The Hunter and the Hare by cuarthol, polutropos

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Angaráto

Angaráto has a wonderfully good time at Tirion's masked ball.

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Angaráto strutted into the room, sleek and exquisite as the animal he had chosen to embody.  His suit was well-fitted, one might even say skin tight, and it showed off his well muscled form.  He lacked only an appreciative audience.

“For Eru’s sake, Ango,” Ingoldo gasped as he saw him.  “Put something on over that, you look… indecent!”

“Don’t you like it?” he asked, striking a pose.

“You could have saved the trouble of having a costume made and just painted the suit on,” Ingo said in that disproving tone he had long mastered.  Angaráto felt there was more than a hint of envy there as well.

“That’s not a bad idea,” he mused, looking down at his body.  “I’ll try that next time.”

Ingo grumbled.  “You’re impossible.  Anyway, I’m going; I have to be there early to warm up.”

“Oh, is that what you call it these days?”

He smirked as his elder brother pulled back to throw the coin-purse he held, only to apparently think better of it and tuck it away into his robes.

“Grandmother will be disappointed if you are late,” Ango cautioned in a sing-song voice.

Unable to provide a suitable retort, Ingo turned and left in a huff.  Ango preened a little before donning the otherwise sheer robe which provided the stripes for his costume.  It served more to highlight rather than conceal his figure, but at least Ingo could not complain that he had not put something more on.

At last he tied on the mask, leaving only those who were intimately familiar with him a chance to guess who he was. It fitted his face so as to align over his eyes, rather than the overly-tall headdress of his sister, which was certain to get banged against every low-linteled door in the palace and crushed before night’s end.

***

The first thing he noticed when they entered the hall was Nerdanel.  She had painted herself and her robes like marble, exaggerating the shadows in the folds.  She was carrying a pitcher, and if she stood still for a moment she would easily be confused for one of her own statues.  He was impressed.

When his gaze landed on Turko he wound his way across the floor, interrupting his dance.  They exchanged pleasantries, and both Turko and Írissë complimented him on his attire.  But they were clearly not looking for a third to join them that evening, and Turko seemed impatient.

“Do you know where your brother has gotten to?” Ango asked.

“Which one?” Írissë laughed.

“Oh, any will do!”  Ango grinned.  “Though Findekáno, if you can be that specific.”

Írissë glanced around, then shrugged.  “Don’t let on I told you, but he’s dressed as a bear.  Good luck!”

Turko spun her off before either could say more, and Ango was left to hunt his cousin down on his own.  He wandered out onto the balcony, delighted to see that his search was over mere moments after it had begun.  The partygoer, dressed in a somewhat ill-fitting bear suit, was leaning against the rail, gazing out over the garden.

Ango grabbed him around the waist.  “There you are!”

But the shriek that answered him, followed by a well-placed elbow to his gut, left him gasping for breath and entirely befuddled.  The bear pushed the headdress back to reveal not Findekáno but a stranger, though certainly a beautiful one.

“A thousand apologies, my lady,” Ango croaked.  “A case of mistaken identity.”

She had cocked her arm back, ready to throw a punch should it prove necessary.  But seeing as he made no move to grab her again, and after letting her eyes wander a bit lower down, she dropped her fist and smirked.

“I should think so,” she said.  “Else Tirion is a far less civilized city than I had been led to believe, where young maids are wantonly assaulted in broad treelight.”

Ango managed to straighten himself up and offered a proper bow.  “I pray you might allow me to make amends for my boorish behavior.”

“Amends?” She tapped a finger to her mouth in contemplation.  “I might first inquire who it was you thought you were grabbing, for you may have picked the wrong target but your actions were not very gentlemanly.”

“I would not dare make excuses for my actions had I taken such liberties with merely anyone,” he said, taking the hand she graciously offered.  “But I thought you my cousin, and surely a lapse in propriety among family is not indicative of how one would treat a stranger.”

“And how would you treat a stranger, then?”

“Well, I might be so bold as to introduce myself, and then ask you to dance, for the music is lively and the company, enchanting.”  He gave his best charming smile before remembering that it was hidden behind a mask and the effort wasted.

She seemed swayed by him, nonetheless, and gave as much of a curtsy as she could manage in her bear suit.  “Very well, my lord.  You may introduce yourself, and then, perhaps, I might be persuaded to dance.”

With an excessively grand flourish, he said, “My lady, may I present myself, Angaráto, son of Arafinwë.”

Her brow rose, clearly having not expected to be first assaulted by and then made the acquaintance of any of the princes.

“I am called Eldalótë,” she said, though did not attempt to curtsy again.  He did not grudge her the lapse of manners given the circumstances.  “My uncle is Aldalëo, a lord of the court.”

“Aye, I know him,” Ango said.  “And now I feel it my duty to ensure you are well looked after.”

“To shield me against further assault?”  She laughed.  “I will be sure to tell my uncle how gracious you are, highness.”

He tutted slightly.  “No need for titles,” he said.  “This is meant to be a masked ball, after all, and only my honour required me to reveal myself.”

“Hm, yes, about that,” she said.  “You have seen my face, but I’ve yet to see yours.”

“Well, I suppose fair is fair,” he conceded and lifted his tiger mask for her to take a good look.  “Now, my lady, if you are satisfied and I have sufficiently atoned for my indiscretion, may I have this dance?”

She gave him a good humored though somewhat perplexed look.  “Well, I might be persuaded, were there music playing.”

“Ah.”  Yes, it had stopped, had it not.  “Yes.  I see.  This is less than ideal.  But come, let us make our own music, if there is none else to be had.”

He was rewarded with a bright laugh.  Taking her in his arms, he spun her around and decided he was quite pleased for the mistake which had brought him to this moment.

***

Eldalótë had proven a delightful companion after his initial mishap.  Truly, any lady willing to throw punches for her honour was the kind of lady he wanted to know better.  Alas, it had not been long before her uncle had found them, overjoyed that they had made one another’s acquaintance but quite interrupting any designs Ango might have imagined.

With one of his grandfather’s lords hanging over his shoulder he gave up any chance of slipping her away.  Instead he made every polite gesture and asked if he might come by her uncle’s manor in the next day or so to call on her, and was gladly welcomed.

Then he excused himself, for he saw the bear he had been after earlier by the refreshments, mask up as he enjoyed a piece of cake.

“Dearest cousin,” Ango said, putting his arm around Findekáno’s shoulder and pulling him close.  “I have the utmost need to speak with you, now that I’ve found you at last.”

Finno glanced down and back up and grinned.  “Írissë was not exaggerating, I see!”

Ango let out a laugh.  “Glad to know she can appreciate the finer things, also.”

They escaped into the garden, and Finno was a most attentive listener as Ango recounted the earlier events, parting his suit to show off the bruise which had blossomed over his side and ribs.

“Oh, she’s a fighter,” Finno said admiringly.  “Quite the conquest!  Well done!”

“We shall see.  I am welcomed to his estate in the next few days, but I confess I am left somewhat… wanting at present.”

Finno smirked.  “I was hoping I had not lost you already.”

***

Angaráto was feeling entirely content.  He had met an intriguing lady, enjoyed a tumble with his favorite cousin, and was just thinking he might head back to his room and enjoy a long bath.  His retreat, however, was interrupted by a rather sorry looking creature who was slumped against the low wall beside the house, ears flopped in his face.

“Why, hello there, little hare.”

The figure cursed under his breath.

“Are you lost?” he asked.

“No.  No,  I am not lost, thank you,” the hare said curtly.  “Now if you’ll excuse me.”

Now that was a voice he was familiar with but certainly not one he had expected to find here, of all places.  “Moryo?”

“No,” the hare insisted, but Ango was only more convinced now.

“Well, I certainly did not expect to stumble upon you here, of all places.”

“It’s not what it looks like!” Moryo cried.

That was a pity, because it looked as if Moryo had been waiting for someone to stumble along.  And while this was most unusual, he could not say it was unwelcome.  “Well, if it isn’t what it looks like, I will be off.”

“Wait-!”

Ango paused, waiting, but when nothing more was forthcoming he came closer, with all the power and grace of - well, of a tiger stalking a hare.  He reached out and slid Moryo’s mask up.  He couldn’t deny there was an adorableness to the costume that he found rather alluring.

“I am waiting,” he said, and though tinged with humor, his voice deepened into lust.

“Who are you?” Moryo asked.

“Ah well, I suppose it is only fair,” he said for the second time now, slipping his mask off.

Moryo’s eyes nearly fell out of his head.  “Y-you?”

“You would prefer someone else, no doubt,” Ango said.

“I- well- no, I suppose not.”

“Well I’m flattered,” Ango said flatly.

“No- it’s just- I didn’t know who you were, but I saw you and…” Moryo bit his lip and stared down at his book.

Oh.  Oh!  “You liked the tiger!”  Well, this was an interesting turn of events.  

Moryo's face turned red as his name.

***

To say that Angaráto was surprised when a naked Makalaurë took a swan-dive out of his elder brother’s window, landing in the bushes just in front of him, would have been an understatement verging on perjury.  He put a hand on Moryo’s back and pushed him down as he pulled his suit closed quickly.

Stumbling across Fëanorians in the middle of the garden was one thing, but having them fall out of the sky and land at his feet was quite another.  Not that he minded either way, but one at a time, please!

The enticing offer of another tryst was broken by his brother and sister hollering out of the window.  Ah.  At least he knew they couldn’t say anything to him, now, since they had quite vocally admitted both their own philanderings, as evidenced by the aforementioned naked cousin who had flown from Ingoldo’s window.

But he was saved having to make any excuses at all for Makalaurë and Carnistir had taken the opportunity to slink away quite unseen.

Instead Ango climbed the ivy up to Ingoldo’s window and let himself in.

“The amount of blackmail material I have on you two is pure gold,” he laughed.  “But I am feeling quite generous, and so will settle for hearing all the gossip instead.”