Faith In Aslan

Presenting my third story! What you’re about to read is a story that I hold especially dear. I hope you will take as much pleasure in reading this, as I did in writing it.

Tumnus, who was sitting in his special armchair next to the fire with an open book in his hands, looked up upon hearing the timid little voice that spoke to him.

His young son, Puck, was standing directly before him, clutching his favorite blanket in one hand and sucking the thumb of his other hand.

“Hello, son,” Tumnus said, closing his book and setting it carefully aside on a small table. “A little past your bedtime, isn’t it?” Noticing the look of fear and anxiety on the little faun’s face, he became very concerned and asked, “Are you all right?”

“I had a scary dream, Papa.” Puck’s voice quivered, and he looked like he was ready to cry.

“Awww.” Opening his arms sympathetically to the lad, Tumnus beckoned, “Come here, son.”

Puck immediately made a beeline to his father, and Tumnus scooped him off the floor and gathered him gently into his furry lap. Puck closed his eyes tightly and buried his head in his father’s warm neck, whimpering like a terrified lamb. Tumnus wrapped his arms securely around the little one and leaned back in his chair, so that Puck now lay on his chest.

“There, there,” he soothed, patting Puck lightly on the back and ruffling his blonde curls. “It’s all right, son…it’s all right…I’m here…”

He held his son in his arms for a few minutes, whispering words of comfort into his ear, and when Puck slowly began to calm down, Tumnus stood up on his hooves and carried the lad back to his room.

He laid Puck very gently upon the soft mattress and tucked him in, but as he stood to leave, Puck seized hold of his hand and implored, “Don’t leave me, Papa. Please, don’t leave me!” His plea touched Tumnus’s heart, and Tumnus obligingly sat down on the edge of the bed. No sooner was he properly seated than Puck impetuously crawled back into his father’s lap and clung fiercely to him, as if he never wanted to let him go.

Tumnus’s arms and heart sagged with the precious weight of his son.

“I’m afraid, Papa,” Puck mumbled into his father’s chest.

“Now, really, Puck, it was only a dream,” Tumnus assured him.

“It’s not just that,” his son protested, gazing up earnestly into his face, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m afraid of scary things happening, for real. I’m afraid that a wolf will get me when I’m playing in the woods, or that something will come after me in the dark while I’m asleep, or that something really, really bad will happen to you, or…”

Puck spent a good five or ten minutes or so relating a long list of childish fears to his father, growing increasingly agitated as he pronounced each phobia.

Tumnus could understand his son’s concerns. He remembered being afraid when he himself was a child—afraid of things that he really had no control over. And he remembered his mother telling him one time, when he was somewhere around Puck’s age, that Aslan was watching over him, that the Great Lion was always there to protect him.

“As long as Aslan is there, my son, you will never be truly alone.”

“Will he always be there, Mama?”

“Of course he will, dear heart. Even when you can’t see him, he’ll be there. He’ll always be there to love you, and to guide you. Never forget that, son.”

When Tumnus was very young, he had believed his mother. But then, as he grew older, he came to strongly doubt whether Aslan truly existed, let alone whether Aslan truly cared.

Now that he had actually seen Aslan, and spoken to him face-to-face, and had touched him with his own hands and beheld him with his own eyes, Tumnus repented of ever harboring such misgivings, and he knew he would never doubt the Great Lion again.

“…Or, I’m afraid that the White Witch will come back and turn me to stone,” Puck rambled on, his voice now cracking like a piece of fragile glass, “or…or…”

At last Tumnus placed a forefinger over the boy’s lips to silence him. “Shhh,” he whispered mildly. “That’s enough, son. I understand perfectly that you’re frightened.”

A single tear rolled down Puck’s rosy cheek, which Tumnus brushed away with his thumb.

“I’m sorry, Papa,” said Puck timorously. “I wish I were brave…like you.”

Tumnus had to smile somewhat at that last part; he couldn’t help himself.

“It’s all right, Puck,” he said benevolently, shifting his son’s weight a little while he spoke. “It’s perfectly all right to be afraid. There are plenty of times when I get scared myself.”

“Really?” Puck gave his father a somewhat astonished look.

“Of course. Everyone in the whole world gets scared every now and again, whether they like to admit it or not. And I’m no different.” Tumnus paused a brief moment before continuing, “And do you know what I do, when I’m afraid?”

“What do you do, Papa?”

“I remember what your grandmother told me once when I was your age, that Aslan is watching over me, that he is always with me, and that he loves me and cares about me. Sometimes, when I’m alone, I say a prayer, asking the Great Lion to help me, and I don’t feel so lonely or so afraid anymore.”

“Really?” Puck asked a second time.

“Yes,” said Tumnus with an affirming nod.

“Does it really work?”

“Works every time, son. I have never been let down.”

“Does Aslan really hear you?”

“He sure does. You’d be surprised at just how well he can hear.”

“And is he really there?”

“He is always there, Puck, even when we can’t see him. He never truly leaves us alone.”

Puck hesitated for a minute before asking the most profound question of all: “Does…does Aslan love me, Papa?”

Tumnus caught his breath at the inquiry, and he had to take a moment to collect himself. With tears shimmering in his eyes, and in a voice quivering with powerful emotion, he answered, “Yes, my son. Yes, Aslan does love you—even more than I do, as a matter of fact.”

The notion that the Great Lion’s love for him exceeded even that of his father’s love astounded Puck. “Wow,” the little faun whispered in awe. “He must love me a whole lot!”

“Of course, son,” said Tumnus thickly. “He loves you, he loves me…he loves everyone, no matter how big or small they are; regardless of whether they walk on two legs or four, or whether they be man or beast. Aslan’s love for us is pure and perfect, and knows no boundaries or limitations.”

“Do you really believe that?”

A stray tear rolled down Tumnus’s face. “Yes, Puck. I truly believe that, with all my heart.” He felt the muscles within his throat constrict as he realized just how much he actually meant what he was saying.

Puck said no more for a time. He sat very quietly on his father’s lap, while Tumnus idly rocked the child back and forth and picked lightly at his blonde curls.

When Puck finally spoke again, he asked, “Will you help me say a prayer to Aslan, Papa?”

“I’d be honored, son.”

So Puck slid off his father’s lap and got down on his knees next to his bed. Tumnus joined him.

It was a short, rather simple prayer they offered to Aslan, but it was the most sincere one Tumnus ever remembered hearing or giving in his life. And when they were through and Puck opened his eyes, he felt a tingly warmth enfold him. He felt just the way he did when his father wrapped him in his favorite blanket and cuddled with him alongside the fire in the parlor. All of his fears were swept away, and he felt calm and peaceful.

It was as if Aslan were in the very room with them, that very moment.

When Tumnus picked his son up and laid him down once more on the mattress, nestling Puck’s head deftly against the sea of pillows, Puck was feeling quite pleasantly drowsy, and his eyelids were already beginning to droop. Tumnus could tell he was going to sleep very well the rest of that night.

“Papa?” Puck said softly, just before he drifted off to sleep.

“Yes?”

“Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?”

Tumnus smiled and answered tenderly, brushing Puck’s hair back from his face, “Of course I will, my son.” He resumed his seat on the edge of the bed, holding Puck’s small baby-soft hand delicately between his own giant, callused ones.

Puck smiled tiredly at his father, and eventually his lids drifted shut, and his breathing soon became deep and even.

When Tumnus was sure his son was asleep, he dragged the heavy quilt over his son’s body, tucking it under Puck’s chin to ensure warmth; then he bent down, so that his own gold-brown hair brushed against the lad’s face, and kissed his boy on the forehead. After straightening his posture, he rested his palm against Puck’s cheek and gazed upon his angelic face for a time, feeling an odd combination of tenderness and sorrow and fear in his heart.

He loved his son so much; Puck meant everything in the world to him. Yet Tumnus worried greatly about what the future held for his boy. His son was not going to be a little youngling forever, after all. In time, Puck was going to have to face the world alone, and be accountable for his own choices.

He looked so pure and innocent, lying there—but how long would that innocence last?

Choking back the fresh tears that threatened to spill forth, Tumnus took hold of Puck’s hand once again and pressed it against his own forehead, closing his eyes in earnest.

Without actually moving his lips, he prayed fervently that his son would not make the same mistakes he himself had made, that Puck would not walk the same dark path he himself had once walked, that his dear boy would not fall into the same trap he himself had once fallen into.

Give us both strength, Aslan, Tumnus supplicated. Give us both the faith and courage we need to face the troubles of life, and forgive us when we falter. Forgive us, and help us. Dear Aslan, don’t let my son be led astray, as I once was. Please, please don’t let him be blinded by doubt and confusion. Help him to see clearly, help him to understand, and keep him safe.

THE END

Puck © unicorn-skydancer08

Story © unicorn-skydancer08