The Sun and the Moon

Long ago, when the world was young, and stories had yet to be told, the Sun and the Moon took one another for lovers.

Not all at once, of course–the Moon was, after all, a respectable young lady whose Mother, the Queen of the Depths, had raised with a high regard for proper behaviours as might become a lady of her standing.

But when first the young maiden beheld the Sun, riding through the sky on his golden chariot, she fell hopelessly in love with him. And though she lived below ground, she would make every excuse to walk on the surface of the young Earth whenever the Sun was traveling overhead, avoiding all shade and shadow so that he might see her and, she hoped, admire her.

For the Moon was a rare beauty. Pale as milk, with supple curves and soft grey eyes, she was a sight even for the young Sun, who had seen–many times over–every thing on the surface of the Earth. For though he had golden radiance enough to illuminate the surface of the world as he crossed the wide sky, he knew with one glance that the Moon shone under his light like nothing he had ever seen.

And this maiden never shied away from his brightness, never sought shade or shelter from his heat and glaring light. No–if anything, she seemed always to seek a place of prominence, the better to be seen by him as he passed overhead. And the young Sun realized that this young maiden was seeking to be admired.

And so he admired her. And the more he admired her, the more he wanted to admire her, and he dreamed of days without end, when he could be always in the sky, and she always on the surface of the Earth, where he could see her, and behold how his light made her shine.

And she noticed how slowly he began to pass over her, and while at first she pretended not to notice him, soon she found herself looking back up at him, too, and admiring his strength, and the fierce wildness of his youth and power.

Little did the Sun understand his own strength, nor appreciate his power, for the world still was young, and boundaries and limits had yet to be tested.

So he did not quickly notice–being, as he was, so enamored of the beauty of the Moon–how his increasingly long, slow, journeys across the sky affected everything else on the surface of the Earth. The rivers and lakes began to dry up, and the grasses and flowers to wilt, and living things gasped and panted in the meagre shade they could still find, wishing the cursed Sun would set.

But so much did he admire the Moon, and so much did she admire the fair Sun, that neither thought of anything but spending more time in each other's regard.

So it was that a messenger was sent to the Moon's mother, The Queen of the Depths, who had begun to wonder where her daughter was spending so much of her time. And the messenger of the living things told the Queen of the Depths of the mutual admiration of the Sun and her daughter, the Moon, and how the Sun cared for nothing but her daughter, and how his dalliance was set to destroy all living things on the Earth.

At this, the Queen knew she must intervene, for though the surface of the Earth was beyond her realm, she could not allow herself to be held responsible for its destruction.

So, when her daughter returned to her that evening, she confronted her, and said,

"Daughter of mine, this must end! I know how you spend your days. But he is of the Sky and you are of the Depths, and your continued association will bring about the ruin of all!"

Hearing this, the Moon was distraught, and cried out,

"But, Mother, I love him! And he loves me! And all we wish is to spend all our waking hours in each other's company! Surely you would not deny your own daughter such happiness!"

But the Queen would not let herself be moved, and though it pained her to cause her daughter distress, still she stood firm, and exacted from her daughter a terrible promise.

"Daughter, know that this infatuation will bring only pain and ruin, and so I must forbid it. But, to show you that I am incapable of denying you all happiness, I will allow you to see him once more, but only to tell him that he must forget you!"

And so, weeping, the Moon promised.

The next day, when the Sun rose into the sky in his golden chariot, he saw the Moon kneeling in shadow, hiding her face.

"Fairest Moon," called out the Sun, "why do you hide your face? Uncover yourself, so that I may see you better."

But the Moon would not uncover her face, and from behind her hand she cried, "Oh, dear Sun, I cannot bear it! For I have only come to tell you that I must return to my Mother's house, and never more may we see each other again!"

The Sun was greatly pained, and drew up his mount, halting in the sky. He looked down on the fair maid, and he was overcome with pain, and while he stood still, all the ground around her began to scorch, and all living things to wither, and yet still the intensity of his light made her pale raidiance glow, and he was consumed with longing for her.

And as he was young and powerful and impetuous, he formed a desperate plan.

"Fairest Moon!" he cried out. "Come away with me tonight, and let us be together, forever!"

Upon hearing this, the Moon was overcome with her own longing for him, and she agreed.

That night, the Queen of the Depths waited for her daughter, but the Moon did not return. All the next day, the Earth was sunk in an impenetrable blackness, for while he held his love, the Moon, finally in his arms, the Sun had no desire to travel through the Sky.

All through that dark day they lay in their fervent embrace, away beyond the edge of the Earth and Sky, where no living thing might find them.

But when, again, her daughter did not return, the Queen of the Depths understood what had happened, and she was enraged at her daughter's betrayal.

So she went to the edge of the Earth and Sky, and there she found the two lovers asleep, entwined inside the Sun's golden chariot.

And when she saw them together, she was overcome with rage, and in the blindness of her anger she laid a fearsome curse upon her daughter.

"Go, then, ungrateful creature, and live forever in the Sky! But so that you may know the pain you have caused, you will be always at the farthest end of the heavens from your love!"

The terrible tone of her voice had wakened the young couple, and the Moon's face turned even whiter with fear, but her mother was not done.

"And so that you may know the shameful way that you have paraded your beauty for sport, you will live forever upon the edge of shadow, and never show your full radiance for more than one night! And though you will be ever illuminated by his distant light, your shining hero will have to race to catch even a glimpse of you!"

At her final words, there was a horrible rending, and with a wailing scream, the fair Moon was cast into the farthest, darkest end of the sky. And though the Sun leapt to his feet and strained his eyes, he could not see her.

With her anger spent, the Queen of the Depths was filled with loss and regret for her daughter, and she returned to her kingdom below the ground and came out only when the Moon was in shadow, for she could not bear to see what she had done.

So the Moon traveled across the sky, bearing the shame of her punishment, and would show only a fraction of herself with each passing night until at last all the inhabitants of the Earth could see her in full, before she slowly covered herself again. And the young Sun continued each day to pursue her across the sky, hoping that she might tarry long enough for him to catch even a glimpse of her.

But on some rare mornings, the Sun may rise, and the full Moon may be setting, and for those few moments their eyes lock across the heavens, and the world basks in the glow of these two perfect beings, who loved too each other too much.