Part II:

The Fall of the Bountiful Harvest: Awakening

Even the oldest among the villagers did not remember a harvest so plentiful. The elders -- that is, the Five who make the laws -- called for a celebration to give thanks to the god Eas and the goddess Esares. It was held during the full moon, just before the bonding rites.

Eryn and I discovered art during the week of the celebration. We were sitting in front of our house, enjoying a bit of warmth from the noonday sun while we ate our lunch. I picked up a stick, and drew a circle in the loose soil. Then I drew a line coming from the outside of the circle. I didn't mean it to be anything in particular, but then Eryn took the stick from me and drew little ovals along the line, and a smaller circle inside the larger one. It looked very much like a flower then, and we smiled at each other. I took the stick and tried to draw a dog, but it looked more like a cow. We found that smaller sticks made better pictures, but a few days later we came upon an even handier tool. There is a type of rock in the fields of our homeplace that is softer than other rocks, and the sharp point of a hard stone, when drawn across these soft rocks, made a very fine line indeed. Eryn drew flowers on the rocks that looked very much like real ones; even my animals looked more like what they were meant to be. I liked to draw the mythical beasts that inhabited our stories best, because there were no real ones to compare them with.

At the close of the week, on the eve of the day called Verel, the Bonding Rites were held. Every one in the village came to the
commons, where a great bonfire was built. Most of the young men who were to be mated were in their sixteenth year; the girls were sometimes younger but never less than twelve years of age. This year there were seven couples, but often there were fewer than that. Eryn and I stood watching as they came together and joined hands. Their faces were somber, as befitting a sacred rite. Vessa, eldest woman, poured blessed water from the fountain of Esares over their joined hands and asked the goddess to give them many children. Afterwards, there was music and dancing, and everyone partook of the great feast
laid out on the long tables. Dreda had brought dozens of baked apples from our household, and five loaves of bread.

We sat together watching the new couples dance. Eryn was smiling, as he always did when music was played. Suddenly, I turned to him and said, "Do you know that next year is our sixteenth?" Of course he knew; one doesn't forget a thing like that. But he caught my meaning, that it would be the time for us to choose mates. He stopped smiling, and seemed troubled.

"Adan," he said, "have you chosen someone?"

"No," I replied. I had not spoken to my father for any of the girls. It isn't that they weren't pretty enough or that their dispositions didn't suit me. But whenever I thought of taking a mate, I knew it would have to be Eryn. Such a thing was impossible, I knew that, too. There was no law saying so, but none of the boys had ever chosen another boy -- it
was not a thing that needed a law.

"Have you?" I asked him, knowing full well that he had not. If he had, he would certainly have told me about it.

"I do not wish to bond with anyone," Eryn said very slowly.

"Is it permissible to ... to not?" I asked. We were speaking of things we had never heard anyone speak of before.

"Who would want me anyway?" he said. "What father would give his daughter to me? You know they all say I cannot work hard enough, so I shall be safe. Besides, Keld Potter has never mated and he sits with the Five."

That was true enough. He was called Keld Potter to set him apart from the other man called Keld; because he was a potter by trade. My father did not like Keld Potter, but I didn't know why, nor did I know why Keld had never mated.

"Someone would want you, Eryn. Don't feel that way," I said. "Let's go home, I don't care to watch the dancing anymore." And so we left, and I didn't tell Eryn I was talking about myself when I said that someone would want him.

The fall was growing crisp, and winter would soon be upon us. But the storehouses were all full of the good harvest, and nobody worried about the coming of the cold. People who had been down to the valley said that the green flowers were still in bloom. This was amazing, so late in the year. I asked my father Parlan if we might go and see them. He told me I could go, but he forbade Eryn to, saying that the exertion would make him ill and he would get no work from him for weeks.

"You must go, Adan," he told me. "This may never come again. Go, and you can tell me how the flowers look. If you remember them well, I can draw one on a rock."

I didn't think it was fair that I should see the sight, and Eryn be left with only a rock drawing. But I did go, all alone, and looked at the broad field of green blossoms. I closed my eyes and formed a picture in my mind of how they looked, so that I could describe it to him. When I turned for home, I did not take the path that had been worn by the countless visits of our folk. Instead, I turned aside and went down the steep part of the hill. It was a difficult undertaking, but I was a good climber and not afraid. About halfway down, I saw a crevice that led off towards the east. Curious, I walked down inside it. And I
came to the far side of the hill. There were trees growing there, and bushes laden with ripe red berries. I picked a few and put them in my mouth, the cold sweet juice was most pleasing.

A little further on, there was a spring, with narcissi growing along the edge. The narcissus was Eryn's favorite flower, and at first I thought to pick some for him. Then, a feeling hit me like a thunderbolt. I had never openly disobeyed Parlan before, but I made up my mind to bring Eryn to this place, to show him the green flowers, and the spring, and the narcissi.

It took a good deal of talking to get him to come. He said that Parlan would beat us if he knew; but I convinced him that we could keep our journey a secret. We got up earlier than usual one morning, and finished our work quickly (this we were able to do because I did some of Eryn's chores). I decided to show him the spring first. It was foolish of me to bring him up the steep side of the hill, and several times I had to pull him up behind me. What if he should fall? I very nearly turned back, but we had come most of the way by then, so I told him to look up at me and not to look down. Finally, we made our way to the
spring. I made him close his eyes, and led him by the hand right up to the edge of it. When he saw the narcissi, he turned and smiled at me, and something passed between us at that moment that we didn't put into words.

We stripped off our clothes and stepped into the water. Even though the air was cool, the water in the spring was warm. The surface was clear and sparkling, not like the little pond near the village which was always foul-smelling and murky. We went a little further towards the center, where the bottom was slippery. Eryn lost his footing., and I reached out and caught him in my arms, to keep his head from going under the water. The feel of him clinging to me was pleasant. Even after he'd gotten his balance, he kept his arms around me. I was only a little taller, and our faces were almost touching.

A delicious ache began to stir in me, and I wondered if he felt it, too. I wanted to kiss him on the lips, but I didn't dare. I wanted to touch the growing hardness I felt pressing against mine, but I didn't dare do that either. Eryn's eyes were nearly closed. I said, "Eryn," very softly.

And he said, "Adan, I love you."

Even now, I remember how those words washed over me like the current of a river, washing away all the fear that had held back my feelings. They began to tumble out of my mouth, awkward at first, but growing in strength as I went on. I finished by telling him that I wanted to bond with him, with no one else but him.

We stood there in the warm water, talking of whether it would be allowed. Neither of us thought it would be, but Eryn kept asking, "Why shouldn't it be?" -- and I had no answer for that. The air grew colder, and I saw the sun was far down towards the horizon. And we had not yet been to the valley.

We should have returned another day, because it was so late. But I was more determined than ever that Eryn should see the green flowers. We sunned ourselves dry and put our clothes on, and headed over the hill.

It was dark when we got home. Dreda had supper on the table, and my father was eating alone. He didn't look up at us, but went on eating his meal. When he finished, he pushed his plate aside, and only then did he say, "Where have you been?"

It was a foolish thing to do, I should have made up a tale -- after all our story-telling, I could have spun a good one. But I told him the truth, that we had gone to the valley to see the green blossoms. We were sent to our room without supper.

I thought it was a cruel punishment, even though we were guilty of disobedience. But the worst was yet to come. A little later Parlan came into our room and told me that the next morning I was to make a journey for him, to the village to the south, to sell a cow.

I knew perfectly well that the cow could have been sold in our own village, or to one of the travelling men who came through to trade their wares. But this village was many miles away; it would take me four days to walk there and four to walk back. My punishment was being separated from Eryn. I wondered then if Parlan knew what we had been thinking.

When he left us, we spoke of this. We had no memory of ever being apart, not even for one night. This journey would mean eight nights, maybe more. I held him in my arms, and felt the wetness of his tears on my chest. And I did what I had been afraid to do in the spring -- I kissed his mouth. It was soft and moist and tasted of honey; I know
now that it was because I loved him so, for no one's lips really taste like honey.

"I want to mate with you, now," I said. I had no idea how it was to be done, for people did not speak of such things.

"We are not properly bonded," he answered. "What would happen to us?"

I had not thought of that. I did not know what magic was held in the waters that the eldest woman sprinkled over the hands of the couples. Perhaps without that, mating would cause blindness, or madness, or even death. "We must wait, then," I said. "But no harm has come of kissing."

He let me kiss him again, and this time he parted his lips slightly and my tongue slid between them.

Continue to Part III