#ingil

Telimektar, a Maia of Tulkas, had been eyeing him every time he came to the mansion of the Vala for his own training, and Ingil had begun to take great pleasure in it. Arriving in deliberately provocative outfits – short and thin robes with barely anything underneath – he had made a show out of wrestling with others in underwear and washing himself afterwards. Each and every covetous glance had excited him, yet none as much as the Maia's. 

He wanted to be seen. He wanted to be admired. He wanted to be wanted. 

And he had soon hatched a plan to tempt Telimektar. 

It was late for the day, and the others had already finished training. Ingil was the only one left in the courtyard, as had been his intention, and sauntered over to the baths Tulkas let his guests use once he was certain that he would be alone inside. 

He left the door open; just a small gap, but still an undeniable invitation. 

The skin of his neck tingled when he walked towards the nearest pool. It was the primal, unmistakable sensation of being watched, and Ingil loved it. His fingers trembled with giddy delight when he unclasped his robes and let them fall to the floor, a pool of white fabric around his feet; his shorts soon met the same fate. 

Ingil didn't have to wait long. Before he could even dip his toes into the water, he felt something large, strong and undeniably solid appear directly behind him and a pair of arms wrapped around his naked waist. He leaned against the welcome intruder and looked up to see none other than Telimektar. His bronze skin was flushed and sweaty, strands of white hair clung to his forehead and his amber eyes were dark with lust. 

"My prince..." 

Emboldened, Ingil pressed his backside against his crotch. 

"You wish to speak to me alone?" he asked with feigned innocence. 

"I... in a way, yes..." 

They were both impatient, Ingil could sense it, yet Telimektar, much like his master, was a being of honour who would not take advantage of a fellow warrior. Deciding to test his resolve, he slipped out of the Maia's embrace after his little stunt, stepped closer to the pool and bent over to pick up a bar of soap. 

"Well met then, my friend. I was just about to bathe after today's training – oh, I must be so filthy – so why don't you join me?" 

Ingil glanced over his shoulder with a playful, impish grin. 

Telimektar had to swallow hard. Maia or not, his form was betraying him. 

"I would love to." 

"Wonderful." Soap in hand, Ingil entered the pool and turned to face him. 

It was all the encouragement Telimektar needed, swiftly freeing himself from his own clothing and following suit. His cock was already hardening, yet his royal companion pretended not to see it. 

Ingil was going to make the most out of this. 

"I feel so sore," he lamented, "Could you help me?" 

"You want me to..." 

In lieu of an answer, he held out the soap for him to take. "Yes, please." 

His smile was radiant, practised over years at his father's court. 

With a drawn out, pleased sigh, Ingil let himself be taken into the Maia's arms once more and enjoyed the sensation of large, strong hands exploring and caressing his entire body while carefully lathering him with soap. He was being handled like a precious gem, a thought that awakened his own arousal, and he felt a blinding sense of triumph and satisfaction. Finally he too received the favour of one of the Ainur and was treated with respect to boot; he was no plaything, no lesser being vying for attention, but a prince receiving the treatment appropriate for his station. 

The prospect of bedding Telimektar was tempting – and he certainly deserved at least a kiss for showering him with the attention he so craved. But that was a matter for a different time. For now, Ingil merely leaned back and enjoyed himself. 

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His lord father did not care for the Feast of Horns, and neither did most of the other Inwir. Ingil considered it most peculiar, for the Elder King and the Queen of Stars—the Inwir’s greatest benefactors—often partook in the feast and indulged themselves without shame.

No matter, he told himself. I am here, and I am free to indulge myself however I wish.

Indulgence began with the food. Attendants garbed in flowers, supple leather, and the finest silks came to his seat, offering platters of roasted venison and grouse and fish. Others came to him carrying large trays heavy with haunches of wild boar cooked in honey and herbs. The meat was incredibly tender. His blade carved through it like it was nothing more than softened butter. There were fruits and cheese, pies, and tarts filled with sweetened cream. Ale and mead and wine flowed freely for anyone who had a thirst for them. In his father’s palace, guests and family were served only wine, and there was a sense of conscientious restraint when it came to meals and merrymaking. Here, he could eat and drink and laugh as much as he desired.

It is as glorious as the singers say, he thought in wonder. Mummers and fire dancers drew gasps and applause from revelers whenever they performed, and minstrels moved from table to table, singing and strumming their harps. Fires burned brightly atop thick wooden torches, their light contending with the light of the stars. Ingil found his mood growing lighter and lighter with each passing moment. Perhaps it was due to all of the ale and mead he drank; perhaps it was due to the occasion itself. It did not matter. He found great delight in everything, and then he turned his attention to the raised dais at the far end of the feasting hall.

They are here, he told himself. They are all here.

The Exalted Ones and the spirits who served them were seated with Manwë and Varda occupying the places of high honor. Attendants hovered around them and tended to their every need, and the elves they favored the most had joined them at their table. Nelyafinwë was basking in Tulkas’ affections, and Celegorm had his place by Oromë’s right, as always. Írissë laughed at something Vána said, and Meássë had two elven lords seated on either side of her, regaling her with their tales. Ingil regarded them all with a flash of envy.

Will I ever be as fortunate as they are? The honor of dining with one of the Exalted Ones during the feast was a rare thing, and the Exalted Ones themselves chose their elven companions with a great deal of care. He did not expect any of them to ask him to join them at their table. It was his first feast, after all. He would have to wait.

Still, Ingil took his time to admire them. Tulkas wore robes of white and gold. Vána's robes were golden flowers that fell from shoulder to knee. Oromë and his hunters had garbed themselves in the finest leather and the softest of furs. Telimektar glittered in dark velvet slashed with cloth of silver. Tulkas’ Maia ate and drank with the others, his booming laughter rising above the roars of the cooking fires and the clangor of goblets and dishes.

He is as regal and magnificent as the rest of them, Ingil thought while he observed the Maia from afar. Telimektar ceased his laughter and turned to face him, as if he had heard his thoughts. The prince flushed and returned his attention to his meal, his cheeks aflame. Moments passed, and then, when he dared to look again, he found Telimektar studying him keenly. Then the great warrior called an attendant to him and whispered something in her ear. She bowed and left the dais not long after. Alarm rose and spread just beneath Ingil’s skin. The attendant was walking toward him.

“My lord Ingil,” she said when she reached him. The others stopped eating and talking and listened with rapt attention. “Lord Telimektar sent me to ask you to dine with him. Pray what is your answer?”

“I—yes. I will be honored to dine with him,” Ingil returned, rising. He paid no heed to the others and their stares, their hushed whispers. Some were no doubt wondering why he was given such an honor, but not any of them. Their opinions would have made little difference even if they had spoken aloud. Telimektar invited him and not the others, and he did not know if he was to be flattered or terrified.

“Why does your lord ask me to join him?” He asked, “and not the others?”

“I do not know,” the attendant said. She stopped and smiled when she sensed his apprehension. “Do not give your heart over to fear, Prince Ingil. Lord Telimektar is a kindly lord. He would not have asked you to join him if he had no desire for your company.”

Ingil nodded, and he allowed her to lead him the rest of the way.

“Come!” Telimektar called out softly. Another attendant was arranging a seat for him by the Maia. “Come and join me, my lord!”

Ingil bowed as deeply as he could manage before making himself comfortable by Telimaktar’s side. “So this is Inwë’s second son,” Nessa observed after the attendant announced his name and ties to the others. “How do you find the festivities, my prince?”

“Words fail me, my lady,” Ingil remarked bashfully. His eyes grew as wide as supper bowls when a dozen attendants came to them bearing a golden brown pie large enough for everyone at the feast. They placed it in the center of the table, and all who had gathered praised it and applauded those who had prepared it. Then the Elder King rose and called for a sword. His herald, Eönwë, offered his. Fragrant steam poured out of the crust when Manwë brought an elegant silver blade down on it in a glittering arc, and the great hall filled with the mouthwatering scents of sweet herbs and berries. “I confess, I have never seen anything that could compare to what I have just witnessed. And this feast is just the beginning of it all!”

“You wear a hunter’s crown.” Telimektar poured a measure of ale for him. He dragged his seat closer to the elven prince. “Tell me, Prince Ingil. Have you considered who you would seek during the chase?”

Ingil reddened when the drinking horn was pressed into his hand. “I do not know,” he admitted meekly. He sighed after the first sip. The ale was uncommonly light and far superior to anything he had tasted thus far. “There are so many lords and ladies here, and each one is as worthy as the next. How does one even choose?”

“Perhaps one of those present would offer themselves to you, if you would agree to it, that is,” said the Maia.

“Perhaps.” Ingil paused when an attendant placed a generous slice of pie before him. Then he turned to face the lord who had invited him to the dais. “But who would offer themselves to me as my prey, my lord?”

“That will not happen, Prince Ingil. It is not you who will seek another. Someone will seek you out instead.”

“Someone will seek me out instead,” Ingil repeated. Understanding dawned upon him. He would not be the hunter during the chase. He would be one of the hunted instead. “Who intends to seek me, my lord?”

“You must learn your seeker’s identity, my prince.” Telimektar leaned in and murmured just loud enough for him to hear. “Can you do this?”

His long, sculpted fingers brushed over Ingil's own. They slowly drifted to the elf's wrist and moved over his skin in lazy circles before gliding up his arm. The prince dared to look at Telimektar. The Maia smiled at him, almost as if in invitation, and a flash of heat spread around his throat. 

Is it him? Does Lord Telimektar wish to seek me out? Ingil felt dizzy. One moment, he could not even decide whom he should seek during the chase. The next moment, a great warrior—a Maia of Tulkas, no less—was offering to be the one who claimed him. 

“I…” Ingil hesitated and looked away. “I do not know what to say, my lord.” Telimektar extended his other hand and tilted his chin toward him, forcing him to meet his gaze.

“Do I frighten you?” He whispered.

“No. Far from it,” Ingil said without hesitation. “It is just that... I never expected one of the Most High to choose me. You honor me, my lord.”

“It is I who am honored.” Telimektar lifted Ingil’s hand and kissed the inside of his wrist, sending a welcomed shiver down his spine.

“You are a bold one, my lord,” the elf commented with a shy smile.

“Boldness must be expected from those who serve Tulkas.” Telimektar turned solemn and grew quiet for a moment before saying, “Have I offended you with what I just did, my prince?”

“No. I… I rather like it, my lord. And I heartily agree to wear your token during the chase.” 

“Just so.” Telimektar—pleased with Ingil excepting his offer to claim him for himself—reached up and carefully removed a horn from his crown, a heavy open circlet of true steel and pure iron, as hardy as the one who donned it. He fastened it to the elven prince’s belt with a ribbon he loosened from his own braid. Now, all who came upon Ingil during the chase would know that he was already claimed by another.

“Now eat and drink with me,” the Maia entreated, “and tell me more of yourself, son of Inwë. We have much to learn about each other before the chase begins.”

Leilae settled into the seat, sighing. She hadn't realized how tired she was from her journey and was tempted to kick off her shoes and massage her feet. Of course, that would not be proper, and she, being the representative of Caelenya for the first time in many years, ignored her urge, crossing her legs instead.

The deathlands have turned me into nothing but another dirty ruffian, she thought.

Ingil took the seat across from her, resting his ankle on his knee. His robes draped over the side of the armchair, swathing him in sophistication and elegance. Leilae straightened her back, trying to look as dignified as she could in the dusty rags, lined with sweat and dust, that clung to her skin. She smiled.

"I apologize for my attire, gwa-Ingil," she said. "I had to leave some of my items behind after being attacked by bandits."

"Yes, I have heard it is quite dangerous on the outside. I am amazed that you have come all this way just to speak to an old Dolisië." He smirked.

Leilae found herself wondering if the aelfe before her knew why she had come. Ingil answered her question.

"You've traveled across the deathlands to see a spectacle. To gaze in awe at one of the first ones. Possibly the only one left in the world." He shifted his weight onto his right arm, resting his chin on the back of his hand. "But your objective has changed. I am no longer the spectacle, for you listened instead of simply looking. I applaud you for your wisdom, and I hope you listened well."

"Indeed, I did," Leilae replied. "I listened to you promise the Aelfe Bleádh that they would rise once again, becoming dominant over this world, but I could not help but notice that you did not mention the Milern and the Craoe. What of them? What of my people who hide in the mountains with the dwarves? We have never been at the top as have the Bleádh, and I find myself worrying that we will once again serve them.

"We have restored what glory we had before. We have a king, a beloved one at that, and we have taken back our culture that was so diluted by that of the Bleádh that we had to turn to history texts and ethnographies written by our oppressors to know how we once lived. I am here speaking to you to make sure that does not happen again. If the Bleádh succeed and once again rule over the world, I humbly request that you leave us be. Let the Milern live in their caves and mountain valleys in peace. That is all I ask."

Leilae bowed her head, swallowing involuntarily. Ingil considered her for a moment before speaking.

"I have always believed that the other Aelven races--the Milern, the Craoe and the Elia--are just as good as the Bleádh and should be considered equal. If it is your desire, I will make sure that you and your people are left alone, but I would also like to offer you the opportunity to live in equality with the Bleádh. They are your former oppressors, but no longer will I allow this disgraceful disharmony among the Aelfe. It is shameful how divided our people are. It makes us no better than the humans, from whom we strive to distance ourselves. Suddenly, we find ourselves laboring to highlight the differences between the Aelfe and the Dae Heinya." He took a deep breath, leaning forward. "Ii-Leilae, I would like to help you and your people." His golden eyes locked onto hers, and she nearly gasped. Ingil's irises glowed and swam as though they contained whole worlds--whole universes teeming with life.

"A new age is coming," he said. "Let us start anew. Let us not make the mistakes of the past. This time, the Aelfe will be unified, and we will give the Deinya no mercy. We will sweep over the world and take what is ours."

"What will happen to the Deinya?" Leilae looked searchingly into Ingil's face.

"They will be put in their place. Below the Aelfe. They will serve us, and all will be as it should be."

"They won't go quietly," Lou replied. "Their lives are short, and therefore, they are much more willing to sacrifice their lives."

"This is true," Ingil said with a slight nod. For a moment, Leilae caught Ingil's eyes lingering above her own. He quickly corrected himself, lowering his gaze.

"I am no king," he said. "But I believe I can lead the Aelfe to a better future. A future in which humans will be treated as intelligent beasts. That is all they are. Talking animals."

Leilae shifted in her chair.

"I wouldn't go so far as to-- "

" --Are you not angry?" Ingil interrupted, turning his head upward. He meant to cut in, and he was not sorry. "You have been betrayed by someone you thought was your friend. Many Aelfe have gone through the same situation. There is no need for us to answer to, or even respect, these Deinya. They are fragile, sickly, and ugly." He scoffed. "Who would create such pitiful creatures if not for them to serve the Aelfe? If not to be beaten down and disciplined until they become mindless slaves? You see, when we let them climb onto our shoulders, once they had their grip on the top level, they beat us down, leaving us trapped below them. Then they destroyed all that had been given to us. The very world outside these walls is evidence of their inferiority--their tendency toward destruction. Their inability to become responsible for themselves and the world around them. They kill each other off, and then they kill everything else. We have every reason to take this world back. To heal it and to set things right. Or would you simply have us all die because of the humans' recklessness? Or to their envy combined with their murderous nature, as did the Dolisie?"

Ingil leaned forward, taking Leilae's hands. She felt a jolt travel throughout her body and a wave of pleasure, as though electricity flowed from his skin. She looked down at her hands and watched as Ingil's glow touched them, the light seemingly soaking into her skin. Ingil gave her a smile that caused her heart to flutter.

"Let us end this reign of terror. Let us rise up to bring light to the darkness. Let us heal the earth and restore the pride of our people. Let us--you, Ii-Leilae Órothan-ethróu iedh Caelenya, and I, and the Bleádh, the Milern, the Craoe, and the Elia, all the Aelfe--band together, hand in hand, for a better future."

He let go of Leilae's hands, and she stared at her fingers, mesmerized, as the glow lingered on her skin, emitting a tingly warmth. Soon, the glow faded, and she was back to normal. Ingil watched her in silence, his eyes smiling at Leilae's moment of childish awe.

"I want to share my light with you," Ingil said softly. "I want to share it with you completely. Let us form an alliance, Leilae. Let us wed, ensuring the future for both our clans."