Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Pevensies, Orieus or Tumnus
Unbeta'd. Read at your own risk.
Midsummer's Night Eve Year One
It was the first Midsummer's Eve Dance to be held in 100 years. There would be fauns, dryads, satyrs, nymphs among other various Narnians, wine and dancing under a moonlit sky. There would also be conspicuous coupling.
The warm heavy air of a summer night filled Tumnus' nostrils. It was laced with a light cool breeze that carried with it the smell of promise...Promise that Tumnus would not share. The breeze only reached him through an open window high above the grand council chamber of Cair Paravel. The light from the window had long ago gone dark. If he strained he could hear the faint sound of pipes and drums.
"The former subjects of the White Witch profited from the pain and suffering of all your loyal subjects, Your Majesties," said Regalia, the lioness. "And yet, King Edmund, you suggest that we should engage in a policy of reconciliation. Your Majesties, we need reparations, not reconciliation."
"Edmund," said Peter, his face calm and serene, every inch a king, "Don't you think that a show of strength now would be best? If we offer a policy of reconciliation, our enemies may think us weak."
There were murmurs of assent through the chamber. Tumnus voice was not among them. The skin of his flanks twitched nervously.
Edmund had not assumed the aura of a king yet. He still looked slightly bewildered to find himself wearing a crown. You would never have thought it was this quiet boy who had destroyed the wand of the White Witch and her ability to turn the creatures of Narnia to stone with it. Tumnus suspected Edmund was still haunted by his brief allegiance with the False Queen. Tumnus could readily sympathize.
Edmund began to speak, and Tumnus turned his head and cocked his ears in the direction of the Western King. Even with Tumnus' superior hearing Edmund's voice was almost lost in the large chamber. "I just think...well you know...father said that perhaps if the reparations towards the Gerrys, I mean...the Germans...had not been so harsh that the war...well, the war, I mean the war now...at home...at our other home, would not have begun."
Tumnus' brow furrowed at the reference to the Gerrys and Germ Men -- they must be peoples from Spare Oom, the world from which the four royals had come.
Peter said nothing. Edmund took a deep breath and sat rigidly in his throne. Queen Lucy looked between her siblings and nervously kicked her feet in the air -- they did not meet the floor.
She shot a helpless look in Tumnus' direction. To subject a child to such preceedings as this...Tumnus was filled with sympathy for the girl. Catching her eye he touched the traditional crown of ivy and flowers that she had made him for the Midsummer's Night Dance and winked at her. Then he raised his eyebrows, smiled mischievously, and flicked his ears in rapid succession in a way that always managed to make her laugh for some peculiar reason. This time was no exception.
Tumnus was fairly certain the reason he had been called to this council was to keep the youngest Queen awake. Indeed, it was on her request that he was missing the Midsummer's Night celebrations, but it was the least he could do for the little girl who had made him feel like a good faun again. Stifling a grin Lucy turned her attention to Susan who had just begun to speak.
"I think, Edmund may have a point," said the Gentle Queen.
For the first time Peter took on an air that was less than kingly. He rolled his eyes, tapped his fingers and took a long breath. "Okay, and what do you think Lu?"
Lucy opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it. Looking back to Tumnus she said, "I think that I would like to hear Mr. Tumnus' opinion."
Tumnus felt his eyes go wide and his ears fly forward in surprise. No, that couldn't be right. He was here to amuse the queen, not be an adviser to the council. She was always calling on him to be more than he was. Suddenly aware of all eyes on him he cleared his throat and rose from his chair. He would try not to disappoint her.
"Well..." Tumnus licked his lips. He knew affairs of state only from books. But he knew what it was to be a traitor reformed by kindness, and he knew what it meant to be a friend. "I think if we offer reconciliation there is no assurance that our enemies will become our friends."
There were murmurs through the crowd of agreement -- no wait, that wasn't what he wanted. "However," he said, nervously stamping his hooves for attention. "However...if we threaten them with reparations we definitely will not turn our enemies into friends."
To his surprise there were murmurs of agreement to this too.
"Yes," said Lucy, "Yes, that is right. I understand that." She smiled at him. Tumnus bowed reverently, partially to hide his own smile. Looking up he caught Edmund's gaze. The king was smiling ear to ear and his rigid posture had relaxed.
Tumnus was inspired. "Moreover, we have plenty of opportunities to show strength without seeking reparations. There are still minotaurs loose on the northern steppes, and..." he shuddered, "packs of wolves roaming the Lantern Wastes...there are rumors of them eat--" He stopped himself remembering the youngest King and Queen. "That is to say...They have been attacking free Narnians."
Orieus the centaur spoke up. "The faun speaks truth Your Majesties."
Orieus, the brave, the noble, the honorable...agreed with him? Tumnus felt his back automatically straighten. He stood a little taller.
"We do have many physical threats which to rid ourselves, and plenty of opportunities to show strength. Moreover, if we tend to these threats and attempt to collect reparations, our might will be stretched too thin. To demand reparations, and not enforce their collection would appear doubly weak..."
Tumnus barely heard him. The youngest King and Queen were still smiling at him. Lucy bright and openly. Edmund more shyly and contemplatively.
Through the window came the faint sound of pipes and drums -- sounds that would soon be replaced by murmurs, gasps and moans. But really, he had gone without Midsummer's for 100 years, what was one more year?
* * * *
Midsummer's Night Eve Year Two
The sounds of drums and pipes echoed around Tumnus in the warm Midsummer's Night air as he sat on the large moss covered boulder. He wasn't joining in with the other musicians, it was simply quite impossible with the press of the three cool female bodies around him. Aramis the water nymph, Dilinia the dryad of the willow, and Linea the dryad of the aspen were cooing over the crown of flowers he wore.
"Was that really made for you by the youngest queen?" asked Linea again.
"Yes, she made one for me last year too," said Tumnus remembering the other crown fondly and reverently bowing his head at the mention of Lucy. The bow brought his lips to the level of Linea's breasts. He affectionately reached out with his mouth to suck on one nipple.
Linea giggled. "Queen Lucy is so adorable."
His mouth half filled with perk and pleased flesh, Tumnas expressed his agreement with a hearty, "Yeshhh." Scowling at the slurred word, he suddenly remembering why it wasn't polite to talk with one's mouth full.
"I hear you have been working with King Edmund himself on his Reconciliation Policy," said Dilinia. She was behind him now running her fingers through the fur along his spine in a way that was quite delightful.
Tumnus pulled his mouth away from Linea's breast to reply properly, but replaced it with both hands -- a good fawn was not rude. Rolling her nipples beneath his thumbs he got a grateful moan. Without letting go he turned his head to respond to Dilinia. "Yes, my natural instincts as a..." he blushed, tilted his head and made an apologetic expression. "As a coward, make me a natural diplomat."
Not that Edmund ever called him a coward...and even joking about it made Queen Lucy angry, but these three found it quite amusing -- which was his intent. They giggled at his semi-false modesty, and then Linea thrust her breasts back towards his mouth, Aramis lowered her head to his lap, and Dilinia pressed her softness to his back and began to nibble on his earlobe.
Tumnus lost all thought of further conversation with a happy moan.
So...yes...C.S. Lewis is probably rolling over in his grave.
My first foray into Narnia (I've only written for Star Trek until now – have a look if you like Vulcans…actually…Vulcans, fauns…both have funny ears. Wow, there is a connection!)
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