Rulçmorè was a furre, in the land of Furcadia, that was unlike any other. To many his attributes made him a fool and a worthless being. He never slept, he never ate, he never talked to anyone, and he never moved away from one side of the Rancese Lake, where the sun never gave its light. Many furres stumbled upon him and occasionally think he was dead, but there was only one factor that made him seem alive. He could only move his eyes, but the rest of his body never shook or trembled. Mainly because no one would talk to him or do anything that would help him. One furre, who was able to seek his heart, changed that.
While Rulçmorè was resting one summer night, his eyes gazed upon a being that stood out in the night walking to the other side of the lake. Her white satin clothing and her heavenly blond hair glistened in his eyes as he tried to recognized the being. He glanced at her the whole time he was there, not making a move; just listening to her roam the forests and the lake beside them. He had wondered who the figure was until finally the water’s reflection shined the light of the crescent moon on the golden angel.
The reflection was so luminous that every inch of skin and clothing showed to Rulçmorè’s eyes. When he saw her, his eyes began to tear because of the beauty that reached upon his eyes. Her fur was so faint that not a single crease showed on her face. The hair of the furre was the brightest and the most luscious of all the furres he had ever seen. He tried to move closer to make her recognize he was there, to show that someone was out there, watching every gracious, balanced move she made. He, however, could not move a muscle, and decided to give up.
He stayed put, and finally heard a tiny whisper come from her mouth, a beckoning of some sort. Ignoring all living things around him, he concentrated on what he heard. "What a gracious night," she said in sighing tones, "it is just too unfortunate that I must live alone in the night, when all I need is someone else to share the night with me." These words restarted Rulçmorè’s will to be heard. He tried to scream, but with no ability. He tried to move, but couldn’t. He heard her speak again, so he stopped.
"If there is someone here, please let me hear you. I am so lonely and I am being spoiled by owning all this moonlight without anyone to share it with. If someone be there, please be heard; give a hint as to where you are and I’ll graciously thank you!" The words she spoke sounded like major-chord music to him. Every note bathing in the sounds of the lake and moonlight. Rulçmorè, giving up all hope, tried one last attempt at moving. Pushing every muscle to the limit, he very slowly crept forward, moving his body weight slowly toward the ground. His efforts were not silent, however, for his cries of pain ended with a thud on the tired soil.
The beauty, looked up in hope, and found Rulçmorè. She slowly approached him, making sure that his position of sitting while facing towards the sky did not mean anything harmful. When she finally came into view of the being, she propped Rulçmorè up carefully, and brushed the dirt off him. She sighed while staring in his eyes, "Such a pity. He’s only a stone very well painted and carved to look just like a furre. Such an artist should be praised for making such a beauty. If he were a real furre, I’d have no griefs with loving such a gorgeous being."
He couldn’t take the pain he felt inside. She loved him, or at least the statue of him, and he wanted to have her so badly. He felt so much sorrow that he shed a tear off his eyes carrying the light of the moon into the beauty’s eyes. This startled her, noticing that he was alive. Rulçmorè, remembering the only thing he could move, wiggled his eyes in such vigor that anyone would be startled by it.
"So, you are alive, yet dead in movement. Your eyes shine light, but your body darkens your life. You must have been lonely, here by yourself, not a sound from your lips." With that, she stared at his red, waiting lips; anxious enough to speak, yet dead enough to stay still. Her attention was pulled to his facial expression as his eyes stared straight into her eyes, signifying that he wanted something from her. It was that expression that made her realize what she was to him.
Smiling greatly, she crept closer to him, and cradled his head in her hands. She slowly, gently, reached down to his face. Closed her eyes, the beauty, not expecting any bliss, met her lips with his. The energies of their kiss closed Rulçmorè’s eyelids, shedding more tears of joy on his face and in his soul. He started to feel his hair moving in the northern winds, his mouth parrying her kiss, and finally moving his arms around the beauty’s body, taking what was meant to be his. He was restored completely and pulled back to show the furre what she did to him.
The smile on her face glistened proudly in the moonlight, making her joyous feelings felt. After a decade of sorrow and silence from the two of them, Rulçmorè’s first words to her, as he whispered to her wanting ears were, "I love you, my precious." With that, they kissed for the rest of the night, and lived together for the rest on their lives.
Moral: Those who try against will and wait against time, receive precious gifts in the end.