Paramour

In his dreams, someone was calling for him………reaching. . . cold. . .so
cold. . . dark. . .strands of wisping hair melting into the abyss of. .
.

Saelbeth awoke with a gasping pant, sweat beading his brow despite the
chill of the night air as the desperate cry for help still rang withiis eis ears.

“It was a dream. . .” he murmured to himself, shaking his head in
attempts to clear it. “A dream. . .”

Something within his body throbbed dully, the heaviness oppressive and
stifling, suddenly making breathing an arduous task. He had to get some
air, but no matter how deeply he inhaled, the tightness only worsened
with each passing breath, almost as if he were drowning in the
atmosphere rather than using it to fill his lungs. . .

Drowning. . .that dream. . .

The faint smell of sage wafted from the empty pillow beside him and
shards of reality and dreamscape came together with eerie clarity. . .

That had been no dream. . .

Saelbeth leapt to his feet, clad only in breeches alone, snagging his
heavy woolen cape from the post of the bed as he raced towards the
balcony of his chambers. It would take far too long to runoughough
Elrond’s maze of hallways. This was a time for speed. . .if he was not
too late already. . .

His feet fairly flew over the cold dew of twilight’s kiss as he dashed
towards the lake, heart pounding with every step, afraid of just what he
may find.

The moonlight glittered upon the water’s unbroken surface, ominous and
still. . .the ghosted silence amongst the trees painfully piercing.
Something. . .something was not right. . .

Every now and then, the quiet ripple of the lake sent a gleam of silver
across the water’s core. . .almost as if directing attention to. . .

Saelbeth squinted into the moonlit gloom as a chilling breeze rustled
the shriveled leaves of nearby birches. . . their crackling hiss like a
hinting whisper. . . a spoken, rustling susurration. . . rasping. . .
murmuring. .

Tinuvel. . .

Saelbeth’s heart leapt into his throat and he swore he felt it stop an
instant before the cry ripped from his throat, fracturing the quiet
darkness into shards of despair, the sound ringing from the wall of
trees that encircled the pristine lake, reflecting back to his own ears
with a foreboding chorus of wind-stirred branches, the gusting breath of
Nature swelling to an obscene tornadic gale, whipping the flaxen strands
of Saelbeth’s hair wildly as his bare foot sank into the soft earth of
the shore. But the icy cold of the water did not reach his naked flesh,
but rather swept away with every footfall, parting a muddy path, peeling
away in crystalline layers until it revealed that which Saelbeth could
not bear to contemplate, the limp and unmoving body of his beloved
childhood companion and lover. . .

Tears rushed to blur Saelbeth’s vision as he gathered the naked form
into his arms, desperately searching for any signs of lifeforce. . .and
finding none.

“Tinuvel. . .no. . .” Saelbeth clutched his friend against his chest
amidst the swirling water that walled before him.

He heaved the lifeless body into his embrace, carrying it to the sandy
embankment, the hissing crash of resettling water resounding behind him
with a shower of icy droplets.

The healer’s skin was unbearably frigid, his usually ruby lips purpled
with the kiss of death.

“Tinuvel. . .” Saelbeth murmured brokenly, brushing his friend’s dark
hair away from his unnaturally pale cheek. “Why?”

The dead Elf did not answer.

Saelbeth wrapped the healer within his cloak despite the knowledge that
its warmth would not reach him. Pressing his cheek to that of his
lover, Saelbeth began to weep with a shuddering gasp, his lithe body
heaving with grief as he pressed his lips to the cold stillness of
Tinuvel’s mouth in final, lingering kiss.

“May the grace of the Valar protect you on your journey. . .merilin. .
.” he whispered softly.

Closing his eyes, he prepared to carry the deceased Elf back to the
House of Elrond, but suddenly the faintest pull of light flitted within
his mind. The Elf’s essence had not yet flown to Mandos. . .

“No,” he swore, suddenly grasping Tinuvel’s shoulders. “You will NOT
linger there. . .I know that you can hear me! I know you can!”

Saelbeth pressed his lips again to the limply parted lips, and drawing a
deep breath, began to suck the water from his friend’s lungs as he had
once seen Lord Elrond do with an Elfling who had nearly drowned in the
Bruinen.

Please. . .Saelbeth prayed silently. . .he is all that I have. Let some
of what is mine pass to him. . .spare him. Do not let him leave me . .
.not like this. . .not before he knows. . .

As he spat the first bitter taste of the brackish foulness from his
mouth, he closed his eyes once more, feeling the light of his lifeforce
build within him, breathing it into his friend’s lungs, before
suctioning more of the liquid from the unmoving chest. . .again and
again. . . until his body fairly thrummed with the connection. . .the
thin thread of Tinuvel’s essence held firmly within his mind.

Lasto beth nin. . .tolo dan na n’galad. . .tolo dan na n’galad. . .tolo.
. .

Fingers suddenly curled weakly around his hand and a spluttering cough
erupted from beneath his attentive mouth. Saelbeth quickippeipped the
Elf’s head to the side as he coughed and gagged, vomiting muddy water
onto the pale sand, his body wracking with a convulsive shudder as the
last of the treacherous liquid heaved from his lungs.

The dark haired Elf within his arms shuddered violently, his eyes
rolling back into a state of semi-consciously incoherent ramblings as
Saelbeth lifted him from the ground and into his embrace one more.

“Tinuvel, hold on, meleth,” the archer murmured, knowing full well that
his friend was no longer aware of his surroundings.

The healer’s limp state made him seemingly heavier than he actually was,
yet Saelbeth fairly sprinted across the dewy grasses as fast as his bare
feet would carry him, heedless of the unforgiving cold that nipped at
his now naked shoulders.

Dashing past the curious stares of late night servants, Saelbeth raced
through the corridors of the House of Elrond, towards the Elven Lord’s
chambers, bellowing his name from behind the formidable barrier of an
oak door.

“Heruamin! Tua amin!!!….Saes!!” (My Lord! Hear me! Please!) Saelbeth
cried hoarsely, the staggering weight of Tinuvel’s body suddenly
becoming too much for him to bear.

Sinking to his knees before the barred entrance, Saelbeth pounded
frantically upon the door with a fisted hand, cradling Tinuvel against
his chest as the sound of deadbolt disengaging met his ears.

The curiously concerned visage of the freshly roused Elven Lord peered
out sleepily, his gaze falling upon the naked healer wrapped within
Saelbeth’s damp cloak.

“By the Valar. . .” Elrond exclaimed, flinging the door wide open for
better access to the pair that lay before him. “Saelbeth, what has
happened to him?”

“I-I do not know, Lord Elrond. . .” Saelbeth stammered. “There was a
dream. . .and Tinuvel was drowning. . .and this She-Elfling. . . and
darkness. . .and. . . and. . .”

A sudden flow of tears choked the remainder of the confession from the
young archer’s lips and he glanced up at the kindly Elven Lord
helplessly, the luminous ice of his pale blue eyes obscured by the haze
of moisture.

“Help him, my Lord. Please. Help him. . .” Saelbeth pleaded, his
shoulders shuddering with the effort to contain the raw despair that
threatened to wash his present sanity away.

Gathering the stricken Tinuvel into his arms, the Lord of Imladris swept
him from the floor as if he were little more than an Elfling, carrying
him into the warmth of his chambers where he then laid him gently upon
the spacious bed, covering the healer with several blankets before
turning to Saelbeth once more.

“I am afraid you must go, my child. There is nothing more that you can
do for him except to pray to the Valar for his recovery, for all is in
Their hands now. I shall do my best to help him,” Lord Elrond vowed,
laying a gentle hand upon Saelbeth’s arm. “And do put on some clothing,
pen-neth, for Tinuvel shall need you well and strong. As will we all.”

Saelbeth could do nothing more than nod numbly, biting his lower lip as
he glanced one last time at the still form swaddled in thick linens upon
Lord Elrond’s bed.

***She had led him into the darkness. She had led him. Death was the
obligation she had demanded. A life for a life. Her life.***

“Go now, Saelbeth. . .there is much I must do. I shall send for you as
soon as I am able,” Elrond assured the despondent archer with a gentle
squeeze upon his arm, bringing him back into the reality of the moment
almost against his will.

Saelbeth blinked, shaking his head. “It was not his fault,” he said,
pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Tell him she is
wrong. Tell him.”

A look of befuddlement creased the Elven Lord’s regal brow at the
unexpectedly confusing declaration, but Elrond nodded, for it suddenly
seemed as if such words were worth remembering and prove to be of great
importance later.

“I shall,” he vowed, ushering Saelbeth towards the doorway once more.

This time, the youngling did not balk, but rather trudged through the
rounded archway as if in a daze, his footfalls dragging heavily upon the
wooden floor. As the door clicked shut behind him, Lord Elrond pondered
the eerieness of his words momentarily before turning back to the
unconscious healer upon his bed.

This time, the youngling did not balk, but rather trudged through the
rounded archway as if in a daze, his footfalls dragging heavily upon the
wooden floor. As the door clicked shut behind him, Lord Elrond pondered
the eerieness of his words momentarily before turning back to the
unconscious healer upon his bed.

** "My Lord! Help me!! Please!!" ***

Down further he sank, deeper into the darkness, far away from the voices
that called to him. Surrounded by void, that which wasTinuvel, healer of
Imladris, curled in upon itself in the stillness .He knew she wasn’t
here, he could feel it, and for that he was both grateful and saddened.
He had failed her not once , but twice ,and now this nothingness was the
price he would pay for his incompetence.

Perhaps she had journeyed on her own, or maybe she waited for him still
just beyond the edge of this pergatorious limbo. It would not be long
before he would be able step across the threshold into the light
himself, for the physical body that held him in this harbor of
nothingness was weak and vulnerable. It would succumb.

Tinuvel wrapped a barely shimmering strandsilvsilvered light around his
finger and watched as it flickered and quavered in the pitch.

No. . .it would not be long at all.


Elrond closed his eyes tighter and tried for the third time in so many
days to follow the faint thread that bound his apprentice tenaciously to
life. If he could not reach him, then there was no hope left for any
recovery for the youngling’s body had begun to shut down.
The wet rattling in his chest had faded to a bubbling gurgle and his
body was cold despite the numerous layers of linen that had been wrapped
about him.

Systematically Elrond allowed reality to slip away and let the faintest
flicker of quick silver guide him along through the darkness. He would
not be able to stay very long in this state so if he were able to locate
the healer he would have to be swift in persuading him to heal himself.
Tinuvel was beyond the aid of herbs and plasters. His fea was unraveling
a bit at a time and soon it would be nothing but tiny motes of light
that would pulse dimly and then go out for all eternity. He was fading
quickly.

Gathering up all his conscious effort, Elrond forced his way through the
murky void until out of the corner of his perception he spotted a
ghosted figure curled into a tight ball. Bits of light peeling from him
like the leaves blowing from a maple in the fall, leaving him less
vibrant and more transparent with every passing second. He had found
him, but was he already too late?

Tinuvel felt the darkness stir around him as if someone had opened a
window in a musty room and a faint humming filled his ears. A luminous
glow cut through the heavy gloom and enveloped him in its incandescence
and blinded him with its pure clarity. He tried to shift from his
position and peer into the florid lumen, but he was only able to make
out a haloed outline of large robed figure towering over him.

Mandos??

“Tinuvel …….lasto beth nin…” a low, sonorous voice rumbled through the
humming glare and the healer rose up on one arm drawn to its melodic
pitch.

“Lasto beth nin…..” repeated the brilliant figure as it bent towards the
healer’s recumbent form. A streaming hand reached out and hovered near
Tinuvel beckoning him to grasp its pale fingers.

“Take my hand pen-neth,” it implored as it drew even nearer, its
brilliance almost too much for the healer to bear.

Blindly, Tinuvel slipped his own dim essence into the grasp of the
gleaming being, only to pull away in agony as white-hot flame seared
him. Scrambling onto his haunches , the healer put some distance between
him and the still advancing form. He did not want any more pain. He just
wanted be left alone.

“Tinuvel!” bellowed the figure, its voice no longer pleasant or
soothing.

“It hurts,” replied Tinuvel, keeping a close watch on the vibrant
fingers that still reached for him.

“I do not want any more pain,” he shouted as the heat scorched him
again.
The figure suddenly straightened and stilled as if contemplating its
next move, and then it began to fade, to dim, until only a pale shimmer
illuminated its recognizable form.

“Yet you willingly cause it,” accused the voice that had brought him
such comfort and taught him more than he could have even thought
possible.

“Heruamin, I have failed. . .”replied Tinuvel falling to his knees
before the manifestation of his Lord.

“You have failed yourself,” came the curt answer. The healer covered
his face with his hands, almost unable to reply.

“Let me go,” croaked Tinuvel, sobs beginning to spasm his body.

“I cannot,” whispered Elrond.

“Saes, Heru! I cannotr thr the pain,” whimpered the healer, unable to
hold the Elven Lord’s silvered gaze.

“Do you not see that by taking your life you are not ending your pain,
but simply transferring it to those who care for you. You are failing
far more than yourself by your selfish actions,” lectured Elrond, unsure
that his words were striking home, but
positive that he had no other choice but to say them.

Tinuvel almost dissolved at Elrond’s reprimand, his hands falling limply
to his sides.

“Heruamin, I cannot!” The healers voice was as hollow as his stare.

Elrond began to move away, his form flickering with his essence. He had
stayed as long as he dared.

“Hear me, Tinuvel. I will tell you this. . . the pain will NOT go away,
even in death. It will be magnified tenfold over the years that you
wander the Halls of Waiting pondering what could have been, wallowing a
guilt that was never yours in the first place. The choice is yours and
your alone pen-neth, but choose wisely for once you cross that thresholou wou will not return.”

Before Tinuvel could look up, Elrond was gone, and he was alone, and
cold and he still hurt. Curling up again, the healer let the Elven
Lord’s words melt the corners of his frozen heart allowing just a minute
amount of hope to take root in the icy barreness that was his soul.

A tingling warmth trickled through his being, sparked from an unknown
source and he closed his eyes against the vertigo washed over him.