An Elf's Rose

CHAPTER 18


Orli lay on his bed, his head covered with a pillow, waiting for the pain meds to kick in. He was trying to head off a catastrophic headache that was starting to pound at the base of his skull.

He’d spent the entire day at the hospital, being poked and prodded ned needled, pushed around in a wheelchair by an elderly nurse who treated him like he was six years old. Dr. Nelson, at least, spoke to him like an adult. He had ordered another MRI to make sure the constant headaches weren’t caused by anything untoward, like a dangerously swollen vein.

“Oh that’d be grand wouldn’t it?” Orli laughed. “After all this I keel over from a brain hemorrhage.”

“It’s happened,” Dr. Nelson told him, prodding at the healing scars on his back. “Well, these are looking very good. Granulating nicely. The staples could come out next week.”

“Am I going to have horrible scars?”

“Not too bad. They won’t look as lousy as your tattoos do.”

“Thanks. I suggest you keep to your opinions confined to medical issues, Doctor.”

The good doctor had grunted in amusement and gave him a cream to spread on the scars to keep them soft and promote healthy skin growth.

He also recommended that Orli start a new vision therapy, called Neuro-Optometric Rehabilitation, as his sight was starting to flicker in and out and causing extreme disorientation. There had been much success with traumatic brain injuries.

The splint was taken off his hand as well, the orthopedic doctor declaring his finger-bones healed, although he didn’t recommend taking up boxing any time soon. oft oft temporary restraint was put on his middle and ring fingers for stability and he gave Orli a soft little ball to squeeze to start strengthening the muscles again.

Orli sighed as the throbbing in his head started to lessen, relaxing for the first time all day. He was exhausted, too exhausted to even eat. All he wanted right now was sweet oblivion. He pulled the pillow from his face and hugged it to his chest, wishing it were Rose.

~~~

Rose stood in the doorway to Orlando’s bedroom, caressing the carved trees of Moria in the door. She’d stopped in on her wo tho the dojo, to see how he was doing. She knew how he hated these hospital visits.

He lay on the bed with his bare back to her and she watched the slow expansion and contraction of his ribcage with each breath, indicating deep sleep. She could count the ribs in his back, he was so thin. He had never been bulky with muscle, tending toward lean and lithe, and his loss of fifteen pounds in six weeks were distressingly evident.

She moved quietly towards the bed, wanting to avoid looking at his surgical scars, but morbidly drawn to them. They were livid, like the crescent shaped scar on his head, but these were six inches long on each side of his spine, like two parallel gouges in the alabaster skin. They gleamed with some sort of ointment, the horrid staples glinting in the soft light of the lamp.

Rose rounded the bed and sat gently on the mattress next to him. She could tell by the flush on his thin face that he was on pain meds -- she wouldn’t wake him easily.

Her hand moved involuntarily to caress his short-cropped hair. Robert had taken him to his stylist to do something with the jaggedly chopped locks, and the man had given him an N’Sync ‘do that Rose hated. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much else that could be done with it. She had noticed that it was growing in startlingly white at the site of the injury. She hoped Orlando chose to let it grow long again. His hair was so thick and silky and beautiful, it was a shame to keep it short.

His mouth was slightly open in a very typically Orlando way, lips slightly puckered, like he was about to kiss something. The sweet top lip, shaped so very like an archer’s bow, curved over the full bottom one. Rose ran her finger tip along the delicious arc of the bottom lip and it twitched, the pink tip of his tongue darting out to lick it.

He is so beautiful, Rose thought, bending forward to kiss the corner of his mouth. Even in repose, though lovely, he looked fierce, reminding her of a drawing she had in one of her religious primers of Michael, the Archangel, with his fiery sword, kicking Adam and Eve from the Garden. She grinned, looking up at the empty wall above the mantle in the sitting room. Robert had not yet put back Orlando’s swords and knives.

She ran a thumb gently across a sght ght golden-brown brow, continuing on to the tender folded edge of his ear, admiring how the light from the lamp behind him shone through the transparent, delicate pink shell. She bent again to place a gentle kiss on the slightly out-turned lobe. He stirred slightly, causing Rose to feel a strange sensation in her chest that she didn’t immediately have a name for.

The word that finally came to mind was cherish.

~~~

Orlando had frightened her badly when he revealed what he had done to his father’s mistress. She had spoken to both Father Kirk and Robert about it. Father had urged caution and to tread lightly until she got more information. Robert had shed tears and begged her to give his son a chance, he was not a rapist, just dealing with terrible emotional issues that he would tell her about in his own time. That Orlando had a good and generous heart and he loved Rose very much.

“What happened?” she had asked.

“She provoked him and he lost control of his temper. He is very remorseful – he knows it was wrong.”

Rose had felt slightly better, and she knew in her heart of hearts that Orlando was not a bad person. Just very angry, for whatever reason Robert refused to say. She wondered if that was why he had always been so tightly controlled before.

But control eventually slips.

~~~

The weekend of Halloween dawned hot and bright. The Santa Ana’s were blowing, bringing in hot air from the high deserts so Robert and Orlando had planned a Halloween pool party, so very So Cal. The teachers and assistants from the dojo were invited, folks from the office, neighbors, Rose and her family, her new friends from school, and of course the gang. It was quite a crowd.


There was an open bar with bartender at one end of the patio, and Robert was barbecuing up a storm at the huge grill. He had hired their housekeeper and an assistant to oversee the food and clean-up, so Rose, after she and Carly had spent all morning decorating, had nothing much to do other than enjoy herself, and ogle at Orlando.

Rose found it difficult to keep her eyes off him. Orlando sat in state at one of the patio tables under a big green umbrella, receiving visits from all of the attending dignitaries with a big smile on his face, basking in all of the attention paid to him.

His blond hair was moussed up in short spikes and wore dark, wrap-around sunglasses. He was shirtless, his perfect skin glowing with returning health, pairpair of electric blue swim trunks he wore came down to his knees, but somehow didn’t come all the way up to his belly button. That delectable indentation of muscle above the hip bones that’s found only on men was quite visible to anyone who cared to look. Which she was sure a lot of people were, including Andrea, Cathy and Carly, not to mention herself. For tirstirst time, Rose saw he had another tattoo which showed plainly above the waistband of the trunks. It was a of a tiny Chinese dragon no more than three inches long right in the middle of that dangerous smooth expanse between navel and groin. She was of two minds: she wanted very badly to put her mouth on that tattoo, and at the same time, wanted to walk up to him and yank up on his swim trunks, covering him from the eyes of others. She didn’t think either one would be appropriate in this crowd.

That pretty little French girl from Robert’s office was hugging him and kissing his cheeks in the European fashion and talking animatedly to him in French. Rose’s face flushed, the little green monster clawing at her heart. Mine, she thought, surprising herself with her vehemence. He’s mine, dammit. She excused herself from talking with Amy and Sean and walked casually over to tabltable to assert her possession.

Rose pulled up an empty chair next to Orlando and waited a moment for the young woman to draw breath between paragraphs. “Hey,” she said softly, taking his hand. “You need anything, honey? Everything taken care of?”

“Well, you know, now that you mention it,” he replied, turning towards her and smiling. “I was missing something important.”

“What’s that?”

He brought her hand to his lips. “You.”

She flushed with pleasure this time, feeling guilty for her jealousy.

“Marie-Claire, this is my lovely Rose. Rose, Marie-Claire was telling me her young man has asked her to marry him.” Rose shook hands with the beaming young woman, feeling really badly, not having even noticed the handsome young man standing behind her. Marie showed her the engagement ring, and she oohed and aahed over it. They spoke about the upcoming wedding for a bit and Marie-Claire got up and she and her fiancé made their way back to her co-workers. Marc came over and sat in her place.

“Hey. He’s looking better, huh? Which isn’t saying much of course, since he looked like death warmed over for a while.”

Orlando grunted and sipped his ice tea. No alcohol for him for a while.

“He’s gaining his weight back,” Rose said happily. “His ribs aren’t showing like before. And the headaches are lessening.”

“I may not see very well, but I can hear fine,” Orlando growled. “I don’t appreciate being talked about like I’m not here.”

“Ok, we’ll talk behind your back then. Not like we don’t do that already,” Marc quipped.

Orlando ignored him and took a gulp from his glass. Rose thought this would be a good time to bring up his falling shorts.

“Sweetheart,” she whispered. “I think you need to pull up your swim trunks, quite a lot is, um, showing.”

His hand went to his waistband in alarm, but then smiled slyly at her. “Do you like what you see? I could show you more if you want.”

Rose blushed and Marc grinned at her, waggling his eyebrows.

“You are insufferable!” Rose said, half laughing, half embarrassed. “I think you need a good spanking on your bare butt.”

It was Orlando’s turn to flush, but somehow Rose didn’t think it was from embarrassment. “I don’t think that would improve my behavior at all,” he told her huskily. Marc whooped with laughter.

“Hoo boy!” Marc laughed, slapping his leg. “I think Orli just popped a woody on that one!”

Rose looked reflexively at Orlando’s lap and turned away, more red than before. She couldn’t understand why it excited him that she threatened him with physical abuse.

“Alright, Marc. Leave off.” Orlando found her hand and kissed it. “She doesn’t know what we’re talking about.”

“Ok, ok. That was fuckin’ hilarious though.” He hung out for a few more minutes, talking trash, admiring Orlando’s scars and suggesting he tattoo over them when they healed.

“What is this fascination with tattoos?” Rose asked. “I think it’s a shame that you’ve marred your beautiful skin with these nasty things.”

“Yikes. Well, I’m leaving this one to you, dude,” Marc told him, punching his shoulder. “Not gonna get in the middle of a lover’s spat.” He got up and walked away grinning.

Orlando scratched his head in contemplation. “It’s hard to explain why. This one,” he touched the dragon on his flat lower belly. “I got when I was fifteen. Wanted to do something rebellious, but too cowardly to put it somewhere where my dad would see it.” He grinned at Rose. “He did find out though and gave me hell for it.”

“That one is rather pretty, but why the one on your arm?”

He stroked his upper right arm where it was. “It’s about my commitment to my martial art,” he told her, his voice pitched low. “To remind me every day what the important things in life are, although I’ve been really bad about remembering lately.“

“What do the symbols mean?”

“The yin yang symbol is for the oneness of all life, that everything is a part of everything else. The kanji symbols mean ‘truth, beauty, love and wisdom.’ ”

“Oh. That’s very nice.” She looked closely at it and understood a little. “So it’s kind of like a permanent bumper sticker.”

Orlando barked a laugh. “Exactly.”

~~~

The party went on late into the evening, getting pretty rowdy. The guests were playing the typical Halloween children’s games, like bobbing for apples and pin the stake on the vampire, only in a very drunken state. A few of Robert’s employees had a poker game going in the kitchen, using candy corn for chips, where the winner was forced to eat his winnings to the clapping and insults of other partygoers. Costumes, per force, had been limited to masks and wigs, considering most guests wore bathing suits, but folk were still pretty creative, one couple using edible body paint to create designs on whomever wanted it.

Rose’s parents had left much earlier, before people began to get too smashed, telling her not to stay too late. But she knew they liked and trusted Robert, so they didn’t insist too much. At one point in the evening, she led Orlando back into his room to give him his meds and he sat quietly on the chaise and took them without complaint.

The music outside was loud and people were dancing and splashing about in the pool. In Orlando’s room it was a quiet oasis and they enjoyed just sitting next to each other, not saying anything.

Rose leaned her head on his shoulder and his arm came up around her. She watched his throat move with the swallowing.

“One more,” she told him, handing him the last one. “Are you feeling any pain?”

He shook his head, mouth full of milk.

“Have you been able to see anything at all today?”

“Some. I’ve been mostly keeping my eyes closed though. Didn’t want to get too dizzy.”

“Orlando?”

“What?”

Rose got up and went to lock the door to the hall.

“What are you doing?” he asked, suspiciously.

“I don’t want anyone to walk in unannounced.”

“I see. Am I going to get my spanking now?” he asked, grinning.

“Maybe. If you’re good.”

He snickered. “You learn fast.”

She sat next to him again and ran her hand up his bare chest. “I’m a good student.” Her hand caressed his smooth chest again, frtiprtips brushing against a stiff nipple. “Teach me. Sensei, oshieru wa kudasai.”

His eyes dilated as she watched. “Rose, do you know what you’re asking me?” he asked, his voice gone low and husky.

“I want you. You’re mine.”