Aslan's Little Helper

She's so... fascinating. Tumnus has been keeping her company for a few hours now.

It's sad, really. Tumnus was once a good faun. He loved Aslan, and would have fought for him to the death.

Now he's on the White Witch's payroll.

How he could swear allegiance to that monster, I'll never know. She is the reason for this never-ending winter, for heaven's sake.

I was quite the strapping young lad in my day, Mrs. Beaver could tell ye that. But these old beaver bones can't take much more o' this.

Every morning I'm greeted to consciousness by the ache o' arthritis, brought on by the cold. Mrs. Beaver feels sorry for me, and hates what I go through, but she can't do nothing for it.

This winter is different than that which we were accustomed to as kits. It's almost as if this cold seeks the places where it could do harm, and runs for 'em.

This cold can only be taken away by One. Aslan.

I first heard her when she was standing by the lamppost, and she slipped and cried out. Then Tumnus was there, before I could do a thing.

I followed them to his house, and watched from a distance.

They're having tea now.

My stomach grumbles as I watch him pour the rich brown liquid. Oh, what I wouldn't do for a hot cup o' tea right now. Tumnus always did make a mean cup o' tea.

Part o' me wants to go home right now to Mrs. Beaver, and her honeysuckle tea, but I can't. Not yet. I've got to protect this little girl.

I know the Prophecy. And so does She. That's why She has any o' the woodland animals on her payroll at all.

The deal is, if anyone were to come by a Son o' Adam, or a Daughter o' Eve, they're supposed to turn it over to Her.

The Prophecy has replayed itself in my mind many times over as the years 'ave gone by.

I first heard it when my father took me and my brothers on his knee when we were children, and read to us from the old storybooks, written by our very own ancestors.

There was something about them that tugged on my soul from the first word that was uttered.

We'd be enraptured, listening to the old tales of Aslan leading his army to battle, and coming out victorious. Of how it was a young, human, boy and girl that first let the Witch out of her prison.

She was from another world, they said. Rumor had it that She said a magic word, and everyone in her world died that very instant. Then She set herself up in a magic spell that the young boy accidentally broke. Then She stole along with the children when they made their way to Narnia, and Aslan told them they had to go and find a special tree that has magical powers and bring its fruit to Aslan. And after they did so, Aslan used it to banish the Witch for a time.

And not long after that story, my father would read us the Prophecy.

Every time he read it, it was as if it was the first time. For me, anyway. It would seem as if time stopped, and the whole wood held its breath to hear the words.

He would take a deep breath and I swear his voice would deepen a bit.

When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone

Sits at Cair Paravel in Throne,

The Evil Time will be Over and Done

It still gives me shivers to think of it.

At the time, we didn't know what the "evil time" would be, but even then, I knew that I would do everything in my power to help the Prophecy be fulfilled.

The Prophecy would go on to say that it would be two Sons o' Adam, and two Daughters o' Eve, and that they would rule Narnia wisely and justly.

Those words would fill me with such hope.

But then She returned.

She threw the whole wood into chaos. Some of the animals turned to her side. Most didn't. And we regretted it. She made the lives of those who opposed her miserable.

But we found a way. We dug secret tunnels, we came up with secret codes. We trusted only each other. And we're getting by.

Until now.

Now Tumnus has a Daughter o' Eve in his house and I can't do a thing about it yet. I can only hope that he'll realize how young she is, and take pity on her. Show her mercy.

But if he doesn't, I'll be ready. I'll sit here for hours, days if need be, to keep her safe.

Unfortunately, no matter what he decides, the Witch likely already knows she's here. Even some o' the trees are on her side.

Where's that music coming from? I wonder.

Then I realize. Tumnus is playing her a Narnian lullaby. One that will put her to sleep no matter what she has to say about it.

Quickly, I cover my ears. I still hear it. Grimacing, I take some snow in my paw and stuff my ears with it. The cold gives me a headache, but it's worth it. I can't fall asleep. That little girl needs me.

A few minutes later, Tumnus stops playing. I immediately wipe the snow from my ears and get ready to attack.

I see him stand, and just stare at her for a moment. Then he moves to gather his scarf and umbrella. He stills when he puts his hand on the doorknob. He looks back at the girl for a long moment. I see now that she's out cold.

He sighs. With sobs bubbling out of him, he puts his scarf and umbrella away, and sits on the floor against the wall opposite to the girl. I relax. A bit.

After a while, I see that he's not going anywhere. Good. Neither am I.

When the girl finally wakes up, he confesses all to her, and he promises to help her find her way back home. I follow them. He does what said he will.

She leaves the way she came, and Tumnus goes home. I stand there for a bit, by the lamppost, unsure what to make of what I've just seen. He was going to turn her in, I'm sure of it. But he didn't.

I guess he hasn't fully lost himself after all.

I saw a glimpse of the old Tumnus tonight. I liked it. And I think he did too.