Brothers Of The Hunt

Brothers Of The Hunt

Posted: November 2004
Title: Brothers of the Hunt
Sequel to: The End of Things
Author: Tindulaith
Type: FCS
Characters: OMCs Fend/ Isúl ( Avari warriors )
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The Avari were a part of Tolkien's universe, but Fend and Isúl are my creations.

Summary: Fend and Isúl become bonded brothers of the hunt.

*****

Fend's POV

I took in the surroundings of the forest glade with a critical eye. The choosing of a perfect site in which to consummate our ritual vows was essential. First and foremost it must be secluded and far from unwanted eyes. Only the gods themselves would bear witness to the secret oaths I would share with Isúl this night. I ran my palm along the roughened bark of a large oak and the tree sighed; its song of questioning whispered to me in the soughing of its limbs as they stirred in the slight breeze. I looked up into its lofty branches and spoke to it of my intentions. The leaves rustled with excitement and eagerness and I smiled. Yes. This would be the perfect place.

I unshouldered my large backpack and propped it against the tree's broad trunk as I slowly pulled off my soft leather boots. My bared toes dug into the mossy ground and I smiled with satisfaction. The grip under my feet was sure; the ground solid and dry. The autumn leaves were just starting to fall and had not yet started to decay and rot; there was little moisture to slip on and our footing would be secure.

I took from my pack a long, leather strip, a large thin stake and a stone mallet as well as a bag of fist-sized river rocks that I had gathered earlier. I walked to the center of the glade and pounded the stake into the loose dirt and then slipped the looped end of the leather strip over the wood. I walked back the way I had come until the strip was taut, and marked off the measurement with a large smooth stone from my bag. I made my way about the glade in this manner a foot at a time until I had marked off a stone circle. This then would be our arena.

I returned the stake, mallet and strip to my pack and set about arranging the various weapons and instruments that we would use in this ritual bonding: two long knives, two short thin knives, strong Elven rope, separate bowls for ink and paint, brushes, needles, silver goblets and plates, wine and food, braziers, incense, candles and holders, and the flat wafers of crushed chwann* sacred to the woodland god that would allow the spirits to inhabit our bodies. I carefully laid out all these items with loving care and precise placement, stopping to ask the favor of the god before each phase of the preparations. Once I had finished I would need to partake in a ritual cleansing of my body and then I would await the arrival of Isúl. I could feel the tension and excitement building within me. I could smell the green of the wood and the musk of the wild creatures that made this forest their home. I could feel the ache of desire burning within my belly, hot and roiling, curling around my need until I found it difficult to stand.

I took several deep breaths, waiting for my head to clear once again. As I felt my arousal abate, I dropped back to the ground beneath the oak and extracted the last items from my pack. I pulled out the large chamois bag and untied the leather strings holding it shut. I carefully removed the two ritual masks and set them upon the moss beside me. I ran my hand over the intricately carved and gilded faces - one a stag, one a wolf. Because I had initiated this warrior's bond, it would be Isúl's right to choose which spirit he would become. I grinned. It mattered not whether he chose the stag or the wolf. I would take him tonight. I was by far the more skilled fighter; and unless the young warrior had learned some new feint that I was unaware of, I doubted that he could best me.

I rose slowly and looked to the darkening skies. I could no longer tarry here. It would be dusk soon and I must hurry. I had seen a small creek not far from here where I planned to bathe. Isúl would be doing the same even now, somewhere amid these woods in a place unknown to me. When the moon rose I would summon him to this appointed place with the call of an elk horn; guiding him to the light of the fire in the braziers. And then we would begin.

'''*'''

Isúl's POV

I had found a small natural pool near the rocky outcrop just past the Lodge's outer edges. It was fed by a larger stream and the water was clear and cold, yet I burned with the heat of my desire. I was flushed with excitement and anticipation. I had longed for this joining ever since the day I first saw Fend. It was the day he chose me to complete the ranks of those elite warriors charged with the escort of our kin to the Grey Havens. I was honored to be selected and swore my undying loyalty to him on that very same day although he had no knowledge of my pledge. To him I was merely another young warrior in his company; but to me he was - magnificent.

We were to accompany those Elves who wished to sail and it was a joyous duty. All were happy; all longing for the peace and serenity that the journey west promised. All too soon they learned that the west would never be reached and that the only peace they would find would be in death. Of course we fought them, but we were ten; they were over a thousand. None of our party survived the killing vats except Nónd, Cer, Fend, and I; and had it not been for Fend...

I shivered and suddenly the water of the pool was like ice upon my skin. I forced these horrendous memories from my thoughts and quickly emerged from the pool. I did not wish to think of death on this night of new beginnings. I quickly and vigorously dried my skin with a towel borrowed from the Lodge and then gathered my hair together, twisted it tightly to expel the excess water, and then shook it out about my head and shoulders. It fell damp down my back and I methodically began to plait it, deftly interweaving strands of beads throughout the braids at the side of my face.

When I had finished with my hair I took from my pack the pair of white leather leggings; they had never been worn and were made especially for this ceremony. The pants were made from the hide of the white deer sacred to Dagnir and had been sewn together by the light of the full moon. The leather was as smooth as silk against my flesh as I pulled the leggings up over my thighs and then carefully tied the lacings in front. I ran my hands down the sides of my upper thighs, feeling the soft texture of the deerskin. Every Avari warrior possessed such a pair of leggings; a gift of their majority, but few ever had the honor of wearing them in the ritual that I would participate in tonight. My lips came together in a thin, grim line for I knew that soon they would be stained with blood.

The thought of what was yet to come sent an aching jolt through my loins and my shaft strained against the tight lacings. A groan escaped my lips and my heart raced with the heat of rising passion and desire. Fend and I would fight, honoring the woodland gods with our prowess and skill; and the spilling of our blood. The victor would have the right of dominion. I cared not if I won or lost. I would willingly give myself to Fend, but I could not defile this ceremony by doing any less than my utmost. The gods demanded this; and so I would fight him. I smiled to myself as I thought of the aftermath of the battle. Whether I beat Fend or nay I still won for he would bond me tonight and I would be his forever.

My heartbeat stopped as the deep drone of an Elven horn sounded in the silent wood. The time had come.

'''*'''

Fend's POV

As I caught the first sight of Isúl entering the glade, the air left my lungs in a hissing rush. I was so stunned by his appearance that I could barely think let alone speak and yet it was I whose duty it was to conduct this ceremony. The flickering light of the fires sent dancing shadows across his chest and face and I found that I could not breathe so mesmerized was I by his beauty. I could think of little else but my eager shaft penetrating his virginal body and this image sent a hot flush of heat and desire winging over my flesh, threatening to thoroughly undermine my concentration.

We stood facing one another on opposite sides of the circle, clad only in our ceremonial leggings, each made from the hide of the white deer we had slain during our trials as young Elves. Our hair was bound in the traditional Avari manner and adorned with beads and leather strips; our feet were bare. Isúl regarded me with little expression upon his flawless face and patiently awaited my invitation to enter the circle.

I took a step forward and entered the ring of stones. "I, Fend, son of Hynd, offer to you, Isúl, the bond of faras gwador**. Do you accept my offer and the challenge it requires?"

Isúl stared into my eyes and I felt the raw need within me stir anew. His eyes blazed with lust and yearning as he answered my words. "I, Isúl, son of Erol, accept your challenge and the offer of your bond."

"Come forth," I intoned and he gracefully stepped within the circle.

Moving as one, we came together in the center of the ring and knelt facing one another across the small altar I had erected within the circle's center. Atop this draped wooden table were two small knives, two thin bone needles and the bowls containing the crushed kohl, ashes, and inks that would be needed for the marking of our ritual tattoos; all that was lacking was the blood of our binding to mix with the ingredients.

I picked up the knife at my right hand and quickly drew it across the fleshy part of my left thumb. Immediately, bright red blood began to seep from the cut and I squeezed my hand until a large quantity of it had filled the bowl nearest to me. Isúl did the same, filling his small bowl with his blood. We stirred the inks and blood and then heated the mixtures over the open brazier until the liquid bubbled and sizzled. A faint coppery smell assaulted our noses as the blood heated and a thick, dark smoke soon filled the glade.

When the liquid was smooth we were ready to begin. Because I had initiated this ritual bonding, I would make the first mark. This marking would be my signature upon Isúl's face that would tell all that he belonged to me. The design would be one of my own making and would be placed upon his cheekbone, just below his left eye. I picked up the needle and dipped it into the bowl and then began the slow process of drawing the mark upon his skin. The design I had chosen would be similar to that which he bore upon his thigh, only much more delicate and complex. Isúl's eyelid twitched as the first jab of the needle pierced his cheek, but he made no sound and by the time I had completed the mark, he was breathing heavily and fighting for control, yet adamantly refusing to cry out from the burning pain.

And now it was my turn. I stared at a point just above his eye and prepared myself for the painful torment to come. I was curious to know what form my mark from Isúl would take. He had marveled at the process I had used to mark his leg and had asked many questions as I had used him as a living canvas for my work. I knew that whatever mark he put upon me, it would be unique and beautiful. I sucked in a tight breath as the sting of the needle seared my face and stiffened my jaw. When this part of the rite was complete we would share a goblet of wine, eat the lembas and then partake of the powerful drugged wafers that would bring the needed spirits to us for the ritual of combat. I tried to think of this instead of the constant fire upon my cheek and jaw, and in the end we were both panting; our breathing rapid and ragged. The wine would help to dull the pain, as would the potent drug.

We both downed our glasses in hurried gulps; anticipation for the next phase of the ceremony was high and we both felt our blood singing within our veins. I selected one of the flat wafers and placed it on his extended tongue. He set the second wafer upon mine. We stared at each other as the drug dissolved in our mouths and quickly entered our systems. I knew I would feel the effects almost immediately with an awakening of my already fine-tuned Elven senses and as I had known it would, everything about me seemed to sharpen in focus; sounds were clearer, colors more vivid. I lifted the two masks from beneath the table altar and placed them before Isúl.

"Choose," I said.

Without hesitation, Isúl picked the stag and my breath caught in my throat. Does he choose this spirit to tell me he will submit to me without challenge? Or is he trying to unsettle me, making me think he will yield when in truth he will not? My eyes narrowed as I searched Isúl's impassive face. He is cunning...

Isúl's expression gave me no clue as to his intent and so I picked up the wolf mask and placed it over my face. I gathered the small altar up and carried it to the edge of the circle and set it down beneath the tall oak. I returned to Isúl with the length of rope and the two long knives. I plunged each knife into the soft earth, one to Isúl's right and one to my left, each approximately two feet from us as we stood within the middle of the circle. I lifted his left wrist and tied one end of the rope securely to his hand; he did the same to my right. We stepped back away from each other until the rope was taut between us.

By now the drug had taken full effect and I began to feel the spirit of the wolf taking command of my limbs. I could smell the scent of the stag and behind my mask I ran my tongue over my lips, hungry for its blood.

"Hi! I shouted and we both lunged for our respective knives.

'''*'''

Isúl's POV

Fend was a split second faster than I as he darted to his left, his hand stretched out to receive the knife's bone handle. I was forced to move with him, my arm jerked forward by his momentum and away from my imbedded knife. He pulled the blade from the ground and spun toward me, knife edge singing. I jumped out of his reach and used both my hands upon the rope to pull him forward toward me. He stumbled and tripped off balance and I snatched my blade from the ground and swung it in a wide arc toward his exposed chest. He lurched backward and away and we once again stood facing each other, the length of rope swinging between us.

We circled one another several times, our expressionless masks hiding our faces and only our eyes, visible through the thin slits in the stylized facial representations of the animal spirits, offered any warning of our movement. I knew that Fend's pupils shrunk slightly when he went on the offensive and I sought this telltale sign to guide me, but the effects of the wafer had enhanced his skills and when he lunged forward toward me, I was not prepared. His knife slashed across my ribcage from bottom to mid chest, drawing first blood. I staggered, my hand slapping across my ribs as the breath hissed from my throat. I could feel the warm gush of blood hot and wet against my palm.

Fend halted his advance immediately; and after allowing me a second to regain myself, we again moved to the center of the ring. The sting of the wound was somewhat dulled by the drug and the wine, but nonetheless it burned and my lungs heaved. I stared at him across the short expanse of rope and nodded my head that I was ready to continue.

He shouted again and the dance began anew. Three marks were needed to declare the winner. I bit my lip to keep from making any sound as we carefully moved round and round. I feinted left and moved right, but he was waiting for my thrust and he spun away. The swish of his knife missed my neck by a hair's breadth and I jerked away. The rope pulled taut and yanked us back toward one another and Fend's left hand cut upward slicing the underside of my forearm. I barely held tight to my blade. Again he halted and we returned to the center. I flipped my blade to my left hand and clenched and unclenched my right fist. The cut to my forearm stung and throbbed, yet no muscle seemed damaged. I tossed the blade back to my strong hand and stood ready to face him again.

'''*'''

Fend's POV

I only needed to cut him a third time and I would win this match; yet I did not believe that he would allow me that last mark without a good fight. I could smell the blood on him and my head was reeling with it. It ran down his chest, streaking his white leggings with red yet he seemed no worse for wear. I was cautious. Isúl was an excellent warrior. I dared not take anything for granted; especially now that he was wounded. My eyes darkened with bloodlust and I prepared to charge him, but he was ready for me. He jerked the rope against my wrist and then ducked under it, spinning about and slashing down and back with is knife.

A strangled cry escaped my lips as the blade bit into my upper thigh and cut a swath down to my knee. He whirled away from me as I limped forward, grasping my leg. Blood poured down my thigh as I freely bled and I stumbled forward and into the center of the ring. He stood silent and straight as I dragged my leg with me and forced myself to put my full weight upon it. A harsh hiss came from me but I willed my body to obey. Two to one; this fight was not yet over by any means.

I took a deep, shuddering breath and shouted the command to begin again and we moved slightly apart. The pain in my leg was intense and I panted and grunted with every step, but I would not give in to it. He wrapped the rope around his wrist an extra loop and pulled me toward him and I grabbed the rope with my free hand, turned under it and ran my knife laterally across his mid section. His surprised yelp rang through the woods as a thin line just below his navel erupted in crimson.

I lunged forward knocking him backward and off his feet and we both hit the ground with a heavy thud. I straddled his hips and swiftly sliced through the rope at my wrist, freeing me from him. I snatched his blade from his hand and tossed it aside and taking both his wrists in my grip, I quickly tied both his hands together. I dragged them over his head and held them against the ground with one hand and ran my knife through the space between his bound wrists with the other, jamming the blade deep into the earth and staking him to the ground. He made no move to resist me and I rose up over his chest, my lungs heaving as I stared down at him.

I pulled the mask from my face and dropped it to the ground. I then lifted the stag's visage off Isúl's head. My drug enhanced glare looked down into his face and his blue eyes glared back at me, intense and dark with his passion. He was bound and defeated beneath me, yet I felt my hands tremble.

"Do you yield?" I growled at him. The mind altering substance within me gave his face a surreal beauty and I hungered for him with each beat of my heart. My shaft strained at the tight lacings of my pants and I could think of nothing more than placing my hands upon him, touching him; my mouth tasting him.

"Yes," he answered his wanton gaze boring into me. I bent forward, a hand to either side of his head and my mouth crushed down upon his. My tongue plunged into his, seeking the hot velvet caress of his kiss and I moaned my need as my tongue worked around his mouth suckling and sliding, delving deeper and deeper until I finally drew a strangled groan from his throat. Our bare chests slid together, his blood hot and thick between us, slick against our skin and more than anything else in the world I wanted to feel the tight heat of him against my flesh.

I pulled away from his lips and my mouth wet his jaw and then his ear as I licked and lapped at him. My lips moved over this neck and into the soft hollow of his throat and he arched beneath me, grinding his hips up against me, our imprisoned shafts pounding together. I rose up, eyes glazed with passion, dark and hungry, and my hands slid down his chest, coming to rest at the top of his pants. His hands strained and pulled at the rope binding him, but he could not escape the strong rope and it bit into his wrists, rubbing them red and raw.

My hands ripped at the lacings of his leggings and I roughly pulled them apart, freeing his turgid member and my gaze feasted upon his ample sex even as my hand wrapped about its base and my mouth came down upon him. The taste of him was exquisite and my eyes closed in pleasure as I let my senses take over and the feel of him within my mouth filled me with joy. He was already wet and near his release and my hands slid around and under his bottom, lifting him up to my face as I took him deep into my throat. A keening howl came from his kiss swollen lips and I grunted my satisfaction as his orgasm shuddered through him and he surged into my mouth and throat, hot and salty, and utterly divine.

'''*'''

Isúl's POV

The surging waves of pleasure swept over me again and again and I fought for breath to scream my release even as my hips pounded upward, driving my shaft into Fend's mouth. I writhed beneath him; I was at his mercy. My arms strained at the rope binding me and I could feel the sticky, hot blood oozing at my wrists as the rope cut into my flesh. My entire frame shuddered, as spasm after spasm shook me and I could no longer move as, weakened and spent, I lay beneath Fend's lapping tongue.

My throat was dry and choked sobs were all I could manage as I protested the removal of his lips from me. He roughly yanked my leggings down over my hips and down my thighs. His hand traced the swirling tattoo on my left thigh and I was filled with an image of his tongue tracing its pattern over my skin. I shuddered again as I lifted my head to look upon him and saw that he was busily unfastening his lacings and shedding his leather pants. The angry wound upon his thigh was red and bleeding still, yet he seemed unaware of it as naked he moved between my thighs and pushed them up and apart. I threw my head back and a whimpering moan issued from my lips as I felt the first probing of his hard shaft upon the tight opening to my body; and then I screamed as the full length of him plunged into me, thick and pulsing.

My breath came in rough gulps and gasps as he drove into me again and again; deeper and deeper. He rang cry after cry from my ravaged throat until I could make no sound at all and I shivered beneath his relentless thrusting. Until at last his release came over him and he threw his head back and cried to the gods themselves as the last throes of his climax wracked through him and spent, he fell upon my heaving chest, still joined with me and sobbing his elation against my ribs. My eyes closed and I delighted in the feel of his body against mine, hard and warm and after a time he rose up over me and yanked the knife from the ground. He cut the bonds about my wrists and kissed the deep gashes there tenderly and lovingly; and staring into my face he whispered into my mouth. "You are mine for all eternity."

*fungus (i.e. mushroom)
**hunting spirit brother
***now

*****

THE END