Marei - book one. Part three: Shadow. Chapter 14

The circle dissipated and those who had come to the House on the Hill singularly were now leaving as couples, the connective energy of the circle still holding them together; hand in hand. Throughout the leave taking, Gurek remained close enough to Grandmother so that he might also have been her shadow. Where I was mirroring her movements, Gurek was anticipating them, putting a needed item in her hand as she was reaching for it, without her even asking for it.

The energy that we had raised during the ritual seemed to be lingering in the space between Gurek and Grandmother for every time he passed her an item, her hand would linger caressingly on his for a second longer than was necessary to retrieve the item. And when either of them had to pass behind the other, they would place both hands on the others hips in a half hug, pressing chest to back for a moment that would only be visible if you were looking for it, which apparently I was, since I saw it time and time again.

I followed Grandmother around the room as she cleaned and tidied up after the last of the circle participants had gone; emptying the ritual bowl, putting all the discarded goblets and drums back onto the wall, laying out linens to soak up the water on the floor from the end of the ritual. At each step, Gurek was her partner in an unspoken dance.

She cleaned from the outside of the room inwards, in a tightening spiral towards the central altar, with tangential trips from the center to the wall as she collected the items for return to their rightful places. Once finished, the last of the ritual items placed carefully back on its accustomed hook, she stood in the center of the circle and sighed once, deeply, with satisfaction.

Turning, she stepped forward into Gurek’s embrace. They held each other in a tightly clasped hug for several long moments as I stood in the doorway, uncertain if I should leave them alone. She raised her head from where it was rested on his shoulder and even from the distance I was standing I could see the energy jump and flow between them when his eyes met hers. Without breaking the intense gaze, he lowered his face and kissed her full on the mouth.

Still clinging to each other they kissed slowly and lingeringly. Their passion was almost tangible, like the essence of magick that seemed to fill the room again, yet they were not hurried or hasty, but patient, reserved and thorough in their non verbal language.

With one hand at the back of her neck, Gurek slid Grandmother’s dress down off one shoulder and moved his mouth to kiss the pale skin that was revealed. I was growing increasingly more uncomfortable and felt restless, jumpy; as if I wanted to bounce or run. I wanted to cover my face like a child, yet I was bound by the oath of shadow – I was to witness and share everything that my Grandmother experienced during this year, even this intimate meeting which seemed to me to be something best left unseen by others eyes. So I stayed, and though I had to struggle with squeamishness and surprise, I forced myself not to look away.

As I had been convincing myself to stay, and that looking was part of my job as a shadow, Grandmother’s dress had been completely removed. She was still young looking, even without clothing; her only mark of age was the long silver hair she kept braided. Her stomach was soft and rounded, indicating her good health and continued access to nurturing foods, but the muscles in her legs told of the strength she could wield when necessary. Her arms were smooth and the muscles in the upper arms well defined by the manual labor that was a part of her daily life. Her breasts were small and supple, the nipples large and dark from long ago nursing children. Between her legs was a thatch of dark curly hair that had only just begun to grow on my body.

It was into that dark mound that Gurek’s hand slowly stole, parting her legs with a smooth touch. A moan escaped from her mouth and I was not sure until I saw her face if she was experiencing pleasure or pain. Gurek knelt in front of her and bent low, bowing until his forehead touched the floor in front of her. He kissed both of her feet before he straightened his back and kissed her stomach both below and then above the navel. Standing again, he placed a kiss on the top of each breast, at the center of her throat, on her mouth and finally in the middle of her brow.

Grandmother’s eyes had been closed during this series of kisses that even to my untrained eye looked ceremonial. But when he kissed her forehead, her eyes opened and she took his face in both hands to kiss him deeply on the mouth. As they kissed, she unlaced and removed his tunic and the kilt of fabric he kept gathered at his waist with a leather belt.

Gurek’s naked body was a surprise indeed for I had never seen a grown man naked before now, and certainly had never seen the masculine gender in this state of excitement before either. When he was not celebrating with us at the House on the Hill, Gurek made his living as a blacksmith, pounding and forging base metals into useful objects such as horse shoes, axe heads, and occasional weapons. With his clothes on, his strength was obvious; well defined muscles bulged against the seams of his shirt, straining against the fabric.

Without his clothes, he looked as I imagined heroes in the great tales looked. His skin was darker than Grandmothers, darkened by hours in the sun without a shirt and by repeated exposure to hot metal and hotter fires. Each muscle in his chest, stomach, back and arms was distinct and sinewy, flexing whenever he moved but not overwhelming him. His back was covered in a large tattoo of a tree that stretched the length of his spine, branching out onto his shoulders and arms.

His legs were wide and powerfully built and his tattooed back was straight and strong looking. But what was most surprising was how his male parts sprang forcefully and erect from the thicket of dark hair that was between his legs. I had seen young boys’ parts before, but they had always been soft, flaccid and loosely hanging. I was stirred in a way I could not define to see that member hard and standing.

As I stared openly at him, Gurek reached behind and around Grandmother and lifted her off the floor. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he lowered her slightly and his phallus, which had been visible only moments before, disappeared from view between Grandmother’s legs, at the inner core of her. With a sudden throb at my center I understood what Ursa had been describing to me on the night I had my first blood; what she meant by the shaft that reaches to the womb place within a woman.

I saw too what she meant when she told me that a lucky pairing would bring pleasure to a woman and to a man; Gurek’s face was intense and focused, but showed a look of satisfaction and mastery as does the face of one who is sure of his abilities and enjoys the task. His legs were spread apart and bent, corded muscles stretched and straining, so that he was almost sitting on an invisible chair. He rocked slightly from the waist as if he would stand up from that invisible chair, but then he sat back down again.

Grandmother’s eyes were closed and her face was a mask of serenity and bliss as she clung to Gurek’s strong form with all four limbs, leaning in to lay her head on his shoulder. As he rocked, so too did she, moving her hips forward and back as if she was riding a horse at a canter. Their movements were rhythmic, synchronized, hypnotic.

Their breathing became louder and faster as the pace of their rocking movements increased. A low moan, similar to the moaning chant from the ritual earlier that evening, escaped from Grandmother’s lips and she leaned further into Gurek, hands gripping his shoulders, short nails digging into his muscled back. The tendons in his neck strained now as he thrust upward with greater momentum, pressing Grandmother even harder against him as if to meld her with his body. She arched away with her upper body, driving her hips down forcefully onto his and seeming to freeze in place.

My heart was pounding and blood rushed behind my ears so loudly I could barely hear them as they cried out together in a primal sounding call of what might have sounded like pain, but was obviously pleasure. I had found a new pulse in the juncture between my thighs and shifted from my spot, crouching on the floor, trying to stop the frantic beating of what seemed like a secondary heart inside me.

Grandmother again leaned her face into Gurek’s neck and licked once, tasting the sweat that had gathered in the hollow of his collarbone. She sighed, contented, and they held each other tenderly.

“Láidáin, m’khindẻǽ, I have missed you” Gurek whispered into her neck as they embraced.

“Fy derwen gwra, My Oak-tree lover; I have missed you as well,” she leaned back slightly to study his face. “Will you stay the night fy carwr?”

A grin split his face and he rubbed his nose against hers in a gesture that was completely uncharacteristic of the stoic and steady blacksmith. For answer, he lifted her again, strong arms flexing slightly as he separated their hips, gently unwrapping her legs from his waist and turning her so her body was completely supported by his, but this time cradled around shoulder and knee as a doting parent would carry a sleeping child. With a sound that was almost a purr, she rested her head against his chest and snuggled into his embrace.

Without even a glance in my direction, he carried her out of the ritual room and through the curtain to the bedroom we had been sharing. I followed them, partly out of a sense of duty to my role as a shadow but mostly glad to be given the chance to see into the hidden and intimate side of my Grandmother; to see the secrets that happened on the other side of the curtain and begin to understand the complex and intricate relationship between a man and a woman.

Gurek let go of her only briefly with one hand to toss back the blankets, then carefully, as if with a breakable and delicate sacred item, he laid her on the bed. I stole in behind him, quiet and furtive as the shadows role I was emulating and sat in the corner on the pallet that had been laid out for me at the start of my initiative year. She smiled up at him as he climbed gracefully into the bed beside her.

Again they embraced, and kissed; this time with more tenderness and less urgency than before. With them lying down it was difficult to see exactly what they were doing, but I recognized the moment when, after a long silent time, Gurek pushed his masculinity deep inside Grandmother. Again her legs wrapped around his waist, but this time he was lying atop her, not standing and their rocking movements were slower and more gentle than before and many lingering kisses were shared as they joined and moaned softly.

“M’khindẻǽ” she moaned softly as they both paused, clinging damply to each other and I knew that this was the climax of the coupling; gentle and sweet where the first had been wild and raw. They kissed again, lingeringly and she turned in his arms to be cradled by his entire body, back to front.

Watching them sleep peacefully, smiles on both of their faces, arms wrapped loosely but securely around each other, I felt a pang in my heart. Was this what my parents had felt each time they had created a new sibling for me to tend? Was this what I would feel when I was older? Is all coupling between a man and a woman this way, as Ursa had said, or was this an anomaly; unique to those who could work the magickal threads of energy?

I knew that as a shadow, I too should be sleeping peacefully. Yet my mind continued to race and turn, wondering at what I had been allowed to witness. As furtively as when I had stolen behind Gurek, I traced a slow path to the junction between my own legs, carefully watching the bed for any signs of movement. I felt almost guilty; not because I was touching myself intimately – my parts were mine to do with as I pleased – but because I was acting independently, in the darkness pursuing an individual role instead of the shadowed role.

The skin there was still smooth; only a few tiny black curled hairs had dared to venture forth from the mound of bone and flesh that protected my inner sanctum. At the top of the cleft was a bundle of skin that was still sensitive to the touch, sending a jolt of energy through me when my fingers inadvertently rubbed against it. The same throbbing sensation that I had felt as a second heart earlier thrummed again like a distant echo and with a flash of clarity, I understood that though I had one heart in my chest that beat to keep me alive, I had yet another here; that beat when I was fully living.

Slowly reaching further towards the center of my self, I found wetness there and was surprised – my moon’s cycle had turned to match Grandmother’s and had already passed a ten day ago. I was not due to bleed again for at least another ten day. I pulled my hand out from under my dress and inspected my fingers in the dim light that came through the curtain from the still lit fire in the main room. There was no blood to be seen on my fingertips, only a glistening of moisture.

I held my fingers to my nose and sniffed twice. The scent was similar to that of my moon’s blood, but without a significant fragrance; that of the blood itself. My tongue darted out and tasted the damp ends of my fingers. The texture was viscous, like fresh milk, but unlike anything I had ever tasted before. It was slightly salty, and tasted a bit like the blood of a fresh wound, but with an undertone not unlike the mossy tea that Ursa brought to stem the moon’s blood cramps.

I sniffed the ends of my fingers again and found that the liquid had dried. It was still slightly sticky, as if I had stuck my fingers in the whites of an egg. Bolder now, assured by the steady sounds of sleep issuing from the doubly occupied bed in the corner of the room, I reached under the hem of my dress again and tucked my hand between the folds of skin between my legs.

The throbbing of my second heart had begun again as I thought about what I had seen that night. Little details stuck out in my mind; the sight of the flex and stretch of Gurek’s sinuous leg muscles as he thrust into Grandmother’s body. The rhythmic whispered sounds of pleasure that they had shared, the moaning chant the women had sung during the ritual. I remembered again the almost painful stretch of my nipples against the rough fabric of my dress when I had leaned in against the bodies of the men in the circle to fill the goblet with moon blessed water, and how my body had responded with acute awareness of the places where our bodies had touched.

I wondered now how many other couples had gone on to pleasure that night, joining in the same intimate dance that Gurek and Grandmother had completed. Remembering the fine shape of Meallán, the young wheat thresher who had been on my left during the ritual, my pulse quickened and involuntarily my hips thrust against my hand as my Grandmother’s had thrust against Gurek.

As the tip of that bundle of skin rubbed against my knuckle, the throb increased and again my hips moved of their own volition. The wetness I had felt before became more pronounced as I experimented with purposefully moving my hips against a stationary hand, enjoying the sensation of skin on nub, and the new delight of a slippery wetness as the rhythm I was pursuing became evident.

Remembering the steady pace of Grandmother and Gurek’s movements I began to match them in my own way, rubbing with finger tips that steadily beating second heart between my legs. I felt electric, excited as if was a small child eavesdropping on ghost stories that would curl your toes. My other hand began to clench and my nipples strained as my breathing became more labored, matching the now steady circling motion of my hips against my hand.

Suddenly, without warning, a new feeling came that startled me into stillness. A fluttering in my lower abdomen as if I were a valley full of wild butterflies and the muscles in the backs of my legs constricted as if I were a child with growing pains having cramps in the night. It was unexpected and new but not unpleasant, and after the spasms stopped I felt a strange sense of peace and relaxation that finally quieted my curious mind. Uncertain, but peaceful at last, I slept deeply and dreamlessly until morning.