Once upon a time, there were two brothers. An older brother, and a younger brother. One year apart in age. They were the best of friends, as all brothers should be - and few are. The brothers did everything together: They slept together, ate together, studied together, laughed and played and cried together. As nearly all brothers and friends do from time to time, they would argue and fight. Sometimes it even came to blows. Sometimes they were so angry with each other that they would refuse to speak to one another. But, like all true brothers and friends, they always made up afterwards.

They took each other for granted; they had been together for as long as they could remember, and it seemed as if life would always carry on the same way as before. But one day their entire world was thrown off-balance, for one day...their mother died. Neither one of the brothers had realized before then what they meant to each other. In their loss, their grief, their tears, they found solace in each other.

It was a quiet sort of dependency, not one filled with tears or tight embraces. Indeed, they rarely spoke of it, if ever. But it was there all the same, the knowledge that neither could live without the other. In the simple actions of everyday, in the 'please pass the salt's and the 'good-night, Brother's, they were telling each other "I love you" every day. To say such a thing aloud would have been a frightful embarrassment, but everyone needs to hear those words at least once. They were telling each other in the subtlest ways, but neither of them doubted for a moment that the other loved him.

Life continued in this manner for the two brothers, until one day they found their lives changing again. Both brothers' lives were in danger of being snuffed out altogether. But each could only think of their brother and how dreadful it would be for the other to die. Each brother realized with a sudden clarity that life meant nothing, if it could not be lived with their brother.

"I will give up my life," said the elder brother to himself, "that my brother will live."

"Death would not be too great a price," thought the younger, "if it meant my brother lived on."

Thus did the two brothers set out to save each other's life. They did not fully admit to each other what they were prepared to do, but they continued their quest together all the same. And at last they came within sight of their goal, the goal they had been striving so hard to reach. They learned that, indeed, the only way to save their brother was to give up their own life. The brothers looked into each other's eyes, and they knew in their heart of hearts this was a sacrifice they would gladly make.

As the elder brother plunged a jewelled dagger into his own heart, he saw to his amazement that his little brother did the same. For a moment, the brothers stood facing each other, clutching their chests, blood dribbling out their open mouths. Then they both fell as one, backwards and away from each other. Yet no one can ignore the self-sacrificing love of two brothers who have given everything for the sake of each other, and the eyes of fate were approving as they looked down upon these two brothers.

The brothers opened their eyes, and they found themselves alive - alive and freed from their impending deaths. Better still, they were together. I cannot even begin to describe the tears, the laughter, the gleeful frolics these two brothers shared when they found themselves alive again. For what words can describe them? I would not be able to explain them to one who has never experienced the wholesome joy of love. And for those who have...what words could enhance the knowledge they already possess?

The two brothers are among the few who perhaps need never say "I love you," for their every action speaks better than words. All the same, they said it to each other many times after they had been given new life. And I think it is no great wonder what happened next: They lived happily ever after.