Chasing Mirages by Russandol

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Faith

Eönwë proves his faith in his former foe.

This chapter fits three prompts of B2MeM 2011.

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16. Faith

‘How dare you sully the hallowed ground of Taniquetil with your foulness? ‘the Elder King had cried, squirming on the floor under Sauron's booted heel. ‘Release me at once, you fiend, or you will pay for this blasphemous outrage! ‘

‘Did you believe that you would banish my former master to the Void and I would just flee from your pathetic army like a scared rabbit, O Mânawenûz?‘ mocked Sauron, as he dragged the vanquished Lord of the Breath of Arda into the very prison in Mandos where Melkor had once languished for three ages of the world.

I sighed. Darkness and silence had been my only companions for an unknown length of time, while I sat naked and cramped in the small stone cell that did not allow me to stand or lie down straight.

Every time Mairon commanded me to play Manwë or Námo, I was resigned to suffer his harshest trials, as if his grudge against them could be assuaged by spurring my endurance to its farthest limits. As always, I offered my best performance, well aware of the peril of failing to please him and thus lose any chance of reward.

My dread grew with every heartbeat while I awaited my doom. The solid walls of the tiny cage seemed to close slowly upon me, until the fear of being left to suffocate in such confinement became overwhelming. For a long time, I pounded the impenetrable stone with my fists, weeping and shouting to be released.

When the thick slab finally moved with a loud screech, I lifted my hands to cover my eyes, pierced by the lamplight in Mairon's underground room. Squinting, I balked in terror at the sight of the object that glinted red and green in his hands. Despite knowing of my ordeal in Aman, Mairon had forged... O Eru, a replica of Angainor.

‘No!‘ I yelled and shook my head in panicked denial, momentarily forgetting my role.  ‘No, please!‘

‘You made your brother bear this torment, did you not? Now it is your turn to feel the cold bite of tilkal [1] ‘ said Mairon in a dreadful voice.

He wrestled me to the ground and wrapped the links of Angainor around my waist, snapping the manacles, Vorotemnar, on my wrists and the double set of fetters, Ilterendi, on my ankles, and locking the ends of the chain that connected them all so tightly over the back of my neck that I could not straighten my spine. Then he pulled me to my feet without effort, and my shoulders sank even lower under the huge burden, as heavy as the oppression I had once suffered at the Máhanaxar.

I swayed, all earlier bravado gone, and fell limply to my knees when he swept my feet from under me. The restraints forced me to bow in a most servile position, leaving my aching back exposed to his abuse.

‘It is time to pay for your errors, Mânawenûz,‘ he pronounced darkly. ‘But I am inclined to be lenient if you name me as your master and tell me where the Silmarilli are!‘

‘To the Void with you, Ñorthus[2],‘ I spat, in a pretence of proud contempt that I knew he would appreciate. ‘No matter what despicable things you do to me, that secret will never leave my lips.‘

When he jerked my chin up to make me look him in the eye, his smirk was evil, and I shivered. His fingertips brushed against my cheek lightly, a minute taste of pleasure that stoked my desire into frenzy, despite the familiar knot of fear at the pain he was about to inflict.

‘You have already underestimated me once; are you unwise enough to make the same mistake twice?‘ he queried menacingly, and he released my jaw.

Unaided, I could barely lift my gaze high enough to see the horror that awaited me. His right arm, from his elbow down, had turned into a clump of long fiery lashes, like those he had fashioned on our first night in this room. Unlike then, however, he used them on me to lash my back with all his might. Each strike wrought a sharp, searing trail of pain, as though a strip of my skin had been pulled off from my flesh. Soon I could not withhold my wails, but I still fought to retain the secret he coveted. Had I yielded too quickly, he would have tormented me far worse for my weakness.

In the end, when I truly became so lost in my agony that I forgot all but the constant of his voice, I surrendered amongst deep, unfeigned sobs.

‘They... they are in the third vault... Master,‘ I cried haltingly, and bowed even lower. Ever did I burn with the shame of failure when I was forced to confess.

He walked away and returned with a triumphant look on his face and three large dazzling diamonds upon his right hand, which had regained its normal shape.

‘I am glad you have yielded to reason, Mânawenûz,‘ he purred. ‘As a reward, I will not throw your precious spouse to my werewolves, who clamour for the spoils of war. Bring her to me now, and she will know pleasure like you have never given her...‘

With a wave of his hand he unlocked all the bindings, and the fake Angainor hit the floor with a rattle. I almost had to crawl to do his bidding. As quickly as I could, because tardiness would bring further discipline, I went to prepare myself as he expected for the second act of our drama. Shortly afterwards, I returned to his side, my gaze fixed on the floor, my face hot with mortification.

My hair, tightly plaited before, was now unbound, covered by a fine net of silver threads from which hung a hundred tingling bells. I wore loose garments of flimsy, transparent silk, dozens of diamond-studded bangles, long earrings and paint on my face. I would have preferred to die under the whips of the Valaraucar than to suffer this humiliation, but this choice was not mine to make.

Mairon pointed at the floor by his side and I knelt with a jingle. I doubt Varda would have complied that easily, but by now I was fully attuned to his wishes, and knew that for the rest of the night he expected my absolute obedience. I would have been unable to conjure up any more resistance, anyway.

‘Good.‘ He placed his hand over my head, possessively. ‘I am glad to see that you are wiser than your lord. Stand up!‘

I barely managed to rise from my knees without aid from my hands, as he had taught me long ago. Ruthlessly, he bound my cock with a glittery chain from which more chiming bells dangled. I bit my lip and fought the urge to strike him.

‘Kneel!’

Groaning inwardly while I complied, I realised that he was in the mood to annoy me, to needle me into defiance, the treacherous precursor of punishment. I set my mind on submission, on my fervent wish to please him, and pushed away my pain and discontent, yielding my will to his once more. Somehow, my body must have spoken my reaction, because out of the corner of my eye, I saw him smile.

‘Oh, but maybe this beautiful prize does not require taming, despite all,’ he exclaimed, raking me admiringly from head to toe. ‘Perhaps she is glad that I am her new lord and master...’

For hours, he made me serve his every whim, and I scraped the dregs of my strength to obey as gracefully as I could. With a kiss here and a touch there, with the tantalising promise of his hungry eyes, he kept my desire fed and unsated until it became a worse torment than the pain of my flayed back.

In the end, will alone was no longer enough to command my hröa. I collapsed at Mairon's feet and wrapped my arms around his ankles.

‘Mercy, my lord!’ I begged. ‘You have claimed victory twice this night. Will you not let your humble slave learn of your kindness, that she may praise your generosity to her vanquished kin?‘

I held my ragged breath, hoping he would relent. In the past, he had often refused to heed my pleas. This time he granted his clemency, and Varda was thoroughly ravished.

Much later, falling asleep in my lover’s arms, a smile curved my lips as I stared dreamily out of the open balcony doors at the starry night. Tintallë[3] could have never admired the glory of her greatest creation wreathed in such pleasure as Mairon and I enjoyed that night.

 

~o~

 

Kiinlúum, Year 148 of the Second Age of Arda

Mairon kept many secrets. Often, he revelled in making this fact obvious to me.

This time, though, something remarkable and of greater importance than his usual schemes was clearly afoot. I recalled a steady succession of odd happenings over several months, maybe a year: nights when he fled from our bed thinking I slept, to lock himself in his workshop, bent over plans that he later refused to show me; sudden, unexplained trips away from the city; coded entries in his ledger book; and answers shrouded in vagueness and sparse with truth whenever I queried him about these matters.

During the last few weeks, this awareness of a mystery purposefully crafted to exclude me had escalated to almost insufferable levels. His servants bowed to me or answered my queries with a smug smirk on their faces, clearly in the know of whatever their master was planning, or at least, of part of it. I began to grow annoyed at the game, until one morning I bluntly asked Mairon for an explanation. He merely waved my irritated complaint aside.

‘Nonsense, Eönwë,’ he answered with a sly smile. ‘There is no dark conspiracy, just one of your ever recurring bouts of mistrust about my intentions, however innocent my activities may be. We have gone through this obsession of yours before, have we not?’

I snapped my jaw shut to silence a curse.

In the evening, I returned home tired from a long ride, which I had found to be the best method of clearing my mind and spending my nervous energy after a particularly trying day at court. A large cart, its contents carefully wrapped in heavy canvas, waited at the back of the house, as if to provoke me further. Mairon’s servants firmly barred my approach.

‘We have strict orders not to let you near, in Yúum,’ they said, giving me fake smiles of apology.

Briefly, I wondered whether their instructions would include the use of force, if I decided to defy Mairon's mandate. My sword in its scabbard hung from my belt; I always took it when venturing on my own away from the city. As tempting as it was to find out the extent to which my devious friend would protect the precious cargo in the cart, I had no choice but to leave my curiosity unsated.

With a growl, I nudged my horse toward the stables, where I snarled at the grooms and took care of him myself, wielding the currycomb as though I wished to claw the secret out from under my poor stallion’s coat. After I finished, I dusted my crumpled clothes with my hands and strode towards Mairon’s workshop, with the firm purpose of learning the truth.

When I entered, slamming the door shut behind me, I had the satisfaction of watching him flinch, startled, before he hastily covered a large parchment with a second one and rolled them both together.

‘What are you hiding, Mairon?’

‘Nothing that concerns you, Eönwë,’ he replied calmly, ignoring my scowl.

I made a lunge for the parchments, but he was faster and moved them behind his back.

‘You are not seriously thinking of wrestling me, are you?’ he goaded. He was grinning, now. ‘There is only one possible outcome, so why not be wise and save yourself some pain?’

Deliberately, as though daring me to attempt something, he turned his back to me and locked the parchments inside a cabinet with glass doors, already full of rolls and books.

‘If I were you, I would take a bath instead,’ he added, when he turned round to face me. He was almost purring at my frustration.

‘Please Mairon, stop this teasing!’ I pleaded.

‘I will, when the time is right.’ He wavered, then relented. ‘A fortnight from now. Not a day, or even an hour before.’

Suddenly, it all made perfect sense. Excitement replaced annoyance, and I could not avoid a chuckle of relief and anticipation, mixed still with desperate curiosity. Clasping my hands behind my back to show my acquiescence, I leant forwards for a kiss.

‘Surprise me, then!’ I said, breathless, when our lips finally parted.

‘No doubt I shall,’ he replied, smiling.

 

~o~

 

The two weeks passed slowly. The flurry of activity surrounding Mairon became frantic during the last few days. I was banned from entering his workshop or from stepping into the large courtyard in front of it, on pain of being locked in a room out of the way. I decided not to risk the indignity or the boredom of such a measure.

On the eve of the third day before the deadline, Mairon came to speak to me while I was reading, away from the forbidden areas of the house.

‘Pack clothes for three or four days,’ he commanded. ‘We are going on a trip.’

At dawn the following morning, we rode out of the city at the head of a small caravan. Six servants were coming with us on this expedition, one of them driving the cart, drawn by two mules. I caught no glimpse of the cargo it carried. Curiosity gnawed at me ceaselessly.

We travelled along the river for most of the morning, following the least steep roads to climb out of the verdant valley. Once in the plains, we turned west, tackling the winding unpaved path up to the highlands. Our progress was painstakingly slow because Mairon kept threatening to flog the drivers to ribbons every time the cart jolted over the bumpy ground. When at last we settled into a speed that seemed satisfactory to everyone, the servants sang, Mairon and I talked and exchanged heated glances and we all enjoyed the freedom from our usual duties on a very pleasant late summer day.

We spent the night camped in a copse upon the hills. Mairon and I had the benefit of an ample, luxurious tent, and took advantage of our privacy to relieve the desire that had been building up during the long hours on the saddle. Mairon teased me without mercy for what seemed like half the night before allowing me to savour the sublime bliss of release.

On the second day, our little caravan kept climbing higher and further away from the city, on increasingly steeper dirt tracks. We only passed the occasional sheep herd or small group of peasants, usually on foot, who smiled and bowed low at the sight of our rich clothes and the numerous gold beads plaited into our hair.

At last we stopped in the late afternoon, after an excruciatingly slow stage along a very narrow canyon that led us to a secluded meadow, perched high up amidst the hills. The meadow sloped down towards its farthest edge that fell away sharply into a tall chasm. Beyond lay the desert, a beautiful sea of rippling patterns of light and shadow that belied the cruelty of its barren sands.

Clearly, someone had visited the site before, because a large area of the meadow had been completely emptied of boulders and rocks, and the ground levelled. I frowned at Mairon, questioningly, but he just laughed and ordered the servants to erect our tent before confining me inside. He threatened to tie me to the supporting post if I dared peek outside, and I resigned myself to wait until his surprise was ready.

From my makeshift prison I heard secretive whispers, ropes creaking loudly over pulleys, and the grunts and cries of a group of people lifting and moving something fragile, followed by clanking of metal and rivets being hammered in place. This frenzy went on for several hours, until well after dark, Mairon entered the tent looking extremely pleased with himself.

‘There is a guard outside, Eönwë. Do not even dream of sneaking out during the night,’ he warned.

He stared at me while twirling his fingers slowly around the long ends of the plaited silk cord he wore as a belt for his tunic. My right hand reached almost unconsciously to rub my chafed left wrist, and a flush climbed up to my cheeks and ears as I recalled how Mairon had used that belt the previous night.

‘What if I do?’ I cried, defiantly. I fought the smile that threatened to spoil the effect, while a wave of tingling heat flooded my loins.

He proceeded to thoroughly demonstrate what cruel torments I would suffer if I dared disobey his orders, so that in the end, I might as well have done so. Later, we celebrated the success of his efforts, whatever they were, with suitably cheerful and energetic lovemaking over the soft pile of furs that we shared while away from our bed.  

The following morning Mairon tickled me awake at dawn and again instructed me to remain inside the tent. I heard noisy preparations, and strange flapping noises. I paced back and forth impatiently, not knowing whether to wish for or dread one of his elaborate, wicked games. I could not guess what he had prepared for me.

Finally, he summoned me outside. His secret was a very large object, roughly triangular in shape, covered by a huge piece of cloth secured all around by metal pegs sunk into the ground.

‘Today, Eönwë, marks exactly a yén since you arrived at Kiinlúum, entered my house to speak your lord’s presumptuous summons, and I offered you my hospitality,‘ he said, placing his hands on my shoulders. He added, ‘I am glad you accepted it.’

My gaze was riveted on his luminous eyes, no longer clouded with suspicion as on that day he referred to, but shimmering with joy and with the barely contained might of those of our kind, which his hröa, unlike mine, did not mask.

‘Over the years,’ he continued, ‘I have often seen you look at the sky with longing, and gaze at birds enviously. I wished to find a beast that would bear you above the clouds, to ride again the swirling currents, as you once did. Without a dragon at hand, and lacking authority over the great eagles of your lord, I have had to improvise.’

At his sign, his servants uncovered a contraption made of slender metal bars and huge sails of pale grey silk, too similar to a pair of bat wings to be mistaken for anything else.

‘Mairon!’ I cried, incredulous. I raked the structure with my gaze, and shook my head in dismay. ‘No. You are insane. Surely you are not as reckless as to believe that this... steel monstrosity would keep me in the air?’

‘Not you alone. Us. And I do not “believe”, friend; I know. I built it.’ There was no trace of doubt in his voice. After kissing my lips lightly, he pulled me by the hand to approach his creation. ‘It is not steel, but a stronger, lighter alloy, and all the beams are hollow.’ He caressed the smooth surface of the cloth. ‘This silk has been woven and stitched to exacting specifications; it weighs almost nothing, but can withstand the required pressure without tearing.’

Before I had time to refute his assertion, he made me step into a complicated leather harness, that he adjusted and buckled snugly over my shoulders and around my waist and thighs, and then proceeded to fit an identical one on himself.

‘This is madness!’ I objected again, more forcefully, while Mairon began to tighten further straps to attach the harness I wore to the flimsy frame. When he finished, one of his servants subjected him to the same treatment, until we both stood tied to the wings, side by side.

‘Trust me, we will be safe,’ he laughed. ‘Your lord must be smiling on you today, the currents are perfect. But otherwise…’

‘You just said it is safe,’ I interrupted, not bothering to hide my sarcasm.

‘Yes, it is. But in the unlikely case of anything going wrong, not because of my calculations, which are right, but because you fail to manoeuvre this device properly...’

‘Me?’ I cried. ‘What makes you think I will...?’ He raised his hand to interrupt my tirade.

‘You know the workings of air streams better than I do, and how to make best use of flow for the purpose of flying, do you not?’ he queried in his most mellifluous voice.

‘No flattering tricks, Mairon,’ I growled. ‘Anyway, you were once a bat, or so I heard.’

‘Mere legends,’ he scoffed contemptuously. ‘Tell me, friend, how could I possibly compress all the matter of my hröa into something as small as a bat while retaining its ability to fly? Its little wings could never lift my full weight!’

‘I am not convinced I believe you, but this is hardly the time to discuss your past achievements or your powers, unless they are sufficient to save us both from hitting the ground head first,’ I argued.

‘No, they are not. I am not all powerful... yet.’ He quirked his lips. ‘In the extremely unlikely case that we fall and get yanked out of our hröar, I will take you far away before your masters can find you.’ His voice was earnest. ‘I have far more to lose than you do, Eönwë.’

Still I hesitated.

‘We have dived together into the core of imploding stars. Are you truly afraid to leap off a tiny rock ledge with me?’ He infused his alluring voice with a minute sliver of hurt disappointment, just enough to make me feel like a spineless coward.

‘No, I am not,’ I growled.

I had to admire his ability to seduce me, yet again. Or perhaps I was addled. Despite the tight knot of fear in my gut, I was actually tingling with excitement. I had trusted him many times, I would do so now.

He gave me detailed instructions on steering, because I would indeed be in charge. After a yén of his demanding games, I was most accomplished at remembering his every word.

‘Before we jump...’ I began. With all the straps hugging me tightly I found it almost impossible to reach for my pocket, but I finally succeeded, while Mairon waited impatiently.

‘Eönwë, the wind may change,’ he said at last.

‘No, not right now,’ I replied absently, while stretching my fingers until they picked the corner of the small leather pouch I wished to extricate from my clothes. Carefully, without letting it drop, I grabbed it and offered it to Mairon.

‘A token of my friendship. Of my... love,’ I said chokingly.

Despite the dreaded word, Mairon picked up the bag, undid the silk ties deftly and let the contents slide onto his palm. An egg-sized uncut emerald gleamed like green fire in the bright morning sunlight. A glance was probably enough for him to gauge its worth, and yet he stared at it, shifting his hand to inspect it from every angle. At last he turned his gaze to me, and I was pleased to see his wonder, verging on shock.

‘How in the Void did you...?’ he began. Then realisation hit him. ‘So that is why that rascal, Mejen, flaunted it before my eyes, the finest emerald I have ever seen in Endórë, and then refused to sell!’ he cried. ‘I hope he did not cheat you out of a yén’s earnings.’

‘Maybe,’ I chuckled. ‘Part of the agreed price went towards buying his silence and persuading him to withstand your bribery when he showed the stone to you. I wished to be certain you would desire it. Not a word to Yúum Síihbalóob, I threatened, or I would ensure you never traded with him again. He immediately swore upon his dead father’s spirit that he would not breathe a word of our transaction to anyone, least of all you.’

Mairon turned the stone several times in his fingers, admiringly, and lifted it to the light.

‘Flawless!’ he exclaimed. ‘Truly magnificent. But not as precious as the gem you have already commissioned, Eönwë.’

He leant towards me, wrapped his arm around my neck and kissed me. I felt my face redden at the chorus of whistles and ribald cheers that ensued, but I would not pull away from Mairon for the world. My knees were weak with desire, but our hröar were barred from touching any closer because of the harnesses. The restraints were fortunate, or we might have progressed to deeper intimacy, regardless of our audience.

Finally, we parted, breathless. He put the emerald away in a safe place and turned to me.

‘Excellent delaying tactics, Eönwë, but we are still gliding off this cliff,’ he said with a bright smile.

The men removed the ropes securing the frame to the ground, and we grasped the bar that lay horizontally on the grass before us, taking the full weight of the wings in our arms. Mairon had not lied, they were surprisingly light. We turned slightly to face the edge of the cliff, which was only a few dozen strides away.

‘Ready?’ He smiled.

I nodded, and my fingers tightened on the hollow bar, as if trying to squeeze it flat.

‘Now, run!’ Mairon shouted.

I matched him at every step, and together, with wild cries, we leapt off the rocky outcrop. For a brief moment, gravity took hold, and I imagined us plummeting out of control and then being splattered over the very distant ground. But the harness pulled me up, until we lay, side by side, suspended from the sturdy frame above us. The grey silk was swollen with the breeze that held us tenderly in its embrace, and Mairon cried out in triumph.

The invisible currents lifted us, proving Mairon’s confidence in his design. My heart eased down from where it had been stuck in my throat to its natural position in my chest, and began to slow down to its normal speed. I was at last able to fully admire the amazing expanse of scenery below us, and to drink the cool wind that caressed my face. At my prompt, we leant to one side or another, tugging at the steering ropes, and watched our wings tilt in response, attuned to the swift air stream that carried us. Turning back towards the cliff, I realised we were already higher than the meadow we had used to launch ourselves into our flight when I saw our men running and waving at us from below.

We spent a long time gliding over the area in wide circles, mostly in silence, broken only by the slight groan of our wings and the rustle of our clothes in the wind. The seemingly endless desert lay below, painted in many soft hues all the way to the western horizon. Far beyond the hazy line where the sea of dunes touched the sky, half a world away, lay the lands from which I had been exiled one yén ago, but I did not miss them any more. As during the days I flew with Lintavailë, I shed tears, but this time they were of joy. I smiled at Mairon in gratitude, and he grinned in response.

Much later, the lift on our wings weakened gradually, and we began a gentle spiral descent towards the scrubland below. We steered towards a dark spot which Mairon pointed at, a second camp where men and horses awaited us. He had planned every detail.

When we finally touched the ground at a run, we ended up rolling into a ditch. Immobilised by the harness, I laughed, exhilarated and happy, though bruised by the many pebbles that dug into every part of my body. Mairon unsheathed a dagger and cut through the straps to extricate us from his wings, which had suffered major damage on landing. Once we stood free, he shrugged at the sight of mangled rods and torn silk.

‘I can build an improved model. This design dipped a little faster than I thought, and the steering was not as smooth as it should have been. Anyway, as a first trial it was most instructive.’

‘First trial,’ I echoed, staring at him numbly.

I ran a gentle finger under a shallow graze over his eyebrow, no more than a scratch, and showed him the drop of blood I had wiped from his skin.

‘The reward was worth the risk,’ he answered. ‘Was it not?’

He kissed me hungrily.

I whispered words of gratitude to Ilúvatar for his mercy; he had not forsaken us yet. 

 

 

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[1] “Behold, Aule now gathered six metals, copper, silver, tin, lead, iron, and gold, and taking a portion of each made with his magic a seventh which he named therefore tilkal,* and this had all the properties of the six and many of its own. Its colour was bright green or red in varying lights and it could not be broken, and Aule alone could forge it. Thereafter he forged a mighty chain, making it of all seven metals welded with spells to a substance of uttermost hardness and brightness and smoothness, but of tilkal he had not sufficient to add more than a little to each link. Nonetheless he made two manacles of tilkal only and four fetters likewise. Now the chain was named Angaino, the oppressor, and the manacles Vorotemnar that bind for ever, but the fetters Ilterendi for they might not be filed or cleft.

 * Footnote in the manuscript: 'T(ambe) I(lsa) L(atuken) K(anu) A(nga) L(aure)”

 (From ‘The Book of lost Tales’, History of Middle-earth Vol. I)

[2] Ñorthus (Quenya) Equivalent of Sindarin Gorthaur (Abhorred) [From Parma Eldalamberon 17]

[3] Tintallë (Quenya) Kindler, another name for Varda