TRAGEDY AND TRIUMPH

Presenting my second story! This one also centers on Tumnus, and it's basically my theory of what happened to him when the White Witch first took over Narnia, before Lucy and her siblings, and Aslan, came along and everything. Again, this is based more on the movie than the book. (I just can't get enough of James McAvoy in his faun getup!)

A word of warning: there's a lot of serious stuff contained in this story, not a whole lot of humor. For those of you who are sentimental, you may want to have a Kleenex or two handy, just in case.

Story © unicorn-skydancer08 (that would be me!)

All rights reserved.

It was a dark age in the land of Narnia. The evil Jadis, otherwise entitled "the White Witch", had assumed control over all the land, by means of treachery, compromise, and deception.

As a reflection of her icy heart, she placed the land under a powerful spell that forced it into an unmerciful, perpetual winter. All that was good and green in the land was now gone, buried under a broad expanse of stark white snow, and the sweet, life-giving warmth of the sun had been all but extinguished by the cruel, biting chill of winter. The once fruitful trees were barren and desolate, and the once babbling brooks and rivers were locked in rock-solid ribbons of ice. Everywhere you looked, the land was void of all color, void of all life and vitality.

It was a terrible time for the innocent folk of Narnia, who feared they were doomed to remain in this awful state until the end of the world, until they drew their last breath.

There were those who had courage enough to rise up against Jadis, to try to bring her down and put an end to this dreadful curse. But even the strongest and the bravest and the noblest of creatures were no match for her. Anyone who opposed the White Witch ended up in prison—or dead. Death was a mercy, however, compared to being turned to stone, the very worst sentence Jadis could possibly execute. While those who had the misfortune to be turned to stone were not truly dead, yet they were not considered among the living, either.

It was the closest one could come to death, without literally dying. Breathing was no longer essential, and food and drink were no longer a privilege. You saw nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing. You just existed. You were but a simple statue, a mere husk, and nothing more. And the very worst part of it all was that there was no reversing the spell.

Once the spell took effect, you were doomed to remain in your stone prison for eternity.

Our story begins ten years following the day that Jadis first usurped Narnia.

It was a bitterly cold day, as it had always been for the past decade. Anlon the faun was standing quietly in the parlor of his cave, leaning against his mantle, with one cloven hoof tipped up behind him and his forehead resting upon his wrist, gazing meditatively into the fire that burned in the hearth. All was silent, except for an occasional snap of the fire as it crackled away.

Anlon wondered to himself where his young son could possibly be. Tumnus had gone out to purchase some food earlier that afternoon, promising to be back within the hour. It had been nearly three hours now, and he still had not returned. This marked the fourth time this week, as well as the twelfth time this month, that Tumnus was late coming home from some errand, an errand that really shouldn't have required that much time to accomplish. Anlon was beginning to be suspicious of what his son was really up to these days.

Recently, he'd heard rumors of his son meeting up with the Secret Police, or some other ally of the White Witch—or the Witch herself.

At first, Anlon had discarded these rumors as pure rubbish, as nothing more than mere stories conjured by foolish, gossiping creatures attempting to outtalk one another.

But now he was starting to wonder whether there might be any grain of truth to these stories.

Anlon had never favored Jadis. In fact, he would be one of the first to take up arms against her, if a battle ever broke out. He, for one, would be more than willing to thrust a sword through Jadis's black heart. If Tumnus, his very flesh and blood, was indeed in contact with her, Anlon would certainly have something to say about the matter.

A sudden gust of frigid wind interrupted Anlon's thoughts. The old faun looked up in time to see Tumnus himself enter the cave, with an armload of supplies. As his hands were quite full, Tumnus nudged the door shut with his hoof once he was inside. Then he stamped his feet several times on the hard stone floor to discharge the snow that clung to the fur on his legs.

He was just setting his supplies on a table when Anlon spoke to him: "You're late, son."

Tumnus gave a start and wheeled around, clearly astonished to discover his father standing right there.

He and Anlon looked very much alike outwardly, except Tumnus's hair was gold-brown instead of raven-black, and the color of their eyes varied also. In addition to that, the skin on Tumnus's face and bare shoulders was fair, and dotted with a fair number of freckles, while Anlon's skin was a deep, solid tan. Otherwise, the two fauns looked almost exactly the same.

"Oh—Father!" said Tumnus. "I—I didn't realize you were—I—I assumed you were—"

In no mood to hear his son trip over his own tongue, Anlon said coolly, "Where in the name of Aslan have you been all this time, son? I was expecting you home well over two hours ago."

"I'm sorry, Father," Tumnus answered meekly, bowing his head apologetically. "I—I was delayed."

"Delayed? How so?"

Tumnus hesitated for at least a full minute or so, before answering feebly, "Erm…never mind. It was nothing. N-nothing at all."

"Nothing?" Anlon did not care for the sound of his son's tone, nor did he care for the way Tumnus was ambivalently avoiding his face.

"Nothing," Tumnus echoed. "It simply took me longer than expected to obtain the…"

In less time than it takes to blink, Anlon had crossed to the other side of the room, and the next thing Tumnus knew—WHACK!

His father had raised a hand and slapped him straight across the face, using all the strength he could muster. The unexpected blow caused Tumnus to stagger a little. Gasping in pain and shock, Tumnus slowly peered up at his father, raising a ginger hand to his throbbing cheek as he lifted his face, his eyes wet and glistening with unshed tears.

In a voice that was almost inaudible, he asked, "What have I done to deserve that?"

"How dare you lie to your own father!" Anlon growled at him. "How dare you insult me with your deceit! You have such nerve, boy!"

"Father…" Tumnus began, but Anlon cut him off sharply.

"Don't think I can't see past that innocent façade of yours, boy," he said, taking several forbidding steps forward while he spoke, forcing his son to step back at the same time. "I know you're up to something, and I know you've been keeping something from me. And I demand that you tell me, here and now, just what that something is at once, and be quick about it; or, so help me, Tumnus, there will be the devil to pay!" He'd now backed his son clear up to the wall, and Tumnus cowered slightly beneath his father's intense glare.

Tumnus had always been greatly intimidated by Anlon, especially when Anlon was angry.

Yet there was a small streak of defiance in the younger faun at the same time. "What concern is it of yours, what I do with myself?" he asked, with a slight yet noticeable hint of boldness in his voice. "In case it hasn't occurred to you, Father, I am no longer a child. I know how to look after myself. Why should you care about the things I do?"

"Because I'm your father," Anlon practically spat in his face, "that's why! And you, mister, ought to show me better respect!"

Tumnus's lower lip quivered somewhat, yet he stood his ground.

"I shall ask it again," Anlon continued ascetically. "What have you been up to these days, son? I'll have none of your pathetic excuses. Tell me what you've been doing."

Tumnus said nothing. He started to duck his head, but Anlon reached under his son's goateed chin and forced him to look at him again.

"Tell me!" the elder faun repeated loudly.

Seeing that he had no other choice, Tumnus sighed deeply, and gave in. In the briefest, simplest explanation possible, he told his father how he'd met with Jadis on his way to the market, and how she'd hired him to work for her, promising to pay him good money in exchange for his services. Considering the poverty that he and his father were in, and had been in, for the past several years—and especially considering the fact that Jadis would kill him if he refused—Tumnus had agreed. Anlon couldn't believe his ears.

So the rumors were true!

His son—his own son, of all people—in league with Narnia's greatest enemy—he could not believe it! He absolutely could not believe it; he refused to believe it!

It was the most outrageous thing he had ever heard of, in all his life! "Have you lost your senses completely, boy?" he gasped out loud, when Tumnus was through. "Do you have any idea of what you're getting yourself into? Do you know what that witch has done to Narnia, to our people? And you mean to tell me you're in her employment?"

"What other choice did I have, Father?" asked Tumnus tremulously. "Jadis would have killed me on the spot if I said no to her proposal. And she promised to pay me well. From the way I see it, I'd say it's not a bad bargain. Not only will she leave us in peace if I serve her, but we shall finally have the money we need to live the way we deserve."

"Never!" shouted Anlon, feeling his fury intensifying, like a fire being stoked. "I'll not have it, Tumnus! I'll have no share of this foul money bestowed by a foul witch, and neither will you!"

"But it's ten pieces of silver a month, Father," Tumnus argued. "A real fortune!"

"I don't care if Jadis pays you a thousand!" Anlon shot back. "I'd rather be penniless altogether, than live on blood money from a scheming, hypocritical, murderous demon!"

"Maybe that's what she truly is," said Tumnus grimly, "but she still reigns over the land, Father. She still holds the power over our lives. And I, for one, am not going to sit around and let myself get butchered like a sheep."

"So, you're teaming up with that cold-hearted heathen in order to save your own skin." Anlon shook his head in deep disgust. "You're a disgrace, Tumnus! You're a disgrace to me, to our family, to all of Narnia; above all else, you're a disgrace to Aslan himself!"

At the mention of Aslan, Tumnus shook his own head in exasperation and groaned, "Oh, Father, not this again."

"Aslan is as real as you or I, boy," said Anlon obdurately, knowing full well that his son didn't believe in the existence of the celebrated Aslan, the Great Golden Lion (or simply the Great Lion), as he did. "One day, he will come, and put an end to this madness once and for all!"

"How do you know that?" Tumnus demanded. "You've never even seen Aslan!"

"No, I have not, but just because something can't be seen with the naked eye doesn't mean it's not there!"

"I don't believe it, Father. Unless I see this Aslan for myself, unless I can view him with my own eyes, and touch him with my own hands, I cannot believe in him." Tumnus paused a brief moment, before he pressed on determinedly, "Even if Aslan were real, why hasn't he stopped Jadis by now? Why hasn't he revealed his 'almighty presence' already?"

"It is not our place to decide when Aslan does or doesn't come!"

"And if Aslan cares so much about us," said Tumnus, his voice rising significantly in volume and passion, "then why does he allow us to suffer like this? If he loves us so much, why does he leave us to our squalid misery? How can we trust in him, when he's not even there for us?"

"Aslan is fully aware of our needs! You have no right to judge him or criticize him!"

Tumnus shook his head again. "There is no Aslan, Father. He's nothing more than a load of superstitious nonsense, a mere figment invented by a bunch of hopelessly deluded fools."

"So, you're saying that I'm a hopelessly deluded fool." There was an ominous edge to Anlon's voice, and his eyes blazed like the fire blazing in the hearth.

Realizing what he'd just said, Tumnus immediately paled.

"N-no, Father, I—I didn't mean it that way," he stammered. "I didn't mean that you—I—I only meant—"

For one terrible moment, he feared that his father would smite him. When Anlon lifted his hand into the air, as if to indeed deliver a severe blow on the spot, Tumnus immediately hid his face in the crook of his arm and cowered like a frightened whelp before the elder faun. But then Anlon allowed his hand to drop back to his side.

He stayed where he was and glared down at his pitiful son for a minute longer; if looks could kill, Tumnus would certainly have been a dead faun by that time.

After what seemed like forever, Anlon at last turned away from his son and stormed off to his bedroom, without another word.

Tumnus dared to look up when he heard his father's hoofbeats on the floor, and he watched Anlon leave the room, knowing that he'd badly offended him.

He wanted to rush after his father then and there, to take back his words and plead for Anlon's forgiveness. Yet, strangely, his hooves remained glued to the spot, and no proper words found their way to his tongue. He could only stand where he was, and watch his father walk away. Moments later, he winced at the deafening slam of Anlon's bedroom door.

Now left to himself, Tumnus trudged gloomily into the parlor, feeling unusually worn out and weary, as though someone had drained him of all his strength. Without bothering to remove the red wool scarf wrapped around his neck and shoulders, the younger faun sank into the nearest chair and buried his head in his hands. In spite of the heat emanating from the fire, he trembled all over, as if he were trapped outside in the bitter cold. Why did it always have to be like this, he thought to himself? Why did he and his father always have to be at such odds with one another? Why was it they could hardly get through a single conversation without butting heads? If only his mother were alive, to help balance everything out.

But his mother was gone, and had been for many years. She, too, had believed firmly in this so-called Aslan, had shared in Tumnus's father's unremitting faith in the Great Lion.

And what good had come to her?

Deep in his heart, Tumnus secretly wished he could believe in this Aslan, also.

But he couldn't. He just didn't feel the same way about such things as his parents did.

It was hard to accept something that he'd never seen or heard or felt before in his life as true. Tumnus hated having such doubts, but that didn't stop them from coming.

And, of course, the young faun knew full well what the White Witch was like, the things she was capable of. But he knew he couldn't back down now.

These days, you were either with Jadis, or against her; anyone who was against her faced consequences almost too horrible to imagine.

Tumnus had never had the same kind of courage that his father possessed, and as he'd mentioned to Anlon earlier, he couldn't just sit around and allow himself to be slaughtered. As long as Jadis was queen, as long as she ruled over Narnia, Tumnus was going to do everything he could to protect himself and stay alive—even if it meant being her slave.

That same evening, while Tumnus pored over a book, trying to take his mind off what had been said and done that day, Anlon at long last emerged from his room. Only this time, the elder faun had his deep blue traveling scarf wrapped securely about his neck, and he had a large traveling bag slung over one shoulder. The bag bulged with supplies and belongings.

Tumnus looked up when he heard the clip-clop of his father's hooves. Anlon simply walked past his son, without so much as a sideways glance, as if Tumnus weren't there at all.

"Where are you going, Father?" Tumnus asked bewilderedly.

"Away from here," was all Anlon said. He did not reveal his face while he spoke, but his words sounded clipped to Tumnus's ears.

Realizing what his father meant, Tumnus promptly launched himself to his hooves.

"Father, wait!" he cried frantically, extending a beseeching hand in the elder faun's direction. "Don't go! Please, don't leave me!"

But Anlon headed for the door anyway, acting as though he hadn't heard.

Tumnus swiftly rushed to catch up with him. Just as Anlon was reaching out to open the door, Tumnus caught him by the elbow.

"No!" Tumnus protested. "No, Father—you can't do this to me! I'm your son!"

"You are no son of mine," said Anlon indifferently. "Not anymore." His concise words pierced Tumnus's heart like a knife.

Tumnus felt hot and cold all over at the same time, he felt sick to his stomach—as though someone had kicked him brutally in the gut—and his vision blurred as his eyes filled with tears. Anlon shrugged himself free, and was soon out the door and heading off into the night. Tumnus stood alone in the open doorway and called out desperately, "Father, come back! Father!"

His father paid him no heed, only increased his stride so as to go faster. Not another word did he speak, and not once did he look back.

"I'm your son!" Tumnus all but wailed at the top of his lungs, his anguished cry resonating throughout the dark, wintry woods like the cry of a ghost. "I'M YOUR SON!"

But Anlon kept going, and was soon gone altogether from Tumnus's sight.

Even after his father had disappeared, Tumnus stayed where he was, oblivious to the biting cold around him, ignorant of the flakes of snow that swirled in the rising wind. He stared long and hard into the trees, hoping and praying fervently in his heart that his father would change his mind and come back to him.

Yet Anlon did not return.

At last Tumnus sank to his knees, grief weighing down his whole being like a rock.

"Father," he moaned one last time to the darkness, his voice breaking with despair, feeling his own heart break right down the middle.

The tears that had pooled in his eyes now spilled forth and flooded down his cheeks, without restraint, and the heartbroken faun covered his face with his hands and wept bitterly.