Ekleipsis (Fantasy Romance - LGBT, manXman)

4.9.

When they reached the well, Kintaro moved off the round stone, pulled up a water gourd, and let the elf wash.

"So, why did you go and hit him?"

Ithildin did not answer.

"You are strong enough to take down pretty much any one of my men. Is that what you had wanted to know?"

The elf did not speak again pretending to be absorbed by the process of washing.

"You could have just asked me. I'd tell you. Or did you want to see if all the Essanti turn you on, or just me?"

"You presume to judge what you do not understand," Ithildin answered coldly.

"I understand more than you think, doll-face. I know men."

"I am not a man."

"My ass. I know you are made exactly like any man. I've seen". The chief gave Ithildin one of those stares that made the elf feel naked. "And that stuff you believe in is only elvish crap."

"Only a crass barbarian could refer to time-hallowed traditions as "crap."'

Ithildin felt himself getting angry. Lately, Kintaro was tripping him up non-stop, robbing him of self-assurance, and doing his best to attack the elf's view of reality. He uttered strange things – wrong, as far as the elf's understanding went – but somehow explaining the things Ithildin could not otherwise comprehend.

Kintaro came closer.

"Your traditions had stayed behind in the steppe. Where I knocked you off your horse and deflowered you. Still scared to think about it?" he asked when the elf shuddered. "But it's a sweet memory for me. So sweet." He held Ithildin's face in his palms and kissed him on the lips.

"Why?" asked Ithildin without meaning to. He broke away from Kintaro. "Do you like inflicting pain? Humiliating?"

"I just wanted you. Who could say no? Not even noble Chevalier Ahayrre could."

"What is it about me that makes people burn with lust?" the elf burst out.

Kintaro suddenly laughed, freely and joyfully. Ithildin looked at him, bewildered by his reaction. Finally the chief wiped the tears of mirth away, and said, "You are like a child. A child who knows nothing of lies and life. Get used to living among the people, doll-face. It was your choice. High time you dropped your god-damned traditions and took a pickle out of your ass."

"Why do you think you can tell me what to do?" asked Ithildin, exasperated. "What gives you the right to judge?"

"Because I've been through it myself. I did not grow up in the steppes, I came here ten years ago. I gave up a life, a family and a homeland. Like you, elf. I had made my choice too."

Ithildin was quiet for a long time, and the Essanti was quiet as well, as he stood leaning on the stone well and gazing beyond the horizon. The elf felt overwhelmed. It was strange to talk to Kintaro with no trace of hatred or insult. He was at peace, open and sincere, devoid of threat. Almost pleasant to be with.

Trying to banish the strange sensation, Ithildin said brusquely, "I do not care for your confessions. Do not play at being friends. We came here to talk about Alva Ahayrre, not you or me."

"No, doll-face, our lives have meshed. Either we cut through the knots, or we keep on weaving."

The elf had nothing to say to that.

"That's what I wanted to talk about. Why does the redhead object? Did you ask him?"

"No."

"But did he ask you?"

"No. He knows what I'd say."

"What?"

"That I'll do as he wishes."

"So the problem is that he does not what he wants himself?"

"Perhaps."

"And what do you want?"

"I am indifferent."

"You said you hated me."

"What's the point of hating the hurricane? Or a wildfire?" Ithildin shrugged. "Besides, I knew I was handing myself over to you when I came for help. I gave my word."

"I am not asking what you must do. I am asking what you want. What's your stake in this, elf?"

Ithildin paused and reluctantly answered, "It's easier for me to suffer you, than for Alva to give you up. You give him what I cannot. And if the Enqins track us, we'll benefit from your combat skills."

"Honest enough. So why does he keep turning me down?"

Fleetingly, Ithildin marveled at the change in the Essanti chief. He was no longer the sneering barbarian the elf was used to. It was as if he chose to stand before the elf defenseless.

Now Ithildin understood the true nature of Kintaro's feelings for Lielle. It was love, without question. Ithildin could still think Kintaro an enemy, but he would trust him with Alva's life without a doubt. The elf thought that, perhaps, Kintaro did not understand himself what made him hanker after Alva, and smiled lightly.

Kintaro looked at him suspiciously.

"Tell me, doll-face. You know the redhead better than I do. If he can't make up his mind, you and I will do it for him. Tell me, so we can get a move on. Why?"

"Maybe because you are a savage, a murderer and a rapist," Ithildin answered none too pleasantly.

Kintaro grinned.

"No, that's not why. By the way, I had killed fewer elves, than you had killed the Essanti braves. And you are the only one I had raped in my entire life, whether you believe it or not."

The elf sighed. Kintaro was twisting things around again. Ithildin would have preferred not to believe him, but the elf's senses would not let him. He knew very well that the Essanti was telling the truth.

"He is afraid of the power you have over him," said Ithildin finally.

"But he has power over me too." Kintaro forced himself to say it, and then turned away.

"So tell him. Tell him you love him."

The Essanti was silent for a long time, and then stated, "I do not use words like that freely."

"So it's better to take and give nothing in return for you."

"Not worse than always giving and taking nothing, like you."

"You are just afraid to say you are in love. It's a sign of weakness," said the elf. He was relishing the revenge for the start of their conversation, when he had had to endure the barbarian's condescension.

"Look who is talking," Kintaro parried. "Look at the way you fight me off every time because you can't bring yourself to say "yes" to the filthy barbarian. Wouldn't be proper, right?"

The elf breathed in and out, slowly and glared at the Essanti, but found nothing to say. Fuming, he turned back and strode to the tent. Kintaro was insufferable. There was no logic in any conversation with him, and he could irk the elf profoundly with a single glance, word or sneer.

Why him? Why did it have to be him?

It would have been so much easier if their third became someone whom the elf respected and admired. Leitis Lysander, for example. Anyone, really, but this lascivious barbarian without a conscience, who arouses in others their basest instincts.

And yet, at the same time, Ithildin knew that it could not be anybody else.