How to Tame Your Tikbalang Ch. 14

As promised, here is the final chapter of How to Tame Your Tikbalang.

I truly enjoyed writing this story and am a bit sad to see it end, but, like all good things, it has to come to a close.

Thank you so much for bearing with the long intervals between chapters and for reading my story. Thank you for taking joy in my native lore and for being with me on this journey.

Yes, I will write more stories along this vein, since Kidlat's story still needs telling, as well as the back story of how Bulan and Ulap got together (FTW).

For now, I'm going to take a bit of a break before I finish up a few more writing projects, including my Isle of Lays series. :)

Thank you for the stars and the favorites, they've meant so much to me, so much more than I can say.

*****

"Kapag maaraw at umuulan, may kinakasal na Tikbalang [When it rains while the sun shines bright, a Tikbalang is being wed]." ~ Old Filipino proverb.

The glade in front of the molave throne was decked out for a wedding, with Bulan adding the finishing touches to the pink stargazer lilies and lush flowering vines holding midnight-blue and gold damask table-cloths and chair-covers in place. The sun was up and blazing brightly through the lattice and lace of branches and leaves.

Here and there, nubile Diwatas clad in filmy tunics shot through with silvery starlight were setting bright, multifaceted jewels that would serve as soft, colored lights for the nighttime revels along the lowest branches of the rainforest's triple canopy.

Industrious little Duwende in their brightly colored jumpers and shirts were setting out buffet tables and ice carvings representing scenes from the daily lives of each of the Other World races. The dark Duwende stood sentinel at the outskirts of the clearing, squinting their eyes at the sunlight, for they rarely, if ever, were out in the sun.

This was more than just a Tikbalang wedding: It was a royal Tikbalang wedding and, as has been tradition since they could remember, they were the honor guard in their black and silver barong Tagalog of pineapple silk (also known as jusi), salakot hats, pristine white pants and mirror-shiny black boots.

There, too, were the Nuno, the most exotic of the Other World's elementals with their long, lithe limbs and flowing black hair, naked but for white loincloths and hand-woven tapis that changed color brightly in the sunshine as they moved, their flawless brown skins gleaming as they went about carrying large clay pots containing razorback adobo, venison jerky marinated in sweet rice wine, blood stew, succulent beef in tamarind broth, chickens steamed over beds of sea salt and lemongrass and a whole roast pig to the massive trestle tables at the center of the clearing.

They brought out and arranged large clay tapayan vats with spigots that were full of fresh pineapple, satsuma and mango juice, pink tapuey rice wine, as well as clear, fiery lambanog and sweet but potent basi atop the bar set up by the tables and attended to by a tall and stunning Diwata queen.

"Hey Maria!" One of the Nuno called out to the erstwhile barkeep. "It's good to see you leave Mt. Makiling every now and then. We should get together, if you know what I mean." He waggled very bushy brows at the Diwata queen, who just rolled her eyes, smiled and went about mixing the cocktails that would be served soon. If things went well, then maybe she'd take him up on his offer, or at least that's what her coy little smile said as she practiced her bottle-flipping moves while mixing the first batch of what promised to be several batches of cocktails.

The Nuno, being innate musicians, were the ones who set up the bandstand on a small stage beside where they placed the bamboo angklung shakers on stands, set a table for the jaws harp or kubing, placed the graduated kulintang gongs, the Ifugao gangsa and hibat, and several different lengths of bamboo rain-sticks. The live music would accompany the ceremony proper and the Nuno had to be very precise in the instruments' placement.

The river running through one side of the clearing sparkled a deep, cool blue in the sunshine and some siokoy were busy setting delicacies from the sea on polished bamboo rafts of varying sizes.

Freshly-cooked grouper topped with arosep seaweed sat in beautifully-crafted unglazed clay pots molded to look like whale sharks. Large clamshells were filled with mahi-mahi cooked seven ways, each with their own distinct sauces from sweet to almost unbearably spicy, surrounded by woven banana-leaf trays of lovely raw oysters with halved kalamansi limes and sea salt, mussels topped with generous amounts of garlic and baked golden brown, sliced abalone and giant conch meat. Live shrimp jumped as they marinated in vinegar and chopped labuyo chiles in large crystal basins. Grilled lobsters long as a Tikbalang forearm and twice as thick were presented sans shells on banana leaves and slathered with a savory coconut milk sauce. Multicolored sweets made with coconuts harvested from the shore all danced on these rafts held by tethers of seagrass rope.

The waterfolk did like their food—and their drinks, which were lined up in colorful rows along the top of a semi-submerged tiki bar, beside which stood a huge golden perch inlaid with turquoise and sapphires, the seat for the Ibong Adarna, who would sing the last wedding song.

The evening feast of raw foodstuffs for the Aswang, Sigbinn, Manananggal and other nocturnal malignos was kept cool in blue tents—mostly for the other guests who were not so fond of raw hearts and livers, unshelled balut cooked four ways or stews of chopped up internal organs and intestines, or the rather pungent smells these gave off. These dishes contained no garlic, salt or vinegar to ease their aromas, because, well, those denizens of the other world were very, very allergic to those, as well as to bamboo in any form.

So far, so good, Ulap thought to himself as he oversaw the layout of the wedding feast. I can now go find my wife for a a well-deserved kiss or two.

***

Long wicker sofa sets and lounge chairs designed by Kenneth Cobonpue made a loose ring about the glade, their memory foam cushions covered in deep red, gold and blue Maranao-woven raw silk made even more elegant by large hand-woven Tubao cloths and batik sarongs following the same color motif.

Strains of Ella Fitzgerald's Come Rain or Come Shine filtered through the leafy boughs and aerial roots of the trees as a young, long-limbed Nuno with large, obsidian sloe eyes and six-jointed fingers manned a DJ station and adjusted its sliders and switches. The classic blues song's lyrics were set against a very modern, very techno-trance beat that went surprisingly well with the song.

Ulap caught his wife up in a slow dance, pressing his body flush against hers and grinding his hips against hers as discreetly as possible while he sang along in a mellifluous baritone: "I'm gonna love you like nobody's loved you come rain or come shine." He looked into Bulan's eyes with intense, unwavering adoration as they two-stepped perfectly through the music.

With a light laugh and a hitching little sigh, Bulan gyrated slowly against the firm, muscular form of her husband and king before raising her voice to answer Ulap's: "High as a mountain and deep as a river come rain or come shine/ I guess when you met me it was just one of those things."

As they always did, Bulan and Ulap sang these lines in perfect harmony: "But don't ever bet me cause I'm gonna be true if you let me/And I'm ready for love." This was, after all, their song, one they'd discovered decades back and considered a firm favorite ever since.

Capping their impromptu dance with a kiss, Ulap dipped Bulan low to the ground and went from snogging her to blazing a trail of sucking little kisses from her lips to her ear to her collarbone and running a free hand up and down her side from upper thigh to waist and back again, his fingers not resting on any one spot at all. A telltale glow of Baybayin peeping just above Bulan's terno hinted at what was on Ulap's mind (well, okay, her soft sighs and the slight undulations of her hips were hints, too).

"Ahem." Buhawi came up behind his father with a huge grin on his face and his dimples out in full force. "The groom requests some assistance with this barong, Itay. And I think you may need to help Tala get into her gown, Inay."

"Oh, well, in that case I'd better leave you to your father," Bulan said, pulling her composure back in place as Ulap pulled her upright again. Smoothing the jusi and raw silk skirt and rearranging the beaded butterfly sleeves of her midnight blue and harvest moon gold terno, Bulan cast a brilliant smile at her husband and son before sashaying to the red tent where the bride and her entourage were preparing for the nuptials.

"Did you really have to interrupt us now, anak? I was just about to..."

"Itay, you and I both know that if your lips got past the neckline of Inay's terno we'd have to send out a search party for both of you." Buhawi shook his head and held back a belly laugh at his father's knitted brows and deliberate deep breathing (cockstands are hard to quell, after all).

Ulap snorted in exasperation.

"You both act as horny as newlyweds. All the time. Which is not a bad thing but we need you both present to get married, you know. Seriously, I don't think my barong likes me," Buhawi said as he fidgeted with the pearl-capped buttons at the collar and cuffs of his native formalwear, into which was woven small, yet startlingly detailed representations the creatures of myth and legend who were their guests. "I wish I could get married in a bahag. For ease of access and comfort."

"What do you mean your barong doesn't like you? It's made by that designer, whatshisname? Rajo Laurel. It cost an arm, a leg and half my torso. It is enspelled by your mother. It should like you," Ulap said as he smacked Buhawi's hands away from his cuffs. "It is supposed to be a close fit like that. Besides, the Nuno already claimed loincloths for their formalwear, so no bahag for you. Now be still while I adjust your barong. Stop fidgeting."

"Itay, if I'm not getting any until we're done with the wedding, neither are you." Buhawi grinned unrepentantly as his father threw him a look of utter disgust.

"I'm with you on that, brother," Kidlat said as he walked up to his brother and father, holding out his hand to Buhawi. "But first, let me wish you peace and joy on this fine day."

Buhawi stood stock still as he cast an assessing look at his younger brother. "You wish me peace and joy? What happened to trying to kill me, Kidlat?"

"Well, about that..." Kidlat looked shamefaced and kicked at the shiny, pretty pebbles on the ground under his feet before sending a sincerely sorry look at Buhawi. "I want to apologize for being such an ass. Knowing how perfect you are, well, maybe you'll forgive me? Please? Or Inay will make horse tapa out of me."

Feeling the sincerity emanating from his brother's aura for the first time in years, Buhawi drew in a long sigh and clasped Kidlat's arm in the ancient gesture of a brotherhood compact, one they hadn't made since they were on the Ateneo basketball team. "All right, I will forgive you. On one condition."

"Name it, brother mine." Kidlat smiled at his kuya, his hands spread out as if to say whatever it is I can give you, it is yours.

"Stand with me as my best man." Buhawi's voice was thick with emotion as he waited for his brother's answer.

"Consider it done." Kidlat said on a sigh of relief as he pulled his big brother into a tight hug. "Thank you."

"You're my little brother. It's not like I can throw you into the river and drown you," Buhawi said, looking Kidlat in the eye and laughing off the relieved crying he felt coming on. "You know what Inay would do to me if I tried that again."

***

"Seriously? Buhawi gets a barong and I have to wear clouds and lightning?!" Tala was trying to get a hold of her 'gown' and failing, the ephemeral material slipping through her nervously fidgeting fingers. "And what's with the live plants in my hair?"

"There, there, sweetheart," Bulan said with a maternal chuckle as she passed the bridal tent entrance. "That's my wedding gown you're talking about. Just let it flow around you. Those jade vines are from my own garden. When the moon comes out later, the buds will bloom and give you the most wonderful scent. For now, they will keep your gorgeous curls in place"

Bulan oversaw the final touches made by the entourage of Diwatas on the bride's hair and makeup and put her her wedding gifts of opal, diamond and pearl dangling earrings, collar necklace, cuff bracelets on the bride. She also laid a diamond and gold diadem inset with a large, purple star sapphire over Tala's forehead.

"You are more than just a beautiful bride, Tala," Bulan said with what looked suspiciously like tears in her dark eyes. "You are a goddess in your own right now and you are perfect for my Buhawi."

Tala kind of felt like crying herself, but held back because, well, she'd probably make Buhawi panic if she did. So she did the next best thing and hugged her mother-in-law to be. "Thank you." Her words came out strangled, but the right emotions were all there in those two words: Gratitude, love, trust.

"Come now, daughter mine," Bulan said. "Buhawi had to get his dislike of crying from at least one parent and that parent is me. Don't cry. Let's step out and wow our Tikbalangs, shall we?"

"We shall, mother mine." Tala's smile was as bright as her name and the ladies stepped out in their gorgeous outfits and gemstone-studded zapatillas to do just that.

***

The guests arrived, first in trickles, then in a steady stream in finery that would likely blind most mortals. Jewels glittered in the sun and fabrics swished with a music all their own as the wedding guests settled into their seats and the Nuno band began to make music of rain and thunder with the instruments on the stage by the molave throne where Ulap now sat with his sons flanking him on the highest step.

Bulan and Tala came up the path to the throne with measured steps, dancing Diwatas throwing rose petals, santan flowers and ylang-ylang blooms in the air.

Tala's gown shimmered around her, limning her curves in lightning, teasing the eyes of all present by covering and baring the skin of her upper thighs, back and arms in turns, the way clouds cover and reveal the flanks and peaks of mountains. Her smile, though, was more radiant than even the gemsones she wore or the lightning of her wedding dress—and it was a smile focused firmly on Buhawi.

Buhawi stepped forward, extending his hand to his bride, pride, love and appreciative lust shining in his eyes as he looked her over from head to toe.

"Wow." Buhawi somehow managed to convey, with a look and a monosyllabic word, just how much of an impact Tala had on him at that moment.

Bride and groom smiled at each other happily and turned as one to the throne and the moon goddess whose priestess duties for the day were about to begin.

Bulan took her place at the foot of the molave throne and smiled at the assembled guests, including the nocturnal ones sitting in the dark of the forest just outside the clearing perimeter.

"We have gathered to witness the joining of two immortals," Bulan said as she cupped her hands and raised them to the heavens before bringing them down to rest on Buhawi and Tala's bowed heads.

"We are here to bless this union of a Babaylan and her Tikbalang with our joy, to celebrate in their oneness," Bulan said, her face raised to the sky and sun. "We call the SkyFather and EarthMother who made us all to bless this joining with abundance and power, to give it peace and stability. We invoke the Great Parents' love that will be mirrored in the life Tala and Buhawi will build together."

Raising her hands over her head, Bulan clapped once, twice, thrice. Her clapping was answered by the heavens: Thunder rumbled and three sharp cracks presaged the coming rain.

Bulan turned her face to her son as she continued the wedding rite: "Buhawi, do you vow to cherish your Babaylan forever, serving her and honoring her, clearing her path and raising her up to the heavens with your mind, spirit and body?"

"Yes, Mother Bulan, I do." Buhawi slid an armband of gold and platinum beaten into the shape of a rampant horse over Tala's left bicep.

Turning to Tala, Bulan said, "Tala, will you cherish Buhawi, obey his wisdom, honor him and trust him unconditionally as you raise him to heavens with your mind, spirit and body?"

"Yes, Mother Bulan, I do." Tala slid a matching band of gold and platinum, this one shaped like a star and starburst, onto Buhawi's left bicep.

"Hear me, SkyFather, bless this marriage with your monsoon," Bulan intoned. "Hear me, EarthMother, bless Tala and Buhawi with your fertility and grace."

Fat raindrops began to fall over the gathered assembly and the music swelled even louder. The Siokoy cavorted in a stunning show of aerial and aquatic acrobatics and the Diwatas began to sing along with the Nunos' music in haunting, wordless vocalizations.

"I swear I will love you with everything I have and everything I am, Tala," Buhawi said as he clasped his bride in a full contact hug and goosed her, triggering a surprised laugh from Tala. "I am going to take your for the ride of your immortal life. Every blessed day. Several times a day."

Hugging Buhawi back (and goosing him back) Tala gave her heart's reply: "I swear I will love you with everything I have and everything I am. I will also ride you hard and put you away wet."

The speeches began, with formal felicitations from representatives of each Other Worldly race promising allegiance and fealty to the Tikbalang Crown Prince and his Babaylan bride. The speeches ended with the Aswangs' representative, who spoke in sibilant hisses to say that they, too, would respect the couple and help them in any way they may need.

"We are your friends and allies, for as long as there is peace between our races, so will you have our goodwill and our protection." That was a lot coming from the Aswangs, considering how much they liked eating livers out of their living victims.

"You are one now, my children, you may kiss each other and begin the feast of life together." Ulap rose from his throne, listening with a satisfied smile as the rest of the congregation uttered their own blessings upon the bride and groom. "Now, you may dance together among our guests. Long live the newlyweds!"

Cries of "long-live the newlyweds" filtered through the sound of falling rain and thunderclaps. Kidlat had to pry Buhawi from Tala and point to the dance floor of polished teak wood.

"Get yourself to the dance floor, kuya," Kidlat said with a gentle shove and a quiet laugh. "You can't start the pulot-gata yet. The wedding is far from over."

Prodded out of his lustful haze, Buhawi tugged Tala gently to the dance floor as the Nuno band exited the stage and the DJ took over by playing the Eurythmics' Here Comes The Rain Again, seguing it smoothly into Basil Valdez's Tagalog ballad Tuwing Umuulan at Kapiling Ka.

The bride and groom danced slowly and sensuously as the guests began to fasten pins of gold and precious stones to their clothes, giving their congratulations and felicitations while at it.

The music changed over to The Doors' Riders on the Storm, then into Madonna's Rain but Tala and Buhawi barely noticed it as they (surreptitiously) lit up each other's tattoos. Of course, the light trembling of the ground may have given them away. Or maybe it was the sloshing of the river, for the siokoy began cheering at the newlyweds and the Duwendes chuckled with jollity.