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The Moon Rite of the Silverwood Tree had arrived for Qifrey and the children of his generation so quickly that he felt that the previous years had passed like water rushing down the river.
They were clearly not 'kids' anymore; the Moon Rite of the Silverwood Blossom was a tradition as old as life itself, a ceremony in which twenty-year-olds participated to find their "lifetime mate" with the help of the Spirit of the Silverwood Tree and the Moon Entity.
His parents had joined there, and his parents' parents, and his parents' parents' parents. And although they seemed only superstitions, his family said otherwise.
The ceremony was not very elaborate, those who did it for the first time had to appear before the Entity of the Moon and the Spirit of the Tree with a traditional dance that lasted less than five minutes. Reaching the end of this, a small melody that the birds sang when they attracted their lifelong partners had to be whistled. All in pursuit of luck, prosperity and fertility.
The expression in the dance was very subtle, smooth movements with the veil that they all had to wear. The offering dance was a rite that Qifrey wasn't sure he would admit out loud that he actually liked. Very much.
He was a good dancer, he had graceful movements and just the flexibility to stretch out just the right way, to stand on his toes or to bow before the Tree and the Moon; his presentation to a new cycle was art in its purest form and he knew it well.
The myth said that the more beautiful the dance, the greater the possibility of getting the perfect partner and the protection of the same entities before which they presented themselves.
Qifrey didn't fall for that kind of superstition much, for that reason he didn't understand why he worked so hard, why he hunched his back more than the rest, why he whistled with so much feeling, as if he expected the greatest reward to fall on him.
Let him fall like a foreign creature, a thing that heals, like a child in winter, with arms full of branches and a flushed face.
The night passed with moderate normality, Qifrey ate, drank and rejected all kinds of attempts to woo him.
Qifrey's eyes darted back and forth trying to avoid eye contact with anyone, and it wasn't until he fixed his gaze between the two bodies that seemed to be challenging each other to gain his attention that Qifrey saw him.
Any feeling of shame at the situation was diluted as soon as he saw that boy. The new witch in the Hall, sitting on a log in the farthest and darkest part of the property.
His clothes were still old, probably belonging to his parents. But it wasn't his old clothes, or the fact that he had caught him looking at him in that deep way, before returning his gaze to the plate of food in his hands.
Qifrey's attention was drawn to the crown of Silverwood blossoms that hung precariously on his head.
He participated. He was participating in The Rite.
Without even thinking about it, he dodged the guys who wanted to dispute him as if he were a piece of meat on sale. He walked slowly, without losing sight of Olruggio as he crossed the small crowd made up of the young ritualists and the adults who had gone as spectators, and as soon as he reached the young witch, the first thing he did was remove the crown from his head.
Olruggio averted his eyes from his plate of food to glare at whoever had touched his head without permission, but his face changed as soon as he saw that it was Qifrey.
"Let me fix that," He whispered, sitting next to him to correctly position the flower crown on the man's head.
"Oh…thank you," Olruggio said with his mouth full.
"I didn't know you participated in The Rite" Qifrey confessed to him, and Olruggio shrugged it off.
"It was my father's last wish before he passed away. He battled for long years for the Hall elders to recognize me as his son and let me participate in this," he said, shrugging his shoulders again. "Clearly no one chooses me, but I appreciate not having to cook at least once a year."
His adoptes father had died four years ago and although it had been rumored in the Great Hall that the wises would expel Olruggio, that never happened. Not because of the old man's wishes, but because the man had passed on his knowledge to no one but that gangly boy.
"It must be overwhelming for you." Olruggio shook his head from side to side, giving him to understand that by now it no longer affected him.
"You danced very beautifully, you reminded me of a ballet dancer," he stated, changing the topic of conversation.
"The better one dances, the greater the luck."
"That explains a lot of things," Olruggio laughed, looking at him out of the corner of his eye.
"Did you dance so badly?" Qifrey asked, bending his knees to hug them.
"That time I danced the same way like I take care of my garden," he explained. "The garden is dead."
"The old man's orchard?" Qifrey questioned. "No plants have survived?"
Olruggio put more food into his mouth as he considered.
"Since my old man died I have not known how to harvest, the small plantations have withered. So my meals are... repetitive at times."
"Did the medicinal herbs in the greenhouse wither, too?"
Olruggio chuckled, immediately shaking his head.
"No, not those, I know how to take care of them very well. they are perfect."
Qifrey gave him a suspicious look;
"I doubt caring for a tomato would be much different."
"It is, vegetables are rebellious," Olruggio told him , taking a sip of his grape juice. "At least I know how to take care of the animals too, but the silly crops..."
"You don't have to worry," Qifrey assured him looking up at the starry sky, before jokingly adding; "When we get married, I'll take care of the silly crops."
Olruggio's eyes widened and an exclamation caught in his throat. He opened his mouth like a fish underwater, but of everything he seemed to be planning to say, only one thing was clear and concise:
"OK."
Qifrey's cheeks instantly turned red. His thoughts ran a thousand an hour, why had he said that?
"It was a joke," the young man stammered.
"I know."
They looked at each other for a long time, until Olruggio put the plate down on the log and stood up, offering him his hand. "Do you want us to walk?
Qifrey nodded and took the offered hand.
They walked towards the wooded area, where the lights and sounds faded a bit.
Another Silverwood tree grew a few meters from the main one, and although it did not resemble it in size and imposingness, it was still beautiful and bright.
"I think it's cuter than the one we introduced ourselves to," Olruggio whispered, looking at the little white buttons in admiration, then turned to Qifrey. "Don't tell the main tree, it will give me more bad luck than I have."
"Your secret is safe with me," Qifrey replied, turning his face to the tree. "And I think you're right. Even though it's farther from the moon, I think it looks brighter.
Olruggio nodded thoughtfully, then looked at the ground for a moment.
"You had several suitors, it seems..."
"I'm not interested," Qifrey cut him off before Olruggio could finish whatever he had to say.
"Why?"
Qifrey turned around, looked at him deeply and knew that his eyes reflected all of the unsaid words he’d been dying to say, he could see it in the glint that was reflected in the sweet blue of Olruggio's eyes.
He begged internally not to have to explain himself . Not having to explain to Olruggio how he wasn't interested in any man or woman there, how he could never reciprocate them, because the person...
His person...
The flow of his thoughts was interrupted by Olruggio's hand on his cheek. His breathing became deep and slow.
They knew that there was a very beautiful moon overhead, surrounded by all the stars that had been named for millennia before they existed.
They knew that at that moment they were the closest thing to two specks of dust in the cosmos, hidden by trees that had lived so many years that they probably knew why every creature on Earth existed.
And even if one of those trees had promised to tell Qifrey all the secrets of the universe, the key to eternal life, the cure for all diseases, if he only looked away from Olruggio's eyes, he would not have been able to do it.
Qifrey took Olruggio by the cheeks and erased the distances with the simplest of kisses.
The simplicity of sticking lips together, such a mundane act, gave Qifrey the most incredible feeling he had ever experienced in his life.
It tickled their hearts, their brains, and their stomachs. It made them realize that they had always belonged there, in some way or another, next to him.
Although Qifrey had believed that there was nothing better than the privilege of kissing Olruggio, striking up a conversation with him was just as wonderful.
They talked all night, and the days after, and the next.
“Will you come again tomorrow?” The man asked.
Qifrey smiled and kissed Olruggio's hand.
And the day that follows too.
── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──
Qifrey arrived at his house shortly after twelve noon only to find a small commotion at the front door.
Easthies' mother, accompanied by his son, was in a heated discussion with Qifrey's father.
"What's going on?" He asked.
"Oh, here you are." Easthies' mother turned to look at him. "How dare you do what you did last night?"
Qifrey narrowed his eyes, playing dumb;
"What did I do last night? I don't understand."
"You know that very well. You chose someone who doesn't belong here, even though you knew it was forbidden."
Qifrey crossed her arms, looking at the sullen-faced woman.
"Forbidden? If he was forbidden, what was he doing at the Rite? He had the crown on."
Beldaruit looked at Qifrey curiously. Unlike many of the other parents, he had chosen to respect his privacy on the night of the rite and not attend. Whether he chose someone or not, he didn't want his son to feel any pressure from his Presence.
Easthies' mother had not made the same decision. She had been there, conditioning her son, as always.
"He was only there because it was that crazy old man's dying wish."
Qifrey didn't like that. Olruggio's father was not crazy, he had lived in service to his community all his life in exchange for very little, to say nothing. The only thing that had given him joy in the last years of his life had been the company of the child he had adopted.
Qifrey wanted to protest about it, tell her his few truths, but he chose not to get into it and get to the point:
"What is this all about?"
"It's about your obligation to choose my son," the woman exclaimed, grabbing Easthies' shoulder forcefully. Qifrey's eyes widened, totally shocked. "Now you must wait for next year's rite to commit. A whole year wasted for a foolish act of rebellion."
Qifrey let out an involuntary laugh, an act that seemed to piss off that woman even more.
"What?" asked the indignant young man. "Easthies is not my responsibility, I don't have to marry him because no one else chose him."
Or because he didn't choose anyone, he could have added, but at that moment he felt more confrontational than sensible.
The woman reddened with anger, Qifrey could see how she gnashed her teeth, he felt that if his father hadn't been there as a spectator, Easthies' mother would have tried to grab his hair and slap hima in the face.
"You won't have the last word," she muttered, still gritting her teeth furiously. "Your father will be wise and get you back on track, won't you?"
The woman's eyes locked on Beldaruit who still didn't fully understand the situation.
"Apparently he already made his decision," was the only answer he gave, scratching his head.
"If Qifrey made a decision, he won't back down, no matter what I tell him, I think there is no more to talk about, have a good day."
The woman opened her mouth in surprise, Qifrey obeyed his father's signal and headed for the door.
"What the...?" the woman began to yell.
"I danced perfectly, I was the best," Qifrey said before closing the door. "And the moon gave me exactly what I deserved."
Said that, he closed, but not before hearing the final statement;
“Will you let yourself disappoint your father by loving that bastard?!”
After that the house was silent. Qifrey could feel Beldaruit behind his back, watching him. Patiently waiting for an explanation of everything that had just happened.
"I won't say I'm sorry," he said, turning to look at his father with all the seriousness he could have.
"You do not have to."
Qifrey shouldn't have been as surprised as he was at that moment. His father had always been understanding.
Qifrey was rebellious, had always defied the adults and his pranks on occasions, had not come cheap.
But Beldaruit had always been there, he had accompanied him, he had stood up despite the fact that Qifrey had claimed since he was little that he alone could take care of his own troubles.
But this time...this time Qifrey could actually lose him, this could be the straw that broke the camel's back.
He was no longer a child after all.
"I really like him, a lot," he mumbled confessing, he felt that tears were about to come out of his eyes. "Since I'm little. And he likes me, since he was little too.”
He wiped his sleeve over his eyes to erase any trace of pity. "Even when it's just superstitions to me... I danced with all my being so I could have him. I wanted him, and it is not a whim, nor an act of rebellion, nor a prank..."
His father cleared his throat and Qifrey braced himself for the worst.
"When will you bring him so we can meet him?" the man questioned, sitting down at the family table. "When you do, I'd like to take his measurements so I can make him a suit. The suits he has are too short, that boy is very tall, he must feel uncomfortable."
Qifrey sat in the chair across from him, watching him as he talked about Olruggio as if he was already part of the family.
"Don't you care what consequences there may be for you from my decision?" Qifrey asked suddenly. "That the Great Hall or your friends exclude you, reject you, or speak ill of you because of my decision?"
"If they reject us because of a decision you made as an independent adult, then they weren't our friends," Beldaruit assured him. “It's good to know who really appreciates you and who doesn't."
Qifrey sighed in relief, smiling at him. He was lucky, very lucky for the father he has.
His father got up from the table and stroked Qifrey's hair before heading to the kitchen;
"We better get ready.”
── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──
They were the last to marry. Normally those who joined in the rite were married within the first three months or barely a week later. However, Olruggio and Qifrey waited an entire year to get married.
They both wanted to get to know each other well, to know if they were one hundred percent on board with the idea of being together for the rest of their lives. And although the answer to that mystery had come early in their relationship, they put the moment off a little longer so they could feel like the children they were when they met for as long as they could.
But now Qifrey was there, dressed in the same white robe with precious flower embroidery that his future husband also wore, with the veils that fell on their heads like silky hair and framed the happiness on their faces.
The happiness they felt did not fit in their chests and they let each other understand it with gestures of surprise, handshakes and complicit glances. As if all that was just a little prank.
They were both kneeling in front of the Silverwood tree, holding hands, waiting for the full moon to pass over the tree and make their marriage official.
Around them there were not many guests; Beldaruit and some friends from his generation. There were also a couple of old people who were Olruggio's father's friends and who had grown to love him, almost as much as Qifrey loved him.
Almost.
When the moon finally settled over their heads and bathed them in matchless silver light, they both slipped on their sapphire wedding earrings and kissed sweetly, pressing each other's cheeks to kiss a silly grin on each other's faces.
"I'm yours forever," Olruggio whispered, resting his forehead on Qifrey's. "Until death do us part."
"I am yours," Qifrey repeated. "Until the next life finds us again."