Deep in the forest was a grove of hawthorns, the sacred guardian trees that brought luck and prosperity to the land. The young huntsman asleep beneath the trees had need of both. He had rolled himself in his cloak stitched together from skins of the animals he'd caught. He had made a fire from the wood of dried oak logs, carefully split into perfect rectangles. The choicest parts of the deer he killed earlier were sizzling among the coals, while the blood of the deer had been sprinkled on the fire as the huntsman called to Nimue, the Moon and her consort, Herne the Hunter, the Horned God. For on this Beltane night, the huntsman needed the blessings of the gods. He had no lands and no property, other than a small hut in the forest. His name was Viggo and he was part of a small rough tribe inhabiting the untamed hills. His parents had died two years earlier of a sickness that swept through his clan that winter. His sister was happy, married to a hunter from a nearby tribe, but this young man was alone.
So on this night, when the Wild Magic stalked the land, Viggo prayed for good hunting in the next year so that he could afford to trade for a wife. He slept deeply, protected in the hawthorn grove, while the night swirled lawless around him, hunting horns rang out and frantic hoofbeats shattered the peace of the night, as something crashed through the tangled forest around him, followed by ghostly baying hounds.
In his dreams, Viggo dove into a still forest pool, an eddy of quiet in a fiercely running mountain stream. In the odd way of dreams he was perfectly comfortable in the water and did not need to breathe. He swam down into the green depths of the water until he found a large rock. He tried to move the rock, but his feet could find no purchase in the sand of the stream and the rock was slippery with weed. A large salmon swam up to him and asked him what he was doing. Viggo replied that the rock was blocking the way to his heart's desire and he must move it. The salmon changed into a human form, but Viggo's churning feet had turned up so much sand that he could not see the person beside him clearly. The transfigured salmon added its strength to Viggo's and the rock soon turned over with a crash and swirl of water.
Viggo sat up with a gasp as his eyes squinted against the bright morning glare. His dream was already fading and the only thing he could remember was a feeling of contentment such as he had never known. He stared into the sun, its light dazzling his eyes and when he looked away there was an image on his eyelids. He picked up a stick and started tracing a design in the dirt, not sure what he was really doing but strangely compelled to make the picture. When he finished, he stared in surprise. He had made a vaguely human figure, but he could not tell whether it was male or female, only that it had two arms and two legs. He shook his head, dismissing it as a fancy brought on by the magic in the night and packed his camp away before heading for his home.
Viggo had good luck hunting in the next few days, and once he caught an unusually large buck, his arrow flying straight and true, killing the deer with a single shot. He dried the meat and stretched the skin carefully, scraping it and curing it with the deer's brains. It would make a fine cloak for a chieftain with the branching antlers sewn into the upper edge of it to form a collar. When it was soft and supple, falling in graceful folds, he took it to the nearest crossroads, intending to trade it for some bronze trinkets that would help him lure a wife.
The peddler he encountered there had many such things, and he had decided on a few, when the peddler brought out some sheets of hide that had been cured flat and stiff and some bits of charcoal wrapped round with sweet grasses.
"What are those?" Viggo asked.
"I found these in the south, they are for writing," the peddler replied.
But Viggo was not thinking about using them for writing, for he was as unlettered as the rest of his tribe. He was thinking that the figure he kept scratching in the dirt in front of his hut would be much easier to draw if he used the peddler's hides. Before he could change his mind about it, he asked for the sheets and the charcoal.
Since Beltane night, Viggo had tried to remember his dream, but he could not call it back into his waking mind. All he could do was sketch the figure in the dirt and he was weary of this thing that seemed to him to be some form of madness. He sat in front of his hut in the fading summer light and let his hand holding the charcoal stick move freely over the sheet, his mind disconnected.
When he had finished, he stared at the picture for a long time. He had drawn the image of a naked man, leanly muscled, sharp featured, with hair tumbling over his shoulders. Viggo placed his palm open against the picture, wondering where he had seen this man before. Finally he put it aside and went to bed.
In the days that followed, Viggo fell into a routine of hunting all day, and sometimes at night, but always, when the sun was fading, he would sit with his sheet of hide and the charcoal and sketch. It was always the same form, but Viggo learned shading and delineation as he worked, and each version became more lifelike.
One day, his sister was due for a visit so Viggo stayed home, looking through his pictures, realizing how well he had taught himself this art. He smiled when he heard the hail outside his door and swept the woman into a hug.
"Mirry, I've missed you."
"And I you, silly." She swept into his hut, in a flurry of feminine skirts and smells, clucking at the state of neglect inside.
"Viggo, really, this is too much even for you. I'll have to straighten this out before any woman will ever look twice at you."
Viggo smiled at her zeal. "Wouldn't it be better if she knows what she's in for before she's stuck with me?"
Mirry rolled her eyes. "You know nothing of women." She began cleaning, occasionally handing things to Viggo with orders for him to take them away. She gave a soft gasp when she found the sketches, bringing them outside into the light for a better look.
"What are these?"
Viggo shifted uncomfortably, afraid that she would not approve. She was the only close kin he had left and her opinion was important to him. "It's a picture that's in my head, I keep drawing him. I'm not sure why."
"He looks so alive, like he could step off this sheet and talk. What color is his hair?"
Letting out a relieved sigh, Viggo answered, "It's yellow, like yours."
"And his eyes?"
"Green like new spring leaves. Or forest pools with sunlight sparkling on them."
Mirry gave him a long look, full of knowledge that Viggo wasn't sure he liked. "And does he have a name?"
"No, of course not . . . " Viggo snorted. "No, that's not right," he corrected himself softly. "It's Sean, that's his name."
"He's beautiful," she said, but looked at Viggo seriously. "Be careful."
Viggo shrugged, not exactly sure what she was warning him against, but he put the drawings aside and they spent the day happily together. Mirry left the next morning and Viggo sat quietly thinking about what she said about the image looking almost alive.
He picked up his axe and went into the forest, not exactly sure what he was looking for. He found himself walking beside the banks of a stream and happened upon an Alder tree whose roots had been undercut by the water until it had collapsed. It was considered a sin among his people to fell an Alder, for the tree was said to bleed when cut having been used by the gods to create the first man. But this one had died of natural causes and Viggo used his axe to gently free the remaining roots. The tree was quite large with a main bole twice as tall as a man and Viggo was exhausted by the time he had dragged it back to his hut.
He slept deeply that night and dreamed that Sean was trapped in the tree. In the morning he carefully peeled the bark away from the trunk, his fingers caressing the twisting lines of the wood grain, almost seeing Sean's face in the golden wood. He took up his knife and delicately, carefully, began to remove the wood holding Sean captive.
All through the summer he worked, hunting part of the day, then spending an hour or two carving, bringing Sean out of the Alder tree. His hair was long, lying against his head in feathery waves, his nose was sharp, his eyes bright. Viggo pictured everything in his mind as he worked. Sean was of his same height, his shoulders wide and strong, his back and chest wrapped in lean muscle. His legs were long and shapely, his flanks were trim. Viggo found the image in his mind slowly taking shape under his hands, the wood gradually yielding Sean to him.
Summer's harvest was in and the autumn winds whirled through the forest and Viggo left the deer alone, content to let them rut in peace, in tune with the cycle that would bring more deer in the spring. Instead he haunted the marges of lakes and riversides, hidden in the reeds, his arrows trained on the flights of ducks and waterfowl resting on their long journey south.
The day that Viggo took up his knife to form Sean's manhood was cold, frost glittered on the few remaining leaves and the rising sun sparkled the forest into a fairyland, making shimmering nets of diamonds out of spider webs and limning the edges of fading flowers with blazing light. Viggo had caught a brace of rabbits that day, and they simmered on the fire while Viggo debated what to do. He could not decide whether to carve Sean at rest or rampant, so he laid the knife aside for that day and slept after he ate his dinner.
That night he dreamed of Sean's cock, his mouth was wrapped around it, warm and hard and Sean writhed and twisted under him, calling his name while Viggo milked his salty-sweet essence. Viggo awoke in the morning with a longing he could not name surging through him. But the carving went easily that day and Sean's shaft stood up thick and proud and his balls hung heavy below.
At last it was finished. Sean stood naked and barefoot on a platform carved like fallen leaves and Viggo was satisfied. He took to talking to the statue in the evenings, when he came home half frozen, for snow had started falling and Viggo was running trap lines. He told Sean about his day, the small things he had seen and done.
The winter was a harsh one and one day he found a deer half-killed by wolves. He ran the other hunters off with his arrows and his fire, but they had snipped the tendons in its hind legs and Viggo knew it would never walk again. He cut its throat regretfully, seeing that it was a large buck. But the hide he took home and cured as carefully as he had the one that he had traded. When it was finished, he draped it over Sean's shoulders, a garment fit for the man's beauty. After that he made many things for Sean; a necklace of wolf teeth, rabbit-skin bindings for his legs. Viggo even traded for another knife and made a belt and sheath out of boar-hide and hung it at Sean's waist.
All through the long winter, Viggo talked to Sean and while the wooden man never answered, Viggo felt that he had a friend. Mirry visited occasionally but did not remark on the statue, though she looked at Viggo with a strange wisdom in her eyes.
When spring came around again, one of the older hunters in the tribe came to Viggo's hut, asking if Viggo would like his daughter. She was a pretty little thing, but Viggo knew that she would not tolerate Sean, so he told the man as politely as he could that he was not looking for a wife at the moment. The man looked at him curiously, but turned away without comment. Viggo paced outside his hut, thinking about calling the man to come back, but unable to unlock his voice to do so. He finally realized what Mirry had meant when she told him to be careful.
He knew there was only one thing he could do, so he picked up his axe and went inside, intending to smash the statue. He raised the axe, but Sean's eyes seemed to twinkle at him, full of warmth and humor, and Viggo knew that he could bring no harm to his creation.
"What have you done to me?" he whispered. Sean gave him no answer, but Viggo started having dreams of him, of the two of them, wrapped together in an embrace of love.
On Beltane Eve, Viggo was desperate to resolve his strange obsession, so he strapped the statue to his back and hiked to the hawthorn grove deep in the forest. While Sean stood off to the side, Viggo built his fire and made his sacrifices, calling to the Moon Mother and the Horned Lord to show him what he should do. When all was ready, he laid down on furs, placing the statue to lie beside him and he committed his dreams to the gods.
As before, he found himself diving in the pool and trying to move the rock. Once again, the salmon approached him and Viggo told it that he was seeking his heart's desire. But this time when the salmon changed shape, Viggo saw that it was Sean who stood beside him, Sean who lent him strength and Viggo knew that what he wanted most was right next to him.
Letting go of the rock, Viggo took Sean's hand and swam for the surface. Sean was laughing when they broached the water, flinging his golden hair out of his eyes. Viggo laughed too and they circled around each other until Sean leaned in and kissed him. Viggo was surprised, for the lips covering his were warm and wet, moving over his mouth. He responded at last, desire tearing through him as Sean's arms went around him and their bodies bumped together in the water.
Viggo realized that they could not continue in the pool and he pulled Sean with him to the long grass growing around the water's edge. They rolled together, kissing and touching, until they rested at last, Viggo laying on Sean, marveling at the strong body under him.
"I love you," Viggo said, staring down into the green eyes that had more life and sparkle than even his imagination had given them.
Sean smiled, like sunshine. "I love you too." And his voice was as rich as clover honey and Viggo had never dreamed that he would sound that way.
His gear lay abandoned in the grass, and Viggo fumbled in it for a pot of salve, his fingers clumsy in his haste, while Sean waited for him. His fingers sank slick into Sean's heat, and Viggo gasped while the muscles clenched around his fingers in welcome.
"Please, Viggo," Sean moaned. "Inside me, please."
Viggo's hand trembled as he spread the salve over his aching erection. Sean pushed himself up against Viggo's hardness and they were joined, moving together as one, their voices lifting together, echoing over the rush of the water. The pleasure ebbed and surged through them and they crashed together as one and then lay panting in the long grass. Their kisses were slower and gentler and Viggo slept finally with his face pillowed on a strong shoulder.
When Viggo awoke, he was back in the hawthorn grove, the pool had disappeared and the shoulder under his cheek was cold. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to regain his dream against the sense of loss welling through him.
He turned away, unable to bear looking at his creation lying there with no fire in its eyes, but a warm hand cupped his face, pulling him back, and a voice like honey asked, "What's all this, then?"
Viggo could not speak, looking at the face before him, full of life and warmth and all the colors he had imagined. But not trusting his eyes, he put his hand on the strong bare shoulder, realizing that the chill he had felt when he woke was because they had been sleeping nude through a cool May night in the mountains.
Sean kissed him then, but Viggo kept his eyes open, making sure that he was awake, that the Moon Mother had heard his plea and granted his desire. When they parted, Sean smiled at him and said, "I've been dreaming of you for months now. Take me home."
And Viggo did not question his good fortune as he settled the deerskin cloak around Sean's shoulders and they walked back to his hut. From that day forward they hunted together and their wealth grew, for they were a formidable pair, understanding each other and the secret life of the forest in a way beyond words. The other men of the tribe starting turning to them for advice and counsel for the legend grew around them that they had been blessed by Herne and that their good luck would extend to all their people. Thus they lived long together in prosperity and Viggo found everything he had ever dreamed about with Sean by his side.
Summary: An artist and his muse.
Rated: R
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 3063 Read: 1006
Published: 15 Aug 2009 Updated: 15 Aug 2009