DISCLAIMER: Don't own Tumnus, nor Lucy, nor Narnia, (I own Baviar, that sexy fox! Also the nameless female centaur and the sexy gryffin Daumler (people spell gryffin different ways according to what history they've looked at; I use the gryffin spelling and have used it throughout this entire book, which has two chapters left.) I most certainly do not own Aslan. No one can. After all, it's not as though he were a tame lion.

Two chappies left... and this chapter took forever, as usual. Hey, I'm a procrastinator. What can I say? I could lie and say this and that came up, but the truth was I was too darn lazy to sit down at a computer. You've heard this a billion times. I'll probably go back and fix some errors that I was too lazy to fix before. Plus, I wrote chapter eleven before LWW came out on DVD, so I kinda forgot to write that Tumnus crowned them all... I know. Shame, shame. I also have some Aslan as God spiritual stuff in here, which I'd been slipping in there a bit before, so if you're atheist and don't like it, DEAL. All my Christian instincts are kicking in, probably due to being a pastor's daughter all my life... oh well.

It's amazing how a writing style can evolve. I apologise if anyone was bored with Part One and Part Two. I was trying to sound like C.S. Lewis, but that bombed. It's better to write like yourself.

Eat your heart out! Here goes:

Chapter Forty-Three

The Last

Tumnus rubbed his hands again and again as though in a deep fever, pacing the floor till he was almost certain it would be rubbed raw into a blistering crimson. She said they'd be back at the castle certainly by twilight. Yet here is was, the hours building so high up that he wanted to knock them back down. Darkness had long since fallen on Cair Paravel, and not a hair of any four monarchs had been spotted.

Where is she?

The sundials could no longer be seen in the darkness, but the large hourglass in the Great Hall read midnight. Night was constantly on an earlier approach in autumn, and still they couldn't be found. A search party had been sent out hours ago and not one member had returned, so there was yet hope. They could come barging in any moment, crying out that they'd found Lucy and the rest.

They could...

The doors of the Great Hall flew open with a great gust of wind that violently whipped Tumnus's hair into his eyes, a storm of fallen brown leaves flying in on the draft from the night air outside. Leaping in through the foyer came Baviar, the fox, followed in urgency by a female white centaur, both startling beacons against the black sky. Tumnus immediately raced down the steps, crying, 'You found them, haven't you? You must have– '

'Master Tumnus,' the female centaur said solemnly, 'not a hair of them. It seems...' She gulped. 'It seems a temporary Steward must be put into place.'

'...What?' His voice was breathy, shocked. 'But... no! No, they're out there, I know it –'

'Master Tumnus,' murmured the centaur, 'seeing as you were their closest advisor, you must take the throne in place of – '

'I am their advisor!' Tumnus screamed. 'They're not dead! They can't, they wouldn't! I can't rule Narnia! Only a Son of Adam or – '

'Tumnus,' said Baviar, tears almost visible in his eyes, 'we all loved Their Majesties. But wishing for them to come back won't make it happen. There is time, yes. Three days. If no one hears of them until then, we will have to announce them dead. Still, you and I both know it cannot happen.'

Tumnus couldn't speak, but he understood. The air was quiet, like an empty room where there was once laughter.

'There is a stillness in the air,' whispered Baviar. 'A stillness that can only mean one thing. I understand you don't want to rule Narnia, and the regulations are against a faun on a throne. In three days, we'll send delegates to Archenland to settle an alliance through marriage.' Baviar raised his voice. 'Beavers, you must be prepared to plan an alternative funeral for Their Majesties, and – '

The doors to the Great Hall opened again. Tumnus's heart leapt up into his throat. They've been found! They've been sighted!

A gryffin sailed through the foyer, yelling, 'Sires!'

'Daumler, what is it?' demanded Baviar. 'Have you found Their Majesties?'

'That is the least of our troubles,' panted the gryffin. 'Sir Baviar, my scouts have sent word of an army in the West.'

There was silence from everyone but the centaur. 'But there are no lands West!' she cried. 'We've never heard any word from there but the battle, and that was less than a year ago. We slaughtered their army; there can be no more!'

'Centaur, they are human.'

Almost like an invisible mantle, a wave closed in on the room, leaving each disquieted.

Daumler continued. 'They spoke of being from a land called Telmar. Their leader calls himself Caspian. Numbers are great; I have not yet received an exact count, but I saw with my own eyes but one camp, and that alone held hundreds of blood-lusting people. From what we saw, they are still in the makings of weapons and battle plans, so they shouldn't attack for a long while, mayhap a few weeks. Even still, we must prepare for the fight immediately. I cannot imagine – '

Tumnus heard no more. It couldn't be... not now. He tried to say something – anything – but no words would come. He stood, frozen, fear painted in icy white across his skin. They couldn't be gone, not any of them, not her... It was impossible. She couldn't be... Just this morning he'd seen her, touched her, kissed her, told her that he loved her. She said she'd be back! he screamed inwardly. She wouldn't just leave like that, with any army planning to attack us. There must be another way out... She wouldn't leave me alone to lead these people! I can't fight, I am no warrior! He couldn't stop staring at the gryffin, eyes wild and hands shaking, a cold sweat down his spine.

Without a word, he turned and ran.

He was called after in words he heard but did not process. They yelled his name, told him to come back, and footsteps followed him, but he wouldn't stop running. Past those heavy doors and into the raw air, suffocating with autumn chill and black. H tripped over his own hoofs, but the imbalance was fleeting. Soon he was standing again, his wild search continued. Into the corners of the night he called her name, with only emptiness responding. Where is she where is she where is she...? Oh, Aslan, hear me now above every prayer I've ever prayed, please let her be alive. Please let her be safe, don't let her leave me now, let me find her!

He ran feverishly on for hours, through foliage and brush, crying out again and again, but she was nowhere to be seen. With a fury such as this, he couldn't see where he was going or where he faced, only that she was not there. He could be halfway to Ettinsmoor for all he knew, and Lucy was nowhere in sight. He hadn't seen her for so long... how long had he been searching for her?

It didn't matter how long, anyway. He would search till the end of time and beyond, no matter how tired he was, as long as there was still hope. So he ran, tripping tiredly over imperfections on the earth and falling to the ground. Dirt was soaked into his skin, thorns raking flaws and blood on his arms, rotting leaves caught in his hair. He could barely see the road before him, his eyes were so blurred from fatigue and tears, but it wouldn't stop him.

An eternity condensed into the few long hours he trekked onward, not knowing where Lucy was, where or who he was himself. He blindly swaggered through trees, for he'd long ago forgotten the dirt path. His knees wavered beneath him, no longer able to hold up the weight of his body and sorrow all at once. Stuporous, he raised his head to see a lone of light along the horizon. Tumnus had scoured the land from dark to dawn, but she was nowhere to be found.

And yet there was another light, an orange pinprick shining through the tangle of branches. Tumnus peered through the early morning fog to see a long metal post sprouting up from the ground, a lantern atop it.

It is the lamp-post.

Lucy!

It brought such a loudly ringing hope that he leapt forward and flew past tree after tree to the clearing. She's been here, I know it; I can feel her.

She wasn't there.

He gazed around, eyes staring in vain for a glimpse of her, a sign that she was still here, but nothing. In a twisted, sickly daze he staggered through the clearing, screaming her name as though it would rid the pain that tore his lungs apart.

'Lucy!'

Nothing.

'LUCY!!'

Again and again the word was flung from his lips until tears choked him into silence, until the leaden heaviness of his feet stumbled clumsily over a fallen branch, making him sink like a rock to the ground. Wearily, he opened his clouded eyes but a sliver to search for one last hope, one last glimpse...

Oh, no. Please, no.

Trembling, Tumnus reached a frail hand and grasped the small trinket on the ground. He could feel everything slipping away from him; colour, strength, thought just ebbing away at his soul, his life fleeting. He could only feel. Feel the weight of the ruby ring in his hand, the burden of grief settling like some poisonous blanket over him.

She's gone.

A strange rustling noise sounded from somewhere above. Shaking, he lifted his head to see a shape emerging through the fog: four solid hoofs, a chestnut flank, a whinnying snout. Root. Lucy's horse.

The last sign. She has gone home.

Summoning the last strength left in him, he lurched upright and felt weakness overpower him again. His steps faltered, leaving Tumnus to brace himself against Root's flank. Foggily, Tumnus pulled himself onto the mare's back and slumped himself as close to the horse's body as he dared without falling off. At once, Root trotted forward, a melancholy symbol of hope lost, of fallen dignity, of the last fight of Tumnus.

It was some time in late afternoon that Root made it to Cair Paravel, mournfully welcomed by the remainders of the Royal Court. Gasps and cries of shock travelled through the crowd at the sight of Queen Lucy's horse and none of the monarchs to be seen. Still cries rippled about the crowd when they saw Master Tumnus weakly lying atop, then slowly being handed down to the earth and carried, gently, into the castle.

He was immediately placed in his chambers and a hoard of nymphs were called with their healing lotions and herbal medicines. A messenger soon returned with the youngest queen's cordial and applied it forthwith to his wounds where he'd fallen on sharp stones, been pierced by thorns and the cruelty of the forest. Still nothing healed him.

The beavers stood watch close to his bed, Baviar pacing on all fours. 'Why won't he heal?' the fox hissed. 'He's been given the cordial, for Aslan's sake!'

'It's fatigue,' said Mr Beaver. 'He strained himself to such an extent... you try running from midnight to dawn from here to the Lantern Waste.'

'I think, Baviar,' said Mrs Beaver gently, that he is far too broken beneath his wounds to be helped from the outside.'

'What do you mean by that?' Mr Beaver asked, but with a moment of thought, he understood.

Thus it was. Those attending to the faun and those there for comfort stood helplessly about the room. They were the only souls to witness the last breath of Tumnus the faun.

❦

Tumnus awoke gently, if you could call it that. The sensation was so peculiar; it was less like waking up and more like sleeping, but in a way that made him excited and alive, not drowsy. He wanted to leap up and dance, but he was too perplexed to move. Here he was, in his den, comfortably sprawled across his favourite chair by the fire. Moments ago he'd been in the forest, clumsily riding Root back to the Cair.

Tumnus jumped. 'Aslan,' he breathed. 'What are you... How did I... eh?'

The Lion rumbled, amused. 'Welcome home, Tumnus. Soon we must leave for your true home, but I thought you might appreciate it if I let you first come alive in your own home.'

'Come alive... but I thought... I remember a very heavy feeling. I felt like water or air, and everything was black and white at the same time... Aslan, I think I died.'

A golden, furry smile curved across Aslan's face. 'To what it was once called, yes. In the simplest way, you did. But by dying you have been shown what it is like to live. Come with me now; it is time to return to My Country.'

'Aslan...' he breathed. 'But... I was alive only a moment ago.'

'Does it sadden you, Faun?'

Tumnus frowned and looked in his soul, wanted to answer honestly. 'No,' he said. 'But I feel almost empty. Is that wrong?'

'It will leave, soon enough. You needn't be empty if you don't want to. The sadness of that world is gone; only promises are made in this world. I know what you think, Tumnus. You and Lucy will be together soon, and that, too, is a promise, one that I make with no hesitation and full confidence. Have you regrets of your past life that you never felt before?'

'No,' said Tumnus, looking down. 'Not really. I only wish,' he murmured, 'that I had been a Son of Adam. Then I may have been equal to Lucy.'

In a blaze, Aslan pierced Tumnus with a glare of sternness. 'Wish no such thing, Faun. For now there are no inequalities, only rewards. Were there ever such a barrier between the both of you, it was dissolved by love. No, the only walls were in your mind. Now you are son of the Emperor Beyond the Sea, and his right-hand man.'

Tumnus smiled and stood, sweeping the room with one last gaze. With consideration, he walked over to a small table, reaching for a handkerchief and the small ring.

'There will be no need for those, Tumnus,' rumbled Aslan gently. 'For where you are going, there will be no tears to dry, and you will be given jewels finer than any you knew here.'

'Please, sir; I think the finest diamond would never be so precious to me.'

As if he knew all along that was what Tumnus would say, Aslan nodded deeply in a cascade of gold fur. 'And that is how it should be, My son.'