Title: Midsommardröm

Author: Enaty

Rating: T

Warning: implied sexual situations

Disclaimer: Leon and D; the text of the song isn't mine also, but before someone thinks he's gotta kick this story for being a song-fic, I'd like to say that it's the text of a traditional midsummer song from Sweden and that I'm not infringing any copyright by using it here.

Claimer: Was my idea, and I've written the text. I also did the translation of the song, and thus that's mine, too.

Author's Notes: extensive notes below; here a thank-you to Anna, who triggered this fic by sharing Shin with me, which resulted in a discussion over the importance and meaning of Midsommar in the European countries ^^ This is by far not a real answer, but I hope it enlightens it nevertheless.

Midsommardröm

The air was filled with the scent of flowers, occasional tatters of songs and laughter. It was green and red and yellow and blue and every other colour nature could've thought up to present herself at her best. This was the time of the year where one celebrated, it was the time to be happy, to lose oneself in a rush of summer nights, fleeting love and adventure, of walks under an endless deep blue sky that never really got dark and the time of dreams that lasted as long as the light.

Leon knew that much, and he saw the people in their best clothes, their faces bright and happy; he also saw the flowers in their beauty, trying to add to the common happiness. He snarled at them. "Bloom all you want, I know that you're gonna die soon enough," he hissed, leaning over a bunch of roses. They were unimpressed by his words, but one of the girls who was busy winding a midsummer wreath near him looked up and sent him an irritated glance.

"Can I help you?" she asked, a heavy accent in her voice. Leon quickly shook his head. He knew she couldn't see what he was seeing; D's face, his smile, his eyes. Especially his eyes, and he growled at the violets and turned away. He couldn't take part in the festivities; he wasn't even part of the culture who was celebrating this evening, June 21st, summer solstice, or, as they called it in their language, Midsommarafton. He already rued having come here, but for the same reason that made him travel through the world for years, he'd come to this land, now, in time for the feast. He hated it. He didn't know the language, he didn't know why this day should be so very important, and those songs...

They all told about the beauty of summer, the wonderful world that existed as long as the sun continued to be high in the sky day and night alike. Leon didn't like that, too. He was used to the sun going down at the end of the day, not staying up in the sky all night. And he truly couldn't see why there should be such magic in the air during this night. It was just a night like any other damn night of the year.

He snorted as he heard yet another voice starting to sing, quietly. "Kristallen den fina, som solen månd'skina, som stjärnorna blänka i skyn... Jag känner en flicka i dygden den fina, en flicka i denna här byn... Min vän, min vän och älskogsblomma! Ack, om vi kunde tillsammans komma, och jag vore vännen din, och du allra kärestan min, du ädela ros och forgyllande skrin."

(A crystal so clearly, by sun lit so gently/It shines like the stars in the sky/I know of a maiden whose grace shines more fairly/A maid in a village nearby/My friend, my friend and heart's sweet flower/If we could finally find to each other/And your dear friend I could be/And you darling dearest to me/You precious rose and golden gem.)

Leon snorted again, and since he didn't have something better to do, since he had to seek and try, he followed the voice, walking right into the little forest. The sun wasn't able to completely get through the trees, and the light was dim, but the air was soft and warm and heavy with yet more scents of trees and flowers blooming, the slightly wet scent of moss underlying them.

He couldn't understand the words he heard; he'd never learned this language, and he didn't intend to, since this was a land that reminded him of ice and snow and long, dark winters, but the melody of this song was different than those all the girls had been singing; it was mellow, even sad, joining the joy over summer with the knowledge that it would end only too soon, and the voice expressed a longing that made Leon's heart ache with memories.

Finally he reached the little clearing, the small stream that ran through it, the sound of the water mixing into the voice of the singer, accompanying his song.

The voice ceased singing; she only hummed now. Leon wanted to say something, and failed to find words. The moment stretched into eternity, carried by the soft melody.

D stopped humming, sighed softly and turned to him. "Min vän, min vän," he whispered into the half-light, half-darkness, his eyes wide and beautiful.

Leon didn't want to go to him, he didn't; but he still did, and he did kiss D, did undress him, did make love with him, and D let him, surrendered to him without doubt or hesitation, keeping his eyes closed the whole time. Leon knew it was to keep the tears inside.

Only when they lay on the soft moss did D open his eyes again. With soft, careful fingers he traced Leon's face, as if wanting to memorise the features with his touch, the feel of Leon's eyes, nose, lips and ears. He held still, and when D finally bedded his head gently on his chest, he easily rested there, now closing his eyes. D started to sing again, his voice lulling Leon to sleep.

"Och om jag än fore till världenes ände, så ropar mitt hjärta till dig, och om jag än fore till världenes ände, så ropar mitt hjärta till deg, till dig, min vän, och älskogsblomma, ack, om vi kunde tillsammans komma, och jag vore vännen din, och du allra kärestan min, du ädela ros och forgyllande skrin."

(And should I travel to world's end so far away/My heart still cries out for you/And if I travelled to world's end so far away/My heart still cries out to you/To you, my friend and heart's sweet flower/If we could finally find to each other/And your dear friend I could be/And you darling dearest to me/You precious rose and golden gem.)

Leon awoke from the feeling of soft summer rain falling down on his face. The rest of his body was protected from the wetness by a fine silken garment that faintly smelled of roses and incense.

He slowly dressed himself; carefully stowed the precious silk in his bag and set out yet again, D's voice echoing in his heart.

"Och om jag än fore till världenes ände, så ropar mitt hjärta till dig..."

- Ände-

Author's Notes: If someone has a better translation, please tell me so. I looked around, but none that I found fitted me just right, so I translated it myself in the end. It's not by far a perfect translation, but I am moderately happy with it; still, in some aspects it differs from the Swedish original, due to the fact that I wanted to preserve the lyrical quality of the original (which didn't always work either -.-). If anyone's interested in the changes, just mail me and I'll tell you.

Oh, and there's a good version of the song (Kristallen den fina) by Falconer on youtube, so if anyone's interested in listening to it...