Chasing Mirages by Russandol

---

Answers

The day after, Eönwë asks many questions, and Mairon provides answers.

 

---

 

8. Answers

Light and warmth tickled my eyes; it took me a few dazed blinks to realise where I was or to remember what had happened. I was lying naked on my soft bed under a fur blanket, and from the slant of sunshine through the partially closed shutters, it was late morning. The memories flooded my mind, a flush rose to my face and a tingle awoke in my groin. I longed for…

‘Good morning, friend,’ the voice came from the dark corner furthest away from the windows. A shadow stepped forward silently. ‘I hope you feel rested. Are you well?’

‘I am aching. Everywhere.’ I sat up, groaning. ‘Abominably.’

‘What did you expect? You fought me too hard and your muscles are sore.’

‘“Sore” does not even come close to describing it. I feel as if I have been trampled by trolls,’ I grumbled. But there was not a trace of resentment or anger against the one who had hurt me. Instead I could not keep from smiling.

Mairon came closer and appraised me thoughtfully. When his glance fell on my lap, it must have discovered my incipient morning erection, but he said nothing.

His eyes lingered next on my wrists and his mouth twisted in distaste at the chafing that had broken skin, a fact I had barely noticed yet. Without a word, he bent to take my hands in his own, slowly lifted them to his lips and dropped a light kiss on the place where my speeding pulse beat under the scrapes, one on each wrist, then turned them over and kissed them again. He locked his eyes on mine and in them glinted that rare pride he had only granted me the night before. An unexpected sob hitched in my throat.

The moment was broken when he reached inside a pocket of his robes and presented to me a small container, stopped with cork, like the ones used to keep unguents or perfume. I made to wave off his offer.

‘Eönwë,’ he warned sternly, ‘I will sit on your back if I have to.’

For an instant I was tempted to dare him try, but I felt too battered to wrestle. He opened the small jar and spread the ointment, pungent with the strong scent of herbs, into the trail of skinned patches on each wrist. I hissed and cursed at the sudden flare the thick paste brought forth, which fortunately faded rapidly into soothing warmth accompanied by a minute itchiness, as though the unguent were lightly simmering on my skin.

‘I trust you found your experience instructive?’ he said with a light smile.

‘Instructive, disturbing, mortifying, and pleasurable, all at once!’ I sighed. ‘But I have even more questions than before.’

‘Patience, friend,’ he chuckled. ‘Now that I am certain that you survived the night unharmed, I need to apply myself to my neglected duties. Rest and join me at sunset tonight, so that we can resume your education.’

The silver of his laughter at my obvious wince marked his departure. I fell asleep again.

When I woke up, well after midday, my body had recovered further from the previous night’s exertions. In the mirror, I appraised it from all possible angles, until I was certain that, unbelievably, there was not a single cut on my skin, though some of the fiery trails were still faintly visible. Even my wrists had already scabbed, their healing sped no doubt by Mairon’s unguent.

I felt ravenous. After a warm bath that did wonders for my strained muscles I visited the kitchen, where the cook quickly served me some food and chatted away while I ate. She had grown fond and protective of me after watching me arrive, defeated and famished, at the end of those early days of warrior training. She used to call me Yúum Eek’ich or “Lord Star-eye” and would scold me if I left anything on the plate because, in her own words, anything that did not kill me would make me stronger, so that I could defeat my enemies.

While I waited for dusk, I sat on a pile of down cushions in the shade of the orange trees with a book in my hands, but my mind was elsewhere. I recalled the flood of strange, extreme sensations on my hröa that had triggered such unexpected ecstasy at Mairon’s hands, far beyond anything I had experienced during my earlier attempts at pleasuring myself.

At the same time I was apprehensive. I feared to have succumbed to a yet unexplained power that had banished rational thought in favour of a feral, untameable lust. I suspected that to indulge this urge of the Incarnates was inappropriate for one such as myself, that it would be better buried. But something within me rebelled and cried out that with my hröa came these exhilarating gifts, and there was no evil in enjoying them, as Námo himself had implied.

A strange thought fluttered into my mind: an image of Manwë finding out about this experience, about how I had been thoroughly thrashed and ravished by his dark brother’s most trusted minion. Worse still, all of it had been done at my instigation and with my consent, though little had I known what it would truly entail.

Lost in my musings the hours went by until I realised sunset would not tarry. Eagerly I went in search of Mairon.

This time, it was one of his servants, clad in all propriety, who opened the door and led me to his master’s dining area by the open balcony. Food was lavishly served, neatly arranged on the usual low tables, and Mairon sat upon silk cushions, scanning a long scroll, which he discarded at my entrance. He beckoned me to sit by his side, and we were soon eating and speaking of small matters while his aide served us.

Finally he dismissed his servant and I tackled the questions that had plagued me all day. I did not know where to start, and just blurted the first one that came to my mind.

‘Now I accept the wisdom of your trial, Mairon, but what would you have done if I had refused to place my hand on the block?’

‘In all likelihood I would have slain you,’ he said, without betraying a trace of jesting. ‘You would have expected it, wouldn’t you, from one who seeks to enslave and twist innocent Children?’

Heat rose to my cheeks at the recollection of my own crass accusation. I nodded while I considered whether he might have indeed killed my hröa.

‘Is this game of dominance a way to slake your thirst for power?’ I countered.

To his credit, Mairon’s expression did not shift from one of attentive politeness, despite my bluntness.

‘You could say that is part of the truth,’ he answered. ‘Power is a thrilling draught. But there is more to it than that.’

‘How so?’

‘Any Orco, or even the least of my minions could beat a man to death. Numerous times have I had the lives of captives, spies or traitors in my hands and commanded their end in that manner, but seldom has such absolute power brought me any pleasure, despite what you might think. To be surrounded by witless thralls who act blindly out of terror is unrewarding. To hear someone cry their heart out in agony becomes tiresome.’

I shuddered at his impassivity.

‘What I crave, what I have always sought, is the pleasure of a craftsman creating something beautiful and unique. I relish binding another’s willing deeds and behaviour to my command. Wielding the right level of persuasion to earn their devotion, as opposed to their abject terror, is a delicate balance, Eönwë. To make them wholly mine, swaying them between pain, fear, and pleasure requires some skill, would you not agree?’

Chakmóol’s words about art suddenly made sense.

‘You seek to bind someone’s will but I was chained last night, hardly able to choose to obey you or otherwise.’

‘Learning to yield takes time, Eönwë. Do you think I failed to see your murderous looks? I had to protect myself too!’ He laughed and heat suffused me again. ‘Chakmóol has already come a long way in his training, and he knows to please me by freely choosing to submit to my demands without bonds. He is vastly weaker to pain than you are, and I greatly value such courage in him, when I demand it.’

I lowered my head to hide the sudden pang of jealousy against the ahaw.

‘Does his obedience extend beyond these walls?’ I held my breath.

‘No, he sheds his kingship within them, as you know.’ He smiled mischievously. ‘If you are fretting about Yúum Síihbalóob being the evil shadow behind his throne, rest at ease. Chakmóol yields only himself to me, not his realm.’

‘He trusts you with his life.’ I argued, warily. ‘Surely your counsel in court must always carry weight with him.’

‘As does yours, Eönwë,’ he retorted smoothly.

‘You are toying with fire, Mairon!’ I chided. ‘What would happen if you were to spill his blood? Such a sacrilege would surely be paid with your life!’

I could not understand Mairon’s sudden smile.

‘The odds add to the thrill, friend. But be at ease! Like in my forge, I tame fire to craft beauty, but I never forget the danger of its flames.’

I sighed with relief. As ever, Mairon would have carefully weighed his risk and devised the appropriate measures to remain in control of the situation, however treacherous.

‘He is already wed, he has sired children,’ I objected, resorting to weaker arguments. ‘What does he seek from you?’

‘Pleasure unlike that which his wife can give him, sweet as she is. The elation of freedom from making choices, too, and of being wanted for himself, not as a symbol of power.’ He shook his head in sympathy.

‘Will the queen prevent it, if she finds out?’ I felt outraged at the ahaw’s breach of fidelity and at Mairon’s responsibility in it.

‘She cannot. The king is allowed as many spouses and lovers as he wishes, because through him is channelled the potency of all living beings in the world, and he is expected to bestow that strength to his people. Though that is far from the truth in this case.’ He chuckled darkly. ‘Would it shock you to know that he has persistently requested that I agree to make our unlikely bond public?’

‘Will you accept?’ I cried, aghast at this revelation.

‘I do not wish to be known as the royal lover, Eönwë, and would rather avoid the trappings of such a position,’ he answered, easing my sudden agitation. ‘He already gives me as much as I would dare demand from a king without being accused of treason. Like you, Chakmóol is beautiful in his submission.’

I remained at a loss for a reply that would not betray my envious distress. I longed to scream that I would not impose any bounds, that I would give him as much as he desired. But I still warred with my own doubts, and we had agreed on a single session only; I could not ask for more.

‘You called me blasphemous, but I have seen the same spark of greed in your eyes when you beheld the ahaw,’ he pressed on, as if sensing censure in my silence.

I certainly could not refute that I shared at least an incipient thrill for power such as what he had described and furthermore, that I would welcome the chance to have Chakmóol begging at my feet. This ignoble thought flustered me and I decided to move on to other matters.

‘Indeed you tread a perilous path, Mairon. What stays you from veering away from seduction into torment?’

I frowned when he laughed unashamedly.

‘Oh, but have you so easily forgotten that I did torment you? I can still hear your screams and curses, even though I was most gentle!’ he cried. I balked from attempting to imagine what he would consider ungentle. ’But my goal was not to harm or slay you, as it was often the case with those I had in my power in Angamando or Tol-in-Gaurhoth. I frightened you; I hurt you; I shamed you, but I was bound by trust to honour our agreement.’

I was strangely moved. Melkor’s lieutenant had indeed kept his word to a former enemy, to the one before whom he had once humbled himself. I merely nodded and my silence encouraged him to continue.

‘That trust is the key ingredient, the sorcery you vainly sought. In a way, I know you better than you know yourself, Eönwë, at least in your present form. I sense the limits of what you can bear; had I stepped beyond them your trust would have faded and with it, my spell,’ he concluded.

He picked up a date. I watched him as he took it to his mouth, and remembered his sweet lips on mine. He smiled meaningfully, as if having read my thoughts, while he slowly sucked his fingers and then ran his tongue over his upper lip. I felt the warmth of my blush, and of my desire lower down.

‘How did you learn all of this?’ I asked. He toyed briefly with his silver fork and then looked away, toward the flickering stars.

‘I had plenty of opportunity to research the hröar of the Eldar, both dead and alive, and most interestingly, to study their urgent cravings when desperate for a respite in the shadow of death, for a comforting touch to soothe the pain of torture.’

I froze. It was far too easy to forget who he was and what he had done in the past. Did the monster still lurk, dormant behind Mairon’s new identity? I did not dare delve deeper, not while my curiosity on the present matter was unsated.

‘Is that research how you found a way to create a shape of your own design?’ I could not hide my angry sarcasm.

‘Námo Fëantur is not the only one with the knowledge or the prerogative to create a hröa, even if he claims to be sanctioned by Eru to allow the rehousing of the Eldar who are slain, or to chastise those who are seen to fail the Valar.’

We often reached this particular point of contention, and as time went by I found that my defence of my lord was becoming less passionate. Grudgingly, I had begun to accept the truth of what I already knew when I stood in the Máhanaxar, that my punishment was merely meant to appease the Children’s thirst for retribution.

When I did not object as expected, Mairon carried on with his grim explanation.

‘Under Melkor’s instruction I learnt to weave and sever the links that tie a fëa to a hröa, and to trap a houseless fëa to prevent its escape.’

I stared at him, speechless at the abomination he spoke of in such a detached way.

‘How do you think the Lord of Mandos built his Halls, a prison for fëar and beings of light and thought like us, but by using the very same skills?’ he protested, when he saw the horror that must have been painted on my face.

I could have argued that Námo had been invested with the authority to do so by the will of Ilúvatar while Mairon had used his discovery for the purpose of torment, but this was not the time.

‘Speak on,’ I urged, reluctantly.

‘Because of this knowledge, unlike you, I am free to leave this flesh at any time, barring perhaps a weakness so great as to stop me from breaking the links. Though several of the innate powers of our kin had to be sacrificed in exchange for my shape, most are only dimmed. I am aware of every particle in my hröa and the way it helps build and support the whole, which allows me a vastly superior level of control than what a First-born can ever hope to achieve. Námo could have given you all of this, but he chose not to.’

I had witnessed him shift his shape, transmute matter, and tap and unleash the energy stored in the fabric of the world, and he could still talk through ósanwë. Undoubtedly, there was much more. Sudden rage swelled in my chest at the injustice of it all. Why had I been denied those abilities, inherent to my very nature, the gift of Eru himself? Why had I meekly accepted my penance, hugely disproportionate to the alleged crime I had committed, without question or appeal, so that my lord and his brethren could be cleanly absolved of any responsibility?

Mairon’s look of pity was the last straw. I felt extremely tired, and wished only for solitude and time to attempt to wade through the turmoil, sort a myriad of conflicting feelings into a semblance of order and dispel the nagging uncertainty that threatened to overwhelm me.

I needed one more answer, and I was not sure Mairon would care to give it.

‘I cannot deny my wonder at what you have revealed to me. You proved to be a most skilled performer of this exhilarating…’ I shook my head. ‘I fail to think of a proper name for this activity. Perhaps Chakmool is right calling it art. Also, as you predicted, I tasted freedom again.’ I paused, suddenly stricken with longing for yet another chance to fly into the vastness of Eä beyond my hröa, if only ephemerally. ‘For all of this I am in your debt.’’

He inclined his head to acknowledge my gratitude and waited for the question that was bound to follow.

‘Is this art of seduction and power contained within the Music, or is it a flaw, part of the marring your master wrought, that you once shared?’

I watched him wince, and I almost gasped when his dismay shifted fleetingly to a sneer of angry disappointment. Then it settled into a mask of bland politeness while his eyes became wary, even hostile.

‘It is whatever you consider it to be, Eönwë. Many would certainly name it evil, even before attempting to understand it, like you did not long ago. As ever, you are free to seek the taint of Melkor in any of my deeds, or to believe instead that I might wish to shake off his yoke.’

He stood up in dismissal, but I took him by the arm and turned him to face me. I had swept aside all my unresolved doubts; I had made up my mind.

‘I will help you be free of him,’ I vowed.

Daringly, I kissed him. I was mightily relieved when he did not refuse my embrace but wrapped his own arms tightly around my shoulders. I cursed myself for flinching at the pain, because he let go at once.

I smiled apologetically, and he laughed.

‘It grows late, and you must rest, friend.’