Chasing Mirages by Russandol

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Summons

A summons is issued, Eönwë makes a decision and Mairon... well, Mairon surprises Eönwë.

This chapter fits two of the prompts of B2MeM 2011.

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18. Summons

Kiinlúum, Year 438 of the Second Age of Arda

While intrigues at court and war with Xamanlúum escalated in unison, I kept praying to Eru that Mairon’s suspicions would prove false.

Never again did we speak about fate, but we began to live as if each day might bring the end of our bliss, now shadowed by foresight. The bond we shared, that Mairon would never name, grew stronger, and the fire of our passion hotter. Every word, glance, touch and smile we shared became a treasure. Urgency marked our every action, our every thought, now that time was precious. Was this what it felt like to be mortal?

All around us, the world kept running its course, indifferent to our plight. Events showed no sign of the hand of my lord Manwë and his brethren behind them. Hostilities with Xaman’s fiefs evolved as the seasons changed, skirmishes and retaliatory raids of escalating ferocity originated from both sides. Inevitably, though, Kiinlúum armies marched proudly to war in the North, but the ahaw remained behind, in the safety of the city.

His wife’s brother, Ajyin, joined the long campaign and came back victorious, bearing trophies of his many dead enemies, and basked proudly in the adulation of the people. Rumours of his arrogance were smothered in the glow of his gallant boldness, but not before Mairon’s spies brought the truth to their master.

‘I was hoping his pride would get him killed,’ spat Mairon.

‘We are invited to the feast honouring the captains of the army. Chimal is rumoured to grant Ajyin riches and a promotion,’ I replied.

‘Just what we needed,’ he growled. ‘As a hero, he will be insufferable. Our king is blind or perhaps our charming Lotiya is truly a mighty sorceress and has cast a spell on him.’

Indeed the reception was sumptuous. The army dragged in a large number of prisoners, who were paraded naked in front of a smug ahaw, before being made to kneel in chains under the scorching sun for the duration of the endless meal and the lavish entertainment that followed. Several men fainted. I would have pleaded for mercy, at least for those who seemed like mere boys, but Mairon guessed my purpose.

‘Silence is wiser right now, Eönwë,’ he hissed.

Near the end of the feast, Chimal spoke cursory words of praise for his captains, while giving his brother by marriage gold, slaves and the coveted pendant that marked him as a Councillor. At his side, decked in jewels, sat Lotiya, savouring the glory bestowed upon her kinsman, while Chimal’s other wives were relegated to a shadowed corner of the room.

‘Those who warned you against this campaign would have robbed you of a magnificent victory, my beloved,’ she spoke to Chimal, loud enough for anyone to hear, her sharp black eyes maliciously turned to us.

‘Yúum Eönwë and I were of the opinion that sending the might of half the army to crush that worthless rabble was an unnecessary waste of the ahaw’s gold,’ retorted Mairon smoothly. ‘Was there ever a doubt about the outcome of a battle between a mouse and an eagle, my lady? Even a kitten’s claws were enough for the task.’

I did not fail to see the approving nods of the disgruntled army leaders, while Lotiya shot daggers in our direction. If Mairon had not been her declared enemy before, he was now, and so was I, if only by association.

 

~ o ~

 

My heart almost stopped in dismay on the day that Mairon called me to his balcony and pointed at the dark spot in the sky, slowly growing larger against the dazzling setting sun.

‘Lintavailë?’ I cried, disbelieving.

‘Go, friend,’ urged Mairon, and yet, I lingered. We only parted after a long, tight embrace and a frantic kiss, in which I tasted the sourness of fear.

‘I shall come back,’ I vowed. ‘With news.’

I mounted my horse and, as soon as I cleared the city gates, I galloped towards the hills at breakneck speed. With every sense and thought bent on controlling my mount, I was unable to dwell on what might come to pass. 

Despite the falling darkness, the great eagle saw me from afar, and it was me who led his descent into a small glen, away from the road, where I hoped our meeting would be unnoticed.

Indeed it was Lintavailë. When I stood before him, I bowed in greeting, and he inclined his head in return.

‘The jewels of Tintallë shine upon our meeting, Eönwë. I am thrilled to see you,’ he spoke. I realised, amused, that he had surely feared I would be on my swift way to Mandos after he had left me at Mairon’s doorstep. [1]

‘Indeed I am well,’ I replied, and the fondness for my first friend in exile was rekindled in my heart. ‘Has the warm breeze borne you high on your journeys?’

After exchanging some pleasantries, I learned that on his way he had visited the Land of Gift, where bliss marked the long reign of Elerossë. In Aman, Findaráto had been released from Mandos not long after my exile and made a plea for my pardon to the Valar assembled in the Máhanaxar. I was eager to know the reason for Lintavailë’s return and, guessing my impatience, he did not tarry with his news.

‘I bring a message from our lord, Eönwë.’ I held my breath, in a mixture of anticipation and dread. ‘You are commanded to travel to Lindon, where you must swear fealty to Gil-galad Ereinion, and you will serve him and his heirs for the reminder of your banishment. I am to take you there without delay. That is Manwë’s will.’

At his words, I was rendered speechless. Lintavailë watched me, patiently waiting for my response, perhaps guessing the turmoil he had provoked.

Incredulity turned to outrage that tied an almost suffocating knot in my chest, and only very slowly it melted into a scalding wave of fury.

Before Eä, as Mairon had said, I had sung along Manwë’s chords, unwavering until the third theme of Eru when, to my shame, I faltered. I had never confessed my failure, but I knew Manwë had heard my dissonance. As though to atone for my flawed notes, ever since I entered Eä, I had been his willing servant, gladly following his directions, toiling under his command without rest, without question.

Through peace and war over the Ages, I had been faithful and claimed no reward but the satisfaction of watching my lord’s designs take shape, overcoming the setbacks wrought by his brother. When Manwë chose not to leave Aman to wage the war to end the dominion of Melkor in Endórë, I became his instrument, wielding his power to sink lands, bring down mountains and raise seas. I had faced the dire ugliness that Moringotto had inflicted on the Children, wrested him down, chained him and cast him to the Void. I had been the voice that summoned the wounded remains of the folk of the Eldar to Aman, and spoke their doom to the sons of Eärendil before witnessing their sundering choices. Ever bowing to my lord’s will, never asking, never expecting praise or prize but the knowledge of a duty fulfilled.

I had felt betrayed when my lord meted out my punishment to appease the Noldor, and yet, had I not accepted his harsh ruling, swallowed my shame and meekly obeyed without challenge, yet again, despite the sheer injustice? In doing so, I had hoped to redeem my lapse, my flaw, even if others had never been made to pay so dearly for their faltering.

And now, now that I had found a measure of contentment at last, my lord had no qualms to destroy it all, without deigning himself to provide a reason, and without a chance of appeal.

‘I shall not come, Lintavailë.’

The eagle waited, but I had said all I needed to.

‘If that is your answer, I shall not attempt to sway you. Are you prepared, though, to face the consequences of your refusal?’ His tone was not menacing but caring, as though once his message had been spoken and the answer given he could again revert to the role of a friend. 

‘What would they be?’

‘I never revealed your location, Eönwë, but I have heard that others may have been here.’

‘We guessed as much,’ I admitted, trying to mask my dismay at the confirmation of Mairon’s misgivings.

‘Be warned. Manwë will find other ways to summon you when he learns of my failure.’

‘He chose to cast me out from my kin for two Ages of Arda, and he must respect the terms he set,’ I argued.

‘He is still your lord. Do not forget your place.’

His eyes pierced mine, but I held the scrutiny unflinchingly. Mairon’s question about betrayal echoed in my mind.

‘Farewell, Eönwë,’ said Lintavailë at last, flapping his mighty wings. ‘May we soar one day together over the snows of Oiolossë, free and untroubled. Now I shall find rest in a craggy ridge I espied not far from here, and when Anar rises for the second time, I shall begin my return journey.’

‘May the east wind speed you on your way, friend,’ I answered, with a pang of sadness in my chest. ‘Until we meet again.’

I watched him fly away before turning my horse towards the road to the city. The stars twinkled brightly all around and above me, reminders of what I had just renounced. I refused to heed the doubt and regret that sought entrance into my thoughts.

The gates, already closed, were promptly thrown open for me. I was one of a handful of people in the realm who, as well as the ahaw, had right of entry at any time of day or night, though I had seldom used the privilege. 

Mairon waited for my return in his workshop, and listened to my account in silence. I noticed his struggle to remain impassive when he heard my choice.

‘Is it wise to defy your lord, friend?’ he queried mildly. ‘Maybe you can still change your mind and seek your eagle friend in the morrow.’

‘My choice is made,’ I replied, dryly. ‘For good or ill. Unless, for once, you agree with the King of Arda and uphold his right to impose further strictures on my banishment. Do you?’

He lifted his hands to placate me.

‘Not at all, Eönwë. I am glad you are staying.’ His voice was measured, but his eyes shone with joy, mirrored in a bright smile. Warmth swept through me, and I almost sighed with relief. During my return journey I had hoped, nay, prayed for that very answer.

‘For good or ill,’ he repeated, ‘you have cast your lot with mine. Even your friend has warned you, we must be wary. Manwë will not welcome your answer.’

He grasped my hand, and lifted it to his lips.

 

~o~

 

Each step was torment. Fire and smoke made my lungs burn, my eyes stung in the dust storm and the armour weighed down my weary body as I climbed the slope of loose ash, at the vanguard of a large army. Just ahead of me, a man with a soot-blackened face carried a dark blue silk banner, embroidered with twelve silver stars, Ereinion’s colours. Suddenly, he turned to me. It was  Elerondo. ‘Do not betray us,’ he said, and called me by a name I did not recognise. [2]

A tall figure in black armour, dreadful and mighty, stood in the centre of a circle of corpses. Elerondo advanced, unheeding the order of his king to stand back. I followed. When the dark blade came sweeping down, I dropped my sword, forgoing defence. Unable to parry the blow unaided, Eärendil’s son fell to his knees, mortally wounded. He bled to death in my arms. Our foe laughed and took his helmet off, revealing a hideous mask that reminded me of Mairon, but twisted and evil. I wanted to close my eyes, but my eyelids seemed unable to answer to my will. The mockery in Mairon’s laughter bit me, as did his words: ‘You are mine. Mine alone. Together we will go into the Void...’

I woke up, sweating and trembling with fear, and lashed out when Mairon tried to hold me down. But he took my hands in his, and I had not the strength to fight him. At length, I let my body go limp against his.

‘Another dream?’ he whispered in my ear, when I calmed down.

I nodded, and he caressed my hair and my back, as though I were a frightened child. In fact, I was terrified.

‘Which one did Irmo ensnare you with this time?’ he queried, angrily.

‘The army on the mountain of ash. But this time the king survived, and it was Elerondo who died at your hands...’ I shuddered, and he held me tighter.

The dreams had begun a month after Lintavailë had departed. They were as vivid as real life, made up of confusing short scenes that were not always identical when the dream recurred on later nights.

In one of them, I had a ring on my finger, and so did Mairon. We stood on a black tower; at our feet a huge army of Orcs and Men hailed us and awaited our orders, bearing sable banners with red serpents and an all-seeing eye.

In another, I sank a blade into the heart of a man hanging from chains, tortured and mutilated. I peered into his dead face, obscured by his hair and encrusted with blood, but could not recognise him. In variations of this scene, I was the victim, and Mairon became the tormentor or the dagger-wielding executioner.

After a few consecutive nights of feverish visions, I opened my mind to Mairon, to show him a few of the images that haunted me. He recoiled in horror.

‘They want me to fear you, Mairon, or maybe to hate you,’ I muttered, cradled in his arms. ‘Do you believe this to be our future?’

‘Not if I have any power to shape it, friend; I will not be ruled by dreams or foresight, even less by those wrought by Manwë and his brethren,’ he answered. In his voice, I sensed his fury, disturbingly edged by fear. ‘They are planting these dreadful scenes in your mind in the hope that you will plea to them to be spared from such a dark fate at my side.’

I nodded at the perfect logic of his explanation.

‘This is the summons Lintavailë warned me about,’ I growled in dejection. 

‘The first one. Manwë will not stop until you yield. He must prove beyond doubt that he owns your allegiance, and that you will honour it above all else.’

I recognised the wisdom in his words, the mirror of my own fears. And yet, I was seething once more at my lord’s disregard for the terms of my banishment. 

‘Dreams will not sway me, nor words. Manwë sent me away and turned his back on me; now he cannot yank my leash and expect me to run to him at once, grateful for the opportunity to return or, worse even, to spend my banishment as a servant in Gil-galad’s court.’

When Mairon raised his eyebrow in mock outrage I punched his arm.

‘If these nightmares are meant to be foresight,’ I continued, earnestly, ‘I have an even stronger reason to remain at your side and prevent those dreadful scenes from ever happening or, otherwise, to slay you with my bare hands before you can become the monster I have seen.’

‘You may certainly try,’ he teased, and nuzzled my neck, tickling me with his lips until I pulled slightly away.

‘I prize your loyalty, friend,’ he added. His eyes sparkled with fondness and pride.

‘Loyalty, Mairon? Despite calling yourself a master of the tongues of Arda, a certain word still sticks in your throat and hurts your delicate ears, even after so many years,’ I retorted, dryly. ‘Loyalty alone would not suffice.’

‘Loyalty and outrage, then,’ he replied, quirking his lips into a provocative smile that faded abruptly. ‘Forgive me. I forget your pain, borne on my behalf.’

‘I can bear the nightmares for now, Mairon, but not for ever. I fear going to sleep.’

‘Rest now,’ he replied, pushing me back onto the mattress. ‘I will watch over you and pull you out of your dreams, if they come.’

The reminder of that night was quiet. The following evening, I kept busying myself with trivial tasks almost until midnight, in an attempt to avoid going to bed. At last, Mairon made me lie down despite my protests. Then he knelt at my side and, while murmuring a chant of power, of protection and silence, he waved his right arm in a circle around us, and then in six circles over our heads and below us, painting an invisible sphere all around us. With his last word, the walls trembled, the window panes rattled and the air shimmered briefly.

‘The shield is set. Not even Olofantur will be able to breach it,’ he said, panting slightly. ‘Sleep in peace now.’ [3]

‘No dark sorcery, Mairon?’ I muttered drowsily, soothed by the chant. ‘You disappoint me.’

He chuckled softly, and I fell asleep with the light touch of his fingers stroking my face. No dreams haunted me that night, or any others after that, for Mairon insisted on building the shield, despite the weakness it brought upon him.

 

~ o ~

 

Our games had not stopped during those times of uncertainty, but Mairon was no longer predictable in his demands. Sometimes he behaved in a distant, almost detached way, as though again he wished to test me like he had done during our first days together. Cruelty I could bear, tempered by the knowledge that he valued my struggle to please him, but his indifference frightened me. And yet, other times he would be delighted with my efforts and praise me abundantly, cutting our session short to return to our bed and make love without imposing his mastery.

The last session had left me in tears of agony, taking me almost to the dark edge of unconsciousness, for he had hurt me without pity or restraint. He had never allowed me to have a word of release, but this time I would have screamed it a thousand times, to be free from his savage assault, terrifying in his unusual coldness, in the disturbing lack of all encouragement, let alone reward. Later, he tended my hurts in silence and fled to his workshop. Deprived of the soothing of his arms after my elation died, I felt forlorn, even betrayed. He was nowhere to be seen for the following two days.   

On the third day, my skin was still marked in some places, and the pain had not wholly disappeared. He entered the bedroom in the evening, and I kissed him fondly, yielding to his embrace, which he began tentatively. Then I happened to wince when he ran his hand down my back and between my buttocks, and he let go of me at once. Amazingly, he stammered a few words of apology and bolted out of the room, despite my assurances that I was well. When I knocked on the locked door of his workshop he chose not to reply, if he was inside. I returned to the house baffled by his strange behaviour.

I woke up the next morning to the sight of his anxious face.

‘Why did you leave?’ I stretched myself on the bed, yawning. ‘You did not hurt me again, truly. Are you...?’

‘Three nights ago, I wronged you,’ he interrupted. ‘Never again after that day I roped Chakmóol into helping me feign my death had I forgotten the trust you once placed in my hands. This time, for a short while, I did, until reason prevailed again. Afterwards, I regretted my lapse deeply, even more because you bore everything without a word of reproach or anger. I could not face you.’

‘What did I do to make you punish me like that?’

‘Nothing, friend. It was not a punishment, but anger within me, a tempest of fury that I should have tamed before I even touched you. Memories.’

‘Of...’ I stopped in time.

‘Of Melkor,’ he spat. ’You have the right to speak his name, after you were the one to suffer when my mind strayed down dark alleys, recalling the least glorious moments of being his thrall.’

‘What did he...?’ My words died, smothered by fear.

‘Many things,’ he answered flatly. ‘Often, he relished making my hröa die in torment, refusing to sever the links, while he tore into me to reach his pleasure, again and again.’

I gazed at him in silence, before leaning forward to kiss him.

‘So let us remember something else,’ I said, when our lips parted.

‘Something new, Eönwë,’ he replied, hesitant. Then he sighed. ‘I fear... I may strike you if I... when I... when you enter me. If I do, just let go of me, do not fight me or I may hurt you badly, against my will.’ He averted his eyes, as though ashamed of declaring his weakness.

‘No, Mairon!’ I cried, shaken. ‘We do not have to...’

‘We do,’ he insisted. ‘I wish it, to be free of him in all things, before time runs out for us.’

The knot in my throat was painful. I had to breathe several times to calm myself down.

‘If you truly want to, we will. I promise I will do nothing that may remind you of his touch.’

He nodded curtly. I trembled with excitement, but also with joy at what he was offering me. Not merely the pleasure I had often dreamt of but never tasted, but the final proof of his trust, in the shape of his most intimate surrender. My body had responded with equal eagerness, and Mairon eyed my arousal with an apprehensive smile.

I pulled him closer and kissed him. At first he was tense, but then he clutched my arms and abandoned himself to be devoured, gently but thoroughly. Three yéni had etched the map of his skin in my mind, and I set my hands and lips on a route along all the paths where I knew his pleasure would flare into flames to lick his every nerve. I hoarded his moans and whimpers with joy, watching him squirm and writhe, as though in pain, until his eyes begged and I knew the time had come.

Cautiously, I touched the spot that ever before had been forbidden to me, and he bucked, but I was ready, and murmured soothing words while my other hand kept stoking his desire. He gradually yielded to the gentle, slow teasing of first one, then two of my fingers, made slick with oil. I sighed in relief. Finally, I knelt between his legs slowly and raised them to rest against my chest.

During that last heartbeat, as I pushed gently against the last barrier that had ever stood between us, I hesitated, stalled by the spark of terror in his eyes, but he grasped my forearms and pulled me forward. I impaled myself into his fire in one deep thrust.

My only guidance was my experience of receiving what I now was giving him, and so I moved in the way that I had found gave me the most pleasure. Soon it became clear that it worked for Mairon too, and I watched his fear turn to wonder and then to raw lust, as he lay beneath me, beautiful in his throes.

My own desire soared in his depths and I had to rein it in with all my willpower, while I sought to make him reach his peak, by stroking his hardness as I rode him. His eyes, oh, his eyes were dark and wild, and my purpose almost faltered, so that a ribbon of his seed spurted from my hand only an instant before mine burst within his tightness.

I fell over him, breathless, wrapped in the pulsing blaze of orgasm. For a long while we lay together, tangled in an embrace that I wished would last for ever. At last, Mairon kissed the side of my face, and his arms tightened over me, almost crushing my bones, as though he wanted me even closer. I nuzzled his hair, inhaling slowly to lose myself in his warmth.

‘Rušurigas,’ I whispered, teasingly. [4]

He laughed softly. Once, when Eä was new, Aulë had also named his favourite disciple thus.

‘Why, my cruel friend, why did you make me wait so long for this ecstasy?’ He spoke sternly, but his eyes and a minute tugging at his lips betrayed his joy.

‘Why, my proud tyrant, did you bar yourself from it?’ I retorted. ‘Had I dared this deed uninvited you would have pounded me into a pulp.’

‘Indeed,’ he chuckled. ‘Now we must ensure that I catch up swiftly on what I have missed.’

‘Is it a challenge you are offering, Mairon?’ I laughed, ‘because soon I shall be able to increase the count by one.’

‘Prove it!’

I did. Later, snuggled in his arms, I murmured an endearment, and Mairon did not respond. Amazed, I realised that for the first time in three yéni, my lover slept while I was awake. Looking at his eyes, still bright like silver suns but veiled in his peaceful slumber, I choked at the thought of the lonely terror, endured for so long, that had prevented him from ever trusting his unguarded sleep to the mercy of another.

I listened to the slow rhythm of his breathing, and savoured the pleasure of joy fulfilled.

Those hours in the quiet of night were forever precious to me.

 

 

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

[2] Elerondo (Quenya) Elrond

[3] Olofantur - An earlier name for the Vala Irmo (Lórien)

[4] Rušurigas - Russandol’s creation, derived from Valarin rušur (fire) and igas (heat).