[FINISHED]One of the best known original m/m romances in Russia, loved by many. It won the Russian Wattys 2015 Award, now it's available in English too.
Alva Ahayrre is a Creedan nobleman and a courtier, a beautiful and frivolous redhead...
The Fanneshtou entrance hall was always busy. Alva had been here often, and knew who to talk to and whom to bribe, to get seen faster. He was taken to the chamber, where Meda Moreyli, Master of the Healers Guild (a Creedan by birth, judging by his double name), was already waiting for him.
"Welcome to Fanneshtou," he said, ceremoniously, "What brings the highborn Chevalier Alva Ahayrre of Trianess here?"
The highborn chevalier thought angrily, "One hell of a stupid question! Like he does not see an unconscious elf in my arms."
He sat his burden down in the nearest chair, and said, "This is an elf. He had been hurt and beaten. Heal him, and I will pay well."
Moreyli came closer, put out a bony arm, turned the elf's face to him, looked into his eyes, touched the forehead, put aside the hair to see the ears, and turned down the shirt collar to reveal a scar.
The fear that flared in the captive's eyes was so evident, Alva felt burned by it. He guessed right away that the elf feared being sold as a slave. "Why don't you check his muscles and poke into his mouth, bastard quack," he thought, annoyed, but said nothing.
"I am reluctant to disappoint you, Chevalier, but I cannot assure you that our Guild possesses the skill to heal a person of the Ancient Race," said Moreyli.
Frowning, Alva tried to choose his words carefully. "Fanneshtou is renowned for its capable healers. I have faith that you can triumph over any ill, physical or spiritual. The cost is no object." With these words, he dumped a good pile of gold on the table; it was more than a half of what he had on him.
Meda Moreyli drummed his fingers, rubbed his chin and looked at the elf again. "I am not sure," he said. "It would take a great deal of effort. There are special potions to be made, to heal all these marks of ... hmmm ... careless use. The patient is badly injured, in body and spirit. The treatment would be difficult."
Alva sighed with relief. He realized the healer was just haggling and added the rest of the gold in his purse to the pile already on the table. He would have let himself be bled, if they needed his blood for the healing.
"Chevalier Ahayrre is very generous, but..."
"Not another word, oh, wisest Meda Moreyli!" Alva unclasped a ruby bracelet and tossed it on the table as well. "I will be back in two weeks, and I expect to see my..." he hesitated, "my friend back on his feet. I hope that there are those who speak the Ancient tongue here, because he does not speak the Common. And one more thing..."
After a pause, Alva added, "Once he starts to feel better, do not keep him prisoner, but do limit his movements and put a spell on him, so that the noble elf does not leave the confines of Fanneshtou until the treatment is complete."
Moreyli smirked in understanding. "Chevalier need not worry. Your... charge will not leave the temple before you return."
Two novices picked up the elf by the arms and pretty much carried him away. Chevalier Ahayrre took his leave of the Guild Master and returned through the portal back to the Essanti steppes, hundreds of leagues away from the Fanneshtou. The portal, mission accomplished, instantly flickered out. Alva got back in the saddle and went on to Trianess.
Ithildin, how I see him. Not a fanart, but an original picture by famous Linda Bergkvist
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