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Dearly Beloved	By : songofasiren Category: A through F > Chronicles of Narnia Views: 10161 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Chronicles of Narnia, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-A New Dress
- 2-Tea and Corsets
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Dearly Beloved
"Happiness is the sublime moment you get out of your corset at night."
~Joyce Grenfell~

Lucy skipped along the path to Mr. Tumnus’ dwelling in the side of the mount adjacent to Cair Paravel. He had moved what was left of his belongings into the cave soon after their coronation all those many years ago, after Lucy’s insistence that Lantern Waste was much too far a walk for tea and sardines with a friend.
She fondly thought of all the times they had shared together, her smile brightening as the small wooden door came into view. She cleared her throat loudly and smoothed her hands over the front of her dress, attempting to remove wrinkles she knew did not exist. She heard the faun chuckle from the other side of the door, and yet he allowed her to continue with one of their usual games.
“Oh, dear me,” Lucy began with a worried voice, furrowing her brow. “I seem to have lost my way in the woods while trying to find my dear lost pony. I do hope to find some lovely gentleman home to offer me some tea and toast to calm my frazzled nerves!”
Just as her fingers grazed the shiny doorknocker, Tumnus opened the door. “A lost pony, you say?” he asked, stepping out to turn his head this way and that. “I have seen nothing of the sort, my lady. Are you sure you are not mistaken?”
Tumnus had looked forward to tea time nearly every day for the past ten years. They would tell stories and play make-believe games she had invented, drink tea and eat toast and jam. And Lucy would always come, under the pretense, of course, that she was a mermaid who had suddenly sprouted legs or a dragon hunter with a ironic soft spot for animals.
“I must say, it is not proper for such a fine young woman to be traipsing around the woods. There are some dreadful beasts here in the forest, you know,” he continued, crossing his arms across his chest. Tumnus leaned in toward her, Lucy’s face taking on a purely curious expression. “Talking animals,” he whispered, delighting in her overly-dramatic gasp.
“Some of them even wear clothing! If I were you, I would quickly come inside before one of them gets intrigued by your presence here. Or worse…hungry,” he finished, taking her by the elbow and attempting to usher her inside.
“Oh, I’m afraid I mustn‘t, good sir,” Lucy said abruptly, the corners of her mouth twitching as she suppressed a grin. “You see, I have never made it a practice to take offers, no matter how nice, from strangers.”
Tumnus clucked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “My, my, you’re quite right. This is quite a dilemma.”
Lucy nodded, “I believe so. Whatever shall I do now?”
Suddenly, the faun’s head popped up. “I’ve got it!” he shouted, snapping his fingers before reaching out his right hand as she had taught him to do long ago.
“My name…is Tumnus,” he said with a smile, as genuine as ever.
She laughed, reaching out to grasp his hand and give it the customary shake. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Tumnus. I’m Lucy Pevensie.”
“My dear Lucy Pevensie, won‘t you please come inside for tea and cakes?” he asked, thankful she now allowed him to escort her inside.
“Sweet Mr. Tumnus, I would be delighted,” she said, providing a light curtsy with a flourish of her skirts.
He chuckled once more as he shut the door behind them, seeing her situating herself on the chair in front of the fire.
“You know, with an entrance such as that, it would be unheard of for me to point out your tardiness,” Tumnus said, retreating to the kitchen to bring out the tea tray. “So, I won’t.”
Lucy blushed. “I’m dreadfully sorry,” she said, automatically taking the top off the sugar bowl to prepare his cup. “I would have been here on time, but Mrs. Beaver and Susan insisted that I change out of my new dress before coming.”
Tumnus laughed. “I’m sure it would have been ruined the moment you set foot out of the Cair,” he said, placing two spoonfuls of honey into her cup.
“That is exactly what they said!” Lucy exclaimed, passing him the cup and saucer. “If you weren’t my best friend,” she said, their fingers brushing against one another’s as tea was exchanged, “I might be offended.”
He smiled warmly at her as she began to launch into a very detailed explanation of what her new dress looked like, chiming in with his opinion at the precise moments. Lucy became so animated when she was excited about something, Tumnus noted, and Peter’s wedding was no exception.
“And do you like Lady Cinxia?” he asked, refilling her cup with some freshly brewed tea.
“Well, yes, I…actually,” Lucy paused, a bewildered expression taking over her features. “You know, I‘m not sure. We’ve only met once, and that was at court in Archenland upon our last visit. It was then Peter announced his engagement to her, but we‘ve never really spoken very much.” Lucy wondered if Susan had spoken to their future sister-in-law more in-depth. She and Edmund had been out with Prince Cor and Aravis nearly the entire time, hunting and exploring the surrounding lands.
“I suppose I‘ve been more excited about the preparations for this glorious wedding more than the finality of it all,” she confessed, sipping a bit more tea and relaxing into the softness of the chair.
“Imagining what your wedding will be like?” he asked with a gleam in his eye, knowing she must have at least thought about the fact that she would someday wed.
She scoffed at that, shaking her head rapidly. “Many years will pass before I am deemed ready to marry,” Lucy said with a practiced mimic of Peter‘s low voice. She had heard him say it hundreds of times over the years as suitors came to call on the young queens, and she doubted he would ever truly deem someone worthy enough to take the hand of one of his sisters.
“Even if I were of age, Peter must approve. And he would be more likely to do so once Susan was married,” she said, her voice softer now.
Tumnus nodded silently. He noticed the brief bit of tension grip his chest as she spoke of being married, and chose to let it pass at that moment. Tea time was meant for fanciful things and games between friends.
Besides, it was probably just a bit of indigestion, anyway.
“Speaking of being of age,” Tumnus spoke finally, a large smile settling on his features, “your birthday is quickly approaching.”
Lucy nodded, smiling softly. “That will take care of the of age part, will it not?” she teased, nudging his fur-covered leg with her foot.
To be honest, Lucy hadn‘t paid much attention to the day or month. All she had been concerned with the past few weeks, much like the rest of Narnia, was preparing for the High King’s wedding.
“Eighteen,” she said slowly, rolling the word around in her mouth. “I‘m not so sure I’m ready to be so old.”
Tumnus laughed outright at that. “Do you realize, Lucy Pevensie, that I‘m 138 years old?”
She grinned. “Don’t be silly,” Lucy said with a flick of her wrist. “You don‘t look a day over 86.”
The faun calmly placed his cup and saucer on the table between them. He slowly leaned back in his chair and observed her with squinted eyes. “I do believe,” Tumnus said, nodding slightly, “that those are…what you might call…fighting words, Lucy.”
She gasped, a smile tugging at her lips. “You wouldn‘t dare,” she challenged, quickly putting her cup down as well.
“Oh, wouldn‘t I?” came his reply from the opposite side of the room. Tumnus grinned wickedly as she braced her arms on the sides of the chair, obviously pondering when to launch into her escape route.
“Of course you wouldn‘t,” Lucy said weakly, not even believing her own words. “Because…I‘m your friend…and…” she trailed off, nervously biting her bottom lip.
Tumnus raised one eyebrow in curiosity. “And…?” he asked, leaning in menacingly close to her.
“And…” Lucy continued, her eyes darting around his home before settling on the door.
“Because I‘m too fast for you!” she called over her shoulder, already at a dead sprint down the lane leading to his cave.
He laughed as he followed her in a very quick pursuit which took them through the forest and over the shallow stream under the falls. Lucy ran ahead of him by several steps, but his strong legs were much better at jumping than hers. For three quick hops down the side of the hill landed him many yards ahead of her intended course. Tumnus ducked behind a fallen boulder and waited.
Lucy stopped to catch her breath by the side of the falls, turning a few circles to see if he had caught up with her yet. She stopped breathing altogether a few moments, listening for breaking twigs off in the distance. And yet, she noted with a bit of worry, there was nothing.
“Mr. Tumnus?” she called, wondering briefly whether or not she should retrace her steps to his cave. Luckily, for a certain faun, at least, Lucy had turned her back to his rock.
As quietly as possible, which was rather quiet for someone with hooves, Tumnus crept out from behind his hiding spot with arms outstretched. He grabbed her tightly around the waist, eliciting a tiny squeal of surprise from her. “At your service, my Queen,” he whispered, wasting no time at all in punishing her relentlessly.
At least, it was in the worst way Lucy knew she could be punished.
She screamed and laughed as his fingers skimmed her stomach and sides, trying her best to fight off her friendly attacker. After the passing of what seemed an entire ten minutes of torture, Lucy gave in.
“I‘m sorry, I‘m sorry,” she yelled, the tears streaming down the sides of her face. “I‘d…give you a more specific…apology,” she said breathlessly, clutching a hand to her forehead, “but I‘m afraid…I‘ve forgotten what we were fighting about.”
“Thank Aslan you‘re dreadfully ticklish,” Tumnus said as they finally collapsed into the soft earth, “or else I‘d have no way of subduing you when you got too unruly.”
Lucy laughed, the sound quite shallow due to her gasping lungs. “Funny how I‘m only unruly around you, isn‘t it?” she asked, rolling over onto her side to face him, propping her head up on one hand.
“Oh, yes,” he agreed with a grin, turning to face her the same way. “I so enjoy our skirmishes, Lucy, that I propose you be as unruly as possible.” She laughed and wiped the side of her face.
“Each and every day,” Tumnus added, noticing for the first time that her fingers had become much more slender and delicate looking since he had last taken notice of such a thing. In fact, he thought with a bit of trepidation, many things about Lucy had changed over the past ten years.
Thankfully for him, Lucy spoke before he could declare for certain just what those changes happened to be.
“Feel like a swim?” she asked, pushing herself up to sit at the side of the water. “These are the last few days of summer, you know,” she said, reaching down to untie the sandals she had haphazardly thrown on in her hurry to leave the clutches of Susan and Mrs. Beaver.
Tumnus nodded. “Yes, the cooler days of autumn will bring about great…erm…Lucy,” he paused, realizing that she had already discarded the bodice of her dress and was beginning to untie the laces that secured some seemingly painful garment. “Wh-what are you doing?” he asked, hoping to Aslan that she was merely tightening the tiny bow that used to rest neatly at the small of her back.
“Like I said,” she laughed, “going for a swim.” Lucy crawled over to him and let go of the braided cords. “I’m beginning to wonder what ingenious mind inspired the creation of this contraption in the first place. Would you mind helping?”
He looked down at the grommets and laces before him, the harsh boning encased in the silky fabric seeming to warn him to keep his hands from doing what she asked of him.
Yes, tickling his best friend was one thing.
Undressing the Queen of Narnia, albeit under her direct orders, was definitely something else entirely.
“Uh, help you?” he repeated dumbly, his left index finger tugging gently at the first small crisscross, effectively loosening it.
“Yes, please,” Lucy replied, beginning to take the pins from her hair. The chocolate colored waves began to spill over her shoulders, one by one, and Tumnus was beginning to feel the same pull in his chest as before. She smelled of vanilla and honey, he mused, tugging at the next tiny crisscross at her back.
Surely a side-effect of drinking two spoonfuls of it in every cup of tea the girl put her lips to.
Lucy sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp. It was so sore from all the many pins Hersilia used to keep such elaborate styles. The water would feel heavenly against her flushed skin, she thought, planning to make a point of it to swim each day before the weather turned.
Meanwhile, Tumnus had devised a brilliant plan of distraction. He would calculate, approximately, all the cups of tea Lucy had consumed with him in her lifetime. Three cups a day was her usual, he had assessed, and there were 365 days in a year.
So, logically, that was 1095 cups.
Two years equaled 2190 cups altogether.
Four years made 4380.
Five years, half of their friendship, came to 5475 cups of tea.
He was right in the middle of multiplying by two, only to have his fingers meet the bare skin at the top of her back. Tumnus looked down and saw that he had pulled the laces completely through the small holes.
Every thought of numbers and tea and multiplication were thrown from his mind.
“All done,” he said softly, watching as the material slipped away, leaving only a single layer of white cotton to cover her.
Apparently, his extremities had ideas of their own this afternoon.
“Oh, thank you,” Lucy said, rubbing her stomach and sides without pause. She stood and unfastened the closure of her matching skirt, throwing it on a nearby boulder. Clad in only her thin shift dress and bloomers, she then waded into the water.
“Aren‘t you coming?” she called to him, knee-deep in the cool stream.
Tumnus could barely hear her over both the rushing of the water down the river and the rushing of the blood to his head. “No, no,” he said, knowing instinctively what she wanted anyway. “You go on ahead. I‘ll stay here and wait for you.”
“You will do nothing of the sort, Mr. Tumnus,” Lucy said, placing her hands on her hips. “The water is absolutely wonderful, and I may very well drown if I do not have my best friend to help me stay afloat,” she tempted, backing up further into a deeper part of the stream.
It seemed as if a battle of epic proportions was raging inside of Tumnus’ head. The White Witch had nothing on this one, he thought grimly, trying to avoid the inevitable for as long as possible.
Suddenly, something in him snapped. Lucy was his best friend. They had been close for as long as he could…well…she could remember. They had gone swimming before, and he was positive that they would go swimming again.
Tumnus rose and placed his hooves into the cool water with the resolve that there was nothing different about today.
Although, a tiny voice said from the recesses of his mind, the last time you were swimming together, she was wearing a proper bathing suit. And she was merely a child.
Tumnus froze, realizing that something had changed. Whether it was over the course of several months and obvious to everyone but him, or over the course of that very afternoon and obvious to only him…the faun could not say.
One thing was definitely certain, however.
Lucy Pevensie was no longer a child.
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Dearly Beloved