Paramour

Rather than pursue the issue with the healer further, Saelbeth had
returned to the river to at to to the task of bathing, something he had
neglected to do while distracted by the act of trying to catch fish with
his nothing more than his hands.

He now lay sprawled upon the grassy embankment, his naked body having
dried some time ago. For the time being, he was content to lie within
the sun’s rays and soak up its warmth lazily.

And think of Tinuvel.

Why had his friend acted so strangely? Certainly Saelbeth had said
nothing to offend him, yet the healer had hurried away as if the very
air they shared was tainted by some unknown act Saelbeth had committed.
Never had he known his friend to act this way and this both confused and
worried him.

He remembered when he had first met Tinuvel so many years ago and how
the two had come to find a common thread within their abandonment.

The fish would come to him if he waited. Saelbeth was sure of that.
After all, they were not so smart as to outfox the future High Elven
King of all of Arda! Well, that was at least how the Elfing would have
it go if he could. . .

“If you lean too closely to that pond, young one, you will find yourself
with an unwanted bath early in the day,” a familiar voice chided him.

“Sssshh!” Saelbeth said, pressing his finger to lips, the frosty blue
of his eyes never leaving the shallow water. “You will scare the fish
away and then I will have to sit here forever before they come back!”

“They will never come to you anyway, pen-neth. Do you not know that
fish are mindless creatures who live only to eat and swim about in their
own fecal matter?”

He had not thought of it that way. Saelbeth’s full lips pursed into a
contemplative pout. “That is gross, Erestor,” the Elfling said, backing
away from the pond’s reflective surface.

He did not bother to dust off his breeches, which were stained with so
much dirt and grass that the tan coloring had turned a most horrid shade
of murky brown. Shoving his pale flaxen hair away from his eyes with
one grubby hand, he turned to face the regally clad advisor who so loved
to vex him. Affectionately, of course, but vexing none the less.

The dark-tressed Elf was glancing behind him, his ever-lengthening braid
tossed over one shoulder, ignoring Saelbeth for the moment.

“Hey, what are you looking at?” Saelbeth demanded, planting his hands
upon his hips. “I was talking to you!”

“You have the patience of an Orc, youngling,” Erestor said, one delicate
brow arching gracefully at his young charge who continued to give him
his best look of disgust. “There is someone I would like for you to
meet, if you can manage to calm yourself.”

“I am calm!” Saelbeth practically shouted, rolling his eyes at the
advisor who continued to gaze at him with bemused coolness.

“Silence yourself, Saelbeth! What kind of impression will you make upon
our young guest if you bellow like an Oliphant in heat?” Erestor
reprimanded him, again turning to look behind the folds of his absurdly
tight robes to wink at some unseen companion.

Saelbeth couldn’t see anybody. Erestor must have gone mad. Yes, that
was it. It was bound to happen sooner or later, anyway. Perhaps his
clothing was too binding and he could not breath enough air. . .

It was then that the Elfling noticed the tiny hand that clutched at
Erestor’s brocaded attire from behind. So, there was someone back
there! Of course, that did not mean that Erestor did not suffer from
lack of oxygen. Saelbeth was pretty sure something afflicted him the
way he flitted about in such constricting clothing like a She-Elf.

He turned his attention back to the pale hand and boldly trotted around
the advisor so that he could see just what was attached to those
fingers. The owner of the hand had his face buried so deeply in
Erestor’s robes, that Saelbeth could see naught but his dark hair and
the tips of his ears.

It was another Elfling! Just like himself! And close to his age, too!

“Hey,” Saelbeth chirped boldly, “who is that?”

“Remember your manners, young one!” Erestor snapped, shooting Saelbeth
a rather irritated glare.

Saelbeth blissfully ignored him and tapped the other child upon the
shoulder, leaning closer.

“Who are you?” he whispered rather loudly. “And where did you come
from? And why are you hiding in Erestor’s robes? And. . .”

“Saelbeth!” Erestor barked. “Enough! By the sea and stars, how you
can prattle on so is beyond me!”

The flaxen haired youngster continued to blissfully disregard his every
word as usual. Instead, he took the other’s hand and smiled assuringly.

“Do not be afraid. Erestor will not harm you. He is just irritable and
old.”

“I am most certainly not old!” Erestor huffed indignantly.

“You are older than Elladan so that makes you old,” Saelbeth said
matter-of-factly.

“Elladan is only one thousand and I am barely twice that age!” Erestor
argued. “Hardly ancient!”

“Old,” Saelbeth repeated firmly.

“Insolent whelp,” Erestor muttered, glaring at the broadly grinning
Elfling from beneath his dark lashes.

Saelbeth chose to ignore him once more and turned his attention back to
the matter at hand. The other child had lifted his face from the thick
fabric of Erestor’s clothing and was now regarding Saelbeth with large,
dark eyes full of solemn seriousness.

“I am called Saelbeth,” the bold youngster introduced himself. “What is
your name?”

Tinuvel shrank further into the meager folds of the advisors robes
clutching at the velveteen fabric with curling fingers, the hard muscles
of the Elf's body shifting with annoyance beneath his pinching grasp.

Despite his best efforts to conceal himself, the blonde Elfing continued
to eye him and even found a breath within his seemingly never ending
string of questioning to announce himself, a rather moot point as
Erestor had already shrieked the youngling's name no less than three
time in as many minutes.

Tinuvel was no stranger to children, in fact , back home he had many
chums that he ran with, but things here in Imladris were louder and
faster than what he was accustomed too and so it seemed were the
children...... well, at least this one.

The brazen Elfling suddenly moved towards him, and startled, Tinuvel
grabbed at a handful of sapphire pleating realizing much too late that
he had more of Erestor pinched beneath his fingers than robes.

“Aiya, Tinuvel!” Erestor yelped, gasping as the Elfling gave his
posterior a rather painful squeeze.

At the sound of his name, the youngster abruptly released the wriggling
advisor only to be snatched away by Saelbeth, who suddenly drew him into
a surprisingly gentle embrace, smoothing his dark hair away from his
cheek protectively.

“Erestor, you are so lo Sae Saelbeth chided him seriously. “You are
scaring him!”

“I am scaring….? Oh, of all the absurdities. . .! You!!. . .I. . .!!”
the advisor clenched his teeth and growled in frustration. “Arrrrgghh!”

Saelbeth eyed the fuming Elf soberly. Then, putting a finger to his
lips, he said, “sssshhh!”

A sardonic sneer lifted the corner of Erestor’s lip as he glared at the
impetuous youngling. “Fine,” he said stiffly. “He is in your charge.
If anything should happen to him, I shall make certain that you are
unable sit properly for a week and a day, understand?”

“Yes, Ada,” Saelbeth said mockingly.

Erestor flounced away, muttering something about leather straps and red
backsides, leaving Saelbeth and his new companion staring in his wake.

“Do not mind Erestor,” Saelbeth quipped, stepping away from the other
child at last. “He is cranky when he cannot breathe in those clothes.”

The other Elfling glanced up at him curiously. “Is he not cranky all
the time, then?”

Saelbeth giggled. “Yep,” he said simply. “Your name is Tinuvel.”

The blond youngster was not asking. He was telling.

“Yes,” the dark haired Elfling replied rather quietly. “And yours is
Saelbeth.”

Saelbeth cocked his head curiously. “How did you know?”

It was now Tinuvel’s turn to laugh. “Erestor was shouting it at you an
awful lot. You sure make him mad.”

“Yup,” the one now known as Saelbeth said again. Taking Tinuvel by the
hand, he asked, “want to see me catch a fish with my bare hands? I can
do it, you know. And I can show you how, too.”