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wordsontongueTitle: The Four Seasons
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mooms
Rating: PG13
Warnings: None
Beta:govi20
Request: Genres - RPS, fluff, AU; Ratings - R to NC-17; Prompt(s) or general mood(s) - a good fantasy piece, or something fairy tale-ish
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. It's make believe and completely untrue.
Viggo, the woodsman, had dwelt alone, save for his dog, Rufus, for many years. They shared a tiny cottage nestling in a clearing. He only ventured into the village on market days to sell logs and kindling, or the nuts and morels he harvested in the forest.
The money was not important to him, for he was pretty much self-sufficient, growing vegetables in the well-tended plot behind his cottage, hunting roe deer and trapping rabbits and squirrels for the pot. There were trout in the stream, which bubbled over flat stones nearby; he kept a few chickens and geese and had goats for milk. He needed to buy winter feed for his horse, flour, tallow candles and sometimes cloth from the weavers, but his outer clothes he mainly crafted from hides.
For the most part, he travelled into the village to mix a little with human kind, even though it had been their unkindness, which had driven him to the solitude and shelter of the forest in the first place. Viggo was different from the others and still treated with coldness and suspicion by most, but here and there, he would get a smile or a kind word, or hear the laughter of a child and it would warm his heart. It would also make him a little melancholy later, when he lit his candles, shared his supper with Rufus and thought how nice it would be to have a human companion sharing supper, conversation and possibly more.
One golden day in late September, when the sun was slanting through the birches and the fallen leaves crunched underfoot, he and Rufus were looking for sweet chestnuts and wild mushrooms and had gone so deep into the forest, that even he had to notch trees with his hunting knife to make sure that they could find the way back. Rufus had looked at him reproachfully with his expressive brown eyes, as if he took the act as a personal insult and Viggo laughed and rubbed his ears.
Suddenly, the ears pricked and Rufus took off into the undergrowth, returning in a flurry of excited barking and indicating that Viggo should follow him. He did so and exclaimed in surprise, for it seemed that Rufus had found a body. At the junction of three trees, oak, ash and thorn, lay a naked man in a shaft of sunlight, face down on the leafy carpet with the dog standing guard over him. Viggo paused for a moment in admiration, for the man had broad shoulders and a smooth back tapering to a narrow waist and hips. He could not help but be drawn to the swell of fine buttocks and long, well-shaped legs.
Viggo forced himself to snap out of it, for had this kind of admiration not got him into trouble before? In any case, the man might be injured or even dead and here he was gazing at him with lust and longing. Ashamed of himself, Viggo hurried forward and put his hand on the man's neck, where to his relief, he felt a strong pulse. He carefully turned the body over and scanned it for any signs of injury, but there were none. In fact the body was as perfect as Viggo had ever seen and though it was twenty years since he had seen another naked body, he was sure that his memory was not deceiving him. This man was almost supernaturally beautiful, both in face and form, but he seemed to be in a deep sleep.
Viggo could hardly leave him lying here in the forest, though how he could have come to be here in this condition, he could not imagine. His hardy life had made him strong and he hoisted the man over his shoulder, as though he were a deer and picking up his foraging basket, set off for the cottage with Rufus bounding confidently ahead as if to prove that he needed no marks blazed on the trees to find his way home.
In the cottage, Viggo laid down his burden gently on his simple bed and drew a warm blanket over him, although it seemed a crime to veil such beauty. His guest slept on and Viggo was mesmerized by the rising and falling of his chest and the soft murmur of his breathing. After a while he once again forced himself to break away and light the fire, for the twilight had brought a chill with it. Once he had a cheery blaze going, he set a pot of soup to heat and returned to the bedside to watch in case the man should wake and be alarmed.
He was lighting the candles and about to feed Rufus and ladle some of the soup into an earthenware bowl for his own supper, when he heard a sigh and hurried over, just as the man opened his eyes. Viggo dived into green pools and began to drown, then the man smiled, a slow, lazy smile, which grew until it lit his whole face and Viggo was irretrievably lost.
Throwing the blanket off, his guest sat up and said in a deep voice, which Viggo could feel vibrating in his bones,
"Good evening, friend. That smells good!"
"I am Viggo, but who are you and are you injured, or unwell?"
The man bellowed with laughter, "Do I look sickly, then? No, I am well, but hungry and my name is Sean."
Viggo quickly prepared a bowl of soup and broke off a hunk of bread, inviting Sean to his table. He had only one chair, as he had only ever needed one, so he sat on the bed with his own bowl of soup. He thought of offering the man some of his clothing, but he seemed untroubled by his nudity, while Viggo found himself very much troubled and was thankful for his long tunic. He judged that his visitor was of much the same age as himself, which was two score years, but let him eat his fill before questioning him.
"So, Sean, whence came you and what were you doing in the forest without your clothes?" As he spoke the words, Viggo blushed, remembering when he had once been caught in the forest without his clothes, but with a companion. As if he had spoken the words aloud, the man chuckled and said, "I was certainly not doing what you were, when the miller caught you with his son." Viggo froze, his mouth open in shock. So this man must come from the village, or how would he have known about Viggo's disgrace and subsequent banishment? Yet Viggo would swear that he had never set eyes on him before and he was sure that he would have remembered.
Sean stood, came over to sit beside him on the bed and squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. "No, I am not from the village. I belong in the woods. You could say that I am a child of nature."
"But I have lived in the forest these twenty years and never seen you or anyone else like you."
"We remain hidden for the most part. We are not like your villagers, but then, nor are you." The comforting hand had moved and was now comforting his thigh, while the other brushed his hair from his eyes. "Sometimes we do cross paths with humans, special humans, but it is rare." He leaned in and kissed Viggo hard on the mouth until he parted his lips and let in the questing tongue.
As Rufus stretched out contentedly in front of the fire and the candles burned down, Viggo found himself gently, but firmly undressed, caressed and finally possessed.
At dawn, Viggo awoke to birdsong and a feeling of happiness that he had not experienced in many years. Sean was sleeping by his side, one leg sung over his and an arm around his waist. Rufus was scratching at the door to be allowed out and he slid carefully from the bed, wincing a little at the ache in unaccustomed places and opened the door. Wrapping himself in his blanket against the early morning chill, he went outside to relieve himself and then washed in the stream and on the way back, collected new laid eggs for breakfast.
Sean was still sprawled across the bed, but woke when he returned with that dazzling, sunrise smile and Viggo smiled back, glad to have someone to prepare breakfast for. As they ate, Sean asked, "Do you want me to stay?"
Scarcely believing his luck, Viggo nodded, the lump in his throat stopping him from answering. "Then I shall stay." Sean squeezed his hand reassuringly.
Through the autumn, Viggo was happier than he had ever been. Sean helped him around the cabin and they foraged and hunted in the woods together. Viggo managed to get Sean to wear some of his clothes on those expeditions, but in the cottage, he remained gloriously naked. Viggo could not find out any more about his companion, or learn how he knew so much about Viggo, but after only a few days, he knew that he was in love and to his delight, felt loved in return.
Viggo was so happy that he failed to notice little changes in Sean as the weeks wore on and the days shortened, or maybe he did notice, but refused to see them. As the morning chill grew into definite cold, he concentrated on getting the store of logs ready for the winter, repairing the animal shelters and making sure that they had provisions enough for two men and a dog. For the first time in twenty years, he did not feel depressed at the idea of being confined to the cottage once the snows came, in fact he looked forward to the dark days and long nights, to having Sean sitting opposite him by the fireside, in the new chair he had crafted specially, with Rufus stretched out between them and to Sean snuggling with him in his bed. They would share mulled cider and sloe gin and Sean would tell his tales of the woods, of the elves and faerie folk he spoke of easily, as if he knew them well.
If Sean was growing quieter and seemed often lost in thought and if his smile was less dazzling, Viggo continued whistling and singing around the cottage without paying heed, until the first really frosty morning, when he woke and found Sean gone, with only the imprint of his head on the pillow and his warm, earthy scent in the bed to convince Viggo that he had ever been there at all. Rufus sat at the door howling mournfully and it was all he could do not to throw his head back and howl too.
He and Rufus searched the woods, of course, returning over and over again to the place where the three trees, oak, ash and thorn grew close together, but of Sean there was neither sight nor sound and Viggo was desolate.
The snows came early that year and Viggo felt more alone than ever, because he had tasted love and warmth and companionship. Sometimes he wondered if he had imagined Sean in his loneliness, for the man had never agreed to travel into the village with him, so nobody else had seen him, but then he would remember the deep chuckle, the sparkling green eyes, the touch of those clever hands, the taste of his lips and the heat of his body. Oh yes, Sean had been real. He never, ever wished that he had not found Sean and let him into his life, because he would not have missed a moment of their love for all the world, but his loss made that winter the bitterest and bleakest of his exile and he did not understand why Sean had left. When the pile of logs grew low, he thought about chopping up Sean's chair, but he could not bring himself to do so and it sat by the fire as a symbol of love lost.
The earth continued its ancient cycle and spring came, as it will, with the thaw and the burgeoning of new life in the forest. Although his heart was still heavy, Viggo ventured out and decided to ride his horse, for Ralph was in need of exercise. Rufus led the way over carpets of bluebells and wood anemones and all smelt fresh and new. It seemed fitting to turn towards the special place again and Rufus headed straight for the triangle of trees, his exciting barking leading Viggo to urge Ralph into a trot, scarcely daring to hope, but pulling the horse up short in surprise and disappointment.
There was indeed a naked man sitting on the mossy bank in the midst of the trees and he was rubbing Rufus' ears as the dog's tail thumped the ground in ecstatic greeting, but it was not Sean, for this was a slender, young man, no more than nineteen or twenty. And yet, as he turned his head and smiled in greeting, Viggo's heart nearly stopped, for the smile and the eyes were unmistakeable. Could this be Sean's son? The youth stood and moved towards him and Viggo recognized Sean's grace. He looked down at the hand placed on Ralph's bridle and saw the long, beautiful fingers.
"Viggo!" The voice was not so deep and Viggo scanned the young face. The nose was the same and the set of the jaw and most of all, the delicate, elfin ears were the same.
"Are you Sean's son?"
"No, I am Sean."
"I do not understand."
The youth held out a hand. "Pull me up onto your horse and we will talk at the cottage."
Viggo reached down his own hand and young Sean leapt up behind him and slid his arms around Viggo's waist. In spite of the early March breeze, which was brisk, his skin felt warm. Ralph turned and they followed Rufus back to the cottage. Inside, Viggo set the kettle to boil and asked young Sean if he would like some clothes. Sean threw back his head and his laugh was so familiar that Viggo's stomach turned a somersault. He brewed herbal tea and handed an earthenware beaker to his guest.
Sitting in Sean's chair, the young man looked at home and Viggo pulled up his own chair and begged,
"Please tell me how you can be Sean and if you are, why did you leave?"
Sean leaned forward and stroked his knee. "I am not a human, Viggo. I think that you knew that."
"I knew that I had never seen anybody so beautiful, or who had that glow. You have it too, but it is different. My Sean was golden and lush, but you are...fresh and green."
"You met me in the autumn, when the leaves were falling and now I am spring, when they are bursting into life."
Slowly, understanding came to Viggo. "You are a nature spirit. The seasons are reflected in your appearance. You left as winter began, because..."
"...Because I would have become wizened and my body bent. My hands would have twisted with arthritis, my eyes become rheumy and my voice wavering. By the end of winter, I would have become a toothless, helpless old man, who would have needed to be spoon fed with porridge. How could you love that old man?"
Viggo leapt from the chair and fell on his knees before Sean, "I love you, Sean and true love does not change, because the person ages. You have the advantage that in spring you are reborn again and in summer you are in the prime of your life. Come autumn, you are still in your prime with added maturity. I will simply continue growing old and when I am aged, there will be no rebirth for me. Long and cold has this winter been without you. I would gladly have cared for you and will do next winter, if you let me."
Sean blinked back tears. "It would have been such a shock to you. Forgive me if I judged you ill, but I still think you will find it hard to bear when it comes to pass."
"Let us deal with it, when it is time. Now come to bed, for I have pined all winter."
As Viggo caressed the smooth, flawless skin and explored the lithe, young body, it was as if he was transported back twenty years and lay in the grass that spring morn with Dickon, the miller's son. This time, he was able to show his love completely and posses that willing body, without the interruption of an irate father and a band of village elders, who had beaten him and dragged him naked to the market place for judgement.
Dickon's father had demanded that he be hanged, or at the very least gelded, but Meg, the old woman, who had acted as his guardian since he had been orphaned as a baby had pleaded that he was of an age with Dickon, so why, she demanded, was the miller blaming him alone? She had declared that any punishment meted out to Viggo should likewise be delivered to his partner in crime. The miller was unpopular and overcharged his customers, while she was respected, so the council of elders had taken her part. The miller had reluctantly agreed to banishment, which in Dickon's case had been to an aunt many miles away and in Viggo's to the forest. It had been years before he had even dared to go back on market days and that had been after Meg had died.
With passion spent, Viggo turned to Sean and said, "You make me feel twenty again. It is magic."
"It is spring," replied Sean simply and pulled Viggo into another embrace, which sure enough, set his limp cock rising and soon it became beaded with sap.
They resumed their happy, domestic life and this time Viggo watched carefully and marvelled as young Sean grew in maturity throughout the spring and by early summer, seemed a man of thirty or so years. Fifteen years passed in a mere three months and Sean's voice deepened, while his body seemed to grow more strong and virile and filled out a little. His glow was now that of sunshine on ripening corn and he smelled of new mown hay. By the autumn, he had mellowed and was once again the Sean Viggo had first known and loved.
With the approach of another winter, Viggo grew fretful and feared that Sean might not trust him and would run away again. "Please," he begged, "do not leave me again. Now that we have shared most of the year together, I could not bear it if you were to go."
Sean took his hand and promised, so as he aged, Viggo continued to love and care for him, hard though it was to see the wreckage of the beauty he bore in the kinder seasons. He insisted that Sean continue to sleep with him in their bed and he held him every night, even when he was very old and frail, lacing his fingers with Sean's gnarled and knotted ones and kissing his wrinkled brow, the skin like parchment. Sean still glowed, but now it was the light of a weak sun reflected from fresh snow and sometimes Viggo felt as though he was almost as transparent as the icicles hanging from the roof and traced the blue veins just beneath the skin with a wondering finger, while Sean slept.
By the end of February, Sean slept most of the time and his breathing had become so shallow that Viggo would wake in panic in the dead of night and put his ear to Sean's chest that he might hear the faint heartbeat and be reassured.
One morning in early March, when the sun was making the icicles crackle and drip, Viggo woke from a deep sleep to find his long vigil rewarded, for he was once again holding young Sean in his arms. They laughed joyously together and ran out of the cottage naked to splash in the icy stream and then ran back inside to warm each other with their renewed passion.
So things continued for the next twenty years, until Viggo himself had to contemplate advancing age. Rufus had been long gone and was buried in the back garden. Viggo had not been able to bring himself to get another dog and he had not needed any other companion than Sean. Now he grew quiet and thoughtful and reminded Sean that his decline would be steady and permanent.
"You have cared for me as an old man these many long winters, Viggo. Do you think that I would abandon you in your time of need?"
"I release you from any obligation, Sean, for my situation will be quite different and you will have no spring to look forward to in me. One day I shall simply be here no longer."
Sean brooded for a long time on this and next day, went out alone into the wood and was gone all day. Viggo tried to busy himself and not worry too much, for after all, had he not released Sean? But surely Sean would not just go back to his world without a word of farewell. He was relieved when Sean returned at nightfall and kissed him hard, hugging him until he feared his ribs would crack. Sean set down on the table a small green bottle, but did not explain as they ate their supper together.
Afterwards as they sat by the fire, Sean took up the bottle and said, "I have been thinking about our doom and can see only one way for us. I have immortality, but could not take you to my world, or get the same for you in this world, but I do not want to spend eternity without you. I sought the council, of one wiser than I and he gave me this."
Taking the bottle from him, Viggo turned it in his hands. "Is it poison?"
"Nay, not at all. But if you truly want us to be together then you will need to forsake this world at least in your present form."
Viggo did not have a moment's hesitation. "Then let us drink!" He went to uncork the bottle, but Sean stayed his hand.
"Nay, let us have one more night together and tomorrow, you can take your livestock to the village and give them away. Then we will go together to the place where we first met and we will drink."
There is a mossy green bank by the place where oak, ash and thorn dwell together and now in that sacred place, there also grows an alder for endurance, strength and passion and a birch for beginning, renewal and youth. These trees are so close that their branches intertwine and together they watch over the forest and reflect the changing seasons through the rhythmic cycles of time.
End
Author:
moomsRating: PG13
Warnings: None
Beta:
govi20Request: Genres - RPS, fluff, AU; Ratings - R to NC-17; Prompt(s) or general mood(s) - a good fantasy piece, or something fairy tale-ish
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. It's make believe and completely untrue.
Viggo, the woodsman, had dwelt alone, save for his dog, Rufus, for many years. They shared a tiny cottage nestling in a clearing. He only ventured into the village on market days to sell logs and kindling, or the nuts and morels he harvested in the forest.
The money was not important to him, for he was pretty much self-sufficient, growing vegetables in the well-tended plot behind his cottage, hunting roe deer and trapping rabbits and squirrels for the pot. There were trout in the stream, which bubbled over flat stones nearby; he kept a few chickens and geese and had goats for milk. He needed to buy winter feed for his horse, flour, tallow candles and sometimes cloth from the weavers, but his outer clothes he mainly crafted from hides.
For the most part, he travelled into the village to mix a little with human kind, even though it had been their unkindness, which had driven him to the solitude and shelter of the forest in the first place. Viggo was different from the others and still treated with coldness and suspicion by most, but here and there, he would get a smile or a kind word, or hear the laughter of a child and it would warm his heart. It would also make him a little melancholy later, when he lit his candles, shared his supper with Rufus and thought how nice it would be to have a human companion sharing supper, conversation and possibly more.
One golden day in late September, when the sun was slanting through the birches and the fallen leaves crunched underfoot, he and Rufus were looking for sweet chestnuts and wild mushrooms and had gone so deep into the forest, that even he had to notch trees with his hunting knife to make sure that they could find the way back. Rufus had looked at him reproachfully with his expressive brown eyes, as if he took the act as a personal insult and Viggo laughed and rubbed his ears.
Suddenly, the ears pricked and Rufus took off into the undergrowth, returning in a flurry of excited barking and indicating that Viggo should follow him. He did so and exclaimed in surprise, for it seemed that Rufus had found a body. At the junction of three trees, oak, ash and thorn, lay a naked man in a shaft of sunlight, face down on the leafy carpet with the dog standing guard over him. Viggo paused for a moment in admiration, for the man had broad shoulders and a smooth back tapering to a narrow waist and hips. He could not help but be drawn to the swell of fine buttocks and long, well-shaped legs.
Viggo forced himself to snap out of it, for had this kind of admiration not got him into trouble before? In any case, the man might be injured or even dead and here he was gazing at him with lust and longing. Ashamed of himself, Viggo hurried forward and put his hand on the man's neck, where to his relief, he felt a strong pulse. He carefully turned the body over and scanned it for any signs of injury, but there were none. In fact the body was as perfect as Viggo had ever seen and though it was twenty years since he had seen another naked body, he was sure that his memory was not deceiving him. This man was almost supernaturally beautiful, both in face and form, but he seemed to be in a deep sleep.
Viggo could hardly leave him lying here in the forest, though how he could have come to be here in this condition, he could not imagine. His hardy life had made him strong and he hoisted the man over his shoulder, as though he were a deer and picking up his foraging basket, set off for the cottage with Rufus bounding confidently ahead as if to prove that he needed no marks blazed on the trees to find his way home.
In the cottage, Viggo laid down his burden gently on his simple bed and drew a warm blanket over him, although it seemed a crime to veil such beauty. His guest slept on and Viggo was mesmerized by the rising and falling of his chest and the soft murmur of his breathing. After a while he once again forced himself to break away and light the fire, for the twilight had brought a chill with it. Once he had a cheery blaze going, he set a pot of soup to heat and returned to the bedside to watch in case the man should wake and be alarmed.
He was lighting the candles and about to feed Rufus and ladle some of the soup into an earthenware bowl for his own supper, when he heard a sigh and hurried over, just as the man opened his eyes. Viggo dived into green pools and began to drown, then the man smiled, a slow, lazy smile, which grew until it lit his whole face and Viggo was irretrievably lost.
Throwing the blanket off, his guest sat up and said in a deep voice, which Viggo could feel vibrating in his bones,
"Good evening, friend. That smells good!"
"I am Viggo, but who are you and are you injured, or unwell?"
The man bellowed with laughter, "Do I look sickly, then? No, I am well, but hungry and my name is Sean."
Viggo quickly prepared a bowl of soup and broke off a hunk of bread, inviting Sean to his table. He had only one chair, as he had only ever needed one, so he sat on the bed with his own bowl of soup. He thought of offering the man some of his clothing, but he seemed untroubled by his nudity, while Viggo found himself very much troubled and was thankful for his long tunic. He judged that his visitor was of much the same age as himself, which was two score years, but let him eat his fill before questioning him.
"So, Sean, whence came you and what were you doing in the forest without your clothes?" As he spoke the words, Viggo blushed, remembering when he had once been caught in the forest without his clothes, but with a companion. As if he had spoken the words aloud, the man chuckled and said, "I was certainly not doing what you were, when the miller caught you with his son." Viggo froze, his mouth open in shock. So this man must come from the village, or how would he have known about Viggo's disgrace and subsequent banishment? Yet Viggo would swear that he had never set eyes on him before and he was sure that he would have remembered.
Sean stood, came over to sit beside him on the bed and squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. "No, I am not from the village. I belong in the woods. You could say that I am a child of nature."
"But I have lived in the forest these twenty years and never seen you or anyone else like you."
"We remain hidden for the most part. We are not like your villagers, but then, nor are you." The comforting hand had moved and was now comforting his thigh, while the other brushed his hair from his eyes. "Sometimes we do cross paths with humans, special humans, but it is rare." He leaned in and kissed Viggo hard on the mouth until he parted his lips and let in the questing tongue.
As Rufus stretched out contentedly in front of the fire and the candles burned down, Viggo found himself gently, but firmly undressed, caressed and finally possessed.
At dawn, Viggo awoke to birdsong and a feeling of happiness that he had not experienced in many years. Sean was sleeping by his side, one leg sung over his and an arm around his waist. Rufus was scratching at the door to be allowed out and he slid carefully from the bed, wincing a little at the ache in unaccustomed places and opened the door. Wrapping himself in his blanket against the early morning chill, he went outside to relieve himself and then washed in the stream and on the way back, collected new laid eggs for breakfast.
Sean was still sprawled across the bed, but woke when he returned with that dazzling, sunrise smile and Viggo smiled back, glad to have someone to prepare breakfast for. As they ate, Sean asked, "Do you want me to stay?"
Scarcely believing his luck, Viggo nodded, the lump in his throat stopping him from answering. "Then I shall stay." Sean squeezed his hand reassuringly.
Through the autumn, Viggo was happier than he had ever been. Sean helped him around the cabin and they foraged and hunted in the woods together. Viggo managed to get Sean to wear some of his clothes on those expeditions, but in the cottage, he remained gloriously naked. Viggo could not find out any more about his companion, or learn how he knew so much about Viggo, but after only a few days, he knew that he was in love and to his delight, felt loved in return.
Viggo was so happy that he failed to notice little changes in Sean as the weeks wore on and the days shortened, or maybe he did notice, but refused to see them. As the morning chill grew into definite cold, he concentrated on getting the store of logs ready for the winter, repairing the animal shelters and making sure that they had provisions enough for two men and a dog. For the first time in twenty years, he did not feel depressed at the idea of being confined to the cottage once the snows came, in fact he looked forward to the dark days and long nights, to having Sean sitting opposite him by the fireside, in the new chair he had crafted specially, with Rufus stretched out between them and to Sean snuggling with him in his bed. They would share mulled cider and sloe gin and Sean would tell his tales of the woods, of the elves and faerie folk he spoke of easily, as if he knew them well.
If Sean was growing quieter and seemed often lost in thought and if his smile was less dazzling, Viggo continued whistling and singing around the cottage without paying heed, until the first really frosty morning, when he woke and found Sean gone, with only the imprint of his head on the pillow and his warm, earthy scent in the bed to convince Viggo that he had ever been there at all. Rufus sat at the door howling mournfully and it was all he could do not to throw his head back and howl too.
He and Rufus searched the woods, of course, returning over and over again to the place where the three trees, oak, ash and thorn grew close together, but of Sean there was neither sight nor sound and Viggo was desolate.
The snows came early that year and Viggo felt more alone than ever, because he had tasted love and warmth and companionship. Sometimes he wondered if he had imagined Sean in his loneliness, for the man had never agreed to travel into the village with him, so nobody else had seen him, but then he would remember the deep chuckle, the sparkling green eyes, the touch of those clever hands, the taste of his lips and the heat of his body. Oh yes, Sean had been real. He never, ever wished that he had not found Sean and let him into his life, because he would not have missed a moment of their love for all the world, but his loss made that winter the bitterest and bleakest of his exile and he did not understand why Sean had left. When the pile of logs grew low, he thought about chopping up Sean's chair, but he could not bring himself to do so and it sat by the fire as a symbol of love lost.
The earth continued its ancient cycle and spring came, as it will, with the thaw and the burgeoning of new life in the forest. Although his heart was still heavy, Viggo ventured out and decided to ride his horse, for Ralph was in need of exercise. Rufus led the way over carpets of bluebells and wood anemones and all smelt fresh and new. It seemed fitting to turn towards the special place again and Rufus headed straight for the triangle of trees, his exciting barking leading Viggo to urge Ralph into a trot, scarcely daring to hope, but pulling the horse up short in surprise and disappointment.
There was indeed a naked man sitting on the mossy bank in the midst of the trees and he was rubbing Rufus' ears as the dog's tail thumped the ground in ecstatic greeting, but it was not Sean, for this was a slender, young man, no more than nineteen or twenty. And yet, as he turned his head and smiled in greeting, Viggo's heart nearly stopped, for the smile and the eyes were unmistakeable. Could this be Sean's son? The youth stood and moved towards him and Viggo recognized Sean's grace. He looked down at the hand placed on Ralph's bridle and saw the long, beautiful fingers.
"Viggo!" The voice was not so deep and Viggo scanned the young face. The nose was the same and the set of the jaw and most of all, the delicate, elfin ears were the same.
"Are you Sean's son?"
"No, I am Sean."
"I do not understand."
The youth held out a hand. "Pull me up onto your horse and we will talk at the cottage."
Viggo reached down his own hand and young Sean leapt up behind him and slid his arms around Viggo's waist. In spite of the early March breeze, which was brisk, his skin felt warm. Ralph turned and they followed Rufus back to the cottage. Inside, Viggo set the kettle to boil and asked young Sean if he would like some clothes. Sean threw back his head and his laugh was so familiar that Viggo's stomach turned a somersault. He brewed herbal tea and handed an earthenware beaker to his guest.
Sitting in Sean's chair, the young man looked at home and Viggo pulled up his own chair and begged,
"Please tell me how you can be Sean and if you are, why did you leave?"
Sean leaned forward and stroked his knee. "I am not a human, Viggo. I think that you knew that."
"I knew that I had never seen anybody so beautiful, or who had that glow. You have it too, but it is different. My Sean was golden and lush, but you are...fresh and green."
"You met me in the autumn, when the leaves were falling and now I am spring, when they are bursting into life."
Slowly, understanding came to Viggo. "You are a nature spirit. The seasons are reflected in your appearance. You left as winter began, because..."
"...Because I would have become wizened and my body bent. My hands would have twisted with arthritis, my eyes become rheumy and my voice wavering. By the end of winter, I would have become a toothless, helpless old man, who would have needed to be spoon fed with porridge. How could you love that old man?"
Viggo leapt from the chair and fell on his knees before Sean, "I love you, Sean and true love does not change, because the person ages. You have the advantage that in spring you are reborn again and in summer you are in the prime of your life. Come autumn, you are still in your prime with added maturity. I will simply continue growing old and when I am aged, there will be no rebirth for me. Long and cold has this winter been without you. I would gladly have cared for you and will do next winter, if you let me."
Sean blinked back tears. "It would have been such a shock to you. Forgive me if I judged you ill, but I still think you will find it hard to bear when it comes to pass."
"Let us deal with it, when it is time. Now come to bed, for I have pined all winter."
As Viggo caressed the smooth, flawless skin and explored the lithe, young body, it was as if he was transported back twenty years and lay in the grass that spring morn with Dickon, the miller's son. This time, he was able to show his love completely and posses that willing body, without the interruption of an irate father and a band of village elders, who had beaten him and dragged him naked to the market place for judgement.
Dickon's father had demanded that he be hanged, or at the very least gelded, but Meg, the old woman, who had acted as his guardian since he had been orphaned as a baby had pleaded that he was of an age with Dickon, so why, she demanded, was the miller blaming him alone? She had declared that any punishment meted out to Viggo should likewise be delivered to his partner in crime. The miller was unpopular and overcharged his customers, while she was respected, so the council of elders had taken her part. The miller had reluctantly agreed to banishment, which in Dickon's case had been to an aunt many miles away and in Viggo's to the forest. It had been years before he had even dared to go back on market days and that had been after Meg had died.
With passion spent, Viggo turned to Sean and said, "You make me feel twenty again. It is magic."
"It is spring," replied Sean simply and pulled Viggo into another embrace, which sure enough, set his limp cock rising and soon it became beaded with sap.
They resumed their happy, domestic life and this time Viggo watched carefully and marvelled as young Sean grew in maturity throughout the spring and by early summer, seemed a man of thirty or so years. Fifteen years passed in a mere three months and Sean's voice deepened, while his body seemed to grow more strong and virile and filled out a little. His glow was now that of sunshine on ripening corn and he smelled of new mown hay. By the autumn, he had mellowed and was once again the Sean Viggo had first known and loved.
With the approach of another winter, Viggo grew fretful and feared that Sean might not trust him and would run away again. "Please," he begged, "do not leave me again. Now that we have shared most of the year together, I could not bear it if you were to go."
Sean took his hand and promised, so as he aged, Viggo continued to love and care for him, hard though it was to see the wreckage of the beauty he bore in the kinder seasons. He insisted that Sean continue to sleep with him in their bed and he held him every night, even when he was very old and frail, lacing his fingers with Sean's gnarled and knotted ones and kissing his wrinkled brow, the skin like parchment. Sean still glowed, but now it was the light of a weak sun reflected from fresh snow and sometimes Viggo felt as though he was almost as transparent as the icicles hanging from the roof and traced the blue veins just beneath the skin with a wondering finger, while Sean slept.
By the end of February, Sean slept most of the time and his breathing had become so shallow that Viggo would wake in panic in the dead of night and put his ear to Sean's chest that he might hear the faint heartbeat and be reassured.
One morning in early March, when the sun was making the icicles crackle and drip, Viggo woke from a deep sleep to find his long vigil rewarded, for he was once again holding young Sean in his arms. They laughed joyously together and ran out of the cottage naked to splash in the icy stream and then ran back inside to warm each other with their renewed passion.
So things continued for the next twenty years, until Viggo himself had to contemplate advancing age. Rufus had been long gone and was buried in the back garden. Viggo had not been able to bring himself to get another dog and he had not needed any other companion than Sean. Now he grew quiet and thoughtful and reminded Sean that his decline would be steady and permanent.
"You have cared for me as an old man these many long winters, Viggo. Do you think that I would abandon you in your time of need?"
"I release you from any obligation, Sean, for my situation will be quite different and you will have no spring to look forward to in me. One day I shall simply be here no longer."
Sean brooded for a long time on this and next day, went out alone into the wood and was gone all day. Viggo tried to busy himself and not worry too much, for after all, had he not released Sean? But surely Sean would not just go back to his world without a word of farewell. He was relieved when Sean returned at nightfall and kissed him hard, hugging him until he feared his ribs would crack. Sean set down on the table a small green bottle, but did not explain as they ate their supper together.
Afterwards as they sat by the fire, Sean took up the bottle and said, "I have been thinking about our doom and can see only one way for us. I have immortality, but could not take you to my world, or get the same for you in this world, but I do not want to spend eternity without you. I sought the council, of one wiser than I and he gave me this."
Taking the bottle from him, Viggo turned it in his hands. "Is it poison?"
"Nay, not at all. But if you truly want us to be together then you will need to forsake this world at least in your present form."
Viggo did not have a moment's hesitation. "Then let us drink!" He went to uncork the bottle, but Sean stayed his hand.
"Nay, let us have one more night together and tomorrow, you can take your livestock to the village and give them away. Then we will go together to the place where we first met and we will drink."
There is a mossy green bank by the place where oak, ash and thorn dwell together and now in that sacred place, there also grows an alder for endurance, strength and passion and a birch for beginning, renewal and youth. These trees are so close that their branches intertwine and together they watch over the forest and reflect the changing seasons through the rhythmic cycles of time.
End
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