#telimektar

“You must watch the placement of your feet,” Eönwë said, extending his hand, “the swing of your body, and the flow of your arms. If you do not, they will betray your every move to the enemy, just like they betrayed your every move to me mere moments ago. Come. Let us try again.” 

Prince Ingwion grasped the hand that was offered and was pulled back to his feet. “I fear my hands were crafted for the wielding of quills,” he said, his chest heaving from exertion. “And my feet and body were made for the elegance of dance, never the elegance of swordplay. But I will try again, my lord. I swore an oath when I answered the call to arms, and I mean to honor it.”   

“Good.” Eönwë returned the prince’s sword, and he went back to his own position. All around them the sounds of swords clashing, and flails and maces smashing against heavy armor and shields, filled the air. A great war loomed before them, and the warriors who answered the call to arms tested one another to their limits in Valimar’s great sparring yard. They could not afford to fail; to do so meant that Melkor would gain complete mastery of Endorë and possibly beyond. “Now take your place,” the Maia commanded, “and let us begin.”

Ingwion took a moment to compose himself. Then he charged at his opponent with a cry and swung his sword. Eönwë answered with greater skill and swiftness. The sheer force of his blade striking true made the prince grit his teeth in pain. Nevertheless, Ingwion preserved, and he pressed forward a second time. Eönwë did not falter. He countered without a moment’s hesitation, his sword slicing through the air in a glittering silvery arc. It rang with a great clangor as steel cut into steel. Ingwion, shocked, drew back and glanced at his sword; it bore a deep notch.

“Again,” Eönwë said. “Attack me again.” 

The elf circled him, alert and silent. He could never best Eönwë; no elf could ever best a Maia who was at their most powerful. Still, he had to try. He was the crown prince, after all, and it was he who had to lead the Vanyar in the war that was to come. He could not call an end to the fighting so quickly.

The others finished their training. They gathered around the prince and the herald in a circle to watch. Some even held wagers. Ingwion paid little attention to them. He set his thoughts on the one before him instead and tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, determined to do better. Eönwë smiled, and he waited. 

Ingwion pressed the attack for the third time. Eönwë countered him with a masterful swing of the sword, and he forced him back. The prince narrowed his eyes. Then he lunged with all his might. Eönwë was prepared for this. In one swift move, he slid to the side, his blade glinting as it caught the golden light of the sun. It fell before anyone could even perceive it, knocking the sword clean out of Ingwion’s hand. The prince stopped, gasping for breath. He turned to face his friend and mentor, ashamed he had failed so easily. 

“Do not give your heart over to shame and disappointment,” Eönwë counseled. He picked up the fallen sword and returned it to the prince. “Failure must be expected, especially now that you have only just begun your training. And you have much time still, to master the sword.” 

“You are not angry?”

“I am not, my friend. Besides, I am Ainu. You are elf-kind. I can never expect you to unarm me.” 

The others left, talking quietly among themselves. Ingwion, on the other hand, followed Eönwë to the little hall, where warriors would gather to eat and drink. Here, beneath the light of gilded lamps affixed to hooks in the ceiling, they kept to themselves and dined on a simple meal of bread and stew and wild berries in honey. An attendant pressed a cup of golden Miruvórë into the prince’s hand. He took a sip and sighed in contentment. The beverage was warm and fragrant, and it revived him, filled him with renewed vigor, and drove away the aches he felt in his limbs. 

“You did well, truly,” Eönwë said. He savored a spoonful of stew, and a small bite of bread. “And you must not be disheartened by your loss. War is wholly new to the Vanyar, and the use of weapons besides. I will teach you all that I know. And I will guide you when we are in Endorë. You will not have to shoulder your burdens alone.”

“Tis strange,” Ingwion said. Another attendant set down a platter of tiny fish roasted to crackling on their table. The prince helped himself to a few, closing his eyes in delight when they crunched between his teeth. “Before the Mariner arrived, you and I whiled away our hours indulging in poetry and delicious food and song. Now, we must spend our time learning the many intricacies of war. I must confess, I never thought such a thing possible.”

“Aye,” Eönwë agreed. “War was not thought of by many, until elf rose against elf in Alqualondë.”

“There you are!” Telimektar cried. The Maia of Tulkas stood by the lip of the doorway, his harp in hand. He was not alone. Ilmarë stood a pace behind him, her silver-pink hair woven into thick braids. “Dining by yourselves and speaking quietly. This will not do. This will not do at all.”

“What do you propose, my lord?” Ingwion said, beaming. No chamber remained quiet for long after Telimektar arrived. 

“A song,” Telimektar told him. He crossed over to the table where the prince and the herald sat, and he found a seat for himself by Ingwion’s left. Ilmarë found herself a seat by Eönwë’s right. “What say you, my lords? My lady? Would any of you care for a melody or two?” 

“A song would do just nicely,” Eönwë said. He grinned when he caught the twinkle in Telimaktar’s eyes. The Maia would sing a bawdy air, no doubt, and make them all flush from cheek to chest. “Begin, my friend! Grace our ears with something delightful.”

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.”

Neither Salmar nor Ómar are prone to jealousy and will think nothing of your interactions with famous elves and Ainur greater than even them. Trust is an important quality to them, and they will show you that they trust you implicitly.

Salmar would seat you beneath the golden leaves of Laurelin and serenade you with a melody he composed himself. Or he would take you to the shores of Tol Eressëa, so the two of you could explore its beaches, keep a watch for the whales that pull Ulmo’s chariot to the surface, or sit still and listen to the sounds of the Ulumúri.

Ómar will often read to you or teach you a new language. To encourage you to learn more and for the both of you to enjoy the experience, he would arrange little scavenger hunt-type games all over his manse and the gardens where you have to interpret words and clues correctly in order to win the game.

Gifts from them usually come in the form of little music boxes that play sweet songs when you wind them or poetry and songs that have been composed in your honor.

Nielíquie | Silmo: Courtship with them is playful, light, and full of mischief. They would take you on long, leisurely walks all over the forest of Oromë or the Gardens of Lórien, or invite you to picnics beneath the canopy of a large tree, or, in Nielíquie’s case, tea in the tree-propped halls she calls home.

Silmo would bring you bouquets full of flowers found only in the Gardens, and prepare for you little treats using herbs and fruits found there. Other times, he would take you to search for rare moths and butterflies that call the Gardens their home. And other times, games of hide and seek beneath the stars.

Nielíquie would prepare for you meals from her father’s kitchens, and the two of you would play with the hunting dogs that often hang around the feasting hall. Sometimes she would invite you to climb onto the thick branches of the trees that grow in every hall, so that two of you could talk or silently watch the others as they went about their day. Other times, she would gift you rare feathers, shells, and bones for you to wear on your clothes or fix to your hair. If she gets in the mood for it, she will carve little trinkets for you out of wood.

Silmo and Nielíquie are two of the most affectionate Ainur, so expect lots of hugs, kisses, and cuddles, especially when you are least expecting it. Trust is just as important to them, but Silmo might become a bit playful about it and tease you about the elf or the ainu that tried to flirt with you.

Tevildo: Courtship with him almost always includes an elaborate feast, one that he prepared with his own hands. Tevildo knows how to set a tasty table, and the food and drink are both plentiful and to your liking.

He can be exceedingly generous if he likes you, often presenting you with gifts that he knows are suited to your interests. Sometimes these gifts are priceless jewels and trinkets that one would never see in one’s lifetime. Other times, he would command his thralls to wait on you, hand on foot, while he is away. And there are other times where he will craft little trinkets himself, usually jewel encrusted collars you could wear around your throat.

Tevildo prefers open and polyamorous relationships to monogamous ones, so you would have to be willing to accept such an arrangement if he pursues you. However, if you do capture his particular attention, he will become exceedingly jealous, openly declaring that you are one of his chosen companions and marking you as his so the others will know to leave you alone. He would even kill someone if they dared to show anything other than an innocent interest in you.

Makar| Meássë | Lúsion | Telimektar: These Ainur are not the most expressive when it comes to tender words, the giving of gifts, acts of service, or quality time itself, so they make up for the lack by being physical with hugs, hand holding, and acts of intimacy.

Courtship with them means outings to the arena to watch athletes spar against each other, or them, if they are challenged. Courtship with them also means dancing, play fighting or learning a new sport together. Lúsion and Telimektar are elegant dancers, while Makar and Meássë prefer sparring to gliding across a dance floor. Still, they would make the effort for your sake, and the night will either end up with you being left breathless and giddy (if you’re dancing with Lúsion and Telimektar) or reduced to fits of giggles along with your partner (if you’re dancing with Makar and Meássë).

Activities such as hiking, archery, and horseback riding will occupy the majority of their time with you. They will teach you if you are a beginner, or use the need to teach as an excuse to be near you.

Jealousy is a common trait for all of them. If they see someone besides them getting too close to you, they will walk up to you and your new acquaintance and introduce themselves. Given their reputation as fierce warriors, putting the fear of Eru into the mind of your new acquaintance and sending them running is nothing for them. What gifts they do give you are simple but well made. Leather bracelets, steel jewelry, and, if you have an interest in them, finely forged weapons.

Aluin | Nornorë | Fanuin | Ranuin | Danuin : These Ainur do not have much time for their partners or even themselves due to the duties they have been charged with, but they go over and beyond when they get the opportunity to do so. Courtship with them often means being whisked away to Ilmarin or the Timeless Halls themselves for these meetings.

Nornorë is often away due to his role as a herald for the Elder King, so when the chance to call on you presents itself, he prefers to take you to Ilmarin. There, the two of you could go to the highest window of the highest tower and watch the stars while clouds swirl beneath the gates of the lofty halls. He would lead you to a little room so the two of you could eat and spend time with each other, or he would stay with you at the base of Taniquetil, taking you around the city the Vanyar built for themselves. Other times, he would write beautiful letters and send them to you when duty keeps him away. His gifts are always uncommon things he finds when he has to travel all over Valinor and Middle-Earth to carry out his duties.

Aluin, Fanuin, Ranuin, and Danuin are, more often than not, away in the Timeless Halls. It is a place full of mystery and wonder, and you are the only outsider permitted to enter it. What free time they have would be devoted entirely to you. They would enchant their own chambers to mimic your favorite time of the day, the season, or the year. Their gifts vary, from bejeweled sun dials or sand clocks, silver stars or golden sun pendants, gems that look like leaves or snowflakes, to beautifully painted maps of Eä.

Jealousy is not always a problem with them, but they may take it into their head to remind you who you belong to if they find someone else trying to become too friendly with you.

Ilinsor: Before the destruction of the trees, Ilinsor would often call on you. After the Two Trees were destroyed and he was charged with guiding the moon, Ilinsor could no longer come to Valinor. It is as hard for him as it is for you, but he still finds a way to see you, often visiting you in your dreams by making the most out of Ósanwe. Through these means, he can recreate all sorts of wonderful scenes to spend time with you, whether it be a beach at twilight or forests bathed in bright sunlight.

He cannot send you gifts himself, so he often calls on Nornorë's aid for this purpose. Letters, poems, and bejeweled gifts are the order of the day, for he loves to spoil you. Ilinsor can become extremely jealous as well, for he is so far away from you. He would ask you to wear a special locket around your neck so that rivals for your affections would see it and look elsewhere for a companion.

The Maia twirled, and she leaped, raised her arms to the heavens, and then dipped to her knees, her silken wisps fluttering and clinging to her as if they were as light as feathers. Telimektar's breath hitched. Never before had he witnessed such beauty. When she stopped, he mustered his courage and approached her, desiring to learn more about her and devising a plan that would enable him to do so.

"Greetings, my lady." Remembering the courtesies his mother taught him, Telimektar removed his helm. "We have never been introduced, and I wished to make myself known to you. If it would not offend, would you tell me your name?"

"I am called Lëa-vinya.” Her voice was soft, musical, and as pure as spring water. "But you may call me Lëa. I have come to serve my lady, Palurien. Pray who are you, my lord?"

"Telimektar." Silently tasting her name, Telimektar sat on the grass, and invited her to do the same. "Lord Tulkas and the Lady Nessa are my father and mother."

Lëa's eyes flew wide at the revelation. "Then this is indeed an honor, my lord."

"No, my lady. It is I who is honored." Telimektar hesitated, then mustered his courage. He was the son of Tulkas, was he not? Surely he could speak to her without fumbling over each word. "I came upon you dancing, and what I witnessed was enchanting. I hoped—well, I wondered—if you could teach me how to dance. My noble mother tried more times than either of us could care to count before she finally admitted defeat."

"But there are others who could teach you," Lëa replied, stunned. "So many others. Why choose me, my lord?"

"Because I do not wish to know the others."

"You are a bold one, my lord."

"Too bold for my own good, as my mother will tell you," Telimektar replied, pleased to see her lips curling up at the corners. 

"You have courage; I will give you that much." Lëa rose and dusted her skirts. "Very well, my lord. I will teach you. As for you wishing to know more about me, we shall have to see about that. Now tell me, what do you know when it comes to dancing?"

Telimektar beamed and rose to his feet. 

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