The clouds in the sky parted, spreading to reveal the pale moonlight above, casting it’s cold light upon the lands of Enedwaith yet not even the light of Her could pierce the circle of rowan and oak trees with a flickering orange center as the bonfire burned brightly.
You cannot possess me, for I belong to myself,
But while we both wish it, I give you that which is mine to give.
The large warrior spoke out into the night, his deep voice rumbling in his chest as they escaped from behind his rough lips. Pren wore his finest furs, rich and grand, with his hair braided neatly across the side of his head for once. His war paint was replaced with symbols, stretching down his temple and over his nose. His dark eyes glowed in the firelight, though not with anger, but softness and love as he held the small hands of his wife-to-be.
You cannot command me, for I am a free person,
But I shall serve you in those ways you require.
The small derudh smiled widely, her sweet voice flowing on the night wind, her chestnut hair falling down her back with flowers and bones entwined, wearing a white woolen dress to symbolise her purity and fertility. Gwennol’s small hands were sandwiched between her husband-to-be’s, her muddy blue eyes were slowly welling with tears of happiness, her smile all the wider.
And the honeycomb will taste sweeter from my hand,
I pledge to you that yours will be the name I cry in the night.
The grey haired elderly derudh, Ffion, mentor of Gwennol, smiled widely, the wrinkles in her face showing her great joy. Her gnarled fingers gripped the old oak staff, and with each small verse of the couple, she added another handful of shavings onto the fire, encouraging the flames to burn brighter, much like the relationship between the warrior and the derudh.
And the eyes into which I smile in the morning.
I pledge to you the first bite from my meat.
Together the two moved closer, the moonlight above them turning the glade pale. Their breath came quicker, their chests threatening to burst with the budding affection they showed each other. Their smiles were bright, the hardened warrior and the stoic derudh smiling, gazes fixed on to each others.
And the first drink from my cup.
I pledge to you my living and dying, equally in your care,
Ffion hobbled forward, lifting up a leather cord, dried in paints and with bones and feathers looped around it. She bound it around their hands, tighter and tighter, keeping their hands firmly locked to represent their closeness to come. Gwennol had tears now trail down her pale freckled cheeks, as she spoke again.
And tell no strangers of our grievances.
This is my wedding vow to you.
The warrior bent down. The derudh leaned up. A meeting of lips. As if time froze around them, only the two newlyweds in the whole universe. When their mouths eventually parted, and the cold air came to their warmed cheeks, they both breathed out as they gazed into each other's
eyes.
This is a marriage of equals.
And now, almost two years passed, they lay in each other's arms out in the warm spring sun, watching it disappear over the hills. The warrior's hand felt the growing bump, and a smile broke his lips.
