Paramour

Saelbeth smiled wistfully as the colors of the evening deepened. He and
Tinuvel had been practically inseparable since that moment, closer than
brothers, wreaking havoc upon Imladris in all forms of mischief until
Tinuvel’s propensity for healing had emerged. Saelbeth’s own baffling
talents had begun to show themselves at the oddest times as well. He
recalled somehow setting Erestor’s drapes aflame on more than one
occasion with a simple word as well as picking the thoughts of others
out of the air as if they had spoken them aloud. His abilities had not
gone unnoticed by Lord Elrond who had sought to help him harness them,
but to little avail. The likes of such gifts had never been witnessed
by the kind-hearted Elven Lord. And Saelbeth could not make them behave
as he wished. . .or when he wished. They simply. . happened.

His stomach suddenly rumbled, reminding him that he had not eaten since
early that morning. The fish had been most uncooperative this day. He
would have to settle for something from Lord Elrond’s kitchen and then
it was off to practice a bit of archery, the one activity that he could
actually hone with a bit of training.

Perhaps he would visit Tinuvel later that afternoon and see what
mischief they could conjure. His friend was growing far too serious as
of late.

Pulling on his breeches, Saelbeth trotted back towards the House of
Elrond, eyeing the willowy branches of a young birch as he passed. It
would make a fine perch to practice archery from afar. . .

After he had eaten Lord Elrond out of house and home, of course. . .

* * * *
Tinuvel rolled another length of binding and set it upon the table. It
was a tedious job, but it kept his mind from its lurid wanderings, and
he indeed would be glad of the extra rolls should an injury present
itself.

Since he was nearing the end of his apprenticeship, Elrond had taken to
leg hig him on his own in the healing room, trusting that if he was
needed word would be sent and he could be there at a moments notice.
Tossing another rolled binding on the table, the young healer found
himself quite comfortable with the solitude. While Elrond was a
wonderful teacher, and a superb healer, he did tend to use his gifts to
get Tinuvel to speak of things he would not necessarily volunteer. Like
the time he and Ella had put a snake in Arwen's tapestry basket and she
had carried it all the way to the solarium, hissing and wiggling in its
tiny prison only to burst forth like a spring when she set it s down.
Never had anyone heard such a commotion as what issued from the lady's
chamber that day and when Arwen was seen trundling down the corridor
towards her fathers office with the wriggling menace in her fingers, the
two had made themselves quite scarce.

Elrond had begin a lesson on snake bite antidotes and when the time was
right tossed the offending wriggler onto the table, his eyebrows raised
in the way that only the Lord of Imladris could manage. Of course a
lecture of a different sort ensued about the
proper conduct of a gentleman and when Tinu had finally succumbed to the
reprimand with a soft... I am sorry..... Elrond had just smirked and
said, “try a spider next time.... they are harder to catch and the
screams last longer!”

Tinuvel smiled to himself...for all of his pomp and decorum, Lord Elrond
was indeed a very special Elf.

A light rapping on the door drew Tinuvel away from his reminiscing and
he tossed the binding onto the table and stood brushing the fluff from
the bleached fabric off his breeches.

"Come in.....," he called, turning his attention towards the doorway.

In limped the last person that Tinuvel wanted to be left alone with....
Saelbeth. The Elf gripped the doorsill in pain and despite his personal
feelings on the matter, he hurried to the threshold and put his arm
around the injured Elf's waist, spiriting him to the
couch.

“What in all Arda has happened to you?" he inquired, trying to be as
professionally distant as he could.

“Well, I was only trying to hit the target,” Saelbeth replied with a
grimace of discomfort, striving to suppress the urge to whimper like an
injured Elfing.

He then added with a sheepish grin, “while walkinbircbirch limb that may
have been a bit too young for me to tread upon.”

The breath hissed from between his clenched teeth as Tinuvel gently
removed the boot from his left foot, for he was unable to properly point
his toe to aid in the process. An angry swell of red marred his pale
skin along the curve of his ankle and he flinched as Tinuvel’s finger
barely grazed the tender flesh.

Mordor fires, that hurt! Determined not to show just how badly the
injury actually throbbed, Saelbeth ground his teeth once more, fusing
his jaw shut with what he hoped was a calm expression. Every stroke of
Tinuvel’s hand sent searing pain through his foot, but he held as still
as possible, enduring the examination as best he could.

Tinuvel slid his hand along the side of Saelbeth's boot hoping beyond
hope that it was just a minor twist and that this would be as far as he
had to go. A heated lump on the inside of the ankle was all he need to
feel to know that the boot had to come off lest it swell so much that it
needed to be cut off.

Supporting the Elf's leg with him, Tm, Tinuvel slipped the boot off with
as little tugging as he could manage, but feeling Saelbeth tense under
his efforts he knew that the injury was quite tender and would probably
need further attention. He could do this....He had to do this.

As the boot came off in his hand, the healer ran his fingers over the
swelling, manipulating it slightly in his palm, rotating the ankle and
stopping when Saelbeth winced. Looking up at his friend, he could see
that the Elf was in pain, and pushing down any thought he may have that
would impede his actions, Tinuvel set forth to heal the injury.

“ ‘Tis badly sprained," Tinuvel announced, rolling up the archers
breeches, exposing more of the muscular leg then perhaps he needed to.

Grabbing Saelbeth's foot be braced it against his chest and leaned
forward putting enough pressure on the ankle to make the young Elf sweat
just a bit. He did not want to hurt him, but he could not have him
move. Swallowing hard, and suppressing a shiver, the healer wrapped his
hands around the swollen flesh and sent healing energy into the tendons.
Within minutes the warm flesh was mended and Tinuvel released Saelbeth's
ankle to the ground, but not before caressing the still bruised flesh a
bit longer.

Embarrassed by his lack of self control, Tinuvel simply handed Saelbeth
the boot, and stood.

"That should be all that is needed," he replied rather flatly." If you
have pain come back and see me." The healer knew that he was being
rather curt with his dismissal of the archer, but he was quite afraid of
what might come out of his mouth should he allow him to linger.