Disclaimer: The characters in this story do not belong to me, but are being used for amusement only, and all rights remain with the estate of JRR Tolkien.
The Mithlond Elves were becoming accustomed to their strange guest. Some knew whence he came, what he had been – but just what he was now both he, and they, still tried to understand.
He looked human, and well aged. But, the healer, knowing of his mission, thought him probably immortal. Mithrandir professed it likely; but this body was too new for him to understand and recognise the differences.
Now it hurt him… again. Toothache – nay, toothagony, more.
“It must be pulled. Now to hope for Elvish teeth that re-grow, or you will eventually be able to do nought but suck!”