b2mem | "Fair Game" by Ljusastjarnan (Reply)

Title: Fair Game
Author Name: ljusastjarnan
Prompt: Autumn Forest, by Larisa Koshkina
Summary: It's a rare respite for Nelyafinwë, but at least Tyelkormo is a welcome distraction.
Rating: PG13+
Warnings: Incest.
Author's Notes: Thanks to Elvewen for looking over this! All remaining mistakes are ~~my sleep and rest deprived mind's~~ mine, of course. :")
I'm so happy I got something done; I am absolutely atrocious at keeping with commitments.

----

Upon the ways behind the edge of the forest, Tyelkormo found a glint of silver amid the copper-bleached glade where Anor's rays finally pierced through the layers of pine. The hunter perched upon a linden branch, fingers pressed upon a taut bowstring. From there he sat in silent deliberation, allowing time to pass as it would. The midday light pierced through wavering leaves, and it was here that Yávië's cloth of flame wrought the greatest beauty in Aman. Tyelkormo could not blame his brother for wishing to bask in it, and from hence Tyelkormo would not rend the colours of fall from Nelyafinwë's hair.

The more Tyelkormo dwelled atop his branch, the more he felt like a young ellon pining for maiden he desired, and he resolved to make his presence known. He took an arrow from his quiver and released it to dig into the earth a breath away from Nelyo, who is at once awake. He jumped and reached for his blade, eyes searching for the unseen predator. Then his shoulders loosed, for that ribbon curled around the feather of the earthed arrow could belong to nobody else, and he perceived laughter from a familiar voice that hid still within the trees.

"Brother! What if it had been fell beasts who found you instead of me?" Tyelkormo landed amid what seemed like half the leaves on the tree, and he starts laughing again when he sees Nelyo carefully extricating fallen twigs and red shrubbery entwined within his copper locks.
"Why take away what looks so suited? You look even more comely under a crown of leaves, Maitimo", he said, smile widening at the withering look from his brother.

"Indeed," he scoffed, "if you had attempted to do so you would never stop," Nelyo looked somewhat crotchety at the name his mother had so fondly given him, and Tyelkormo tapped his brow as though deep in thought.

"Perhaps I should gift our dear fair haired cousins with your auburn crown of leaves," he quipped, which earned him a reluctant chuckle from Nelyo. "I do believe fair Findarato would be driven to misery, though, so I shall refrain ere his sister comes answering to me, ai!"
Nelyo shakes his head in answer, bending down to retrieve Tyelkormo's carefully crafted arrows for him. "Do not startle me thus, I was resting."

But Tyelkormo was not cowed by his reproach, and he tapped the end of the arrow upon Nelyo's shoulders. "Resting? And how has it come to be that Aulë's apprentice rests underneath Oromë's forest? Is it not a ways from the forge?"

A brief look of guilt flashed across Nelyo's features, but before he deliver his answer, a distant howl cut through the ambience and a sharp horn was sounded. The sound of trampling feet grew steadily larger and immediately, Tyelkormo grabbed his brothers waist, hoisting him up onto a low branch. When Nelyo looked to protest, Tyelkormo covered his mouth and drags him further atop the linden.
"More graceful than I'd have thought," he murmured into his brothers tipped ears, relishing in the way it flushed a fetching shade of crimson. He beckons Nelyo to follow as he clambers through some thicker branches. "The hunt is coming our way," he murmurs.

"Melkor's creations?"

"Yea, and we shall join."

Nelyo nods in assent and reaches again for the sword swathed underneath his robes. "So let me down."

"Nay, brother, we shall join, but apart from the hounds on this day. I will teach you archery and stealth as you have taught me to wield the blade."

At this, Nelyo frowned.

"It is within the blade above everything I put my trust in. I would have said thus, if I hadn't been interrupted."

There was a brief silence, where Nelyo feared his brother's famed temper would rise unbidden at his refusal, but Tyelkormo was not angered.
"Nay."

"Nay?!" Nelyo was taken aback. He lowered his voice as the sounds grew nearer yet. "We will join, but I shall do so on the ground and with my sword---"

"Nay, Maitimo, for greater help we would be if we rained arrows from above than trampled underneath Oromë's steeds. Now come, and be not afraid, I will guide you, and should you find this useful in days to come, think back to this day, brother mine."

Unhappy but convinced, Nelyo followed as Tyelkormo created a path easy to traverse and yet hidden. Soon, the Vanyarin hunters riding upon noble steeds came into sight. The hounds encircled the small gathering of cursed beasts, ripping into hide as arrows pierced found it's mark in the unprotected flesh. None were looking to the skies, for there was no sunlight that protruded from the thickening canopy of the forest.
Tyelkormo lightly steps behind from where Nelyo watched the scene underneath them and placed his bow in his brother's hands, guiding his fingers to the handle. "I'm fond of this one," he murmurs, almost lovingly. "It's very supple."

Nestled comfortably behind Nelyo, his chest pressed upon his back, so close he could smell the heady scent of pine and moss that clung to his hair from lying on the ground. Tyelkormo takes an arrow from his quiver and places it between his brother's fingers. Nelyo's hair pools over his shoulders as he hunches over in concentration, and Tyelkormo is struck by a sudden and needless desire to thread his fingers through it.

Instead, he focuses on helping his brother perfect his first shot. There is a fell creature raining his cleaver upon an elf who barely manages to jump away. Tyelkormo directs the bow so that the arrow pointed towards it, and tugs on Nelyo's other hand.

"Pull the bow string," he murmured into Nelyo's ear, eye's never leaving the mangled creature below. The red-haired elf draws the string back, his arm taut and tense under Tyelkormo's hands. "Relax," he said, squeezing Nelyo's shoulder, "use your strength from your torso, not just yours." The fanged creature was an enormous target considering their distance, and Nelyo kept the bow aimed admirably centred upon it.

"Breathe, aim, let go."

The arrow knocked it off its path and stumbling it gave the Vanyarin hunter precious time to reground himself and turn on the offensive. Tyelkormo laughed softly in his brother’s ear.

"Terrible," he said, and Nelyo gave an affronted huff. "No less than your first time with a blade."

"My arms weren't trembling."

In reply, Nelyo simply nocks another bow as Tyelkormo had shown him, and aims for the same beast, his mouth set in the same fierce determination that Tyelkormo saw whenever his brother took to his craft, and would see again. There was a loud crack, and Tyelkormo flinched at the sound, for his bow was not supposed to make that sound, and yet--- the beast fell with a thump to the ground, hands clawing at the gushing blood from his neck. Nelyo looked at him with glee dancing in his eyes, and Tyelkormo thinks he never saw anything more beautiful.

Nelyo leapt from branch to branch, emptying the arrows from his quiver as though they were endless, lips pursed in concentration and arms still stiff. If Tyelkormo was a good brother, he would have shouted for Nelyo to slow down (his stance put too much strain on his shoulders), if Tyelkormo was a good brother, he would have stopped him before the bruises amassed upon his wrists (his flimsy tunic hardly helped any), and if Tyelkormo was a good brother, he most certainly wouldn’t have sat enthralled as Nelyo wrought death as a fire untempered, inelegant and without form. No, it was his savage beauty that kept Tyelkormo from doing any of those things.

Eventually, all but a dozen were left and the hunters were gathering them around for the slaughter. One toothed wolf turned to flee, and Tyelkormo’s lips twitched as the creature escaped the hunters’ view, hiding amongst thick undergrowth. A chase. Delightful. Nelyo must have noticed also, because he diverted his attention from the group and turned towards the stray beast. Tyelkormo hissed, “Wait! You cannot yet—” but Nelyo had already slipped away with surprising agility. Cursing, Tyelkormo followed just under the canopy. But when the copper haired elf made to push through a thick stalk, Tyelkormo saw and his stomach dropped.

The branch snapped and the creature gave a surprised growl at his discovery. It immediately fell into a sprint and Nelyo gave chase, reaching for another arrow—

“No! Wait! Give me the bow--!” Fervently now.

Tyelkormo’s eyes widened when, in his distraction, he misjudged the distance to the next branch and took a step too far, tumbling down and falling nigh beside the wolf, who swiftly descended upon the elf. Without thinking, Nelyo jutted one of the sharp ends of the bow into the creature, and it toppled backwards, but the wood, supple as it was, snapped. There was his chance. Nelyo unsheathed his blade and slashed its throat, releasing the creature from its cursed existence on Aman. Only when it collapsed on top of the forest floor did Nelyo release the breath he had been holding.

Tyelkormo jumped down beside him, eyes blazing with terrible fury (his brother could have been felled by those knives—and the first blood of the elder to spill forth would have been on him). “I told ye to wait, to let me—”

Nelyo, fearing that he had (perhaps rightfully) brought on Tyelkormo's ire, placed a placating hand upon his shoulders.

“I am sorry, I will replace your—“ but it only worsened his already quite volatile temperament.

“Nay, that is not it, brother,” Tyelkormo hissed, grabbing his arm. Nelyo gave a sharp cry, surprised at burn that shot through his body and made to wrench away from his brothers grip, and ended up once more amid copper coloured leaves, this time without the sun to bleach it dry. Tyelkormo beheld the tumult of guilt and surprise and was that fear that flashed across his face? His elder brother, always so composed and breathtakingly valiant, dishevelled and gazing at him beneath those thick lashes. Tyelkormo felt desire roll unbidden from the pits of his stomach, and it was both euphoric and frustratingly maddening.

His anger was suddenly drained from him, and he reached out a hand to help Nelyo back up. The red haired elf took it with a small wince. Ah, how he he'd made his brother suffer from his forgetfulness and enthusiasm. Tyelkormo turned to his brother's injured arm.

Nelyo looked on, alarmed, as he pushed his sleeves up to reveal the angry, welts that ran from his wrist to his elbow.

He blinked, looked up. “How…?”

Tyelkormo grinned wolfishly with not a trace of remorse. "Tendon isn't easy on barely covered skin, and as I've mentioned before, your form is terrible. Do not worry, I will help you improve."

Nelyo laughed. "You simply wish to insult me further, you horrid creature. Look, my back is all wet."

Tyelkormo paused for a moment. Then-- "I know of a cabin nearby. There you may change into a new tunic."

He was surprised when Nelyo agreed good naturedly. They trod through the thickening undergrowth into the depths of Oromë's forest, and Tyelkormo wondered idly if Nelyo was truly oblivious.

They had reached the cabin, and Nelyo was the first to clamber atop the trees that had breathed since the earliest days of Aman. It was barely a small alcove carved around thick branches, but here at least there was a temporary respite from the elements, and Nelyo could be grateful to be dry once more. Tyelkormo watched as he moved to tug his shirt off, the strands of red pooling across his shoulders. Control had never been one of Tyelkormo’s strengths, and in that moment, the blond could be forgiven for pressing close as he had, gathering his hair in one hand and pressing his lips to the pale curve of his neck. Nelyo froze underneath his touch, and in turn, Tyelkormo stiffened his grip on his wrist, the thought of being refused burning black turmoil within him. But when he looked up, Nelyo had a strange, wry smile upon his fair face.

“You would dare attempt to bed me?” he asked, but beneath the layer of bewilderment laid the gravelly tone of desire Tyelkormo had been looking for.

“Yes,” he breathed, and pushed his brother into the wall.

Later, midst the dwindling light of day, as Tyelkormo lay contentedly on the mossy platform and Nelyo sat in thought, not yet ready to return to Eldamar with the revealing marks Tyelkormo left so politely on his collarbone, neither could quite bring themselves to regret what hadn’t been decreed wrong (implicitly so, perhaps, but Tyelkormo couldn’t bring himself to care).

“Do you do this often?” Nelyo asked suddenly.

“Perhaps,” was the noncommittal answer. Tyelkormo had his fair share of lovers, perhaps, but never before had he thought of Maitimo in the same way.

“You led me here with this intention, did you not?” he continued.

“Yes?”

There was a stagnant pause, and Nelyo traced the tender skin around the bruise (the second one his brother gave him that day).
“And what would you have done if I was less… agreeable to your advances?”

This time, Tyelkormo didn’t answer.

He didn’t know.