"Timeless" - Narnian Autumn Writing Challenge - Oneshot Collection

"Remembering"

Word count: 1165

Prompt: Scarf

Notes:

• Thank you so much StorySnippets for being there and for helping with this idea, (the real scarf is safely tucked away💜)

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Humming softly as she folded up her blanket and placed it neatly at the end of her bed, Lucy couldn't keep the smile from growing on her face. Outside her vast window, it looked like the pages of a storybook, snow plummeted fast to the ground and fell into a blissfully white covering, and frosted pine trees lined the ground.

Today was Christmas— and that was already exciting as it was, but, there was a special charm this year, there was something in her chest; in her heart that told her this year was going to be special. She didn't know what it was, but it was magical; and in Narnia, that wasn't uncommon.

"Lu! Are you up?" She heard Susan call from downstairs.

They were probably all waiting for her so they could eat breakfast and then sit around the fireplace and open presents. Like they always did. Even when they were all older, it was a tradition, like many, that they couldn't let go of.

Opening her door, she took one last glance at herself in the mirror since her dress was specially made for today and had all sorts of beautiful details, and then she scurried downstairs, a last-minute package snugly against her chest.

Edmund met her on the stairs, "I was coming up to get you. You're taking forever and I'm starving."

She giggled and patted his shoulder, "Sorry, I guess I slept in. Plus, I watched the snow fall for a while, it was pretty. But let's go."

Nodding earnestly, he led the way downstairs towards the pile of presents, the rest of her siblings, and all of their friends.

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Outside her small window, snow drifted slowly down and covered the ground in barely any blanket of white.

Oh, Merry Christmas to her. Lucy was freezing, and it wasn't a charming freezing. It was the kind where you could scarcely feel your fingers or toes no matter how many blankets you burrowed in.

Since they were poor, heating wasn't an option.

Since they were poor, Christmas wasn't an option.

She sighed and messed with the trim on her sweater, she knew Peter had attempted to make this year's Christmas good, he'd given them each a little something. A piece of candy, a book, or pencils and paper.

It was a sweet gesture, really it was, and she was beyond grateful to have received it. Truly.

But, she remembered so many joyful Christmas' back in London. And so many more in Narnia.

And there were so many gifts given that there were almost too many. A concept hard to grasp right now. Food for their normal life was scarce, a special dinner was out of sight.

Which, was fine. She was good at imagining; she could imagine a huge table practically crammed with hot foods, maybe even a few cakes!

Dreamily, she flipped through the book Peter had gotten her. The pages smelled old and nostalgic and it was beautiful, any book was, but it wasn't what she had wanted.

What she had wanted was the dress she'd seen in the store window, Susan had wanted a dress too, and neither of them had gotten one.

She knew she was only eleven, but a new dress would have been splendid! Even if it was plain, it would have been better than the repeat dresses she wore every day.

Being poor wasn't easy, and she tried her best to have a good attitude, but sometimes, she just wanted to get more than one gift— and on top of that, she wanted to get gifts she'd actually wanted and asked for.

But, she had tried to seem happy when they all opened their gifts. Edmund hadn't. And then she felt bad. Poor Peter was trying his best to work and keep everyone fed and get everyone clothes and then he tried even harder to make Christmas special.

She shouldn't complain. After all, like she'd thought earlier, she could imagine a lot of things very well.

Remembering was something else she could do. The days in London.

With mum, with dad, with warmth and happiness, and presents and gingerbread cookies and hot cocoa that wafted into the air and stained the glass windows in a cloudy texture.

The days in Narnia.

Snowflakes flurrying down and touching their noses as they walked down to the villages. As they explored the world and breathed in the crisp, cool air.

Mr. Beaver always brought over little wood carvings he had made especially for each of them, the detail in his work so endearing.

Mrs. Beaver loved to bake pies and crochet them all a new hat for the next winter.

Oreius was always there to help decorate the tree they'd picked out in the nearby forest.

And the rest of everybody also brought gifts and treats and lots of things.

But she always awaited Tumnus' gifts. He always had something new and unexpected each year.

The gift that stuck with her the most was the one he gave her when it was— unknowingly, her last year in Narnia.

A scarf. Not even the first year she reigned as queen did he give it to her; for some reason, he waited until then. Until that Christmas.

And he'd handed her a package. Brown and simply wrapped, a string tied around to keep everything in place. Like he always did.

Then, as she carefully unwrapped it, inside lay a cream scarf, beautifully created and sure to keep her warm. But something else caught her eye. There was a red string fastened in with all the light-colored yarns. She looked up at him in confusion.

Yet, he urged her to read the letter that had slipped to the side in the package before he would give any explanation.

So, as the snowflakes fell and dusted the new scarf in a light coat of sparkling designs, she read it aloud.

"Lucy, I added a piece of my scarf to yours, that way we can always be together. No matter what world you are in.
Lots of love,
Your best friend,
Tumnus."

She didn't remember how she reacted, what she said, what he said, what she'd even given him in return. But she did always remember the smell of that scarf, and the smile on his face.

Kind, loving. The smile of her friend. One she'd lost and couldn't ever get back. A dear friend.

Smoothing a finger over her blanket, trying to imagine the cream scarf sitting in her hands, Lucy sighed heavily and snuggled further into her nest of warmth.

Never had she had such a good friend.

Then she closed her eyes and imagined the wonderful smells of the dinners they'd share and the wonderful gifts they'd give.

What was life if you couldn't imagine?

But, she also didn't want to only have to imagine gingerbread cookies. She really wanted some, and maybe, on this dreary Christmas day, she could convince her siblings to help her out...