Beltane Story
by Blayze

A man stands at the bottom of a large hill. He is cloaked in verdant green. Flowers and vines growing amongst the folds. He is crowned with antlers of many tines standing tall and proud from his brow. His skin gleams with patterns of gold, copper and bronze and he carries a silver flame headed spear encrusted with filigree of silver wire and green enamel.

It is mid-morning and the man appears healthy and well rested, yet there is longing in his eyes. He begins to climb the hill, cradling the spear to his breast. As he climbs he throws his cloak over his shoulders and it can be see that he wears only a loin cloth beneath it.  The climb is a long one as the path winds about the hill. Halfway up the hill he comes across a clear spring trickling amongst the rocks on the side of the hill. The rocks have formed a small, shallow, clear pool amongst the greenery. He cups his hands and drinks from the well, carefully he cleans the spear with the clear waters, wiping the spear dry gently with his cloak. His touch is tender for so seemingly powerful a man. He dips his antlers in homage to the well and continues his climb up and around the hill. 

At the top of the hill is a circle of standing stones,  some rough hewn and some smooth and sensually curved.  The grass is carpeted with wild flowers and his nostrils flare as he picks up the heady sent of summer just begun. 

The man moves with grace and regal bearing to the centre of the circle. The sun has reached its zenith and the hot rays beat down upon the golden skin , reflecting from his bronze coloured hair. Reverently he lays the spear upon the ground and with his hands begins to dig a small hole in the grass. He gives a mighty cry, half keen, half lust and when the hole is deep enough, he picks up the spear once more and plants the base into the ground. The sun gleams upon the silver flame of the tip.

When the spear is emedded in the earth, the ground gives a tremor and the man struggles to stay upright.  The stones around him begin to crack. The sound of breaking stone rending the air like thunder. The man closes his eyes and kneels down before the spear . From inside the broken standing stones emerge equal numbers of flower crowned maidens and young men all naked to the sky and sun except for ribbons wound about their waists. White for the men, red for the women. 

Slowly they emerge from the stones and surround the kneeling man. One by one they unwind the ribbons from eahc other's waists and tie them to the head of the spear, trailing the ends out along the ground. They touch the man and he stands. They take the cloak from him and lay it along the ground where the flowers and leaves rise up in a whirlwind and scatter to form colourful designs upon the naked skin of the maidens and youths. 

The man's loincloth is removed also, a length of golden material that forms into a sunbeam, illuminating the longing in the man's face. The young men and women motion to the man to stand against the spear, his legs entwine it, his arms wrapped about the haft, his lips upon the silver flame

The breeze picks up and makes music amongst the wildflowers and grasses. The young men and women each take up a ribbon and begin to dance, weaving their ribbons against the man as they spin.

They dance and weave, dance and weave to the beautiful music of the wind, ever weaving the man the silver spear toegether. Finally all that can be seen is a man shape woven into the red and white ribbons.

The women and men dance away from the ribbons and make one turn around the top of the hill, dancing in and out of the remnants of the standing stones. As one they move back to their ribbons and begin to dance in the opposite directions from before, unweaving the ribbons. A glimpse of pale moonbeam can be seen bent against the burnished bronze hair of the man . As the dancers unweave the ribbons they see that the man is now embracing a lovely maiden who shines with power. The spear has vanished and their naked bodies are entwined skin to skin, heart to heart, moving to the rhythm of the dance. Joy flows from them like the ribbons. The lovely woman is wearing a crown upon her head to which the red and white ribbons are tied. She is the Queen of the May and the man is her King.

As the ribbons unwind the couple's hands explore each other and their lips are locked together in a passionate kiss.

The young men and women slowly drop their ribbons to the ground, laying them gently upon the grass. Lines of power can be seen flowing from the ribbons out across the land. The young men and women move to the border of the stone rubble. The day is turning to night and as the dusk settles, great bonfires can be seen joining the lines of power from hilltop to hilltop as far as the eye can see. Still the King and Queen embrace as fertility flows across the land, following the lines of ribbon, light and flame. They are as one, their limbs entwined like the ribbons of the sacred dance.

The young men and women pair off and entwine with each other. Slowly the stones reform around them, spirals of rough and smooth rock encasing them. The King and Queen's embrace ends and they slowly draw apart. The Queen removes her crown of ribbons and draws the ends of the ribbons close to her. Still the fires blaze in the distance. She wraps the ribbons around the King's body where they begin to harden into armour. The armour takes on the bronze, copper and golden hues of the King's body. Naked no longer he is once again clothed in power and protection.

The King takes the crown from her and reverently places it upon her moonbeam hair.

The Queen moves back from him and it can be seen that she has a rounded belly, pregnant as the land is pregnant, fertile as the land is now fertile.

The King reaches into the ground and draws the land like a cloak around her body, she sinks to the ground in its embrace, a smile of contentment upon her lips. She is cloaked in the wildflowers and grasses, a gesture returned in love.

He kisses her once more as night envelops them, glowing bonfires on every hill slowly winking out, one by one.