DISCLAIMER: I own lots of things... a butterfly chair, my first LOTR cinema ticket, socks, lots of ribbons, a Winterthur pen, a beret... Sadly, Narnia doesn't happen to be on that list.

I've probably lost all my readers by now, simply because they've gotten too impatient with me. Oh, well. I HAVE 200 REVIEWS!!! And thank you to all who contributed to that (or will, in future...) and to all who haven't given up on finishing this book.

I dedicate the chapter with love to the late Doulgas Adams, who had great faith in the number forty-two. Chapter forty-two is dedicated to you, Doug. And speaking of chapters...

COUNTDOWN: Three left.

Sad, isn't it?

This is a kind of long chappie. I was going to make it longer, but decided against it. That will have to carry over into chapter forty-three, forty-four... whichever I choose. Enjoy, now, this not extremely well-written chapter (because I'm trying, for the most part, to just finish it by December 9th and not care whether or not it's well written) to the best of your ability. I shall see you in the next chapter.

Chapter Forty-Two

The Last Hunt

Lucy frowned in thought, examining the new dress. For a choice on the spur of the moment, an orange riding gown didn't look so terrible. In fact, she rather liked it. It brought about a pleasant change from the usual green robes, and she'd never been so bold as to dive into the chance for an orange dress. Surprisingly, it suited her. Lucy always thought she looked best in lavender, but most of Susan's wardrobe was now lavender silk, imported from Terebinthia, so that wouldn't do at all. Perhaps, Lucy thought, as soon as we're done with the hunt, I shall order a whole set of orange gowns.

It wasn't a bright orange, just deep and charming, with brown and gold trimmings. Staring in the mirror, Lucy remarked that she looked nicer than she'd looked in a while. Perhaps it was because she was dressed so informally, her hair tumbling freely onto her shoulders with a few loose braids. Perhaps she'd just been happier lately, a bright glow to her face... and yet something was missing.

Smiling, Lucy pulled open a drawer from her oak dresser and pulled out a long, red muffler. Just the thing. After tying it around her neck, waist, and shoulder, deciding it looked equally unimpressive on each, she placed it the riding bag slung over one shoulder. It would be present, yet out of the way, keeping company with a few other trinkets: a scattering of gold coins, a blue ribbon for her hair, a single glove which had lost its partner, and one modest ring.

Lucy gingerly tucked the scarf into the bag, but plucked out the ring and studied it with silent, repressed euphoria before placing it on her finger. It wasn't flashy or elegant, just a simple gold ring with a tiny ruby and an engraving. The words were of a language she didn't know, but their meaning she'd been told: love. This was a ring to be cherished through all ages.

❦

A pleased snuffle escaped the young mare as Lucy hugged it tightly round the neck, feeding it a strawberry from her hand. With long fingers, she stroked its amber nose and whispered, 'You up for a big run, Root?'

The mare whinnied back, nudging her hand lovingly.

'We're going after the White Stag.' Lucy procured a brush and began sweeping it across the horse's chestnut flanks, then strapped on a saddle heavily adorned with tassels and bells, and a leather bridle. 'It's fast enough that no one's ever captured it,' said Lucy, grinning proudly. 'And today, my brothers and Susan and I are going to catch it.'

'That's awfully confident of you,' said an amusingly sly voice behind her.

Lucy whirled around and was met with the most familiar face she knew. Instantly her expression melted into one of pure gladness. 'Tumnus!' Lucy cried, and at once ran over to him and flung herself around him.

Tumnus spun her around in his arms, chuckling good-naturedly and running his fingers through her soft hair. 'Lucy, Lucy, Lucy,' he said into her ear, his voice beaming. 'Every day I love you more.' A kiss was pressed onto her lips, then another and another. With a last squeeze, she was released. 'And every day you grow more busy.'

'We shall be together soon, I promise,' Lucy assured him, taking his hands. 'It's just been so long since Susan and Peter and Edmund and I have all gotten together. And the White Stag, no less.'

'I understand,' he said. 'But perhaps, if you needed an escort...?'

Lucy smiled and kissed him softly on the cheek. 'Next time.'

Tumnus drew her in closer, forearms meeting the gentle curve of her shoulders. He inhaled, taking in the fresh scent of her hair. 'Have you an answer for me yet?'

Lucy drew back, staring, not at him, but at the jewellery on her finger, intertwined with his hands. 'Tumnus... I'd always thought it was best not to rush into such things, and we've only been... together... for a matter of weeks– '

He, too, looked down.

'But I've loved you for even longer than that. So I think, in this case,' Lucy pressed their faces close together, 'we shouldn't have to wait any longer than we have to.'

Tumnus looked up at her, disbelieving joy all over his face, and at once swept her away into another long embrace met with a kiss. 'As soon as possible,' he promised 'You'll be more exquisite than ever in a fall wedding.' He nuzzled closer to her, breathing, 'I can't believe you're mine.'

'Not yours yet,' Lucy said. 'Not in word. But yours in heart, as you are in mine.'

A loud voice called from not too far off, startling the two of them. 'Lucy!' it called. Lucy recognised it as Peter's. 'Lu? Where are you? Edmund's just spotted the Stag! Get over here!'

Tumnus smiled at her. 'Go,' he urged her. 'The Wishing Stag is waiting.'

'But it will be an empty triumph, once we catch it,' Lucy said, placing a last kiss on his cheek. 'I already have anything I could ever want.' In an instant, she'd saddled her mare and was galloping off.

'I love you!' Tumnus called after her, unsure if she'd heard or not. Either way, she was still riding on. 'I love you,' he said, more softly, this time knowing she hadn't heard, but it wasn't as important. The only thing that mattered now was that his words were true.

❦

Each moment of the hunt was more glorious than the last. Lucy hadn't felt so close to her siblings in ages; it was as though this was what family was really like. Despite all their disputes, they were together in that moment. And it didn't seem to matter to her what the next moment would bring, only that this time riding for the Stag was just so beautiful.

Hour after hour they rode on, drawing nearer to the Stag. It's so terribly aggravating to always be seeing its back, she thought, during a particularly in-depth chase. But no matter; soon we shall be seeing it face-to-face!

The bright noon light that set them off on the journey had kindled into a brilliant sunset that hid resplendently behind the forest, beams reaching down between the branches to touch their jubilant faces as the Stag raced on, and they followed: down one hill, up another, winding through twisted paths and over fallen logs, around another corner and another –

Then the White Stag granted itself a burst of speed and disappeared into the trees.

Peter sighed, laughing in his kingly way, and slowed to a stop. At last, his long cloak flapped out the last of its wind and fell to meet his ebony stallion's back. 'There it goes again,' he chuckled, and ran a hand through his thick yellow hair. 'But we'll gain on it soon enough.'

Lucy smiled, knowing he was right. All the same, if the hunt went on too much longer, they'd have to retire back to the Cair and continue the hunt tomorrow.

Susan raised her head and looked about. 'Where's Ed?'

'Yes, where is that brother of mine?' sighed Peter. 'Lagging behind again, I suppose.' Still, the three of them trotted back a bit where they saw him stopped in a clearing.

'Come on, Ed!' called Susan.

Edmund smiled weakly. 'Just catching my breath.'

'Well, that's all we'll catch at this rate!' she cried, vexed.

'What did he say again, Susan?' asked Lucy playfully, knowing very well what he'd said the other day.

Susan seemed to remember as well, and recited with a mockingly silly tone and expression: ' "You girls wait at the castle; I'll get the Stag myself!" '

Edmund again looked quite sheepish as the two girls let loose a fit of giggles.

As they quieted, Peter spoke. 'What's this?' He spoke seemingly to himself, and unsaddled his horse immediately, staring and walking toward the strange object, mesmerised. Susan and Edmund, too, got off their horses, but Lucy didn't see what it was at first. Then she noticed it, and joined them.

Not one of them could take their eyes off it: a tall, black pole made of some kind of metal standing up from the ground, with a burning lantern fixed at the top of it.

How funny, Lucy thought, staring at it. It felt as though is she stared hard enough at the lantern it might tell her something – strange things were stirring within her, almost but not quite like remembering an old friend or forgotten memory.

'It seems familiar,' Peter said, a strange concentration in his voice, as though his words were frowning, as though he'd found something that made him less strong, less like a king, and he didn't know what to make of it.

Susan's voice was spellbound: 'As if from a dream.'

Indeed, a dream. Soon Lucy found herself saying, 'Or a dream of a dream.' It drew them all in, as though time had stopped and they were the only people that mattered in the world anymore.

And suddenly something returned to her.

'Spare Oom!'

The words rolled off her tongue, as though she'd known them forever.

And things began to fit together.

Spare Oom. War Drobe... Pevensie! They were all connected, all part of the same place... but where was it? They felt all jumbled up in her mind, all separate from each other...

And yet they all fit together.

She took a slow stomp forward. – This is incredible. Impossible! But it's happening. – and another, faster. Then another, breaking away from the spell of the strange lamp. She hitched up her full skirts, amber cape flying out behind her.

It snapped everyone else's hypnotised state. At once, all three of them noticed she'd gone.

'Lucy?'

'Lu?'

Susan groaned. 'Not again.'

They were following her, coming after to see where it was she was going, where she was running off.

Not running off. Running to!

She didn't know why she was running, where it was, what it was, only that it held the answers, and she couldn't get there fast enough. Her mind didn't know where it was, but her feet had tread this path before. She had this feeling that she was getting closer to Tumnus, as though he'd know what was happening, how he played in this. There was something close by that would bring her closer to home.

What is home?

'Lu?' Peter called after her. What was she running to? There was this absolute assurance that it was waiting for her, just waiting...

'Come on!' she called behind her shoulder.

They followed, seeming not obliged, but fascinated against their will. Each of them knew it: something was happening. But Lucy knew what was going on. At some point, they all wanted to just yell out, asking what it was all about, but instead they stepped forward, silently. On through twigs of red leaves, prying apart bushes and stems of flowers, furs...

Furs.

Peter pulled himself out of a messy pelt, perplexed. 'These aren't branches.'

Not branches, and the space was getting smaller. Grunts were heard as they tried to push forward.

Susan looked up at the pelts, triggering something in her mind... 'They're coats.'

'Susan, you're on my foot!' cried Edmund, and everything was lost in cramped chaos.

'Peter, move over!'

'Ouch!'

'Get off my toe!'

'I'm not on your toe!'

'...Oof!'

One after another, they fell out onto the hard earth with loud grunts of surprise.

Lucy groaned, sitting up a little, then immediately let herself back down. Something was wrong. She felt so unbalanced, so small. Her clothes were itchy everywhere...

She looked up at Susan. But... Susan wasn't Susan. There was a girl there, a child in a pauper's clothes and no jewels. Lucy almost called out for Peter, but looked over and found that he, too, was gone. In his place was a boy. Not a king, not a knight, not the legendary fighter of Narnia... but a boy. Edmund, too.

Oh, no...

And she... was a little girl, the smallest of them all.

What have I done?