Faith In Aslan

"Papa?"

Tumnus, who was sitting in his special chair, next to the fire, with an open book in his hands, looked up upon hearing the timid little voice that addressed him. His young son, Puck, was standing directly before him. He was clutching his favorite blanket in one hand, and sucking the thumb of his other. "Hello, son," Tumnus said, closing his book and setting it 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, his brows knit in an expression of concern. "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 child, Tumnus beckoned, "Come here, son."

Puck immediately made a beeline to his father, and Tumnus scooped him off the floor and gathered him into his furry lap, blanket and all. Puck shut his eyes tightly and buried his head in the warm crook of his father's neck, whimpering like a terrified lamb. Tumnus wrapped his arms securely around the little faun and leaned back in his chair, so that Puck 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 gentle words of comfort into his ear.

When Puck slowly began to calm down, Tumnus stood up and carried the little faun back to his room. He laid Puck down very gently on the soft mattress and tucked him in.

But just as he was about to leave, Puck seized him impetuously by the hand. "Don't leave me, Papa. Please, don't leave!" His plea touched Tumnus's heart, so Tumnus sat down quietly on the edge of the bed. No sooner was he properly seated than Puck 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 bright blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I'm afraid of scary things happening, for real. I'm afraid that a wolf will get me while 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 and Mama, or…"

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

Tumnus understood how his son felt. He remembered being afraid when he was a child himself—afraid of things that he had no control over.

And he remembered his mother telling him one time, when he was 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 shall 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 be there to guide you, and to love you. Never forget that, son."

When Tumnus was very young, he believed his mother.

But as he grew older, he came to doubt, quite strongly, whether Aslan truly existed, let alone whether Aslan truly cared. Now that he'd seen Aslan and spoken to him face-to-face, now that he'd 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 finger over the boy's lips to silence him. "Shhh," he whispered mildly. "That's enough, son. I understand 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, shifting his son's weight a little. "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 surprised look.

"Of course. Everyone in the whole, wide world gets scared every now and again, whether they like to admit it or not. I'm no different."

Tumnus paused briefly, before he continued softly, "And do you know what I do, when I'm afraid?"

"What do you do, Papa?"

"I remember what your grandmother told me, when I was your age, that Aslan is watching over me. I remember hearing that he is always with me, that he loves me, and that he cares about what I go through in my life. Sometimes, when I'm alone, I say a prayer, asking the Great Lion to help me. After that, I don't feel so lonely, or so afraid, anymore."

"Really?" Puck asked a second time.

"Yes," said Tumnus with a nod of affirmation.

"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, 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, in a voice quivering with powerful emotion, he answered, "Yes, my son. Yes, Aslan does, indeed, love you—even more than I do, as a matter of fact."

The notion that the Great Lion's love for him could exceed even that of his father's love astounded Puck, to no small degree.

"Wow," the little faun whispered in awe. "He must love me a whole lot!"

"Of course, son," said Tumnus thickly. It was all he could do to say the words, without falling completely apart. "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, whether they be man or beast. Aslan's love for us is pure and perfect, and knows no boundaries."

"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 tighten as he realized how much he meant what he was saying.

Puck said no more for a time after that. He sat very quietly on his father's lap, while Tumnus rocked the child back and forth, picking idly 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 onto his knees next to the bed. Tumnus joined him. It was a short, rather simple prayer they offered, but it was the most sincere one Tumnus ever remembered hearing or giving in his life. 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. All of his fears were swept away; he felt calm, and at total peace, as if everything were right in the world.

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

When Tumnus picked his son up and placed him once more onto the mattress, nestling Puck's head deftly against the mound 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 in a hushed voice, just before he drifted off to sleep.

"Yes?"

"Will you stay with me, until I fall asleep?"

Tumnus smiled, and tenderly brushed Puck's hair back from his face as he replied, "Of course I will, son."

He resumed his seat on the edge of the bed, holding Puck's small, baby-soft hand delicately between his giant, callused ones. Puck smiled tiredly at his father.

Eventually, his lids drifted shut, and his breathing grew deep and even. When Tumnus was sure he was asleep, he dragged the heavy quilt over his son's tiny 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 long time, feeling an odd mixture of tenderness, sorrow, and fear in his breast.

He loved his son so much; Puck meant everything in the world to him.

Yet Tumnus often 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, 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. He pressed it against his own forehead, closing his eyes in earnest. Without moving his lips, he prayed fervently that his son would not make the same mistakes he'd made, that Puck would not walk the same dark path, that he would not fall into the same trap.

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