Chasing Mirages by Russandol

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Doubt

Mairon drops the bait, and Eönwë... well, read at your own peril if you wish to find out.

 

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5.    Doubt

‘Come on, Eönwë, she will not bite you! At least give her a kiss,’ teased Mairon.

The half nude woman draped on his lap moaned with pleasure when his long fingers snaked under her flimsy chemise and caressed one of her dark, erect nipples, visible through the fabric. I shrank from the advances of his second guest, another nubile beauty who proudly flaunted her considerable charms in my direction.

My head swam in the heady vapours of alcohol. Mairon had kept both our goblets full, all through a most pleasant dinner with his guests. Sweet almond soup with grapes, roast suckling pig that had melted in my mouth, melon slices dripping juice and the intense scent of ripe fruit; I had truly feasted on the most tantalising tastes and aromas, blended into perfection by the exquisite wine Mairon favoured, imported at great expense from far away lands.

At first, wrapped in a haze of confused euphoria, I had flirted inexpertly with the two women; later, when the true intentions of our companions had been enticingly revealed, along with their flesh, Mairon had laughed at my horrified embarrassment. Even when swathed in a languid stupor that slowed my hröa and made my thoughts disjointed, I could not ignore the unlawfulness of couplings outside the bond of marriage; at least according to the rules prevalent amongst the Eldar.

‘I should… go,’ I stuttered.

My mouth felt like cotton, my lips and tongue ungovernable. When I stood up, the room swayed in my vision; I dropped back onto the seat and gripped it with fumbling fingers, hoping that the floor would stop moving soon.

‘Would you renounce such fairness, friend, such ardour?’ queried Mairon breathlessly, his lips released at last from a passionate kiss.

I watched his hand cup the woman’s breast, then slide down to the dark mound between her legs, while she arched her back against his strong arm. I noticed how long his black eyelashes were, how softly his lips traced the skin of her jaw. I shivered and my groin swelled at the sudden, disturbing image of Mairon’s mouth on mine.

At that time, a tentative hand stroked the back of my neck, and the other woman smiled at me as if she could offer everything I desired.

‘Leave me,’ I shrieked, slapping her arm away. I rose and staggered across the room, knocking over a chair and a vase; laughter followed my clumsy steps, and faded when I finally closed the door behind me.

The following morning, I woke up naked in my bed with the hammers of Aulë using my head as an anvil. I could not remember reaching my room, even less removing my clothes. I retched, and emptied my stomach on the immaculate tiled floor. Then I gulped down the water in the pitcher on my bedside table as thirstily as if I had just crossed on foot the desert that lay west of Kiinlúum. I spent the rest of the day groaning in misery, and vowed I would never attempt to outdrink Mairon again.

In the evening, my weakness had subsided enough to allow me to drag my feet into his workshop.

‘Feeling better, Eonwë?’ he enquired in mock concern.

‘You scum!’ I growled. He smirked.

 

~o~

 

Despite our disparate pasts and irreconcilable differences, our old friendship was slowly renewed as the years went by. This unexpected but most precious gain from my banishment filled me with joy and words of gratitude to Eru.

Except for his carefree promiscuity, I could find no fault with the way Mairon conducted himself as an adopted citizen of Kiinlúum, no reasons to doubt the sincerity of his contrition or his willingness to pay for his past offences. Occasionally, however, I recalled Lintavailë’s words of caution.

‘Unbelievable.’ I muttered once under my breath, watching a whole cartload of barrels being rolled into a cool, dark storeroom. ‘Is this truly the foul Lord of Tol-in-Gaurhoth, refusing all but the purity of mountain spring water, when there are plenty of clean wells within the city walls?’

‘Certainly,’ he replied, no trace of mockery in his voice. ‘Well water is wholly unpalatable, it reeks of silt, not to mention worse, and I shall not taint my precious hröa with it.' He paused, very briefly, frowned and spoke thoughtfully: 'Perhaps, however, I should command my minions to bring me a maiden every night, so that I can deflower her, slit her throat to drink her sweet blood, and eat her heart to sate my hunger in the morning. Would you approve of that choice, maybe more befitting a foul Dark Lord, O Herald of Manwë?’

The water shipments continued without further criticism on my part, as did many other capricious domestic arrangements to sustain his sumptuous living, which he insisted on sharing with me; my wages would not have allowed such extravagant lavishness. 

Outside his home, mortal lives moved swiftly, as I knew they would, from my days amongst Elerossë’s [1] folk. The ahaw was wed, and sired two children: a son and heir called Sakxikin [2], agile and fierce, and a daughter named Nikteháa [3], because at birth it was foreseen that her pale beauty, like that of the petals of the lotus flower, would be without equal. I was soon besotted by her innocent joy and she adopted me as an honorary uncle and favourite toy, after I was able to soothe her when she had been bitten by a wasp.

Her father allowed me to tell her stories of far countries, of tall and sheer mountains covered in snow, ships in the shape of swans and beaches of white sand where children built castles and found stones of many colours. All these tales excited her keen imagination and prompted a myriad of insightful questions, as well as a desire to travel to see all the marvels I had described. 

‘Eönwë, how can birds fly? Why does the sun rise every day? How many stars are there in the sky?’

I enjoyed telling the little princess about the creatures of the world, about Eä and the Guardians that dwelled across the sea; I taught her to read the patterns of the clouds and the breeze, to revel in the abstract beauty of shapes and numbers, and many other skills and knowledge that would otherwise have been barred to her, and she understood and asked me to teach her more. I did most willingly, and hoped that her fate would not lead her to be a pawn to seal a political alliance, when she could otherwise become an able counsellor to her brother, a healer or a loremaster.

Over the years, I proved my loyalty and earned the king’s trust. He rewarded me with the rank of counsellor, a position amongst the highest in his court. At last, I was esteemed and respected on my own merits.

All would have been as perfect as my incarnate life in exile could ever be, had it not been for a minor mystery, a mere niggle that troubled me despite its insignificance. Mairon sometimes disappeared before sunset and I did not see him again until late the following day, or even several days later. He never spoke of where he went or what he did, and I never dared ask him, while his servants claimed ignorance about his whereabouts.

I was immediately forced to discard the theory of a lover, because he kept urging me to join him and his endless stream of companions in their nights of merriment. Sometimes I could barely curb the rush of heat provoked by the sight of beautiful, temptingly clad men and women, but I refused his invitation.

Over nine whole rounds of the sun I had spent as Mairon’s guest when one day I stumbled upon his secret, seemingly by pure chance. Only much later did I consider that, with him, nothing—no matter how trivial—ever happened by coincidence.

My discovery and its aftermath provoked a tide of turmoil within me unlike anything else I had felt since I had watched him fall into the trap of Melkor’s honeyed but poisoned seduction, and become ensnared by the strangling tendrils of a most tempting, traitorous light.

 

~o~

 

One morning I entered his workshop to ask his opinion on a bothersome matter of trading a portion of Kiinlúum’s next year’s surplus of corn for timber from two competing realms to the North. The ahaw was urging me to provide suitable counsel so that he could order the planting of crops accordingly.

Without lifting his eyes from the piece he was working on, Mairon distractedly acknowledged my greeting. I watched him deftly setting six polished green stones on a most beautiful solid gold bangle. A matching one lay on the table, already finished.

‘May I?’ I always asked permission to touch anything in his domain, knowing how fastidious he was about others handling his creations or disturbing the perfect arrangement of his tools and books. He briefly glanced at me and a smile curved his lips. For some reason, my request amused him.

‘By all means, friend.’ I lifted the pretty trinket from the table. It looked like a bracelet or wrist band about three fingers wide, oval in profile and tapered slightly, like an arm guard, rather like those the king wore when in full regalia. It was very thick and rather heavy, its inner girth slightly smaller than my wrist, and I could find no discernible opening.

‘What's its purpose? Is it for a child? It is too small to squeeze one's hand in and out.’ I kept turning it in my fingers.

‘I truly hope so,’ he answered without lifting his head.

Suddenly, where there had been no obvious seam I could discern a hairline crack, and the ring opened on previously invisible hinges with a soft click. I almost dropped it in surprise.

‘Only a wave of its master's will can release it. Beautiful, is it not?’ He looked at it briefly and it snapped shut again.

As the bracelet lay on the palm of my hand, it swelled and grew wider, so that now it would fit my wrist. The disturbing memory of the changing shape of Angainor filled my mind.

‘A shackle!’ I dropped it on the table with a loud bang, as if it had burnt my hand. My voice had sounded shocked, even to me.

Out of the smooth metal surface began to protrude a bulge. It smoothly changed shape, moulded by the power that Mairon was pouring into it, until it became a small ring, which could be used to attach the band to another object. Now there was no doubt as to its purpose.

‘That it is,’ nodded Mairon while he kept his eyes on the delicate task in his hands. He remained unfazed while I was almost trembling with anger. What trickery was in his mind to require such devices? I did not have the chance to ask, because he spoke before I could find suitable words.

‘Come to my chamber tonight, one hour after sunset. You will find the evening most instructive.’ I tried to protest but he forestalled me with a raised hand.

‘Nay, I will not speak of this now. Accept my invitation or let curiosity and mistrust eat you.’

He turned his attention back to his work, clearly dismissing me from his presence. For the first time in several years I suspected him and wavered between anger and concern at what he would reveal to me.

At the appointed time, I knocked at his door. The sight that met my eyes when it opened was one that will never fade from my mind.

The mighty ahaw of Kiinlúum stood stark naked before me. The beads, clasps and feathers on his braided hair, mark of his high status, were gone. In fact he wore nothing but the bangles I had seen in the workshop in the morning, joined by a hand span of thick gold links. His feet were equally restrained, though the chain between them was slightly longer. A matching metal band wrapped around his neck, like a collar on a hound. But the most striking piece of jewellery, from which my eyes would not easily shift, was the heavy gold ring tightly locked around the base of his erect cock and testicles.

The king’s body was that of a warrior, young, strong and beautiful, and I found the sparkling metal and green gems against his amber skin a most alluring sight. My mouth went dry and I felt a twitch at my groin.

I heard a soft chuckle and looked towards the open balcony. For the first time I noticed Mairon, sitting comfortably by a low table dressed with the finest white linen and laden with food. He was sipping wine from one of his favourite carved glass goblets.

‘Come in, Eönwë,’ he invited.

With a slight gesture he summoned the king to his side. I stared in disbelief as the lord of Kiinlúum dropped onto all fours and crawled, painfully slowly because of the tinkling chains, but as gracefully as the animal whose name he bore. My gaze was captured by the rhythmic swaying of his perfect buttocks. He knelt at Mairon’s side, in a practised posture, hands pressed behind his lowered head, fingers entwined, and elbows pushed back and out. It looked tense and hardly comfortable, let alone dignified, but it displayed the muscles of his strong chest and arms to perfection.

‘Striking pet, isn’t it?’ Mairon said. A blush rose to Chakmóol’s cheeks, but he remained silent and still. He was rewarded with a stroke on the side of his face, and he eagerly leaned into Mairon’s caress.

‘What, in Eru’s name, is this? Angrily, I spat out the words to mask the alien, enticing discomfort that had invaded me.

‘This, my friend, is a mutual arrangement. You may call it a contract, if you prefer.’

‘A contract,’ I echoed, perplexed.

‘Yes, Eönwë. A contract is usually drawn for the provision of goods or services, or to control an exchange of some kind,’ he spoke in the tone of one teaching a child a new word.

‘How is your ill-use of the ahaw in this manner of benefit to him?’ I spluttered.

He put his glass down and sighed loudly, as though I were testing his patience in some way, and stroked Chakmóol’s silky hair.

‘Pet, lower your hands.’ The king obeyed instantly, splaying them symmetrically on top of his thighs as far as the chain allowed. ‘You have my permission to answer my friend’s questions, as freely as you wish. But I will not punish you if you choose to remain silent, for the matter at hand is most delicate. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, lord,’ answered the ahaw. He turned his sharp eyes to me.

I hesitated. Addressing Chakmóol as “your highness” seemed most inappropriate when the man was naked, chained and kneeling on the floor. I decided to merely forgo any formalities.

‘Why do you let him force this abasement upon you?’ I hoped my harsh words would make him snap him out of whatever trance kept him meekly at Mairon’s feet.

‘Yúum Síihbalóob is not forcing anything on me, lord. And there is certainly no indignity in the service I provide to him. On the contrary, I am honoured that he wishes my company and cares for me this way.’ He flashed a smile of genuine contentment.

I stared at the ruler of Kiinlúum in amazement. The sorcery might be invisible to my eyes, but clearly went further than the mere command of his hröa. Mairon’s lips quirked in amusement as he sipped his wine, calmly watching the scene play out before his calculating eyes as if it entertained him.

‘What spell has this fiend wrought, what song of power has he chanted? What potion did he give you to rob you of your freedom?’ I was almost screaming at Chakmóol, but he remained calm and composed.

‘I am free,’ he protested. I stared at Mairon’s fingers playing with a strand of the king’s ebony hair. ‘Was I to speak the word of release, my master would permit me to leave at once.’

I snorted incredulously. What utter nonsense, to believe that the disciple of Melkor would just allow his prisoner, his “pet”, as he had called him, to walk free from his clutches!

‘How can you of all people, the King, consent to being bound at another’s whim?’ I blurted. Before the last word fell out of my mouth I had realised the irony of my statement. Mairon snickered and I felt the fierce flush of embarrassment.

With a wave of his hand Mairon unlocked all bindings from Chakmóol and carefully removed them. The powerful lord of Kiinlúum raised pleading eyes, as if imploring not to be dismissed. Mairon reached out to Chakmóol's neck and the ahaw sighed, his face a picture of dejection when Mairon took off the sparkling collar.

‘Come back tomorrow night and I will reward your patience tenfold, my pet,’ he promised. ‘But now I have an important matter to attend.’

Chakmóol kissed his hands, stood and suddenly a weird transformation came over him. No longer subservient, he gripped Mairon’s shoulder, a gesture of familiarity he had never granted anyone in public, and laughed merrily, not at all embarrassed or angry at the degrading treatment he had received.

‘I certainly hope so, suku'n[4]. Look at how you have left me, you fiend!’ Still unclad, there was no possibility of mistaking his meaning.

The king dressed himself in the plain garb of a soldier of his own guard, wrapped the loose end of his headscarf around his face and before he left, wished us both a good evening. He glanced at me sidelong as he walked out. Was there a glint of jealousy in his eyes?

As soon as the heavy door closed behind him, I cried, ‘What in the Void is this vile wizardry?’

‘Have a drink,’ Mairon offered, pressing a goblet of wine to my hand. I slammed it down on the table with such force that the dark liquid spilled on the immaculate linen. My host frowned in irritation.

‘Do not toy with me!’

‘I do not.’ His voice was cold. ‘If you can regain your calm I will attempt to explain what you have just witnessed. You can believe my word or not, as you wish.’

Without waiting for my answer he began. ‘You may have already discovered the pleasures that an Incarnate can experience as a result of certain kinds of stimulation to his hröa.’  I became flushed and nodded.

‘You probably agree that they are far more intense and satisfying than the sparkling felt when  merging our insubstantial Maiarin shapes into solidifying lava or the core of a collapsing star.’ He closed his eyes for an instant, as if recalling a fond memory.

‘Certainly so,’ I murmured. Together, we had once revelled in those discoveries.

‘I assume that so far you have explored these carnal sensations on your own, without the involvement of others?’ His tone was most condescending, but I let it pass.

‘Yes.’

‘The enjoyment of lone gratification pales into insignificance compared to what an Incarnate by birth or by choice feels when their hröa is skilfully played by another.’

‘You mean like a musical instrument?’

‘Apt comparison indeed,’ he smiled slowly. ‘A whole world of pleasure can be revealed to you in the teasing hands of an adept player who knows which strings to pluck to achieve different notes.’

I was not completely ignorant of the bliss of love making. It had been endlessly described in poem and song by both Quendi and Atani, in varied degree of detail and tastefulness. Was he diverting the matter? ‘But what I saw had nothing to do with…’

‘It has everything to do with it. One can choose to relinquish control and freedom in exchange for the rewards of the flesh which, believe me, are much enhanced by appropriate wielding of certain… tools. In the case of a ruler, like the ahaw, his submission to my will brings an even greater gift: the freedom from responsibility of having to make choices.’

‘You are confusing me, or perhaps trying to mislead me. First you say one must renounce freedom, then you want me to believe that bearing chains can bring it back.’

I shook my head. So far Mairon’s justification was vague and contradictory and my suspicions had not subsided. He seemed to be using deceit and trickery to make Chakmóol his thrall, unknowingly to all, to further his own designs for power.  

‘Words cannot explain it further, Eönwë, if you are not inclined to believe me. Let it be.’ He shrugged and drank his wine.

‘What about you?’ I challenged. ‘Surely you do not enter that game unless there is some reward for you?’

‘You know my weaknesses well, friend.’ He laughed softly. ‘I strive to repair the damage I once wrought, but ultimately I am not completely selfless, and seek pleasure too. Surely you may understand the thrill of mastering a willing slave, of watching how he struggles to please you, however painful the demand, however hard the task, knowing that you ultimately own the key to his release?’

An unexpected tingling tremor pervaded my hröa. I remained silent, straining, sensing, searching the air between us for any trace of a spell, for the tiniest distortion in the natural progression of the Song. Truly I sensed nothing evil.

‘Once you learn how to guide others on their journey to this consuming pleasure, they will worship you,’ he concluded, absently twirling the goblet in his fingers.

‘That is utter blasphemy!’ I cried, trembling. ‘You have lied to me. Your lust for power remains unslaked and dangerous, your righteousness a mere pretence. Today you resort to enslaving innocent Children and twisting them to your purposes. Tomorrow you will build a fortress and breed an army of thralls to serve your every whim, waging war just as your despicable master once did.’

When my eyes met the wrath in his gaze, I quailed. Rising, he dropped the goblet, which smashed into a thousand sparks onto the floor. I stood my ground, though my heart leapt in fear against my ribcage.

‘Be gone at once, cur, or I shall send you straight to your precious master with my answer to his message carved on your chest!’ he snarled. Raw loathing flashed in his eyes as he advanced towards me. ‘How dare you judge…’

I needed no further prompt to make a retreat, and not stopping to hear any more, I left, viciously slamming the heavy door. I walked out of his house into the night, under the stars I yearned for, and my rage did not abate. He had attempted to spin a pretty tale of harmless seduction but he had not deceived me: darkness still lurked within him. What should I do? What could I do?

The image of Chakmóol on his knees, his muscles straining and his eyes lowered in submission glancing at me through dark eyelashes, evoked yet another wave of burning heat in my loins. I could not banish the memory of the firm outlines of the king’s body, or of the allure with which he crawled to Mairon’s feet. Above all, the sight of his erect phallus rising, angry, red and tall, from its golden restraint amongst dark curls, flashed repeatedly across my mind, sparking a desire I both relished and feared.

Why did Mairon’s sheer dominance and the ahaw’s vulnerability excited me thus? What weakness was within me, that so easily discarded the disgust at such abasement? More disturbingly, why did the image of Mairon’s fingers twirling Chakmóol’s hair and the mere thought of his strong hands on my body make my erection throb all the harder?

After long hours of reproach and deliberation I was forced to acknowledge that I could no longer ignore my feelings for Mairon, rekindled despite the atrocities he had committed in the past, and swathed in the novel, confusing cravings of my hröa.  Our paths had once diverged bitterly, but now I wished to reclaim the closeness, the unity we had once shared.

I must not forsake my duty, either; if I walked away from Mairon and abandoned Kiinlúum, all hope of discovering the truth, of ever hearing his declaration of repentance before Manwë would be lost. I had to prove that the scene I had witnessed was not a perverted act of sorcery designed to enthrall Chakmóol, that he had not relapsed into evil.

The wisest course of action was to offer my apologies to my host, if he would listen, make our peace and contrive a plan to learn his true purpose, however slim the chance of success.

By the time dawn broke I slunk back to his house, half expecting to see my belongings thrown out on the street and the gates forever locked to me, but everything seemed normal. His door servants greeted me most politely, as ever, and I was served food of the usual exquisite quality to break my fast. Mairon was, however, nowhere to be seen and I dared not intrude upon him in his workshop.

In the afternoon I went for a long, hard ride in the hills. I entered the city gates shortly before dusk, and spent some time grooming and feeding my horse. Then I found myself retracing the steps to Mairon’s room, with the intent of offering amends, and hopefully, obtaining a truthful explanation. I found the door unlocked. Quietly, I entered.

This time I was unable to deny the dark desire that stirred me at the sight. Chakmóol’s wrists and ankles were again bound in gold and green shackles, but now he hung from chains attached to the ceiling beams, naked and spread-eagled, his back crossed by a multitude of crimson welts.

I stood, mesmerised. I gasped when I saw the many-tailed whip Mairon wielded in his hand; I almost cried out when it swung through the air, landed on the king’s back with a loud crack and he howled in agony; I winced when Chakmóol was thrown forward against the rattling chains, sobbing pitifully.

‘No more, my lord… No more, please… No...’ he begged haltingly.

His moans died into a whimper; he hissed and squirmed uselessly when his captor slowly traced one of the darkest lines down his back with one finger and then fondled his reddened backside gently, running a thumb along the cleft between his cheeks.

Then Mairon turned towards me. He was shaking the whip gently with his free hand, as if to unravel the kinks from its leather braids. When he noticed my presence, he hastily placed the dreadful instrument on the table. Anger was plainly written on his face. Chakmóol twisted his neck awkwardly to look over his shoulder, and he frowned, seemingly irritated by the interruption as well.

‘Leave us!’ spat Mairon. There was no mistaking the threat wrapped around these two words.

I obeyed at once, sparing a last glance at the striped back of the ahaw. I immediately heard the latch of the lock fall into place. My heart hammered wildly, loud in my chest. Inexplicably, I had an erection pressing against my leather breeches. I could not stop thinking about what was happening on the other side of the wooden door. Surely no sane man would willingly be flogged for pleasure? My gut clenched in alarm at the thought of the dreadful penalty likely to be meted out to anyone shedding the blood of the god-king of Kiinlúum.

Oh, but the ahaw looked beautiful, and Mairon, whip in hand, was breathtaking in his anger…

That night, again, I did not sleep. Like a thief I lurked along the corridors, and listened tensely in anticipation. When I heard cries, I wondered frantically whether they were uttered in agony or in the throes of pleasurable passion. My imagination kept building vivid pictures of the king’s straining muscles, fighting the chains that held him at Mairon’s mercy; of the lash falling again and again, drawing a web of purple welts; of Chakmóol’s cock, swollen and prisoner; of Mairon turning to me, wielding the whip, taking my lips into a fiery kiss and touching my hardness with fingers like silk… My arousal grew so painful that I returned to my room to seek relief, which arrived violently after a few strokes. I cried his name.

Around noon the following day I spied the king leave my host’s room in disguise, walking stiffly, but with a smile in his eyes. I was relieved to see that he looked unharmed, but Chakmóol frowned when he saw me blocking his path.

‘Let me pass,’ he hissed. ‘I have urgent business to attend.’

I bit my tongue to stop myself from uttering a truly insulting retort. After all, I needed his help to obtain information about Mairon. ‘What has he done to you, Highness, to make you his slave?’ I said quietly.

‘He has done nothing, truly. Nothing against my wishes.’ There was exasperation in his tone, but to his credit, he kept his gaze locked with mine. ‘I have willingly chosen to serve him at mutually agreed times. Now, let me pass!’

‘But why?’ I persisted. Chakmóol crossed his arms, wincing slightly.

‘Believe me, many others would be most eager to take my place. Your friend is unmatched in this art.’

Art? This was an art? Wordlessly I let him go.

 

 

 

Notes:

[1] Elerossë is the Quenya form of the name Elros.

[2] sakxikin (Yucatec) lynx

[3] nikte' ha' (Yucatec) lotus flower, waterlily.

[4] suku'n  (Yucatec) older brother (younger brother is íits'in)