“What use do your leafy peaks have, when you do not use your judgement to scour the world beneath you? I am right here.” A smile, as Green reached a hand down.“No, not like that. Come here.”
Green responds by kneeling down, to meet Red where he is sat. He leans in, pressing their foreheads together just as they have so many times before, amidst mud and blood and all else.
Outside where the two knelt a war continued to rage on, for forces of good and evil refused to wait for no mighty stone or tree. But for now, they were neither. Red and Green.
---
Soon came the day where their merry band would begin their final journey. The world was saved, but they had all sought one last hurrah. Filing in, the lively group traversed grand caverns that of which opened up around them.
At the front of the pack, Green let himself bump into Red, “You know, I wonder if in these vast halls lies a place for oak to dwell.” His words were playful but laced in something unusually sentimental.
Red chuffed, and chose not to answer. Instead, he leaned to peer into a dark, narrow opening in the rock where the soft sound of water dripping from stalactite filled it whole. He paused, before patiently knocking his fist against the stone in a particular rhythm. As the rocks of the wall began to draw themselves back, Red looked back at Green, a gentle grin pulling at his lips.
---
The cave walls presented a few different pathways in the crevices that it bore — some tight, some wide, and some half-filled with fallen stone. Here in the nook where they had sheltered in, the two had curled in on each other.
“I had dreamt - I had imagined, we were back there, on the battlefield. And you-”. Green was cut off by none but his own heavy sob. He brought a hand to cover his mouth.
Red took a moment to fix Green in his gaze before leaning in and using his hand to cup the cheek of his other. “Nonsense. I am here.”
And despite being of the Wood, bearing skin like tree bark and hair that softly fell like leafy vine, Red couldn’t help but feel completely blinded by his companion in the same way he felt captivated by the most shining, glittering jewels he would find in the mines below.
He brought Green closer, pressed gentle murmurs to the brow of his dearest. It was then, as he wiped gleaming tears from a soaked face, Red was overtaken by a strong feeling — an awareness of existing as something so large and yet so small before this radiant being.
Red let himself fold and curl into a sniffling Green, the two taking each other into their arms. As Green met his gaze, Red spoke assuredly, “We exist now, in our world. And not even the all-powerful Sun and Moon, those effervescent and cosmic dames, could take that away. ”
---
Green’s world is still spinning, off-kiltered slightly, but still spinning.
There has been nothing but sorrow these past few centuries. Green raked himself off the floor to walk along the rock and stone he had known so intimately which now carried a faraway echo. All that stared in front of Green is a path blackened and waning. Somewhere far off a seagull cries, beckoning him to the shore.
---
The pads of Red’s fingers met Green’s. His coarse hands, roughened and blistered with smithing and lifting met that of Green’s. Made of Stone, Red had often worried that his jagged edges would cut something so brilliant as the bark that Green was made of. Red knew that bark was a strong outer layer, but when their hands pressed together like this, it felt pliable compared to his harsh edges.
Green was Red’s sturdy oak, that much was certain, and Red had seen his other wild and mad in battle. It was no great revelation that none a force could bring Green to his knees and yet the way that Green’s touch softened against his, Red felt he was one strong blow away from leaving Green torn.
As delicately as Stone could muster, he brought their two interlocked hands to his mouth. When he pressed a kiss to Green’s fingertips, the rustling laugh it elicited solidified in Red’s mind that he had in his hands something extraordinary beyond belief.
---
“It will be the first time that an outsider is ever brought into the Garden, but I want you there with me,” said Green.
In a familiar act, Red took his time to draw his hand out, careful not to rattle his sturdy oak. With himself inches away, he waited for Green to nod before taking his other into his palms. And despite how Red feels himself rugged and worn, Green only feels his touch to be gentle as he wiped away Green’s tears with his thumb. And Green loves him so deeply it could make him start crying again.
“I love you too,” Red said, plain and simple. “That’s what you meant, isn’t it?”
“I have seen you weld and wield great blades, but none you carry with as much precision as the preciseness of your handle with word for you know what it is I mean to say and what to say in return,” replied Green. “Loving you Red, is truly a battlefield.”
It all releases, beginning with Green’s shoulders losing their tension. Gone was any need to bite his lip till it bled to prevent himself from crying openly. Both tears and laughter were free to ring out loudly.
---
“The rock beneath our feet will shift one day. Perhaps not for a thousand years, but it will move. And that pillar will fall, and so will the ceiling. And if not for faultlines, then it will come when this home my kin and I have made begins to erode. It will all come tumbling down, slowly as it may.”
Red takes a moment to look over at his other. Arrived was the season in which the flowers dashed in Green’s hair began to blossom, taking form in sprawling, brilliant shapes and shades.
“However, it is your Garden that even with Man’s intervention or with storms and flame will always be the same as a new sapling brings regrowth to the same forest evermore.”
In between them was a simple meal: slices of bread spread with relish and a shared flask of wine.
“But if that is the case, even eroded sentiment can create something new. Something may appears different, perhaps in a changed location, but is it not still you?”
At Greenʻs words Red laughs and laughs before reaching over their food to take his sturdy oak in his hands once more and plant a kiss upon his face.
---
Scurrying for the ambush were two sprightly daggered rogues, scrawny in figure but compensated all the more through grit as they gripped Red by the beard and wrenched his head upwards. It would give him a thrumming like a raging boar’s thundering hooves in the morning.
He maneuvered his arms to grip the fighter closest to him and with a motion driven by pure adrenaline, Red threw his adversary to the ground. As he fought, breath heavy, his sense of reason washed away, dry leaves upon a flooded stream.
---
Green shook his head and leaned it against the wooden column, smooth to the touch but so old that it bore no memory of being lithe and green. Gone was any recollections of Sun’s rays and dewy grasses, but still it stood.
“This is a battlefield,” he whispered to no one but himself, for when he opened his eyes he was not there with bow and arrow in hand, but instead in the place he called his bedroom and a war that was considered won.
---
Despite their nearness, Red could not sense the breath of Green. The only thing assuring him that his oak was still there was the warmth of his body even through their clothing. He had not gone, carried away by some breeze. He was here.
“Listen,” Red said, bending close to Green’s ear to speak the syllables that made up his true name in an old, forgotten language.
---
The Stone stood and began through the hallways, his hand catching itself on each notch in the wall, lingering on embedded jewels but never fully settling as if he was not satisfied by even the most splendid of riches.
“What?” Green smiled widely.
“I said, here is where the stairway ends and where the true cave entrance lies.” A beat. “Welcome home.”
Careful intention that could only be paired with mindful motion. The intonation of his voice, with words forged sturdy but purposeful so that it sparked fires in the belly of whoever was most fortunate to hear. A kind touch, a warm glance. Green turned his head to meet the face of the other and despite its change in appearance he could tell its familiarity all the same. A name came to his mind.
“I know you,” Green says.
“You were right. Erosion could not fully take me from you.” A familiar laugh. “I’m right here.”
