ABSOLUTION

Whew, I finally got this darn thing updated. It was tough writing, but I can't complain about the way it has turned out.

Writing, however slow and frustrating the process, is worth it if you come out with a good, solid story. I know Tumnus is shown in a much more unfavorable light here, but I promise things will get better, eventually. Just you wait. I let the characters wallow in misery for a time, then everything turns out okay in the end. This story as a whole is how Tumnus learns to forgive, and accept Edmund, and let the past be in the past. Tumnus may seem a hypocrite, but when you think about it, are you any better off yourself? Would you act any differently, if this were happening to you?

Was there someone who did something to you in the past, with whom you weren't so eager to be pals? It's easy to see the faults in other people, but not nearly so much in ourselves.

On a lighter note, my birthday's in nine days!

Characters © C.S. Lewis and Disney/Walden Media

Story © unicorn-skydancer08

All rights reserved.

"For the sake of your name, O Lord, forgive my iniquity, though it is great."

~ Psalms 25:11 (NIV)

"When you hold resentment toward another, you are bound to that person or condition by an emotional link that is stronger than steel. Forgiveness is the only way to dissolve that link and get free."

— Catherine Ponder

PART 2

"Only you can make the ultimate decision." Beaver's words haunted Tumnus as the faun resumed his walk, like a ghost trailing in his wake.

Well, I have made my decision, Tumnus thought resolutely. I won't forgive Edmund. Not now, not ever!

Even so, he could feel an unpleasant knot forming in the pit of his stomach.

The truth was, somewhere deep in his soul, the faun acknowledged the sincerity of Edmund's penitence. He knew Edmund was truly sorry, but the greater, stronger part of him knew the apology had come too late. The damage had already been done. After all Tumnus had been through, how else was he supposed to feel? What else was he to do with the boy? What good would it do to forgive him, anyway? It wouldn't change anything; it certainly wouldn't change the past, nor would it erase the memories of suffering and horror.

Tumnus only shook his head, trying to shake off the ugly feelings that crawled over him like snakes, and kept going.

Presently, the faun encountered Sir Giles, the wily fox renowned for rescuing Lucy and her siblings from the Secret Police, and consequently saving them from falling into Jadis's hands. Like Tumnus, Sir Giles had also spent a good amount of time as a stone figure, and it was through the grace of Aslan alone that he was living and breathing today.

"Hello, Tumnus," the fox hailed him, his eyes bright and lively as coals in a lit fire. Seeing the ill humor Tumnus was in, he commented, "Scarf in too tight a knot, eh?"

"Never mind with the smart remarks, Giles," said Tumnus, unable to help the sullen note in his tone.

Sir Giles leveled off his ears at the faun, and his jaunty tail dropped considerably lower.

"Well," he said. "Which one of us has done something to the other, that you speak to me so coldly?"

"It's nothing," said Tumnus, just as he had done with Beaver. Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Nothing against you, anyway."

"Well, you certainly act like the whole world's turned against you," Sir Giles countered.

"If there is anyone whom I truly have the right to be cross with, you know very well who he is."

Of course, there was no need to guess; Sir Giles already knew. It was no secret around the Cair that Tumnus and Edmund were not on the friendliest of terms with one another.

"You're still holding this against him?" said the fox, without sarcasm this time.

"What else am I supposed to do with him?" Tumnus demanded. "What reason do I have to not feel the way I do about that boy?"

Sir Giles sighed and bowed his head, acknowledging that Tumnus really did have every right to be upset.

It had also been because of Edmund that Sir Giles wound up as a statue himself. The last thing Sir Giles remembered was the look on Edmund's face, and the shock and dismay at the boy's betrayal of not only his siblings but also of Narnia and of Aslan himself, and Jadis herself saying, "Thank you, Edmund. I'm glad this creature got to see some honesty…before he dies!" With that, before Sir Giles even had the chance to make any move, Jadis blasted him with her wand. There was a blinding glare of light, and a coldness that was like fire—and that was the end of it.

An involuntary shiver rippled along the fox's shoulders at the memory.

There was, truly, nothing more terrible than that. Eternal imprisonment in stone was a fate worse than death itself; it was something Sir Giles would never wish on his greatest enemy.

Tumnus seemed to read the fox's mind. "You could very well have been a statue forever," the faun said. "Were it not for Aslan, you wouldn't even be here."

He paused briefly, before adding tersely, "At least with you, it had been quick and easy."

Sir Giles closed his eyes and dipped his head even further, but said nothing.

"Tell me," Tumnus told the little four-footed creature, after a long, intense moment, in a voice that dripped with venom. "Tell me you'd never felt what I feel now. Tell me you didn't feel rage, hatred, and disgust toward Edmund. Tell me that hating him for what he did to you, and wanting him to suffer every bit as much as he made you suffer, never once crossed your mind."

Such a thing would be a lie, Sir Giles knew.

But what could he have done about what someone else did? The only thing he could ever truly control was his own heart.

When the fox finally spoke, he said in a low, husky voice, his gaze centered on his black front paws, "Yes, Tumnus…I know what Edmund did to me. I haven't forgotten it, and I highly doubt I ever will. Even to this day, I think of everything that's come about; I think of the Witch, and my last impression of her, and I think of how fortunate I am to be alive."

"That's what I thought," Tumnus said.

Lifting his head somewhat higher, Sir Giles continued, "But then, hating Edmund for it doesn't make it all right, either. It only sickens me…sickens me with shame, and guilt."

Tumnus stared at his companion in disbelief. "How can you say that? Why should you feel like you're the one who's in the wrong? Why should you harbor guilt for someone else's actions?"

There was a strange gleam in Sir Giles' eyes that Tumnus never saw before. Softly, with sad solemnity, the fox replied, "Because when I think poisonous thoughts about Edmund, when I go around despising him, longing to see him suffer…" Here, he stopped and remained silent for a decent amount of time, before he finished. "…well, how am I any better off than he is?"

Tumnus was astonished; he never would have thought someone as witty and jocular as Sir Giles could act and speak so wisely. He found the fox's little speech impressive, yet at the same time he resented it. It made no sense to him that Sir Giles should feel guilty for despising Edmund, when Edmund deserved to be despised, even exiled from Narnia altogether.

"So, that's it, then," said Tumnus crisply. "By letting your hate for Edmund go, that makes you even with him. That makes everything else absolutely peachy."

"I won't say it makes everything perfect," said Sir Giles meekly. "But it does make me feel better."

Tumnus only scoffed at that.

But all he said was, "Well, you do what you feel is right, Giles, and I'll do the same."

So saying, he strolled past the fox, and went his way, without looking back again. Sir Giles just stayed where he was, and watched the faun until he rounded a corner and disappeared.

"Lucy?" Edmund stood timidly at the edge of his sister's royal bedchamber.

Lucy, who was sitting on her bed with a good book cradled in her lap, raised her head at once. "Hello, Edmund," she greeted him enthusiastically, when she saw him. At first she was cheerful, but when she saw the look on her brother's face, her smile vanished in an instant. "Are you all right?" she asked in a worried voice, never hesitating to set her book aside. "What's wrong?"

"Can I talk to you?" Edmund asked humbly.

Traditionally, as the youngest sibling, Lucy was the one to come to him, or to Peter, or to Susan, when there was a problem. But for once, Edmund felt he could use Lucy's help.

"Yes, of course. Come in." So Edmund trudged over to the bed, and Lucy slid over to make room for him. He sank down onto the soft feather mattress, but he did not touch Lucy, or talk right away, or so much as look at her. He only sat in a slumped position, his head bowed, and his eyes fixed on his hands, which were folded quietly in his lap. Lucy could tell he was in deep distress about something. Slowly, she reached out her hand and began to rub his shoulder consolingly. "What is it?" she asked very gently. "Do tell me, Edmund."

"Lucy," said Edmund, when he felt he was in the condition to speak, "you meant it when you said you forgave me, right?"

It took Lucy a minute to realize what he was talking about. "Of course," she said earnestly.

"And you still consider me a brother, don't you?"

"You'll always be my brother, Edmund. Nothing can ever change that." Lucy now scooted in closer, and wrapped her arms around him. "If that's what's bothering you, don't worry." Nestling her head against his chest, the way she did at Aslan's camp, and tightening her hold on him, she whispered reassuringly, "I forgive you, Edmund—and I love you."

Edmund caught his breath at those words, most especially at the last three. Tears burned his eyes, but they would not grant him the relief of falling. Almost involuntarily, his own arms encircled Lucy's small, scrawny body and clasped her fervently to his own body. With his face buried in her silky red-gold hair, he muttered, "If only everyone else felt the same way."

Hearing this, Lucy pulled away from the embrace and gave Edmund a quizzical look.

"What do you mean?" she queried.

The look in Edmund's watery brown eyes was nothing short of pure torture, and he could hardly speak. "It's Tumnus," he half-croaked.

"Oh," said Lucy faintly, comprehension dawning on her face.

"I don't know what else to do," said Edmund with a deep groan. "I've tried everything to make it up to him, to let him know I'm sorry, and he still hates me."

Lucy was shocked to hear the dreadful word from her brother's own lips. She was especially stunned at the idea of her sweet friend Tumnus bearing a grudge like this.

She'd never imagined the faun as the hating type.

Yes, she could understand it perfectly if Tumnus was angry, but to still harbor such anger, after all this time…

"That's why I need you, Lu," Edmund went on. "I need you to talk to Tumnus for me. He never listens to me, but surely he'll listen to you, since you're on much better terms with him than I am."

Lucy sighed. She hated having to be the negotiator, particularly in these situations, but she couldn't very well refuse her brother. Edmund looked like he was pretty desperate. Furthermore, Lucy couldn't bear to have her brother and her best friend she'd ever had at such odds with one another. So she nodded submissively, and promised, "I will do my best."

Then Edmund swept her into a fierce hug, catching her off-guard and nearly stealing her breath away.

"Thank you," was the only thing Edmund could find to say. "Thank you."