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07 January 2011 @ 09:55 pm
Fic: ‘Cherished moments of a journey.’  
Title: Cherished moments of a journey.
Fandom: Chronicles of Narnia (movie)
Rating: (G)
Time Period: During and after events in the Lion, the Witch & the Wardrobe.
Summary: Oh, he was such a terrible Faun!

Author's Note: This is quick ‘n’ dirty (for definition see the F. A. Q.).

A friendship can always change, even if only one party is aware of it and the other doesn’t want to let them know. At what moment does friendship turn to love? I’m not talking anything beyond platonic love but y’all can read what you like into it!

I’ve captured small moments of a friendship and I don’t know how it reads overall – you can visit as a whole or by certain moments, using the LJ-cut for that moment; I’ve not yet read it as a whole! My fingers are crossed that it’s enjoyed!

All characters contained herein are the intellectual property of C. S. Lewis as well as Andrew Adamson, Ann Peacock, Christopher Markus & Stephen McFeely (their interpretations); I am not affiliated with nor endorsed by his estate.


The lion roared.

All light had been extinguished with the roar and he had curled up in the dark, tears streaking his cheeks. He sniffled. The first warmth he had felt in one hundred years and he was kidnapping it.

His first friend in a very long time and he was giving her to that dreadful Witch.

Oh, he was such a terrible Faun!

“... I thought you were my friend!”

The warmth flared anew. He hadn’t had someone call him a friend in one hundred years. No one had dared be so friendly in so long. He’d not met someone so open and warm since ... since ...

He couldn’t remember when.

With her exclamation, he jumped to his feet, ignoring the cold and the dark. “We must be quick and careful. Even some of the trees are on her side!” His hand rested on her shoulder while he led her through his house. They ran through the trees, he looking around to see if they had been spotted. Now was not a good time to be caught. Not so close to the lamppost!

“Can you find your way from here?” He crouched and asked, both hands on her shoulders.

“I ... I think so,” she answered as she looked around. Then she saw the glimpse of light in the trees and smiled. “I can see it!”

He pulled her into a hug; a last selfish grab, he could admit, for her warmth and to give back to her as she had given to him. “Then go, Lucy Pevensie. I,” he held a hand before her, “will be safe. Go!

She hugged him fiercely and ran toward the light she could see, turning back once to wave and then she scampered off into the woods, vanishing from sight. He hunched his shoulders against the cold he no longer felt and smiled.

She, and he, would always be friends, he felt, even if they never met again.


A knock on his door startled him. The Secret Police would never be so polite; they would barge in and hold him under arrest. He stood, frozen, with the tea tray when another knock sounded, echoing in the room with the fire blazing nearby. He held his breath. Whoever could it be?

“Mister Tumnus!” A hissed whisper broke through. “Hurry and open the door!”

Immediately, he set the tray down and rushed to the door, flinging it open to usher the small girl in. He glanced quickly outside, from left to right, before hurriedly closing the door when he was satisfied no one had followed her. “My heavens, Lucy Pevensie!” He exclaimed, turning to face her as she shook the snow off her boots and he dusted the snow from her shoulders and hair. “You weren’t to come back!”

“I had to know if you were safe,” she explained, seating herself in the armchair by the fire. “Were you caught?” She asked, sitting forward to face him as he brought the tea tray over and fetched another cup.

“Would I be here now if I’d been caught?” He chuckled, setting the cup on the tray.

“I don’t know,” she admitted frankly. “I don’t know what the police are like in Narnia.”

He poured some tea into a cup and handed it to her. “I would not be here,” he informed her and reached for the milk, tipping some in until she held her hand up. He set it back on the tray. “We are safe,” he added hastily, wanting to assure himself as well as her. “No one saw us.”

“Are you sure?” She asked, settling back in the comfy chair with her tea.

“As sure as I can be,” he nodded slightly and smiled. “You frightened me, I must say.”

I did?” She regarded him suspiciously. “How did I do that?”

He laughed and explained. The warm glow inside burst alight, with the blazing warmth of a thousand suns. In this room, there was no winter. There could not be, he decided, with such company to hand.


“Is your sister safe?” He pressed. He didn’t care for himself but Lucy had to be safe! He would not want her to know the Witch’s hospitality.

“I ... I ...”

The door to the cells burst open and the Queen stood before them, uttering her proud nonsense, and he was dragged to the courtyard of the once-proud castle. Hatred rose within him for the Queen, warring with disbelief that the young Son of Adam could have ... would have ... did sell him out for sweeties.

He raised his head and glared at the Queen. “Any last words, Faun?” She mockingly asked.

He grinned. He had heard some words. That Edmund didn’t know where his brother and sisters were. Which meant Lucy was safe from the Queen. The thought of the gentle, yet brave, girl in the clutches of the Queen was unbearable but she was safe. “I believe in a free Narnia,” he told her.

The Queen smiled, frostily. “Before or after I turn your little friend to stone?”

He opened his mouth and reached for the Queen who casually flicked her wand; where once flesh had stood, now stone took its place.


He held her hand and smiled. “He isn’t a tame lion,” he told her as they stood on the balcony, overlooking the beach.

They stood, hand in hand, and the ever-present warmth tickled his heart. They stood silently, watching the great lion depart. He would be back, Tumnus knew; Aslan always returned, but his dear friend did not know Aslan as all Narnia knew him. The music behind them caught his ear and he bowed to the young Queen.

“Should we dance, Lucy Pevensie?”

She beckoned him to lean closer; he did. “I don’t know how,” she whispered in his ear.

He grinned. “Then I shall have to teach you how!” He informed her, offering his arm which she accepted with a beaming smile. “Now, we should have to clear a space in the middle of the floor ...”


Every spring, she travelled with him, to his home. Susan, Edmund and Peter were much better, she’d once explained, at ruling Narnia and so would be all right while she accompanied her friend to his home. After all, the explanation had further included, she needed to know whether all her work in helping him fix his home had been undone; she would be most cross if it had been!

The journey had taken the better part of four weeks for neither had wanted to hurry the other, visiting friends and seeing the land along the way, and both were now sitting by the fireplace. Her pack was by the open door and she breathed deeply of the fresh air sneaking into the room. “Does it meet your satisfaction?”

“Does what meet my satisfaction?” She blinked at him and rearranged her skirts.

“My home,” he laughed. “Is it still as you left it last year? Not ruined but more dusty?”

She chuckled at herself, for her thoughts had wandered far afield, and clasped her hands around her knee. “I am very satisfied,” she nodded thoughtfully, looking around, “that you have not ruined my very hard work.”

“Of that, I am glad,” he replied and stood, bustling to the kitchen and getting ready the tea. “The Beavers are expecting your visit at dinner,” he told her over his shoulder as he set the cups and saucers on the tray.

“I had forgotten that was to be today!” She exclaimed directly behind him and he jumped, almost dropping the tray; he’d concentrated on it very hard. She reached around him for the tray; he bowed his head as she took it and caught his breath. This warmth, this feeling inside had become greater than he thought it could since she had become a young woman and he an old Faun ... or so he thought of himself. Over the years, that warmth had blossomed and grown.

He shook his head and smiled as he turned. “Whatever would you do without me, Lucy Pevensie?”

“I have no idea, Mister Tumnus.” She replied as she lifted the pot and began to pour the tea. “Mister Tumnus?” She turned her head, resting her dark eyes upon him. “Are you coming, Mister Tumnus?”

He smiled and clattered down the steps, sitting opposite her. “Of course, Lucy Pevensie.” His smile widened. “I was just seeing if we had everything for tea.”
Armchair DM: Igor: A Rod Of Silencearmchairdm on January 7th, 2011 12:55 pm (UTC)
I love this. I love the dynamic you've built up between Mr Tumnus and Lucy over these precious moments.
F. J.: Lanterns: Warmmorethanacandle on January 7th, 2011 03:53 pm (UTC)
I love the dynamic you've built up between Mr Tumnus and Lucy over these precious moments.
I have?