Chasing Mirages by Russandol

---

Renewal

Eönwë finds a new balance in his life in Kiinlúum.

 

---

 

14. Renewal

Mairon never said he loved me, and I never dared ask him.

Truth might tip the imperfect balance we had achieved and crush my joy, a happiness that thrummed in my veins as strongly as the Music had once pulsed around and within me. Not even when I freely roamed the wonders of Eä had I experienced such a sense of contentment. Now I needed no words to know we shared something precious.

Even without Mairon’s spoken reassurance, I was certain that he did not wholly regret the change in our relationship, once the first tentative days following our reconciliation proved to him that I had indeed forgiven him. 

‘What of your many lovers, Mairon?’ I asked him, once I noticed the absence of other companions. ‘What happened to your scores of enthusiastic visitors?’

‘Would you not agree they are currently superfluous?’ he retorted. ‘Even my hröa’s lust has limits. I need no others.’

I did not fool myself. It was my own endurance that limited our love making. But questioning his sincerity served no useful purpose.

More remarkably, he made no secret in public of our mutual regard, disappointing many who until then had held hopes to net the mighty Yúum Síihbalóob for themselves or for one of their children.

As I had promised, our new moon meetings continued, so cautiously the first time that we both walked back to our room in frustrated silence. I needed no soothing unguents to ease my slight hurts and my hröa craved for more, but Mairon sullenly turned away from me in bed and, after a while, rose, got dressed and returned to his workshop, while I fell into a fitful slumber plagued with unfulfilled dark fantasies. When I woke up in the morning he lay again at my side; our love making was wild, almost violent in its passion, so that I felt far more battered at the end than I had the night before.

The following month, on the afternoon of the day I was meant to submit to him, I sought him in his workshop.

‘It is not time yet, friend.’ He frowned irritably when he saw me rummaging the shelf nearest the door, on which a multitude of bottles were neatly arranged in orderly lines, tallest at the back. ‘The sun has not even set, and I must complete these plans.’

I sifted through the assorted collection of vials until I found an empty one, picked it up and pretended to study it thoroughly. I knew he was watching my every move, I could feel his silent disapproval at touching anything in his domain.

‘This is made of glass, Mairon, is it not?’ I flicked it up high in the air with one hand, twisted my body and grabbed it behind my back as it hurtled towards destruction.

‘Yes, why?’ he growled, his fingers clenched tightly on the quill.

‘Watch very carefully,’ I said.

I placed the little bottle on the corner of his table, then stepped back slightly and hit it squarely with my open hand. Its brief elliptic flight across the room ended with a loud tinkling crash that sent a thousand shards skittering across the immaculate floor.

‘Are you insane?’ he cried, stamping towards me menacingly, regardless of the crunching pieces of glass under his feet. I stood my ground boldly, even though I well knew his wrath at anyone who dared disturb the perfect order of his workshop.

‘No, Mairon, I am performing a simple experiment,’ I replied, as if surprised at his anger. ‘An accomplished disciple of Aulë like you must have surely studied the properties and behaviour of a vast array of materials. You should have little difficulty deducing, by comparison to what we have just witnessed, that a far more yielding object reacts rather differently to a similarly harsh treatment.’

I smirked in triumph at his gasp of understanding.

‘Perhaps it would be preferable if you conducted your own trials on the matter of resilience,’ I added. Having issued my challenge, I walked out of his workshop, feeling smug and titillated.

‘Curse you, Eönwë, you will regret your impudence, and this… this mess!’ he cried behind me.

I did, indeed, only a handful of hours later. He withheld neither severe pain nor boundless pleasure from me that night. Afterwards, I lay with my head on his shoulder and his warm kisses on my hair, sighing blissfully despite my bruised, thoroughly seduced flesh.

‘I seem to have entered a beautiful mirage, Mairon,’ I murmured. ‘How do I know that this wonder is not just a dream you have conjured out of black sorcery to keep me enthralled to your will?’

‘I value your faith in my skills, Eönwë, and I loathe to disappoint you.’ He clicked his tongue and lightly shook his head.  ‘Sadly, I have not yet found how to work a spell that chains the wills of others to my own. One day, maybe.’

He paused.

‘Perhaps… maybe this mirage is real.’ He spoke softly, but his words echoed loudly in the stillness of the night.

I smiled, and his lips caressed my cheek as I fell asleep.

 

~ o ~

 

We were both most careful about not letting our darker games spill into our bed, beyond harmless wrestling and teasing that always drove me mad with desire. Several times I bit my tongue when I was about to offer him the chance to become my master outside our mutually agreed sessions, but I was afraid of losing what I had earned at such great cost, and remained silent. However, I never objected when he occasionally invited me to kneel to him on other nights, too. I sensed that we stood poised on the tip of a sheer pinnacle and that, were his insatiable thirst for power and dominance to remain unquenched, we would tumble down into one of the treacherous chasms that surrounded us.

Most noticeable in our new routine, however, was Chakmóol’s absence. We had, of course, resumed our attendance at court, where he had made a show of praising us both highly, no doubt to dispel any rumours about our loyalty.

Also, the ahaw had rushed to send Mairon a gift, a young black jaguar cub, shortly after we had been shocked by Aranincë’s death, about a fortnight after my flight and return. The wild cat I had admired and feared on the day I first stepped over the threshold of Mairon’s home had lived for over twenty rounds of the sun, a long time for one of his race. My friend would have missed his company, had it not been for his new pet. He aptly named him Ungo[1], even if his fur was not completely black, but rust in hue and abundantly dappled with darker rings.

‘Chakmóol has refused both my invitations to dinner and the summons to serve me,’ explained Mairon when I queried him one evening. He was feeding the cub tiny morsels of meat out of his palm. ‘He has avoided being alone with me, to bar me from speaking to him.’

The next day, I asked the ahaw for an audience, and he granted it at once.

‘Join us again, in Yúum!’ I urged him, after polite greetings and queries about health had been exchanged and we were on our own.

‘I will never stand over you after what I did,’ he replied dryly. ‘Surely you can understand that.’

‘You know it is not for me to decide how these games are played,’ I argued. ‘If our master demands my submission I will grant it gladly, to you as well. Or you may invoke your word and ask him to dismiss me, if my presence disturbs you.’

‘I am uncertain I wish to submit to him again,’ he insisted. From his distress I knew he was lying.

‘Not long ago you bid me ask what I needed. Will you not do this for me?’

If his guilt did not sway him, nothing would. I could almost watch desire, aided by his sense of honour to hold to the promise I had called upon, finally tipping the scales against resentment and fear.

‘I will, Eönwë,’ he grumbled. Then he hastened to add: ‘But only once!’

‘Thank you, in Yúum,’ I replied, genuinely glad for his acceptance.

True to his word, the king answered my friend’s next summons, though he looked pale and nervous when he began to remove his clothes. I hoped Mairon would not punish his previous refusals too harshly. We had both underestimated our master, however; he had perfectly gauged how Chakmóol’s trust stood at a perilous edge.

‘You have pleased me well, slave. You obeyed all my orders perfectly, and I am proud of you,’ said Mairon to the ahaw, once we were both kneeling before him.

He bent to give him a lingering kiss. Glancing sideways, I saw Chakmóol’s back arching with pleasure while striving to remain still.

‘Your reward will be sweet,’ continued our master, ‘but you shall not have it immediately. Sadly, we have some pending discipline to attend to first. I am certain you still savour the memory of our last encounter; it should help you endure what comes next.’

Chakmóol’s fear made him as tense as a bowstring, and I was anxious, too.

‘Tonight, this thrall,’ Mairon pulled my hair to make me look into his eyes, ‘will mete out to you the rest of the punishment you had earned before we were… interrupted.’

Chakmóol’s relief was almost tangible and he glanced gratefully at our master while he allowed me to suspend him from the chains. Chastisement at my hands satisfied his sense of justice about his unspoken guilt, and removed the terror of facing retribution for what had transpired while he had held Yúum Síihbalóob prisoner. As for me, with my master as guide in this exhilarating first taste of dominance, I learnt that it demanded far more empathy than cruelty.

Later, Mairon lavishly rewarded our efforts to begin to restore the delicate equilibrium of our relationship.

 

~ o ~

 

I had not forgotten Nikteháa during this time.

I owed her gratitude for rejecting my crass proposal, spoken out of despair, but there was more. A sense of uneasiness had invaded me, of gnawing guilt mixed with an inexplicable yearning to watch her beautiful surrender and to feel once more her gentle caresses, granted without a battle of wills.

When I had visited her, she had welcomed me with her usual joyful smile, chatting animatedly and carefully masking any longing or distress, if she had any. Cravenly, I had not dared ask.

In the end, I sought Mairon in his workshop and confessed my doubts and worries to him. He surprised me with his response.

‘I do not understand why you are not bedding the princess already. Is it fear of begetting little imps of your own?’ He smiled indulgently, but something in my face must have betrayed my distress, because he dropped his jest at once. ‘What stops you, friend?’

I considered the answer briefly.

‘You,’ I blurted at last, forgoing any attempt at subtlety.

‘Me?’ he exclaimed. ‘I do not own you! In fact, you have made me relinquish the only claim I ever had on you outside our nights, your agreement that I could command your pleasure. If anything, you command mine these days.’ He paused and sighed dramatically. ‘What is this marred world coming to?

‘Oh, but you do own me, Mairon, whether you wish it or not!’ I answered. ‘I cannot offer myself truthfully to Nikteháa for the same reason that I once vowed to you not to give myself to another, even if that promise was not received as I hoped it would be.’ Had I succeeded in keeping reproach from seeping into my voice?

‘Do you still feel bound by that pledge?’ he asked. I saw genuine surprise, even wonder, painted on his face. ‘I believed I had forfeited such loyalty.’

‘Not while Eä is,’ I said in earnest. ‘My words were not spoken lightly, even if I failed to uphold them after... when you...’ The sting of his deception had not yet faded. ‘Oh, Mairon, she gave herself to me and I lost my mind…’

He lowered his eyes and remained silent for a while, while fastidiously arranging several uncut gems on his table in a precisely aligned row, from large to small.

‘You did not fail, Eönwë. I am glad that you found comfort and a measure of joy to alleviate the wound I inflicted,’ he spoke at last, slowly.

‘There lies my quandary, Mairon. I wish to love her, very much, but despite what you did, despite your cruelty, I am still yours and would not want it any other way!’ 

Placing his hands on mine, he squeezed them gently, taking them to his lips and kissing my palms, then my fingers, one by one.

’I feel both fortunate and undeserving,’ he answered at last, huskily. ‘You are right. I want to own you, Eönwë, as much of you as you will yield.’

His words and his tone wrought a surge of warmth in my whole hröa, not born out of lust alone. His eyes bore into mine, and I leant forward to kiss him lightly on the mouth.

‘As for our sweet princess…’ He paused, uncertain, then chuckled. ‘Had anybody else attempted to conquer even the smallest portion of your heart, I would have indeed been jealous. I would have clapped you in chains and driven you delirious with desire until you forgot that any others ever existed.’

A weak, disbelieving gasp left my lips. Despite the levity of Mairon’s voice and his wry smile, I was perfectly aware that he meant every word.

With a shock, I realised that my cock was as hard as rock, tight within my trousers, and my blood raged hot and loud in my veins, rendering me unable to reject Mairon’s outrageous but welcome claim over me. I breathed deeply, to regain a measure of control, and wondered why I had felt the urge to seek another lover. Nikteháa would never make me burn for her touch as Mairon did for his. Yet, inexplicably, I needed her. She was a soothing balm, while he was scorching fire. Mairon knew that she was no threat to him.

His hand squeezing my shoulder startled me.

‘I shall do precisely that regardless, next time you come to me,’ he purred.

‘And I shall expect no less,’ I replied.

‘Know that, for my part, you are free to love Nikteháa, if that is your wish.’

So it was. When I sought her, she was reading amongst the flowers in her favourite corner of the garden, and greeted me with a smile of pleased surprise. I took her in my arms and kissed her. This time, free from guilt or despair, it was truly Nikteháa whom I loved slowly, not a shadow. Although she still refused me as a husband, she accepted me as her lover.

Later, Mairon studied me silently while I told him of our arrangement.

‘Well, well, friend…, you seem most pleased. Congratulations are certainly in order,’ he replied, inscrutably. ‘Though you have caused grave offence…’

I held my breath, suddenly nervous, and gathered strength to face his censure. Had he withdrawn his earlier reassurances about not being jealous of the princess?

Before I could speak, he wrapped me possessively in his arms, unyielding as the chains he had forged for me, and claimed my mouth in a consuming kiss until I was breathless with need and my hardness matched the one that dug bruisingly against my hip.  When our lips parted, his mouth quirked roguishly, while one of his hands began a perilous descent down my chest.

‘Under my patient tutelage,’ he continued, with a growing smirk, ‘you have progressed a long way from the prudishness of your days in Aman, and that fills me with great pride. Shall we compile the roll of laws that you have breached, O Herald? Perhaps I should speak your doom, in Námo’s name, so that appropriate punishment is meted out to the profane Maia that so wantonly defies his lord’s mandates?’

His eyes captured mine, and I returned his smile joyfully. Yes, Mairon had seduced me, but I felt no guilt, no regret, given the prize I had earned. Under the many impregnable layers of defence that he had finally lowered, I had discovered that evil had twisted, but not wholly destroyed him; that he feared and hoped, like I did; that he could be generous and thoughtful, as well as cruel and ruthless. That he could love, even if he refused to speak the word.

We were not so different, we that had once been bitter foes.

 

~o~

 

Kiinlúum, Year 44 of the Second Age of Arda

Mairon designed and built a large stone library, in which Nikteháa spent many years patiently collecting all the legends, songs and myths of the realm, and even those of farther lands, and maps and books written in many languages, including a few from the Eldar; she also set out to record all plants and animals of Kiinlúum in a huge catalogue, for which I drew thousands of pages.

However, soon she had realised the near futility of her efforts, given that her precious hoards of knowledge were inaccessible to all but a few. Most children outside the city, free or bond as slaves, could not read or write, because traditionally, when they turned six, they would join their elders in their trade or in tilling the earth and tending cattle. Only those born to a rich hearth, sons and, more rarely, daughters of prosperous merchants or nobility, might be instructed by a tutor and taught their letters and little more. Nikteháa had poured her heart and mind into fighting that injustice; she had ceaselessly pleaded, bribed and grappled with her father and his council for coin and changes to the law of the realm. Over the years, small schools had been built in the isolated hill villages and beyond, and she had patiently recruited and trained teachers to man them.

Undoubtedly, Kiinlúum had prospered under Chakmóol’s reign. People hailed him as a wise, generous ahaw, blessed well above his forefathers, and thought themselves fortunate in having shared the smile of the gods, while rival countries began to envy our wealth.

And yet, there was a price to be paid for this bliss. Time inexorably dragged the lives of many beloved friends towards days of decline and departure from within the circles of Arda.

One balmy summer day, Ungo died quietly at Mairon’s feet. Lately, he had been growing slow and clumsy, napping often and disdaining his food. For a while, Mairon caressed his silky fur pensively and then carried the heavy body into one of the outdoor sheds. He had a small pyre built of cedar wood in the furthest corner of the garden and burnt the carcass, as he had done for Aranincë.

Mairon invited Chakmóol to our following new moon meeting, only to treat him with unprecedented severity, while seemingly ignoring my shortcomings. The ahaw’s need was repeatedly stoked, agonisingly close to a release that was long denied, driving him beyond frenzy. I was truly relieved when it was finally granted with an equal measure of generosity, even if I received none.

At the end, Mairon commanded me to attend to my aching fellow slave, so weakened from his implacable discipline that he could barely stand unaided. I prepared a warm bath for him, and took him in my arms to lower him into the water, careful of his hurts; I washed him as gently as I could, anointed his inflamed skin with soothing, perfumed oil, and brushed and plaited his hair, without beads. All through my ministrations, the ahaw remained listless and silent under my hands. At last, I assisted him to get dressed in his soldier’s garments, and knelt at his feet to help him into his boots.

When all was done, I heard a muffled sob. I glanced up to see a tear slide down his face. I was forbidden to speak, but worry prevailed over obedience.

‘Has he hurt you too badly, in Yúum?’ I ventured in a whisper.

‘No,’ he answered softly. ‘It was bliss, as ever. But it was also the last time, Eönwë.’

With an indignant cry, I jumped up to confront Mairon, who had been sitting comfortably, reading a scroll, while I tended to the ahaw.

‘You dismissed him?’ I challenged, disregarding the consequences of speaking without leave and omitting his title. Displeased, he frowned darkly, but before he could respond, the ahaw answered my question.

‘No, Eönwë, this is my choice. Our master and I agreed long ago that Ungo’s death would mark the end of my service to him. I am a proud man, and would take away the memories of my strength and courage before they falter.’

He knelt gracefully before Mairon and bent his head to touch the tiles.

‘Forgive me for speaking out of turn, Master.’ 

When he knelt up, Mairon slapped him before kissing him tenderly on the mouth. I watched with a twinge of sadness as their lips lingered together, as if both of them were afraid to be the one to break their last kiss. When they parted, Chakmóol sighed.

‘Farewell, my pet,’ spoke Mairon fondly, and removed the gold restraints, collar last. Then he helped the king to his feet.

‘I consider myself most fortunate for having enjoyed your company and your affection for so many years, Yúum Síihbalóob. I have commanded my son to take my place, if you will have him,’ said the ahaw.

‘I shall instruct Sakxikin most gladly, if he so desires,’ replied Mairon politely, masking his slight annoyance at the king’s order.

Chakmóol turned to me. ‘One in my son’s position is easily swayed to arrogance; he will certainly benefit from our master’s wisdom, as I have. Your example may help him understand.’

I inclined my head in acceptance, and hoped Sakxikin would welcome Mairon’s dominance as readily as his father had, to avoid a most awkward conflict.

Slowly, Chakmóol swept his gaze around the chamber, and his eyes stopped at last on Mairon, who bowed deeply and prostrated himself, as he did in court. I followed his example.

‘Your Highness, I remain your loyal servant, as ever,’ he said.

Wordlessly, the king wrapped his features in the scarf and left the room without looking back. Mairon stood up and turned to me, his face impassive.

‘Now, thrall, you will rue your appalling behaviour…’ he began. His voice, drenched in menace, sent shivers of anticipation down my spine and rekindled the fire in my loins.

Later, I shed tears, too.

 

 

---

 

Notes:

[1] ungo (Quenya) dark shadow, cloud