"I'm not saying that you're wrong. I'm saying that- that doesn't happen. Unless it's just all the rage in Elannwy these days."

"Me too," says Miraen.

...Mir hugs Harin.

Okay. That's okay. He'll just. More hugs.

Nior is staring at the estimated last known location of Ari as though it has personally offended him on the deepest imaginable level.

Trotting - the word is 'trotting'; there are hooves - into the lamplight is a fellow against whom slurs about his ancestors' habits with livestock would be spectacularly well-motivated. He has an umbrella and some parcels and he has his tail looped over his elbow and he is very surprised to see Arlen. The parcels may be presumed not to have noticed Arlen's existence themselves but go flying into the air as a byproduct of the goatperson's own alarm.

"Oh goodness! Oh goodness gracious!" says the goatperson. "You are, well, you are in Narnia. And what is it that you are in Narnia, are you a boy, that is, are you a human sort of creature?"

"Last I checked! You're adorable. And part goat, for reasons unclear."

"Delightful," says the goatperson dubiously. "Delightful," he says again with more confidence. "I am a Faun and my name is Mr. Tumnus, it is entirely delightful to meet you, what might your name be?"

"Arlen, Arlen Kallem, nice to meet you Mr. Tumnus. That is a very weird name, but you're very foreign, so I'll let it slide."

"Wherever did you come from?" inquires Mr. Tumnus. "And how did you come from it?"

"Uh... well, I was born in Welce. Then my mom died under mysterious circumstances and I got on a boat and ended up in some lost fantasy kingdom. And then I fell through the wall of some fucked-up cave and ended up here."

"What a... what a curious series of events indeed. There being no caves immediately about I cannot quite account for it. Not a bit. Still, it is quite cold out, being wintertime, and perhaps you would like to join me for tea? I at least need a bit of warming up."

"Yeah, sure! I'm good in the cold, but tea's always nice. Also, I'm really curious about the habits of goat-men. Apparently there's tea involved?"

"I do routinely enjoy tea!" confirms the goat-man. "I am I remind you a Faun." And he makes sure all his parcels are accounted for, and leads the way through snowy piney woods to a little dwelling.

There is a fireplace with fire in it, and a teakettle which is soon well on its way to having tea in it, and two chairs which could have Mr. Tumnus and Arlen in them. Tumnus rattles about in the kitchenette with eggs and toast.

Arlen sits happily in a chair and admires the decor! It all looks so cozy.

It is exceedingly cozy! Soon it is also teaful and luncheonesque. Tumnus becomes rather talkative. He will if permitted to do so chat for hours upon hours about this and that. Nymphs and a stag that grants wishes. Dwarves and treasure. Summers and holidays, all thoroughly past-tense. Mr. Tumnus can also play a little straw flute.