thought. 'Also some tea, and sardines please.'

Ankney grunted, then bustled behind the counter. He brought out an abundance of the items requested and slammed then on the table surface like he was furious with the food. 'That should be enough, I'd warrant.' Without waiting for a reply, the dwarf shoved them into five boxes and tidily wrapped them into brown paper. A line of musty-looking twine was wrapped around each, and Ankney then pushed the parcels across the counter to Tumnus. 'Take them, faun, and go!'

Tumnus wasted not a moment. In seconds, he found himself out of the shop again. He got an unsurprising feeling that he was more welcome in the forest than in the old store. Sighing, the faun set a grim smile to his face and began the trek to his own home, where a friendly hearth awaited him.

Perhaps no more than five minutes through his walk, Tumnus stumbled upon a crossroads. One, he was very well familiar with, led to his own den; a long mile more comforting than a excess time in the tangled woods. The other, one he was not one to usually follow, wound its way to a lamp-post just on the outskirts of Narnia. Eventually, it, too, carried travellers to his home, though it was a bit of a longer route. And today, for a reason unknown to him, he felt a desire pounding in his head to go the long path. For no reason in particular, just for the senselessness of it.

Really, he knew why he wanted to take the other path. He loved the lamp-post that was on the journey. It was a strange thing indeed; there was nothing in Narnia like it, and it had a strange surrounding to it that Tumnus found enchanting.

With a resolved first stomp, he meandered over the small road now smothered in wintery whiteness. It was not a long time before he reached the lamp-post, and he was greatly looking forward to sitting under its base all alone, just thinking.

Except. . . someone was already under the lamp-post.

❦

The person beneath the lamp turned at the sound of Tumnus's approaching footfalls.

She screamed.

Tumnus dropped his parcels in surprise and let out a cry of astonishment.

She shrieked.

Tumnus yelped.

The person hid behind the lamp-post, just as Tumnus leapt behind a tree.

. . . Silence.

The faun panted behind the huge maple. Who was that female, who screamed on sight of a passerby? Or . . . what was that female?

In the few seconds that he'd caught sight of her, he knew that she was not a Dryad, the nymphs of the earth, nor was she Nyiad, of the well nymphs. Besides, she was far too young to be a woman. A thought flew across his mind. Certainly not, he reasoned with himself. She's not . . . She can't be . . .

But the more he pondered about it, the more curious he became, and he couldn't help but poke his head around the tree to look at her, only to find her already emerged from the lamp-post and coming to inspect him.

Tumnus stepped out and took one look at the small body of the figure before him, and found a curious fascination drape over him. She was little, very little. A child, thought he, and felt a surge of happiness right through him. Yet she had a strange aura of foreignness about her, as if she had come from somewhere that was not at all like where she was. Yet as he looked her up and down, the more sure of it he was.

'Hello,' said the girl, bending down to pick up his parcels.

'Well... hello,' said Tumnus, still ever so short of breath from her sudden appearance. He found himself bent down close to the ground beside her, picking up the otherwise unharmed boxes. When they were all in his arms safe as birds in a nest, he straightened to his full height (which you and I both know was not much under the conditions of being a faun) and couldn't help but smile at the girl's innocent face. He licked his lips and began: 'Forgive me. I . . .' he looked at her again, tranfixed.

'Are you a faun?' she asked. The girl seemed to be as fascinated with him as he was her.

'Yes. Ah . . .' He couldn't quite find the correct words. 'Yes, yes, of course. And are you . . .' he paused. 'Are you a Daughter of Eve?' Tumnus felt foolish for even so much as thinking the words.

A rather flummoxed expression flitted about her glowing face. 'My mother's name is Helen,' she offered, as if hoping that would clear things up a bit. 'And I'm Lucy.'

Tumnus grinned and allowed himself a small chuckle. 'No, I meant . . . Are you . . . That is to say, are you Human?'

'Of course I'm human.'

'You are, in fact, a girl?' Tumnus could hardly believe his own ears.

'Of course I'm a girl,' she giggled softly.

Tumnus broke out into all smiles and proffered, 'Well I, Lucy,am Tumnus.'

Lucy smiled and . . . was that a laugh? "It's very nice to meet you, Mr Tumnus.' And then she did a quite odd thing. She held out her hand, palms to the side, and smiled at him. At the look on the faun's face it seemed that she had just remembered something. 'Oh, you shake it,' said Lucy, meaning, of course, her hand.

Tumnus frowned at smiled at the same time. 'Why?'

It was as if a light had suddenly shon in her mind. 'I don't know!' she exclaimed.

He smiled uncertainly, a bit confused at her confusion, and brought out a timid left hand to grasp her first two fingers. He moved her hand up and down.

Lucy laughed again. Tumnus was aware of the strange reaction he had when she laughed. It was a beautiful sound when children laughed, nearly like the tinkling of bells and music, but he became aware of his stronger reaction when she was happy.

But how was he to address her? He thought for the briefest of thoughts and decided upon a title. 'And may I ask, O Lucy Daughter of Eve,' Tumnus said grandly, upturning the her lips once again, 'how have you come into Narnia?' For, truly, she couldn't have been here all along. The White Witch would've put a change in that, certainly.

Before, he never could have possible supposed her answer. 'Narnia? What's that?'

Tumnus's eyes widened slightly. 'Why, this is the land of Narnia, where we stand upon at this moment! From the lamp-post all the way to the castle Cair Paravel on the Eastern Sea.' The words Cair Paravel stirred in his mind briefly, then lay dormant once more.

'I . . .' the girl began. 'I just walked in through the wardrobe in the spare room!'

'Oh dear,' Tumnus sighed as he racked his memory. 'If only I had studied geography a bit harder when I was young. I don't seem to have heard of this land, War Drobe, nor the country of Spare Oom."

She laughed out loud, delighted. 'But they're not countries at all! It's just back there. At least, I think it is,' she looked the slightest bit stricken. Then she appeared to be sad. 'It's summer there.'

Oh, summer. Tumnus remembered summer. It was in summer that he'd sit under the trees of the Western Wood and play for his friends, the Dryads. Chrystmay, his good friend, often came down from the trees to dance for him. Oh, she was beautiful, with flowers woven through her long, black hair and her eyes shining with joy. But the Dryads had all retreated into their leafy boughs when Jadis had cast the Long Winter over Narnia, and those days were only memories now.

'Meanwhile,' he said, sorrowfully. 'it's winter here. It has been for ever so long.' Tumnus sighed at the fat, white flakes just beginning to fall. 'Always winter! and never Christmas! Think of that.'

'How awful,' said Lucy, Daughter of Eve, and she truly looked sympathetic.

'And, being winter,' said Tumnus, and up went his umbrella in response to the drifting snow. 'we shall both catch our death of cold if we stand here in the snow, jabbering on while there's warmth waiting. Daughter of Eve, how would you like to come to my den and have tea with me?' How grand would that be! sitting in his parlour, feasting upon seed cakes and tea with his new friend.

'Oh!' exclaimed Lucy. 'Thank you, Mr Tumnus, but I really should . . .' she looked over her shoulder to something Tumnus could not see although he strained his eyes to do so.

'But it's only just around the corner,' said the faun, with hope and excitement in his eyes. 'And there will be a roaring fire waiting for us – and toast – and cakes – and perhaps we'll even break into the sardines!' He held out his arm for the girl to take, but she did not. Lucy was once more about to verbally decline – Tumnus could see that – but one glance at him, and she was smiling again.

Thus, arm in arm with the umbrella above, they began the path to Tumnus's home.

It was only moments later when Tumnus was struck by an evil promise given long ago – he must take this child to the White Witch.