The Rings - GBE2 prompt

They hung from a tree. Two slender gold bands, unadorned, bound tightly together by a sky blue ribbon. When the heavens were summer azure, the ribbon blended, disappeared, the rings seeming to twirl endlessly, no strings to manipulate their waltz. Breezes set them to intricate sambas, gales to frantic dervish dancing, but always they came back to rest, side by side, with the merest tinkle of one against the other.

For years they hung in the tree. Park visitors commented, puzzled, theorized, but no-one touched them. Lovers smiled coyly, wondering about the future, exchanging kisses and promises beneath them. Children occasionally batted the ribbon with sticks, but with no real intent, only idleness. The rings were safe in their leafy haven.

Evening. The last rays of glorious golden sunlight, at the end of a perfect day, glinted off the lazily twisting rings. A magpie, heading home to roost, saw the tiny spark of light. His flittering brain knew only an urge to grab, pull, take. He swooped by, yanked the sky ribbon. Years had aged the delicate bindings. The blue snapped, the gold slipped, falling together through the deepening gloom. The magpie flew on, interest gone the instant his quarry disappeared into the long grass surrounding the tree.

For months they lay, side by side, rings of golden light being woven into the grasses. Sometimes a beetle scurried through. Curious foxes snuffled by, their prey running ahead, no time to look at baubles and pretties. A worm or two broke the earth, surfaced, slipped over the cold, gold metal and left. Their absence was noted, cynical comments were made about 'yobs with no respect for tradition'. For a short while, a fake pair were hung above the reality in the grass, but they didn't last. They had no weight, of time nor history. Together, the bands waited.

Autumn turned to the beginnings of chilled winter. Park-keepers began preparing the park for winter sleep. The grass was cut. The huge machine, it's rider oblivious, deep in melancholy thought, chewed toward the pair in the grass. There was no battle to stay together. A blade scythed through, clipped one band and spun it left. The other joined the rush of grass into the collecting bin. The pair were no more.

A flash of gold spun through the air, caught a gust of icy breeze and landed, rolling, on the path. It turned and rolled, spun and journeyed until the park gates were reached. A young woman waited there. Her beau would finish work soon and come to walk her home. Her thoughts were filled with him, how she loved him, how she wished he would ask her the question that hung between them like a transparent wall. She didn't care if he had no money, no great prospects. She wanted him, not his job. He made her smile, made her soul sing as no other ever had.

“Make him ask me, please.” she murmured to the shiversome wind as it raced by.

Also racing on was a quick flash of gold. She stooped, fast, snatched the gold up. She studied the ring, felt sad. For the person who'd lost it. For herself, for her stalled hopes. Tucking it into her pocket, she started along the path, walking to meet him, not wanting to wait longer to see his blue eyes, his slow smile.

He came toward her, his eyes thoughtful. His embrace was strong, a 'never let you go' surrounding of arms and love. They stood under the tree, and she held out her hand, shrugging a little as she dropped the slim ring onto his palm, explained how it had come to her.

“You should advertise it,on the park noticeboard.”

He said nothing, but his smile suddenly exploded, a chuckle bubbling over his lips. She frowned, watched him draw his hand from his jacket, unfold his fingers, reveal an identical flash of gold.

“It was in the grass cuttings when I emptied them.”

The thought came to them both, at the instant they clicked the rings together. He drew her close, whispered against her ear;

“Marry me?”

“Yes.”

When the kisses were done, the happiness somehow contained, she took both rings from his puzzled hand. Taking the red ribbon from her hair, she bound them together and tied them back in their place on the tree.

“I don't need them, or any ring. We are bound in our hearts. Let them bring others this much joy.”

Hand in hand they walked into their future.

In the darkness, two rings turned slowly, occasionally sparking heart's fire in the golden glow of lamplight.

Bright Blessings

Mojo

(Image found here)