Title & Chapter Number: Paramour 1/?
Author(s): & - Author's Index
Fandom: Tolkien
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: We do not own any of the characters except Tinuvel. The rest are property of JRR Tolkien and others. This is just for fun, no profit is made... blah blah blah...
Warnings: Devirginizing hot sex between two males.
Betas: EmberVixen and Leanan
Cast: Saelbeth/Tinuvel
Timeline: TA AU
Spoilers: Nope
Summary: Young Saelbeth was found as a parentless Elfling and has been raised in Imladris all of his life feeling he belonged with no one until he meets Tinuvel, a healer's apprentice taken to Imladris by Erestor as a favor for an old friend. The two Elflings become fast friends, until one day, Tinuvel's feelings for Saelbeth begin to change. When did his friend suddenly become so attractive. . .and so arousing?
Notes: Tinuvel is entirely Leanan's creation. Enjoy him. He's a hottie. Hehehehe..... And as for Saelbeth, he is a non-canon character, so I made him like I see him. And I see him this way. He rocks.
Tinuvel swallowed hard, unable to tear his gaze away from the sight of Saelbeth's lean body as the young archer dove unsuccessfully for another elusive salmon. He would probably never catch them that way, but was convinced that by some manner of stealth he just might grab one. Diving beneath the surface once more, he swam some distance away before coming up for air triumphantly, a twig tangled between his fingers.
"Orc balls," he muttered, tossing the stick onto the grassy embankment near the river's sandy beach.
Tinuvel would have been amused were it not for the sudden shift in his feelings. Saelbeth was fast approaching adulthood, his muscles lithe and honed from the time he spent amongst the treetops, practicing archery from all manner of odd angles, sometimes dangling upside down from the nearest limb and other times, crouched amongst precariously thin branches, targeting driftwood and fallen timber as if they were deadly adversaries. How Tinu longed to share in the carefree activities of his friend, yet his own skills were kept upon the ground where gentle fingers were of more use to wounded flesh than swift arrows.
His thoughts drifted back to the present as Saelbeth sank beneath the crystalline water, his flaxen hair trailing after him like a silken serpent as he scrubbed the river silt from his body with his fingers. The young elf resurfaced with a gasp, his curtain of hair suctioned to his shoulders like a golden cloak. Tinu's tongue darted out to unconsciously wet his lips. By the Valar, Saelbeth was beautiful! Why had he never noticed this before? And why was he noticing it now? With a frown, he silently admonished himself for admiring his friend in such a lurid manner. He should not look upon him that way. It wasn't. . .proper. And besides, Saelbeth would never return the gesture. . . would he?
Saelbeth paused in his antics, his young body gleaming slickly in the hazy light of evening's final hours. Tinuvel's eyes were upon him yet again, his gaze questingly curious. Squeezing the remnants of water from his pale tresses, Saelbeth tossed his damp mane over one shoulder and waded to the sand-strewn grasses where his friend sat with his arms clasped about his legs, head resting on his knees.
"Merilin *, what troubles you?" he asked, emerging from the shallows, rivulets of moisture running enticingly down the rippled planes of his stomach and into the thatch of curls that housed his. . .
Iluvatar's balls!
Tinuvel averted his gaze quickly, his dark hair falling to hide the flush that suddenly crept over his cheeks.
"N-nothing. It is nothing." Tinuvel stammered, wincing as Saelbeth's hand came to rest upon his shoulder. He involuntarily jerked away, for the touch of the other's hand upon his bare flesh was simply too much to bear.
Confusion rested within the pale clarity of Saelbeth's eyes. Had he done something to offend the healer? Maybe he was simply showing off too much or maybe Tinuvel was aghast at his unabashed nudity or maybe.. .
"I. . I have to go," Tinuvel announced suddenly, interrupted Saelbeth's internal tirade.
"But. . ." the remainder of the sentence would have been useless to utter, for the dark haired Elf was on his feet and walking rather hurriedly back towards the House of Elrond, leaving Saelbeth crouching naked upon the sand, hand still outstretched for an unseen gesture of comfort.
The young healer did not look back. He could not. He knew Saelbeth's frosted blue eyes would be following him, his body slippery and glistening in the sunlight, and he did not trust himself not to fall down into the sand at his feet and lap up the moisture as it ran in rivulets down the archers muscular thighs.
With his eyes cast down at the path, Tinuvel continued to plod back towards the safety of the House, back to his books, back to his herbs, back to the privacy of his own room to alleviate this incessantly annoying pull at his groin.
Never before had the sight of his friend aroused such feelings in him before, and even that was annoying, because it meant that either he had all of a sudden found Saelbeth desperately attractive or that he had possibly felt this way all along and just been too dull to figure it out.
Regardless of the reasons behind the stirring in his crotch, the problem still remained, and despite his best efforts to walk off the rising menace, he found that it just seemed to be getting more insistent with every step. By the time Tinuvel had reached the main part of the courtyard, his situation had quite tripled in size and walking about in public was neither comfortable nor advisable. Spying a rather large privet in neglected part of the outer garden, the healer gingerly made his way over towards the overgrown greenery and slipped himself between the towering spires, completely hidden from view from any one who might happen to pass by.
Loosening the stays on his breeches just enough to free the source of his anguish, the healer wrapped his fist around the dusky purple tip of his arousal, his body shuddering at his touch. Already his breathing was increasing, just at the thought of release, and though he had already visited this private pleasure once already today, he found his body most eager to send him to the pulsing land of blissful relief once again.
Firmly Tinuvel palmed his aching member, thumbing the ridge below the head with practiced ease, knowing just what fingers would give him the quickest results. Within moments, the young healers hand had found its rhythm and his hips had begun their dance, thrusting against the firm pressure of his fist until he felt the white heat of his release beginning to crawl up his thighs,. Tensing for a brief moment, Tinuvel allowed the pleasure to crest, and then when he felt the fist waves of his orgasm beginning to pulse, he stroked himself quickly to completion, the heated stream of his lust pearling the dark green of the privet as it dripped from the tiny leaves to fall wantonly to the ground.
With a low groan, that he was suddenly self conscious for uttering, Tinuvel held onto his softening member and quickly glanced from the bushes to make sure that he had not made himself a spectacle. Sighing, as much from the tremendous relief he felt, as for the sheer annoyance at his body, he quickly adjusted his satisfied body part back into his breeches and laced them loosely. Pulling his tunic down over his still noticeable bulge, the healer stepped nonchalantly from the bushes. Wanting nothing more than to be on his way, and not think about Saelbeth and erections, and, uumm .... Saelbeth and…..mmmmm......
Tinuvel gave himself a severe pinch on the arm and nearly collided with Saelbeth as the archer rounded the edge of the dense foliage. Taking a step back, Saelbeth eyed his friend curiously, for the healer was quite flushed.
"Tinuvel," Saelbeth said, moving to brush the dark-haired Elf's cheek with the back of his hand. "Are you ill?"
The healer brushed Saelbeth's touch away almost irritably. "No. . Saelbeth. . I am fine. . .I have. . .patients to attend to. . .things to do. . .I. . .shall see you another time," Tinuvel said rather stiffly, hurrying away before his friend could utter another word.
~*~*~*~
Rather than pursue the issue with the healer further, Saelbeth had returned to the river to attend 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 obstinately.
"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 loud!" 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."
~*~*~*~
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. . .
~*~*~*~
*Merilin - "Nightingale"
*Pen-neth - "Little One"~ Next Chapter ~
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