A long, long, loooooooong time ago, the sun and the moon rose and fell in the sky because of two families.
The family that controlled the sun was made up of eight brothers and sisters, all with gold shining under their skin and limbs coiled with the strength and muscle to carry warmth and light to the people on Earth. They traveled across the globe so the crops could grow, the people could work, and the children could enjoy the rays of the sun and play. The brothers and sisters did their work with pride, save for the youngest, named Chirrut, whose role was to always stay with the sun itself. Some people may think this is because he was sightless, his eyes as blue as the sky he lived in, and his siblings didn’t believe him capable enough to fly around the world and bring sunbeams to those who needed them. This couldn’t be farther from the truth for he was the brightest and strongest of them all; however, Chirrut was a wild and irrepressible boy, just as likely to run and jump and laugh with the children as he was to actually deliver the light the people needed on time. And so his siblings delegated the role of keeping the sun on its course to him in hopes that he would learn discipline.
The family that controlled the moon was also made up of eight brothers and sisters, all with silver woven through their hair and gentleness glowing from their eyes that inspired and touched the hearts of the people on Earth. They turned the moon through its cycle so the people could mark the passage of the months. They directed the tides of the ocean so the people could sail across the sea. They provided a softer light that allowed the more sensitive creatures on Earth to come out and make merry. The brothers and sisters did their work with pride, save for the youngest, named Baze, whose role was to always stay with the moon itself. Some people may think this is because he was hard of hearing, though his ears were quite prominent under the dark waves of his hair, and his siblings didn’t believe him capable enough to fulfill their various duties and to keep the peace of the night. This couldn’t be farther from the truth for he was the most stalwart and devoted of them all; however, Baze was a shy and solemn boy, more inclined to working or recording the stories his siblings heard and then shared with him than socializing with the people who fawned over his brothers and sisters. And so his siblings delegated the role of keeping the moon on its course to him for he was the most responsible.
The two families worked in harmony, but did not interact. Not out of any enmity mind you, there was simply no need. When the solar guardians rose above the horizon to do their work, on occasion they would hear the people telling romantic tales about the moon, reciting poetry on its mystery, rhapsodizing upon its beauty, and especially that of its virtuous retinue. When the lunar guardians rose above the horizon to do their work, on occasion they would hear the people telling their children exciting bedtime stories about the sun, sharing anecdotes on its vitality, praising its glory, and especially that of its noble retinue. It’s true there were moments where the sun and the moon shared the sky, but this was when one family awoke while the other would be turning in to sleep. And so the two families lived apart, but nevertheless respected each other immensely. If they were ever curious about meeting each other, their work kept them much too busy to act upon their curiosity.
Save for Chirrut and Baze, whose roles were important of course, but not particularly stimulating. Baze heard the children when they would talk to the moon, either because they were lonely or too pent up with energy to sleep. He listened to them, sometimes straining to do so, and when he couldn’t hear them clearly enough, he would guide the moon to hang as low as he could without getting in trouble. The children were delighted and told him everything, about their day, their friends, and their favorite solar guardian, Chirrut. Chirrut would often swing down from the sun to shirk his post and chase after the children in games of tag, or help them catch frogs in the river, or pick them up and sing silly songs to make them smile when they tripped and scrapped their knees. And unbeknownst to Baze, he listened to the children as they told him stories about their favorite lunar guardian, Baze! Baze always treated them like everything they had to say was worthy of respect. He would give them comfort and advice after they spilled their woes to him. And sometimes he would sprinkle stardust on their eyes so they would have the sweetest dreams. Baze heard these stories about Chirrut and Chirrut heard these stories about Baze, and the two were enchanted with each other despite having never seen each other, let alone met.
But they wanted to. Independently yet concurrently, Baze and Chirrut would fantasize about how they would introduce themselves to one another, how they would capture the other’s attention, and then hopefully, their affection. One day, Baze vowed to himself that he would get up earlier than usual so he could catch a glimpse of the solar guardian. He arose before his brothers and sisters and clambered onto the moon to begin its ascent into the sky. If his siblings woke up and noticed that he had woken up earlier, had pushed the moon a little quicker than normal, he would just say he was eager to start the night, which was true if not the whole truth. He urged the moon into the sky that was still more blue than black and looked down over the Earth. He saw the fishermen pulling up their nets and sailing back to shore. He saw the shepherds leading their flocks back to their shelter. He saw the children frolicking in the very last of the day’s light, and one radiant figure amongst them.
Chirrut was determined to meet Baze and to know more about him. Every story the children told him about the lunar guardian stoked his interest higher and higher, and if he didn’t at the very least get to exchange hello’s with Baze, he was going to lose his mind. He had already hatched a million and one plans to engineer a first meeting with Baze; the first step of course, was to recruit the children into helping him. The children drove a hard bargain though—he had to beat them in a cartwheeling contest before they would help him! Chirrut wasn’t concerned, he was the king of cartwheels, the king of somersaults, and the king of backflips too. He was easily in the lead by a dozen points when he decided to start adding fancy flourishes to each cartwheel. Leaping, twisting, and jackknifing through the air, he dazzled the children, as well as one secret admirer in the sky. That is, until he went too far and tumbled down a hill right into a pond!
“Chirrut!” the children cried, running down the hill after him.
Chirrut poked his head up and spouted a stream of water at the children. They shrieked with laughter and he smiled so brilliantly the boy on the moon lost his breath.
“I think I just won that contest swimmingly!”
The children giggled and gawked and groaned, “Chirruuuuuuuut,” and above it all, the sweetest laugh Chirrut had ever heard in his life echoed through the air. He froze, sinking in the water a little, before noisily splashing his way to shore so he could pull himself out of the water and turn towards the direction it had come from. "From above?,” he thought to himself.
“Baze!” the children cheered, “Hello, Baze!”
Baze ducked his head behind the dark side of the moon, but realized it was futile since the children had already called out to him. He peeked around and saw the children waving their arms at him, and Chirrut sitting on the edge of the pond. His face was tilted back towards the moon, sparkling with drops of water and an excited smile.
“Hello,” Baze called back with a small wave of his hand, “Are you having fun?”
“Yes!” the children chorused and he smiled at their joyous faces.
“Hello, Baze! You must be the lunar guardian the children have told me so much about!” Chirrut greeted gaily.
Baze felt his ears warm and he rubbed his neck before responding, “Hello, you must be Chirrut. The children tell me you’re their favorite solar guardian. I can see why.”
Chirrut grinned widely, his teeth gleaming whiter than pearls, and asked, “Won’t you come down and join us, Baze?”
It must have been Baze’s imagination, but he thought Chirrut’s tongue had curled around his name, savoring it in his mouth as though it were the last bite of a honey cake. His blush intensified and he demurred, “I cannot, for I must stay with the moon. But I enjoyed your acrobatics. They were most impressive.”
“Thank you! That you enjoyed them gratifies me greatly. But surely it couldn’t hurt if you joined us for a few measly minutes,” Chirrut cajoled.
“A few measly minutes is long enough for the moon to rise and the sun to set,” Baze said wryly.
“True!” Chirrut laughed, “Perhaps I could fly up and join you on the moon instead?”
Baze snorted at the idea, though he couldn’t deny it held much appeal, and replied, “And what would your brothers and sisters say? That I have stolen you away from your duties?”
“I certainly wouldn’t mind, my friend” Chirrut singsonged and Baze was startled by how charming he found it. He rallied himself and decided to humor the solar guardian.
“Well, if you flew up here,” he drawled, “you could hold the moon on its course, and then I could fly down and play with the children. For a few measly minutes of course.”
Chirrut threw his head back and laughed as the children voiced their enthusiasm for this idea. “He’s delightful!” Chirrut gleefully thought.
“No, I’m sorry children, I actually cannot come down no matter what,” Baze backtracked hastily, “I’m very sorry.”
The children protested vociferously and Chirrut jumped in, “It’s quite alright children, Baze can tell us a story instead! He has the perfect voice for narration doesn’t he?” He flashed a cheeky grin up at the sky and heard Baze clear his throat in surprise.
The children clamored, “Yes! Tell us a story, Baze!” and the lunar guardian conceded. As Chirrut leaned forward to listen, the children suddenly yelped as a pillar of light flared upon the hill and a voice boomed,
“YOU SHOULD BE—oh there are children, hello children. I’m angry at Chirrut not you, I apologize for the loudness—you should be helming the sun right now, not lollygagging about! Go back to the sun! We are going to have words, mister!”
The pillar of light flared once more and then disappeared. Chirrut knew there was no arguing with his eldest sister, so he sadly said his good-byes to the children. He stood and called out to the moon, “Farewell, Baze! I would’ve dearly liked to listen to your story, but I’m sure we’ll meet again.”
“Farewell, Chirrut. I’ll save a story for you.”
Chirrut floated back up to the sun, buoyed by a giddy anticipation of the future so heady that being lectured for an hour on his irresponsibility did nothing to dim it. He fell asleep with a smile on his face, imagining ways he could further impress Baze.
Baze entertained the children until they had to go to bed and if they noticed his wonderstruck manner, they made no mention of it. When it came time for slumber, he sprinkled as much stardust as he could upon every child in the village and they were graced with the most pleasant dreams they’d ever had. Years later, the children would remember this first meeting and unanimously agree.
That was the day the sun and the moon fell in love.