Time passed, and the lassitude of their days started to get even to Ithildin. He had no disturbing visions, so they were safe for the moment. After months of fears and hardships, the relaxed atmosphere of the Tamani estate was enjoyable, and it was so nice to sit with a book by the fountain and chat about beauty and eternity to the accompaniment of birdsong. The only thing that bothered him, was what was happening between Alva and Bakhriyar.
It was only to be expected that their host would fall deeper and deeper in thrall of Lady Alanis with every passing day. Never in his life had he met a woman so at ease with herself, so witty, clever and unrestrained in word and deed. In villages, the Arislani women still hid their faces and did not leave the house unaccompanied. Even in the capital, the custom of wearing the veil still persisted; and it held not only for young women, but even for boys, as it was meant to shield beauty from the evil eye. Marriages were still quite often arranged, and many girls met their future husbands for the first time only at the wedding. It was not surprising that a woman as outstanding and independent as Lady Alanis had bewitched the Arislani.
Ithildin could judge neither Bakhriyar nor his own lover. It could not be even said that Alva was shamelessly flirting. Quite the contrary: he was being far more restrained than he would have been at any Trianess ball where Ithildin had seen him. And the Arislani's bed hardly appealed to him all that much. Still, everything about Alva – his speech, his manner, everything – simply oozed temptation, and he was completely unable to reign in his sex-appeal. On the other hand, for an uptight Arislani many Creedan customs would seem the height of depravity. Bakhriyar was far more liberal than many of his compatriots, but he, too, was inclined to take even Alva's most innocent gestures as attempts to seduce him.
The other difficulty was Alva's complete lack of self-restraint when it came to sleeping with anyone he liked. And he obviously liked Bakhriyar very much, even Kintaro saw that. They had corresponded for so long, and now they had a great deal to say to one another. And it's not as if Alva could talk poetry with anyone else, certainly not with Kintaro, or, even, Ithildin!
It was as if Alva became so easy in Lady Alanis's skin, he had no problem with how much he was concealing from his friend: his own name, his sex, and his two lovers.
The elf felt a little sad to see how much time those two spent together, and how Bakhryiar immersed himself more and more in this impossible infatuation. The elf pitied Bakhryiar and missed Lielle. They were alone only at night, and even then had to be wary, and could only steal a bit of pleasure and conversation. The moaning had to be restrained, the doors locked, stealth was the by-word, words were whispered, and any love was to be made with a view to preventing the bed from creaking.
Other things, much more mundane, were missing too. The elf realized, for example, that he missed his bow and arrows. He even worried some of the skill would be lost. For perfect aim, regular practice was imperative, and he had not taken up the bow since the memorable fight with the Enqins on the day of the eclipse.
Ithildin could not bring himself to leave behind his elven bow, that he had brought from Greyna Thialle, and took it along without the string, but had not risked even unwrapping it. Besides, if anyone saw the elf shoot, his inhuman speed and precision would have given him away.
Kintaro, Ithildin had noticed, in battle preferred to use his sword, throw knives or a short spear; still, the barbarian had taken his bow with him just in case. The bow of the steppe nomads was long and heavy, resembling the Creedan siege bows. The elf had nearly reached out for it when Kintaro was showing the bow to Bakhriyar. Ithildin was certain he'd be the only one, beside Kintaro, to be able to draw it. Neither Bakhriyar nor his Huntmaster managed to, even after much trying, and Alva did not try, his lady's guise not permitting.
Turned out that Ithildin's longing for the bow had not been lost on Kintaro. Early next morning, he showed up in Alva's room, where the elf lay in his sleeping lover's embrace (they had insisted on having adjoining rooms, and one of them had been almost ever empty).
Kintaro said quietly, "Get dressed, doll-face. I am going to the shooting range, and you are coming too."
For some reason, the elf felt no desire to object.
Silently, they walked to the field where the practice targets stood. The quiet around them was broken up only by the birds chirping up in the leaves. Silently, they set up their targets and took turns with the bow, until they were tired out and the heat of the risen sun got too much. Then they hid in the shade beneath the trees, past the thicket.
"Had your fun? You elves ... Would choose a bow and arrow over food any day," said Kintaro lightly, and stretched out on the grass.
"And you, barbarians, would choose sex over food any day," parried the elf. "I thought that's why you had asked me to come out here."
"Hey, I can do without sex for a day, no matter what you think."
Suddenly, Ithildin was amused ... and, somehow, felt at home. With a smile, he said, "Really? Even if I stripped right now? How long would you hold out?"
"Strip? You? On your own? Now you are just dicking with me."
Elf took off a kerchief that covered his ears, loosened his braid and shook out his hair dyed platinum blond. He threw off his shoes and lifted the dress by the hem. He hesitated a moment and then pulled it off over his head.
The tight little pants designed to mask certain parts of his anatomy were ripped off by Kintaro. But then, Kintaro was not nearly as vehement as he usually was. They made love as thoughtfully and leisurely as they had practiced archery before. Kintaro's kisses were almost tender. The surrounding atmosphere of calm self-indulgent laziness had affected everyone, even the savage barbarian.
Ithildin had already gotten used to picking up Kintaro's mood. Lying next to him, shoulder to bulging shoulder, eyelids closed, Ithildin suddenly spoke.
"You wanted to talk to me."
"Yep. Shoot some, shag some, talk some."
"About Alva?"
"Yep."
"Go on, talk."
"What's there to talk about ..." breathed Kintaro and fell silent for a long time. "I'll be damned if I know what's up."
The elf shrugged and did not bother to answer. They lay in silence awhile. Kintaro ripped up a blade of grass and pensively chewed on it. Ithildin turned over on his stomach, chin on folded hands, and stared at a crawling bug. Great gods, here he was, lying next to the barbarian and feeling safe. Secure. Very odd.
"Why is the redhead trying to mess with the guy?" Kintaro broke the silence. "It won't come to anything, I can tell."
"What do you care? Jealous?"
"And if I am? What's he got that I haven't?"
Ithildin thought for a moment, and came back with, "It's the flirting."
"Who needs this shit," muttered the barbarian. "I don't get it. Want him – take him, what's the big deal. This way Alva is just yanking the guy by his dick."
"What, you like him?"
"And if I do?"
"Fat chance," Ithildin wanted to say nastily. It was impossible to distract Bakhriyar from Lady Alanis even for a moment. But instead Ithildin said, "Don't even think to hit on him. It's forbidden here."
"I know. But I am suffocating here. It's like a cage."
"You and me both," muttered Ithildin without looking at Kintaro.
Kintaro went on, emboldened by the sympathy, "We are stuck here, like flies in honey. Me, I am so bored, I'd give up the ghost. I can't bum around much longer. What, splash about in the fountain and stuff your face with peaches – is that it? Can't even screw to your heart's content, always have to be hiding in the shadows. Why don't you say something?"
"I am waiting till you are done."
"Hell, it's dead around here. Everybody is sleep-walking. This mire will get us too one day."
"And you, what, want to spend your entire life fighting?" The elf arched an eyebrow.
"A good fight is like good sex or good booze, and this place's got neither. All right, the redhead can play his cat and mouse games with Bakhriyar, but what about me?"
"There are women here after all."
"Yeah, tell me to read a book, why don't you," retorted Kintaro. "What would I do with the stupid bitches? The Creedan women are all right, though, and loose enough, fun for a ride or two. But here ... my ass."
"You miss the kicks."
"You said it, doll-face."
"Go hunting."
The nomad snorted. "Hunt birds and wild cats?"
"Incidentally, Alva is quite fond of peaceful life, unlike you. It was evident from the start that the three of us are too disparate."
"I can see your next move already: good riddance to bad rubbish, it's been nice knowing you. Getting rid of me is all you can think about."
"That's not what I am thinking about right now," the elf blurted out.
He sat up, and Kintaro pointedly looked at the elf's erection.
"Are you thinking about me taking you?"
"I am thinking about taking you," said Ithildin evenly, then lay on Kintaro's chest and moved his hips gently. "Here is your chance for some kicks."
"One thing I'll be kicking is your ass."
The elf made a face. "Try. But it will come down to you wanting to have sex anyway."
"You are mighty strange today, elf. Had a sunstroke?"
"And if I have? Sunstroke or no, let's call it a truce for the day. You do me, I do you, we are even."
This was exactly why the barbarian bothered the elf so much: his mere presence brought on the most outrageous desires, causing the elf's head to team with unwelcome obscene images. Even now, the elf could not banish from his mind the sight of an arched back, sweaty and suntanned, and firm buttocks ...
Perhaps it was Kintaro's unusual gentleness that was responsible. The elf wanted to feel his power over the barbarian again. That's not at all how it had been with Lielle. Lielle took the lead even in a passive position, and it was hard to say who was taking whom, when you got grabbed by the genitals and fairly sucked in. But Kintaro did not know how to hand himself over, and thus taking him became especially sweet.
And still, until the very last moment, Ithildin did not expect Kintaro to roll over and spread his legs. Everything was exactly as he had imagined: the curve of the back, and the gyrating hips, the shoulder blades and the ribs, the blue-black plait hanging down and the sighs keeping time to the thrusts, and – at the very end – a quiet stream of filthy curses.
Before getting up to dress, Ithildin leaned to Kintaro's ear.
"You can't spur destiny; all you can do is follow its lead. You can't know what tomorrow will bring, but you can be ready for it. When you've got nothing to do, do nothing. When it's time to act, act. This is the quiet before the storm, you can be certain of that."
"My life was quiet, and nothing happened for centuries until you came along," was what the elf wanted to say, but he only touched his lips to Kintaro's shoulder instead and put on his clothes.
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Ithildin and Kintaro, fanart for this exact chapter by Loki