Roughing It by polutropos

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Chapter 1

Carnistir / Moryo = Caranthir
Angaráto = Angrod
Tyelkormo (Tyelko) = Celegorm
Aikanáro = Aegnor
Curufinwë (Curvo) = Curufin

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“Would you be quiet?!” Carnistir bellowed from the hammock he’d strung up inside the storage hut. The banging stopped and he propped his book up on his thigh with a satisfied grunt.

A moment later, Angaráto’s broad form appeared in the doorframe, his bright hair lit from behind by the golden light of Laurelin. An axe was hanging from his right hand.

“Listen, Moryo. If you want to eat any of the hunt that our brothers bring back, we need a fire. For a fire, we need wood. Do you want to eat tonight?”

Carnistir ignored him.

“I said: do you want to eat tonight?” Angaráto stood there, breathing heavily.

“No.” Carnistir huffed.

“No? You don’t want to eat?”

“I don’t need to eat.”

The axe dropped to the floor with a clang, accompanied by a loud sigh. Angaráto slumped down onto an upside-down fruit box. Carnistir, aware of his half-cousin’s eyes fixed on him, stared at his open book. Not reading any of the words (he was far too agitated now for that), but intently focused on not engaging.

Angaráto sighed again. “Why are you even here?”

“I’m relaxing.” Carnistir flipped a page, keeping up the act.

“Why don’t you relax outside? Somewhere further from the camp?”

“I like it inside. There are too many birds out there”

“Birds…” Angaráto muttered to himself, rubbing his chin. “Well, I’m going to go back to chopping wood. Up to you if you prefer that or the birds.”

After a long moment, seemingly waiting for a response (what kind of response, Carnistir could not imagine), Angaráto stood and left. Carnistir was on edge, listening for the resumption of the woodchopping, but it didn’t come. He folded an arm behind his head and scanned for his place in the text.

Then the brawny, yellow-haired prince was back. “You know,” he said. “I didn’t expect you to stay behind when I offered to tend to the camp today.”

That was it. Carnistir tossed the book aside and swung his legs over the side of the hammock. “And I didn’t expect you to be here either.”

He had been fantasising about spending an entire day alone since they’d arrived. It was the reason he’d come on this trip with his brothers and cousins at all. He did very much enjoy the balmy, verdant forests of southern Aman in this season, normally – it was horribly unfortunate that a flock of parrots had decided to take up residence in the canopy right above their hunting camp, screeching and shitting all day long.

Then the howler monkeys started up.

Angaráto groaned. “It’s too hot. I’m going for a swim in the river.” He paused. “Do you want to come?”

Carnistir’s eyes grew wide. Under his tunic, a bead of sweat rolled down his chest. His hair clung to his neck. The monkeys were reaching a crescendo.

He stood and brushed past Angaráto on his way out the door.

 

They didn’t talk on their way to the river. They didn’t even acknowledge each other’s presence. In fact, they really didn’t go together at all. They were just two people who both happened to be going for a swim in the jungle.

Until they got there and Angaráto decided to change this perfectly acceptable dynamic.

“Why don’t you like me?” He pulled his tunic over his head and tossed it on the rocks beside the slow-flowing pool. His muscles rippled and flexed as he settled his hands on his hips expectantly.

Carnistir scowled at him from across the pool. There were a hundred ways he could answer such a question, but for whatever reason he could remember none of them at that moment. It was too sweltering.

“See, you can’t even tell me.” Angaráto shook his head and pulled off his sandals. He started to unlace his trousers. “You know, I can’t think of why I don’t like you either. You’re just…” He dropped the trousers and stepped out of them. Completely naked, just like that. “You’re like the parrots. Nothing wrong with you in particular, nice to look at, even – colourful.” He snickered and Carnistir felt his face growing even warmer than it already was. “But annoying.” Angaráto grinned and dove gracefully into the water.

“Woo!” He bobbed up a moment later, blinking the water out of his pale green eyes. The droplets sparkled in the dappled light. “It’s perfect. What are you doing still dressed?”

It was a good question. Carnistir had been so focused on his cousin disrobing himself he hadn’t even taken off his shoes. He realised it was the first time he’d seen Angaráto fully undressed. He obviously knew he didn’t share the slender shape of his brothers, but he hadn’t expected him to be quite so… chiselled. Carnistir felt suddenly sheepish about his own flat and freckled chest. Not to mention his bony knees.

Angaráto arched backwards, throwing himself into a somersault in the water. He kicked his legs up, scissoring in the air. Carnistir undressed himself as quickly as possible while his cousin carried on with this childish display. He crouched down and slid into the pool, ducking his head under.

When he popped up, there was that bronzed face grinning right at him, hair clinging to it like gold plating around an amber gemstone.

Carnistir felt a little tug on his lips despite himself. Those damn Arafinwëans and their contagious mirth.

“Aha! There it is!” Angaráto waved a finger in Carnistir’s direction. “See, nice to look at.”

“Mrm.” Carnistir eyed his cousin warily and started to swim away. He knew about Angaráto’s reputation, of course (Tyelkormo often complained about their upstart young cousin working his way through his former lovers) but he never imagined himself the object of one of these seductions. Perhaps he was misreading, but it certainly seemed like— a hand squeezed his calf.

“Stop that!” Carnistir kicked and spun around, only to be greeted by an oncoming wall of water.

Angaráto laughed and glided backwards. “I knew it. You’re wound too tight. Your calf feels like it’s made of stone.”

Well, that was better than skin and bones.

“I’d offer to massage you,” Angaráto said, “but I am afraid it might get too rough if I suddenly remembered how much you irritate me.”

“No, thank you.” The thought of Angaráto pummelling at his tight muscles was… sending his heartbeat into totally unwelcome regions of his body. He plunged his face down and swam off towards a small waterfall. He let it pound down over his head and closed his eyes.

Hands again, this time gripping his thighs. Carnistir’s eyes flew open and there was Angaráto floating over him, smirking wildly.

His cousin scanned his face. “You have a very nice jaw, you know.”

“Are you intoxicated?” Carnistir squirmed and the grip on his thighs tightened. “You should be careful what plants you eat here.”

“Intoxicated? No.” Angaráto chewed on his lower lip. It blossomed an alluringly bright red.

Carnistir sucked a breath in through his nose, very aware of how close his cousin’s hands were to the wholly inappropriate physical reaction taking place between his legs. Angaráto mercifully released him. He hummed, using his hands to scull backwards through the water. Carnistir leaned back into the waterfall.

“Don’t you find, though–” Angaráto was unfortunately still just audible under the cascade of water, “–when you’re particularly agitated, you get… amorous?”

“Excuse me?!” Carnistir sputtered and jerked forward, instinctively covering over his groin, despite the fact it was well-concealed beneath the frothing water. A good thing, considering what he discovered there. Blood rushed from his head at the touch of his own hand. He cursed under his breath and squeezed his thighs together.

“Perhaps not,” Angaráto said lazily. “I do find it helps take the edge off. Pity we’re all family here.”

That hasn’t stopped you before, Carnistir thought. He was now quite certain the rumours were true about Angaráto and his ‘experiments’ with his Telerin cousins. Those Falmari were all a bit wild – the Sea did that to people. Carnistir found himself hoping that it was indeed limited to Eärwen’s side of the family. His own kin, his own brothers even, he did not like the idea of sharing– No! he chided himself silently. Absolutely not, Carnistir, you idiot.

“Well, I’m getting out, then.” Angaráto swam towards the opposite bank and hoisted himself up. Carnistir’s eyes strayed to his waist. If his cousin was similarly aroused, at least they would be on equal footing, he could feel a little less ashamed of his own reaction, and maybe, if they told no one… but all he got was a view of his pert buttocks as he hastily wrapped himself in a towel.

Carnistir sank down into the water. “I think I will stay a bit longer.”

“As you wish.” Angaráto tossed a glance over his shoulder, his expression cool and collected.

He was long gone and Carnistir was turning pruny before he finally gave in and made short work of his insistent arousal. It was better this way, he thought, allowing a little moan to escape as his head tipped back and he released himself of the absurd fantasies of Arafinwë’s most irritatingly brash, most aggravatingly witty, most roguishly handsome son.

He was not wrong. It did take the edge off.

* * *

Aikanáro stretched and yawned loudly. He brought one arm down on his brother’s shoulder. “Enjoy the stars, you two. I don’t think I can stay up any longer. It was a long hunt.”

Even this far south of Ezellohar the stars appeared for less than an hour, just before Laurelin began to wax. Angaráto leaned back on his hands and nodded as his brother stumbled off to bed. No doubt part of his exhaustion was from the hunt, but he’d had more than his fair share of the local sugarcane liquor as well. Angaráto chuckled to himself. Poor thing would wake up with a horrible headache in the morning.

Beside him, Carnistir prodded the fire with a stick. Angaráto was not sure when or how the grumpiest Fëanárion had ended up next to him.

“Figures,” Carnistir muttered.

Angaráto turned to him and cocked an eyebrow.

“What? Figures you would want to see the stars as well.” Carnistir leaned against a stump and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not leaving.” He jutted his chin towards the sky. “I haven’t seen them since last year.”

“Well, neither am I.” Angaráto adjusted his shoulders, inching his hand closer to Carnistir. He was surprised by the sudden desire that had struck him earlier that day, seeing Carnistir glowering and glistening with sweat in the hammock, and then, at the pool, the unexpectedly pleasing form under those loose-fitting clothes he always wore. He wondered if Carnistir was aware of how shapely his legs were. A little lanky, perhaps, but very proportionately so.

He still couldn’t stand him, of course. But that could add an interesting dimension to a little romp in the jungle. It wasn’t as if he saw the Fëanárions often, by the time they got together again it would be long forgotten.

Why not? What did he have to lose?

“Moryo?”

Carnistir grunted.

“What’s the wildest thing you’ve ever done in bed?”

“Darkness take you!” Carnistir spat. “You must be drunker than you look if you think I am having that conversation with you.”

“No, actually, I barely drank. I was just thinking, you and I, we’re both rather… aggressive people.”

Carnistir shot him a glare. For all its icy coldness, it set a raging heat between Angaráto’s thighs.

“In different ways,” Angaráto said, quickly adjusting his loose trousers to hide his growing bulge. “You hold it all in. Until you don’t – then Valar defend whoever is near from your viper’s tongue!”

“At least I have the wits to strike with words. You’d be swinging your fists in all directions if you weren’t kept in line by that prim and docile older brother of yours.”

“Ah, there it is! You’re an idiot if you think Ingo is docile, though. It is rare, but when he is angry I’d bet against your own father in a fight between them. Anyway, I’m more consistently aggressive. Much more predictable.”

A deep, growling sound came from Carnistir’s throat. It affected Angaráto so intensely that he barely restrained himself from moaning audibly.

“You are provoking me,” Carnistir said.

“Am I?” Angaráto was losing patience. Very soon, he either needed to get himself on top of that taut, freckled body or as far away from it as possible.

“Anyway.” Carnistir cleared his throat and pulled his tunic down over his hips. “What does any of this have to do with… your first question.”

“Oh.” Right, that had been Angaráto’s plan. “It, uh… well, I was just wondering if sometimes you also like to…” His mouth was becoming very dry. “If you like to take out some of that aggression with your, um, partners.”

Carnistir turned his head, that perfect jaw casting a shadow down his long neck. “Like what?” His voice was rough.

“Things like… biting.” Angaráto rolled onto one side, facing Carnistir. He thought he caught Carnistir’s gaze flickering down before he straightened up and leaned in, his eyes black. Angaráto sucked a breath between his teeth.

Then a hand struck him flat on the cheek.

“Like slapping?” Carnistir sneered.

Angaráto drew his fingers over the stinging skin. He gaped in surprise and no small measure of excitement.

“You–” he shoved the heel of his palm into Carnistir’s sternum and pushed him back against the stump, knocking his head against it. Carnistir swore and shoved him off.

“Not here, you idiot,” Carnistir hissed. “You might be utterly shameless, but my brothers will never find out about this.” He glowered and slapped Angaráto again, lighter this time.

Angaráto kissed him fiercely. “Mrrmph, where then?” He slipped his hands up under his tunic and drew his nails down his back.

“The storage hut, now.”

“But we’ll miss the stars.” Angaráto ground his hips against him.

“Damn the stars! You’ll see stars!”

Angaráto threw his head back and laughed. Standing, he hoisted Carnistir up and over one shoulder. His cousin squirmed and pulled at his hair as he staggered towards the storage hut, still laughing.

* * *

Carnistir limped out of the tent and squinted into the light of Laurelin breaking through the trees.

“Good morning.” Aikanáro was sitting on a crate grinding coffee beans. His hair was spikier than usual and his eyelids drooped as he looked up. “I feel awful.”

“Me too,” Carnistir confessed, rubbing at his back. He winced at the shooting pain this sent up his wrists. Examining them, he discovered he had dark bruises like bracelets, with a distinctly braided pattern to them. A rope-like pattern. He shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Did you see any stars?” Aikanáro dumped several generous spoonfuls of ground coffee into the copper pot.

Carnistir let out a long sigh. He certainly had. “Yes. They were very… intense.”

Aikanáro shrugged his brows as he filled the pot with water and set it over the stove. “Intense?”

Just then, Angaráto came stumbling out of his own tent, blinking and yawning as he walked past Carnistir. He looked like a striped animal with all the red lines down his back. What was he thinking? Not only were the marks extremely conspicuous, his bare chest was extremely distracting.

“Are you talking about the stars? They were intense alright.” He gave an amused little grunt. “I’m exhausted.”

“Why don’t you sit down?” Aikanáro asked.

“Oh, uh,” he rubbed his arse, no doubt testing its tenderness. “No, I’m alright.” He looked over his shoulder at Carnistir and winked. Carnistir flushed.

“What in the depths of Utumno happened to you?” Tyelko shouted, coming up from behind with Huan at his side, a dressed capybara tied over one shoulder.

“I had too much of that awful liquor,” Aikanáro groaned, rubbing his palms down the sides of his face.

“Not you.” Tyelko flung the animal carcass onto a table. “Angaráto.”

Angaráto whirled to face them. Carnistir watched the wheels turn as he tried to formulate an excuse.

Aikanáro, meanwhile, got a full view of his brother’s back. “Oh.” His jaw dropped. “What…”

“I got in a fight with a monkey,” said Angaráto, hurriedly.

Carnistir covered his face with his hands.

“You what?” said Aikanáro.

“I thought I heard something,” Curvo proclaimed from the tent. “You’re out of your mind, you know that.”

“He was in the storage hut.” Angaráto gestured vaguely. “Trying to steal our plantains. I fought him off.”

Tyelko sniggered in disbelief. Huan barked. Carnistir gingerly lowered himself onto a log and moaned.

“Did you now?” Tyelko erupted into peals of laughter and slapped Carnistir on the back. He sank deeper into his hands, trying not to weep from shame and physical pain.

“Huh. Do monkeys even have claws?” Aikanáro mused, pouring coffee into a mug.

“Claws?” Curvo shouted. “No, you idiot. They have nails.”

“Right.” Aikanáro blinked as he studied his brother’s back again, sceptical. “Well, I guess that makes sense.”

Tyelko was now laughing hysterically. He plopped himself down on the log beside Carnistir and smacked his shoulder, giving him a good shake. “Well done, well done,” he wheezed.

Mercifully, he strolled back to his kill, shaking his head and chuckling to himself. He straddled the bench and exchanged a pointed look with Angaráto.

“Cousin, we are most grateful–” he pinched his lips and made a snorting sound, “–we are most grateful for your valour. I am sure you put that monkey in his place.”

“Oh yes.” Angaráto grinned. “I gave him a pounding he won’t soon forget.”

Somewhere deep in the jungle, the monkeys started to howl.

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Chapter End Notes

Thanks to cuarthol for the beta.