Title: Friends

Author: MrsTater

Rating: G

Featured Characters: Lucy, Mr. Tumnus

Summary: Gone. The curved, pointed tips of Mr. Tumnus' lovely little horns were gone.

Author's Note: This fic is movie-verse, sort of an extension of the final Lucy/Tumnus scene. Though I've read the Chronicles many times, this is my first foray into the world of Narnia fanfic. I appreciate any feedback and constructive criticism you may have!

Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia are the beautiful work of C.S. Lewis, and is owned by his family and the Walt Disney Company. This is a work of fanfiction, for amusement only, and I seek neither credit for nor profit from Lewis' story or the film.

Friends

Gone. The curved, pointed tips of Mr. Tumnus' lovely little horns were gone, cut down to stubs that barely poked out from his thick, curly hair.

Lucy had noticed the diminished horns when she first beheld Tumnus' statue in the Witch's courtyard, and it was his loss, in addition to seeing him turned to stone, that caused her to shed bitter tears. However, once Aslan breathed life into her friend, Lucy had been too overjoyed to think further of the poor little horns; that Tumnus was alive and safe was all that mattered.

At the coronation, Lucy again observed the sawn-off horns when Mr. Tumnus bowed before her throne. Though Mr. Tumnus seemed beside himself with joy to have the honor of crowning the new Kings and Queens of Narnia, Lucy couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness for him.

The feeling lingered as she and the Faun gazed out at the seashore, where the waves lapped away last of Aslan's paw prints. Lucy sighed. If only Aslan had not slipped away so quietly; Lucy had meant to ask Him to mend dear Mr. Tumnus' horns.

Sniffling, Lucy dabbed at her eyes with the hanky Mr. Tumnus had lent her. The Faun still held her other hand in his, and, seeing her fresh tears, he pressed it gently.

"My dear Lucy," he began, but suddenly let go of her hand and blushed deeply. "I-I m-mean…I-I mean…Q-Queen Lucy…"

"It's all right if you forget sometimes," said Lucy.

Mr. Tumnus gave a small but brief smile. "M-may I ask why you cry? Did…did I…Were you not consoled about Aslan's departure?"

Lucy turned her tear-filled gaze upward. Mr. Tumnus' wide blue eyes were kind, as always, yet they seemed troubled, too, as though distressed by Lucy's sadness. She felt badly that the Faun thought he was to blame, that he had failed to comfort her. She was more regretful than ever that she had not had a chance to speak with Aslan before He went away.

"I'm sorry," Lucy whispered. She looked higher up, to the little gilt points one of the good Dwarf metalworkers had made to cover Mr. Tumnus' nubs of horns. From a distance the false horns looked quite real, but up close it was obvious they were not the Faun's own.

As Mr. Tumnus realized the object of Lucy's gaze, his eyes rounded, then darted to his hooves. Again, he blushed.

"You needn't be ashamed," Lucy said quickly, feeling heat prickle in her own cheeks.

But Mr. Tumnus kept his head bent, and his shoulders slumped a little more. Lucy reached up, and Mr. Tumnus flinched a little when she lightly touched the golden tip of a horn. At last, however, he lifted his eyes to meet hers.

In a low voice, Lucy asked, "Did it hurt badly when the Witch…?" She couldn't bring herself to say the words, and tried not to picture Mr. Tumnus having his horns cut off.

"Her Dwarf did it," Mr. Tumnus replied. Dropping his eyes again, he added, "Yes, Queen Lucy. It hurt quite badly. B-but—" Skin flushing again, he continued rapidly, "B-but I-I should not complain. Others suffered far worse at the Witch's hand."

Lucy's eyes welled again. "I'm sorry you had to suffer at all on my account."

"Oh no, Lucy – Queen Lucy," said Mr. Tumnus, taking her hands again. "Nothing…If…If I had any part at all to play…"

Lucy grasped the Faun's hands a little tighter, as, in his nervousness, his palms had begun to sweat.

Mr. Tumnus continued, "What are my horns compared to you sitting enthroned at Cair Paravel?" He took a deep breath, gave a wobbly smile, and added, "It is a very small sacrifice for a very great thing…"

"No," said Lucy firmly. "It is not small at all."

She had meant the words to be comforting, but once more Mr. Tumnus' eyes widened and that embarrassed look crossed his face. Words tumbled from his mouth, "I don't think…I c-c-certainly don't think it is…because…because of me…" His hooves clicked on the floor as he shuffled his feet uncomfortably, and his hands slid out of Lucy's grip to hang limp at his sides.

Lucy wanted to say something encouraging, but Mr. Tumnus seemed to be trying to find words for his own thoughts, so she kept quiet.

Turning back to the seascape, Mr. Tumnus said, "Well, Lucy, I cannot help but feel I might…" one of his hands wandered up to touch his horn "…deserve this. For being in her pay and all." He winced, and added, almost with a sob, "Each time I see myself in a glass, I shall remember who I was and what I did."

"Please don't talk like that," said Lucy, taking the Faun's arm, rubbing her fingers over it. "Each time I see you, I shall remember you're a very good Faun. The nicest I shall ever meet."

She heard Mr. Tumnus catch his breath, and he looked at her in wonder, as he had the first day they met, when she forgave him for what he'd intended to do with her. Smiling widely at her friend, Lucy continued, "When people write the history of how Peter, Susan, Edmund and I became Kings and Queens of Narnia, I'll make sure they include how Tumnus the Faun risked his own life to save me from the Witch and was always Queen Lucy's dearest friend."

Mr. Tumnus' cheeks turned pink again. This time, however, he was not embarrassed, but only very, very pleased. "You would really tell the historians that, dear Lucy?"

"Of course, silly Faun," Lucy replied. "It's the truth. It happened that way."

The Faun looked down at Lucy's hand, which still clasped his arm. Placing his hand over hers, Mr. Tumnus said, "What care I for horns or history books when Queen Lucy the Valiant speaks so of me?"

"It sounds so strange to be called Queen" Lucy said, reaching up to finger the silver circlet that rested in her hair. "I'm only a little girl."

"Never," said Mr. Tumnus gravely. "You have been Queen Lucy since the moment you came to Narnia from War Drobe."

Though Lucy felt honored – and even a little older – by the compliment he had paid her, she couldn't help but giggle at the latter part of his statement.

"What have I said?" Mr. Tumnus asked, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion and self-consciousness.

"Nothing," said Lucy. "But I suppose I'd better explain to you that War Drobe isn't a city."

"It's not?"

"No. It's a…" she paused, staring up at the ceiling as she tried to think of how to explain a wardrobe to a person who had never seen one. "A wardrobe is a piece of furniture."

"Furniture!"

"Yes, for keeping clothes in."

"Ah," said Mr. Tumnus. "A bureau?"

Lucy shook her head. "You hang clothes up in it."

"Hang them?" Mr. Tumnus stroked his beard. "Dear me, what a marvelous place this Spare Oom is."

Lucy only smiled. She wouldn't spoil Spare Oom for him by explaining it was only a dingy old guest bedroom, in a country that seemed dull and ordinary compared to Narnia.

As her gaze lingered a little on Mr. Tumnus' gold-tipped horns, she supposed any place could be marvelous if there were such friends as Mr. Tumnus to be had there.

The End