All that glitters is gold. [Midas vs. a Tumnus]

Dirty brats. Bunch of dirty brats.

For the past few days, Aslan had watched over hairless, fleshy things from a safe distance away. It did not matter what names - if they even had names - they had. He always had some curious way of naming them in the following manner:

Peter, for all those that seemed strong but were perhaps too heroic for their own good. If that was not the case, Aslan renamed the dead ones to 'Peter'.

Susan, for the tall ones that did not have as much broad shoulders as the Peter's and the Edmund's. He also renamed those that fled and fit the criteria 'Susan'.

Edmund, for the leaner broad-shouldered ones. He would not be surprised that they would be deceived. In fact, five rocks says that the first white-furred animal to talk to an Edmund, they would have him (Aslan assumed that they were boys; not like he could tell) kill off his comrades.

Lucy, oh sweet Lucy. That name was used just the short ones. Nothing personal.

Well, it did not matter. This was just easier for Aslan to refer to these peculiar creatures. What, with their thumbs like those damn monkeys. He never could get a good night's sleep with those damn monkeys around, wherever the heck they had come from. Seriously, could he not get some rest for his old age? He was Aslan, son of---

Oh hold. What was this Peter---

Oh, this is gold. Aslan wished he could have snickered as he stood in front of 'Peter', after coming out of hiding in the... snow, he guessed. This 'Peter' actually thought that Aslan, himself, had the audacity to strike up a duel in his old age and wisdom.

Nay, friends. Nay. Sure, he might had that fun in his youth, back when he did not have wrinkles lining his face and muscle slacked from years without good work, but he was not that kind of Tumnus. Nay. There was this one thing, though, that Tumnus need to do to survive - just like any other animal needs his or her sustenance.

My, my, that shiny thing Peter had looked mighty good to eat. Aslan's stomach growled like a newborn cub's noise - but not like he was a lion to really tell the difference.

Aslan stomped his foot, snorting. He waited for Peter to make a move for about a second, only for him to charge onto Peter, launching full throttle at the opposition and attempting to eat precious shiny items for his stomach.

Nom. Nom.


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