Paramour

Erestor strolled casually up the stairs, his steps purposeful yet
unhurried. So, the apprentice healer to Imladris saw fit not only to
languish in his own self-depreciating grief, but was also bearing a
hefty bundle of denial along with it. This was all too easily solved,
for Erestor himself had been there on many occasions. Tinuvel merely
required a bit of. . .coaxing.

Advisor style. . .

Knocking briskly upon the door to the young healer’s chambers, Erestor
called sweetly to him. “Oooh, Tinuvel? It is I, Lord Erestor. Are you
awake, mellon?”

No answer greeted his mellifluous inquiry. That was expected. Rather
than wait politely to be invited in, Erestor practically threw the door
open and waltzed inside, not bothering to glance at the fetal lump upon
the bed.

“Rise and shine, pen-neth!” he sang out, crossing the room in several
quick strides to where the healer had the curtains tightly drawn so that
not the scantest peal of light could enter.

The lump did not stir.

Erestor snorted, grasping the ornate rope that dangled near the heavy
drapes and gave it a hefty yank. Light flooded the room, sending the
darkness scurrying into the far recesses of shadow.

Still, the form had not budged. Erestor cocked his head to one side
slowly. No, this simply would not do!

Strolling to the end of the bed, he grabbed both ends of the heavy
blankets that shrouded the healer and snatched them away, tossing them
to the ground with a flourish.

“I said get up!” the advisor bellowed. “Do not make me drag you away
from that pallet by your ankles, because, Valar help me, I will!”

Tinuvel grasped furiously at the coverlets that had been shielding him
from the world as they were unceremoniously removed from his body. A
glaring stream of light blinded him to the purveyor of the rude
awakening, but the lilting gypsy accent gave the healer no doubt as to
whom had disturbed his seclusion.

"You wouldn’t dare....." snapped the annoyed healer, disregarding the
respect that Erestor’s position in the household should have demanded
from him.

Pulling his arm up to shield his eyes from the irritating sunlight,
Tinuvel moaned out loud and turned onto his belly, blocking out both the
sun and the meddling Advisor.

Erestor merely arched a brow. “Do not doubt my voracity,” he said
smoothly, his hands clasping around the healer’s ankles, giving his body
a sound jerk, managing to first pull away most of Tinuvel’s nightclothes
before yanking his body across the mattress and onto the unforgiving
stone of the floor.

“You will not play the insolent, piteous child with me, young one!”
Erestor snapped before stripping away the bottoms of his pants
completely and tossing them aside.

For a moment, he eyed the semi-naked healer appreciatively. “Well,
well. . .I can see why Saelbeth adores you so.”

Before the healer could comprehend what had happened he found himself
sprawled upon his arse on the cold stone floor , blinking incredulously
at the smirking Lord.

Instinctively Tinuvel’s hands came to cover his maleness as he struggled
upright , his back pressed against the night table.

" Illuvatar's Balls..... Erestor......can you all not just let me
be....." Tinuvel reached for the discarded bedclothes in a ridiculously
modest attempt to cover himself.

" Saelbeth is better off forgetting about me..." , mumbled the healer,
not wanting to engage the Advisor further for he suddenly recalled the
last time he had addled the dark Lord and thought better of it.

"Lord Erestor, surely you have better things to do than house clean my
rooms," spouted the healer as he inched his ways towards his breeches.

“Oh, well I am certain I d thd think of something else to do,” Erestor
said, his voice holding an air of boredom as he casually kicked
Tinuvel’s breeches further across the floor. “Perhaps young Saelbeth
could assist me in my quest for adventure.”

The advisor glanced over his shoulder with a wicked smile. “It would
not be the first time.” He swept closer to the scrambling healer, his
tone honeyed and wistful. “You are right, Tinuvel. He is much better
off in my embrace than yours. Although I cannot imagine you soon
forgetting the taste of that eager mouth upon your own.” Erestor
frowned momentarily, his lips then curving into a self-righteous smirk.
“Pity.”

Tinuvel winced as his sleeping attire skittered further across the room,
instead wrapping a bedsheet around his waist before pulling himself to
an unsteady upright position. Bracing himself against the nightstand
and gingerly sidestepping his scattered meal, the healer sat heavily
back down upon the bed, his knees suddenly weak .

"He deserves better than I, Heru....." Tinuvel closed his eyes, his head
spinning both from the effort of moving and the images of his lover in
the Advisor's arms. His lover? Not any more...

Tinuvel brought his hands to his face and rubbed at his eyes with the
heel of his palms.

"Do what you will Erestor..." The healer turned his face towards the
wall and picked at a bit of stucco from its surface, trying his best to
act unaffected.

" I care not......"

Tinuvel swallowed hard, refusing to look at the beautiful Lord.

“Oh yes, I can see that you care for very little, Tinuvel,” Erestor
sneered. “I must say that I have never met a more selfish Elf in my
life. Here you lie, languishing in your own self pity, casting yourself
into the pit of despair. And of course, none of us care for you
either. Not the one that you love so fiercely that even to speak his
name sets your heart afire, not the Elven Lord who saved you from
falling into darkness and certainly not myself for dragging your
pathetic arse out of bed and forcing you to feel something other than
self-loathing.”

Crouching beside the sullen healer, he said, “I have watched my kinsman
die in battle. I have held lovers in my arms and watched the light fade
from their eyes and I have wept bitterly for the waste of their
innocence during senseless war. Do not speak to me as if I know nothing
of the pain of the death, young one. I have seen it. . .tasted its lips
upon my own, yet I did not choose to fade. My life has more purpose
than that. Arrogant and haughty I may be, but I am not nearly so
selfish as you are.”

Risio hio his feet, he patted Tinuvel upon the head once. “And the most
tragic lesson of all, young one, is learning that in order to be a
healer, one must first heal thyself. Now, if you will excuse me. . . I
have a grieving archer to comfort. It seems as if some foolish Elf has
toyed with his heart while keeping his own selfishly locked away. Good
day to you.”

Tinuvel sat stone still upon the bed, only a slight tremble
acknowledging the fact that he still lived and breathed. He had steeled
himself for a battle with Erestor, but was totally unprepared for the
advisor to open his heart to him. The Elf’s words had struck him hard
with their honesty and for the first time in days, the healer had to
question his actions.

He was selfish....He had not even given anyone’s feelings but his own
any weight in the matter. All that concerned him was ridding himself of
the guilt. Elrond had had told him that he was not to blame for the
child's death and he had thought to believe him. He had wanted to
believe him with all his heart. The child had drawn him into her world
and he had forfeited to her what he should have prized far beyond his
own life. The love of another.

Tinuvel’s head drooped down on his shoulders and fresh tears moistened
his cheeks as he reached deep within himself towards the small flicker
of warmth that was his love. Saelbeth still lived within him, that had
not changed. The healer sighed and dashed at the tears that had shown
themselves far to often during the last few days. He had been so caught
up in his own pain that he had not even given any thought to Saelbeth’s
anguish.

"Perhaps Erestor is right," he sniffed, self pity trying to rise again.
" Perhaps Saelbeth would fare better with another," The very thought
made the Elf’s whole body shake with sobs. No.......He could not bear to
see his love, his heart ,enamoured of another.

A searing heat spread over the healers chest and he gasped at the
intensity of the emotion that it heralded. How could he have denied
this? Was it too late?

Tinuvel pushed himself to stand, the sheet falling from his body to
tangle in his feet as he tried to move forward. Stumbling, the healer
steadied himself against the wall, the cool of the plastered surface a
comfort to his suddenly flushed skin. He needed to heal, and there was
only one person in all of Arda who could help him.

Slowly, Tinuvel pulled on what clothing he could find within the small
room, and after uprighting the tray of food that he had so carelessly
tossed aside, went in search of the one who held his heart for it
indeed he had been careless there as well.

The fairness of the sky over Imladris gave the impression of a summer
day, but he chill in the breeze that lifted Tinuvel’s hair from his
shoulders spoke clearly of winter's kiss. Wrapping a quickly donned
cloak tighter about his shoulders, the healer shivered slightly, the
physical effort of walking about on his own and the sheer emotional
exhaustion of the last few days having drained almost all of his
stamina.

A few well placed benches along the pathways in the courtyard proved
their usefulness, allowing Tinuvel the opportunity to rest before
continuing his search. He really for all intensive purposes had no idea
where the Elf might be, and in all honesty had the healer been in
Saelbeth’s boots he would have possibly left Rivendell altogether.

It was however Erestor’s parting comment that pushed him further along
the path towards the courtyard. If anyone was to meet in Imladris, it
would be there for almost all paths intersected within the columned
square.

Many were about this day, bustling here and there, some nodding in
Tinuvel's direction and others too caught up in their own daily drama
barely noting his passing. Of that , the healer was grateful, for the
breeze had stirred up more than just the leaves upon the ground
reminding the usually scrubbed healer that he was well overdue for a
bath.

Upon reaching the square, the young Elf practically fell into the first
bench he saw with an exhausted groan. Perhaps he should have waited to
see if the archer would return to his room rather than traipse about all
of Imladris, but Tinuvel could not take the chance that Saelbeth would
forgive him after all the horrid things he had said. The healer shut his
eyes and held his head in his hands quite unsure that he would ever lay
eyes upon his lover again.

A familiar baritone ,its measured tone rising and falling with casual
ease, floated to the healer's ears as he sat reclaiming his breath. Only
one within these walls could own such a silken and genuine chuckle and
Tinuvel knew before he opened his eyes that the Lord of Imladris
strolled the path. More voices joined that of the Elven Lord, chiming in
at various intervals the healer would have let them pass had one of them
not struck his heart to beat madly in his chest at its mere intonation.

Tinuvel hesitated opening his eyes lest his ears be betraying him, for
he doubted that he could bear the disappointment without breaking down,
but as the entourage of Elves drew nearer his fear faded to relief.
Saelbeth held Elrond’s ear and was most courtly in his attention to tElveElven Lord, speaking anding ing with him as if he quite belonged at the
ruler's side even capturing the Lord Glorfindel and Erestor's rapt
attention.

The healer brushed away the tousled hair that trailed across his vision,
taking in the graceful poise that the archer exuded, with a shuddering
intake of breath. Simply attired in breeches and tunic of deep blue, his
hair down and unadorned, Saelbeth seemed to shine brighter than even the
illustrious beauties of Imladris that he attended.

Quite unobtrusive in his drab tunic and cloak, Tinuvel rose from the
bench and made his way towards the regal group. Stopping a few yards
away from the gesturing archer, the healer tookeep eep breath steeling
himself to the possibility that Saelbeth would push him away or even
worse ignore him completely, both actions well deserved.

Without so much as word in greeting to the gathered Elders, the healer
approached the Elf in question and placed a pale hand upon his shoulder.
As an unsuspecting Saelbeth turned, his eyes wide in surprise, Tinuvel
drew him tightly into his embrace and buried his face within the
familiar fragrance of the Elf’s hair.

"Forgive me..." The soft words fell from the from the healers lips in a
hushed whisper, intended only for the archers ears.

Saelbeth stiffened in shock as the healer enveloped him in his arms, a
moment of indecision startling him into silence until Tinuvel’s words
reached his ears. . .and his heart.

“Meleth,” he murmured, returning the embrace at last, perhaps more
tightly than he had intended. “There is nothing to forgive, my gentle
one. . .”

Before the healer could speak, Saelbeth silenced him with a kiss, unable
to refrain from conveying openly the intensity of the passion that
bloomed within him.

“I have missed you,” he said, the quiver etching his voice betraying the
overwhelming emotion that flooded through his body. “Do not leave my
side again, Tinuvel. I do not think my heart could bear it. . .”

" Nor mine," replied the healer, one hand wrapping tightly with in the
silk of the archers hair, the other grasping a handful of the soft tunic
with possessive urgency. Tinuvel’s lips sought out the comfort of
Saelbeth’s mouth , and with no concern for his public display, he
poured out his denied passion in a long lingering , and completely
shameless kiss.

“My, but they do make me long for my youth,” Erestor said, looking to
Lord Elrond with a sly wink, but the Elven ruler did not miss the look
of wistful satisfaction that accompanied it.

“So it would seem. . .Advisor,” Elrond replied with a smile, stressing
the title as if it now held far more significance than it had
previously. “Come,” he said quietly to his companions. “Let us speak
elsewhere.”