Joyous Beltane

The Maid waited anxiously in the Grove, knowing soon that Her Love would emerge from the trees. Although She knew exactly what was to happen this night, She was no less excited. To be reunited with the Lord She loves above all others after His death in the Fall, the cold lonely Winter, and the teasings of Spring, this first day of Summer was remarkable indeed.

When She at last heard the approaching footsteps, She dropped Her shift to the ground, Her pale skin radiant in the rising Moonlight. The Magick of the Full Moon sparked, sizzled, and cracked around Her as Her Love drew ever closer. Finally, after seemingly endless moments, a form silhouetted against the setting Sun at the edge of the trees.

Her breath caught as He stepped forward, His beauty far greater than She remembered (as seemingly happened every year). She took in His defined, lean muscles, the grace in His stride, the passion in His eyes. The ends of His dark tousled hair barely brushed His shoulders, His budding antlers peeking through the mass above His forehead. His desire for Her was obvious as He continued His advance, and the Maid let loose a peal of joyous, inviting laughter.

Seeing Her, the young buck of a God broke into a run, His hunger now barely contained. Her silken hair fell in delicate waves to the middle of Her back, a fawn-colored waterfall from the crown of Her head. Her eyes glowed at Him even from a distance, and the rapid rise and fall of Her bosom only excited Him all the more. Within moments He was in arms’ reach of the Maid, and His hands nearly itched with the anticipation of caressing the soft, supple curves of Her body. A flittering déjà vu flickered in His mind, a faint memory of another tryst not unlike this one. He shook it from His thoughts though as He stopped, leaving little more than a hair’s breadth between Him and His Love.

His panting breath was warm and bore the lush scent of the woods as it met the Maid’s face, His eyes flashing and His heart pounding from more than just the sprint. She remembered His face, of course, even though the last time She saw Him as Her Consort, He had been old and weathered. She knew that only His Divine Soul remembered Her, not His young conscious mind; He always lost His powers of recollection on His yearly sacred journey to the Underworld. She, however, is eternal, and so while Her age cycles as well, She never leaves as He does. The Dark of the Moon obscures Her face, and the Winter months take their toll, but She still remains. It didn’t matter though that the memory was gone from His mind, He still knew and understood His destiny, and tonight would be the first of many milestones as this Once and Future King traversed His path in this incarnation.

For a moment, both were still, each drinking in the naked form of the other. She drew Her breath, He licked His lips. She smiled, and He spoke;

“My Lady, will You come dance with Us?” His deep, gentle voice carried all the raw power and promise of fulfillment proven by years past, stretching back to the beginning of time. It shot sensuous lightning bolts through the Maid’s thighs, as this hallowed ritual exchange did each year.

“With joy, My Lord,” She answered, Her words chiming like silver bells, Her breath sweet and cool as honeyed wine. The God smiled, showing His white teeth, and grasped the Maid at Her waist, lifting Her and spinning about. He laughed full in His throat, a sound like the harmonious choir of the forest creatures. When He set Her on the ground again, She still smiled, and He held Her close to Him, His lust evident against Her bare hip.

Her eyes, bright with seduction, gazed up at Him through Her lashes, and She whispered, “My Lord, will You come love with Us?”

His blood boiling and His need spilling over, the God growled His answer, “With joy, My Lady.”

Before the final word left His lips, They had tumbled, limbs entangled, to the soft grass of the meadow.