The Quiet Moon

Silence. The world poised on the edge of Eternity. Even the songs of the land and sea have stilled their murmuring voices.

High above, woven into the vast mantle of night, an infinity of stars, their glittering light giving no hint of the blazing furnace raging at the heart of each. And all around, on the bare, grey limbs of the trees, on the stones, on the earth, scattered amongst the blades of tall-grass, lie a million crystals of ice, shimmering in the silver light of the Quiet Moon.

One lone figure stands at the centre, arms outstretched, head thrown back, face to the skies. He stirs restlessly before the gaze of the world, open to it, straining towards it. A gleaming ripple of hair, gilt-tipped strands caught in the caress of the night wind, and dark lips parted, breathing in the air. He presses the soles of his feet into the earth beneath him. He would sink into it, be one with it if he could.

A tremor reaches up from the ground, a whisper of noise reaches his ears, and the spell is broken. His head whips round, flame-gold eyes piercing the dark. The faint thud of galloping hooves and the barest jingle of bells reaches his ears, and the Elven king turns fully now, towards the ancient forests to the east.

The time of silence and solitude is at an end; the time of Magic is nigh. The Faerie Court rides, and tonight, they will say the old words - words not said for six thousand years. They will chant the Songs of the Earth, fall into Nature, and remember the Ancestors in one of the Deasghnátha Naofa, thought, until now, to be lost for all time. Tonight, they will call on the Goddess - draw down the moon - and the Wild Hunt will ride.

... ... ...

As Nuada scanned the forest, the thudding ofhooves and the jingling of bells grew louder. He spied the horses and riders,flashing between the trunks of the trees. In another moment, the Wild Rideburst into the clearing, the Queen of Elfland – of Na Tailte Nua de Bethmoora,the Tuatha de Danann and, in her own right, of the Álfar - at its head. She bentlow over the withers of her black steed, hair flying behind her in the wind,and with the bright light of the moon shining full on her face, Nuada could seethe dark flush of excitement on her cheeks and the sparkle of life in her eyes.His pulse quickened in answer. She slowed her mount as she approached, andpulled to a halt before him with only three or four feet to spare. The Elvenqueen's spirited mare tossed her head and set the silver bells on the bridle toringing as she whinnied her greeting to the waiting Elven king.

He took hold of the bridle and stroked her forehead. "Be easy, Blythe," he said, his voice low and soothing.

Leaning forward, Elfraine patted the mare's neck then swung down from the saddle. She handed the reins to her husband and slid into the curve of his outstretched arm. A few whispered words in the ancient tongue of his people and, with a flick of her tail, Blythe trotted off to join Enbhárr, Nuada's great war horse. The moon-white stallion was grazing on the fringe of the forest and lifted his head to nicker in welcome as the mare joined him.

Nuada looked down at his wife. Her breath was coming fast after the exertion of her ride, her breasts rising and falling against his side. The warm, heady scent of her rose up and ignited a slow-burning heat in his belly. He flexed the muscles of his arm and swung her round, lifting her off the ground for a moment. Soft, leather-clad curves pressed flush against him, moulding into the hard planes of his body... a fit that felt like Heaven. A quick adjustment of his arm, and his hands slipped in through the opening of her thick, fur-lined cloak to settle on the flare of her hips. She stirred restlessly against him, open to him, straining towards him, and desire sparked along his veins. Questing hands slid lower, over the suede-trimmed softness of her riding leathers and cupped the full, firm curves beneath. The corner of his mouth lifted in a wolfish smile as he realised her hands were similarly occupied with his backside. And then she started slowly circling her hips against his and his smile vanished. Blood pounded through his veins; his body hardened in readiness. With a groan, he bent his head to hers and claimed her mouth. Pink lips parted, inviting him in, and the flames of his desire were fanned higher. He'd sink into her if he could – be one with her.