ABSOLUTION

Surprise! Another chapter! Are you excited? I sure am. With luck, this story will be completed somewhat soon. We only got a couple more chapters after this; it's a fairly short story.

You will be glad to know that this is the chapter where Tumnus finally has a change of heart. This is where we reach that pivotal point. I've been totally itching to write this part since the very beginning, and now that I finally have, I can only hope and pray that I've done it well, that I haven't let my loyal readers down. Be sure to let me know what you think of this, and please try to be kind in your reviews, if you would be so kind.

Reviews are like icing on cake: they're not absolutely essential, but they're most definitely a nice touch.

For the record, Sir Giles Fox is not the original name of the fox, as I'd thought it was. The name was actually invented by elecktrum. I'd seen other people use that name in their Narnia stories, and I just naturally assumed that was his true name. I wasn't intentionally ripping elecktrum off, but I spoke to her about this and she's cool with it.

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

Story © unicorn-skydancer08

All rights reserved.

"Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you."

~ Colossians 3:13 (NIV)

"To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you."

— Lewis B. Smedes

PART 4

How long Tumnus sat slumped at his desk with his hands pressed to his face, he had no way of knowing. It could have been hours, minutes, perhaps only seconds, and he neither knew nor cared about the difference.

The faun felt as if his heart were being torn two ways. Part of him was still adamant about withholding forgiveness from Edmund, about refusing to let his hate and hurt go. Yet the other, wiser part knew he couldn't go on like this.

If Tumnus was being completely truthful with himself, he didn't like the way he was feeling. He didn't like the creature he had become. He didn't like being so angry and bitter all the time. Bitterness was indeed a poison, like they said; already, Tumnus could feel it sickening him. Part of him wanted to sincerely forgive Edmund, to let it all be water under the bridge, yet for some reason his pride kept getting in the way.

Every time the very thought of forgiving the boy came to mind, his pride would rise up like a solid wall.

Tumnus sighed heavily, shaking his head morosely from side to side. "What am I to do?" he groaned into his palms.

The words his friends had spoken to him earlier resounded in his head, over and over, like the ominous tolls of a bell. He recalled what Beaver had said: "Only you can make the ultimate decision."

Then there was Sir Giles: "When I think poisonous thoughts about Edmund, when I go around despising him, longing to see him suffer, how am I any better off than he is?"

But it was Oreius's words that truly struck home: "You think Edmund ought to be punished forever for his alliance with the Witch, while you get off scot-free?"

Tumnus thought his skull would split from all this serious thinking. Feeling restless, the faun stood up once more and went for another little stroll around the castle.

As if with a mind of their own, his legs carried him outside, to one of the royal courtyards, where a good many apple trees grew. Tumnus selected a solitary spot in a cluster of trees, where he stood the smallest chance of being disturbed. Quietly, he settled onto the soft grass and leaned forward, letting his hairy arms rest against his hairy haunches. Once more he sighed, and rubbed his unshaven face wearily with both hands.

Though he didn't want to think about it, it was impossible to drive his current situation from his mind, least of all from his heart. Was Oreius right? When it came to siding with the White Witch, did Tumnus honestly think that he was better than Edmund, that he could get off the hook while Edmund suffered the consequences of his actions? True, their situations with the Witch had been different—or had they?

Beyond that, could Tumnus truly forgive Edmund for what he had done? What good would that do, if any? When Tumnus turned the boy down that afternoon, when he was giving him the cold shoulder in the Cair these last few weeks, he'd felt entirely justified, so certain that he was in the right. But now…now he wasn't so sure anymore. It was like trying to find the solution to a riddle more complex and tangled than he originally expected.

"Aslan." Tumnus did not even realize it when the sacred name passed from his lips.

Yet the next thing he knew, there was a soft golden glow beside him, even though the sun had nearly disappeared beyond the horizon, and a voice as mighty as the sea and as gentle as a caress addressed him:

"Tumnus, my child."

With a start, Tumnus jerked his head around to discover the Great Lion himself perched alongside him, his long tail curled docilely around his front paws. Their shoulders barely touched. Aslan's sleek hide gleamed luxuriously in spite of the increasingly dimming light, while his opulent mane shone like the purest gold. His deep, tawny eyes seemed to penetrate Tumnus's very soul.

For a moment, Tumnus couldn't move, couldn't speak, could scarcely so much as breathe. When at last he found his tongue, he could just barely stammer, "Aslan."

Aslan tipped his head in acknowledgment. "Yes, my son. I am here."

Tumnus marveled at the way Aslan spoke to him: not loudly, curtly, or condescendingly, as if the faun were a child or a simpleton. Rather, his voice only emanated pure warmth, patience, thoughtfulness—and love.

It was indeed like a father addressing his son.

"I sense there is something troubling you, young faun," said the Lion softly, "a burden that weighs heavily on your heart."

Tumnus knew it would do no good to even try to hide it. Nor could he respond with sarcasm or spite; somehow, he found it impossible to pick a quarrel with Aslan.

Also, he had a queer feeling that Aslan had a perfect knowledge of what had been going on between him and Edmund, yet he wanted to hear it from Tumnus's own lips.

Aslan had a way of getting others to talk without threatening them or laying so much as a claw on them. So while Tumnus heaved out a long, jaded sigh and hung his head, he did not hesitate. "It's Edmund, sir. I—I don't know what to do about him. I can't stand the sight of him, yet I can't stand the way I feel toward him, either. I feel like he's unfit to be our King. I feel like he doesn't belong here, or anywhere. What he did to me—to us all—"

"I know what he did to you," Aslan cut in gently. "Your sufferings have truly been great. Time has yet to heal the wounds. The wounds of the heart are much deeper and slower to mend than those of the flesh."

Tumnus nodded bleakly.

"As terribly as you have been hurt," Aslan continued, "does it hurt any less to nurture a grudge? Does bearing anger and hostility make the wounds heal any faster?"

"No," was all Tumnus could find to say.

"You don't think Edmund is capable of receiving mercy." When Tumnus remained silent, Aslan lowered his voice significantly. "Should I not have had mercy on you, then?"

Tumnus felt these words catch onto his heart. Stunned, at a loss for words, the faun could only stare at the Lion, looking as one who had been struck dumb.

"Was there not a time when you stood before me," Aslan asked him, "frightened, desperate, yearning for my pity? Yet I took pity on you…as I also took pity on Edmund."

Now Aslan had Tumnus's full attention. The faun remained utterly motionless; he couldn't have moved if he'd wanted to. He still couldn't speak, and any words he might have had were inadequate anyway.

Aslan gazed pensively ahead, almost like he was gazing into another realm. Though the Lion's voice was neither loud nor harsh, though he didn't sound remotely angry, what he said next pierced Tumnus as deeply as though someone drove a two-edged sword directly through him: "All creatures are sinful, Tumnus. There is no one in Narnia, no one who has ever lived or will ever live in this world—or the worlds beyond—who is without spot or blemish. Yet I love them all just the same, as my Father loves them. Every soul is precious to me. So precious, in fact, that I was willing to give my life on the Stone Table, to suffer untold pain and humiliation to appease the demands of the Deep Magic, so that all may have an opportunity to be forgiven of what they've done wrong."

Tumnus's heart started beating faster. His stomach tightened. His legs trembled, and he would surely have fallen to the ground had he not already been sitting.

"I let the Witch take me in Edmund's stead," Aslan continued, as quietly and serenely as ever. "I allowed my own blood to be shed on his behalf. I did it because I loved him…and if I had to do it all over again, I would make the same choice. I would gladly die a thousand times, Tumnus, if it meant you and Edmund and all my other children would live."

Tears welled up in Tumnus's eyes, making Aslan and the rest of his surroundings go blurry.

"While it is true that Edmund's sins are great, he has sincerely repented of them, and I have just as sincerely forgiven the young Son of Adam. Who are you, then, to condemn?"

Those last words were all it took to completely shatter Tumnus.

It was as if someone had opened a spigot in him and drained him of all his ill feelings. Any pride he'd had now lay shattered in pieces. It was as if a veil had been lifted from his eyes, and he saw what he'd refused to see before.

Now it was the faun's turn to feel shame.

If someone as great as Aslan could forgive Edmund, who was Tumnus to think he knew any better? Was he truly so wicked a creature as to make a total mockery of the Lion's love and sacrifice?

That was about as low as it went, if not lower.

For the first time, it really struck Tumnus how blind he had been, how foolish. Guilt such as he never would have believed possible smote him, threatening to crush him with its awesome weight. His tears broke out onto his face, soaking his skin in no time. Unable to look at Aslan, he dropped his face into his hands and began to weep like a child. His whole frame heaved and shook with the intensity of his barely suppressed sobs.

Aslan stayed with him the whole time he wept. There were so many other things the Lion could have said, but he didn't say them. There was no need.

"Oh, Aslan," Tumnus choked out at one point, face still hidden, "Aslan…forgive me." No sooner had he given utterance to this plea than the faun felt the sharp sting of reproach.

What right did he have to ask for Aslan's forgiveness? How could he expect to be forgiven when he had gone out of his way to deny forgiveness?

"It is not my forgiveness alone you must seek, my son," Aslan answered quietly. "You know what it is you must do to truly set things right."

By the time Tumnus managed to get some hold of himself, when he at last opened his eyes and lifted his head again, Aslan was gone. There was not a trace of him to be seen, no sign that he was ever there in the first place.

For just a moment, Tumnus wondered whether his encounter with the Lion had been real, but his heart knew the truth.

He also knew what it was he needed to do. He had put it off for so long…far too long. He only hoped and prayed it wasn't too late now. Slowly, somewhat unsteadily, he climbed to his hooves, taking a moment to brush off his legs and wipe his tear-streaked face, trying to make himself a little more presentable. He closed his eyes, drew in several slow breaths, and began to tentatively make his way back to the castle.

It was virtually all he could do to place one hoof in front of the other. More than once, he was sorely tempted to drop the whole thing, to turn tail and run away. But he braced himself and kept going.

Just as he was coming into the castle, he ran into Lucy, who had been looking for him for the last hour or so. "Mr. Tumnus—there you are!" said the girl when she saw him, looking and sounding both relieved and worried.

She was just about to tell him she needed to speak with him when he asked, "Where is Edmund?"

She looked at him skeptically. "What?"

"I must speak with your brother, right now if possible. Do you know where I may find him?"

"Why?" Lucy was afraid to ask. "What are you going to do with him?"

"That is between him and me." Seeing the girl's almost terrified expression, Tumnus gently reassured his little friend, "Don't worry, Lucy. Everything is going to be all right."

Inwardly, he added, At least, that's my hope.