Who: David Wenham and Faramir (Dreaming Theatre) + Russell Crowe (Valimar)
What: Russell's meets someone he's heard about.
Warnings: G? R for language? Hey! We behaved ourselves!!! Extra Warning: THIS IS LONG. Cancel all plans for the rest of the week if you plan to read it.
Note: We had so much fun with Dave and Russell a while back, that we decided to allow them another visit. But if you thought this was the last of the saga of Russell, Dave and Theodred... you just don't know us very well, do you? ;) We couldn't resist adding another personality to the fray. Whee.
A note about Valimar: Be warned: it's a very adult game, and is not recommended for all audiences.
A note about Dreams: Dreams players are 'dual' characters. Dave can shift to Faramir, Paris shifts to Theodred, and of course, confusion, angst and hilarity can often ensue.
This is part Two - be sure to read Part One first!!!
"No, I do not mind. I have not talked about this in so long. Only one other can know what took place, and he is no longer one I speak with. I became involved with a local man, a librarian actually. I have a love of books... I met him in the downtown library. He learned of our shifting lives many months later, well after we had fallen in love. He was a gentle, accepting man that did his best to understand. But he began to harbor a desire to travel to my world, and romanticized the notion far beyond what Gondor could ever provide him. And even worse... he got too close, and became a shift himself for a time, due to a stubborn pair of headstrong elves that were determined to come through, and grabbed the first two available men. One was my lover. The other was a friend, who then became my lover's lover as well, as their shifts were so intensely close that the attraction bled across. Eventually they were freed of the shifts. He has now left on something called a research grant, and I hope has found happiness elsewhere. I suppose your question was well-put. No one in their right mind would leave New Zealand - the manner of our lives here means that our minds are not always right, perhaps."
It sounds to Russell like Faramir really needed to get that off of his chest; so he just listens, quietly, one hand still idly stroking Irean's side. He's starting to get the grasp of this "shifting" thing. Dave has mentioned it, of course, even explained it, but the full measure of the phenomenom is in how it actually affects the people afflicted with it. It all sounds like a terrible burden, and no wonder! He wouldn't mind too much if Maximus or Jack or Jim "came across," so to speak, but with his luck he'd get Hando. Or, god forbid, Sid.
By the time Faramir looks like he's reached a conclusion, Russell looks quite absorbed. "I guess not," he replies, thoughtfully. "But...let me get this straight. It's not only affecting people who were in those movies? I mean, if these elves of yours could 'possess' innocent bystanders... Dave never mentioned that. Or if he did, I didn't get it at the time."
"I don't think there is a danger of this going past our small circle, Russell. The elves in question are young, strong and were determined to help save their father at the time. We were in a crises that crossed our worlds. The situation has been taken care of, though, and they are no longer needed here. It would seem that danger and uncontrollable hormones are two main factors in our lives. At first we shifted because another was pulling our strings, but so often these days, we shift in to find the objects of our desire in a city far from home."
Faramir snorts cynically, recalling the elves behaviour when they were here. They enjoyed their young new bodies immensely, and spend most of their time doing what two elves in lust would naturally be drawn to do. He's glad they have left.
But who is he to state that there will never be another odd shift again? "To be on the safe side, do not wander past the forest surrounding Dave's home. I would hate to see you find the source of our shifting, and prove me wrong."
Forest? What forest? Russell looks honestly baffled for a moment before making a leap of logic. This is a beach-house, after all. Not really the kind of place someone lives unless they're a surf bum, and if that were the case then Russell would have noticed the usual associated welter of board, wetsuits, and gritty fruit-scented wax.
"Oh, you mean Dave's actual home...safe enough, I've never been there. And I'd rather not push my luck. My life's complicated enough already without having to worry about randomly turning into a hallucinating math genius or something. Though on second thought, that might be useful..." He smiles at Faramir, liking the guy. He's a little dour, but very nice. "So aside from that, do you like it here?"
Faramir smiles, visibly relaxing. He doesn't mind explaining what he knows about shifting to Russell, but it can be confusing, even to one who's been doing it for years now. He's happy to move on to easier, pleasant topics.
"I do indeed like it here, and come here as often as I can. The library is very engrossing, much better than any we have at home. And hot dogs. I like hot dogs, with lots of mustard." He mock-frowns and continues. "The beer is a pale imitation of the ales I grew up with, though. Oh! But you have hot showers, better bedding, and very good theatre." He clears his throat, and adds slyly, "It's also a much shorter trip to visit with my friends from Rohan than actually riding to Rohan would be."
"You just haven't been having the right beer, then. I'll have to bring something over next time." Russell snorts at the very thought that any brew in any world could be better than his favorites; that will have to be rectified, and soon. Still, he's mollified by the "good theater" comment, because he considers his own work to be included in that statement. He idly wonders what Faramir would think of "Master And Commander"...
"And I assume you're talking about Theodred? He's the only other one I've met. I'm, uh, not very social these days. Dave's been nice about that. Or maybe he's just keeping me to himself. I admit I'm a little hard to explain." He cocks one eyebrow at Faramir. "He never mentioned me to you? Though come to think of it, how do you two communicate anyway? Notes?"
"Ah. At first, we were like children who did not understand the shifting, or how to control it. We did keep journals to convey messages to each other, but as time went on and we learned a closer acceptance of each other, our ties have strengthened. He can easily summon me, or I can reach him. I do sense anger and panic in him, this sense only started earlier this year. I do not mind helping my friend when he needs it."
Faramir pauses, and consider Russell's offer of beer. It might be nice to meet him again in a more social way, a visit intended for just the two of them, and not one in which Faramir is merely an interruption. "No, he has never mentioned you. Do not take offense at that, both of us try to use discretion when speaking of those we are intimate with. The shifting process can shatter all sense of privacy. We have reached certain agreements about sharing what we do with our lives here in Wellington. Dave wished this more than I... I suppose by his standards I am promiscuous. I meet Theodred here, yes, and also Eomer. Sometimes I make new friends in the taverns, for an evening." Faramir bites his lip to try to contain a smile, and continues. "Though perhaps it might be that Dave's standards are relaxing too of late." Faramir thinks that if this is the case, he has picked a fine one to relax with.
Russell pretends to look offended at that. "Hey now! Dave did not pick me up in a bar," he huffs indignantly. "Matter of fact, I was trespassing. He has a very nice beach out there." The name "Eomer" doesn't ring any bells, but by the sound of it and the context he's guessing a relative of Theodred's. And speaking of which...
"Theo was a, an accident, I suppose, or a whim, though it's feels rude to phrase it like that. Oh hell. That's not going to cause any problems on your end, is it?" He's not sure if he'll see the man again, but he knows that he does, saying "no" will be entirely out of the question. "Because if he does come back, I can't promise anything, but if you want me to try to back off just say the word." Russell's expression on that last part is interesting -- not quite the regret one might expect of someone contemplating breaking off a tryst. A little of that, yes, but also the dismayed look of a man contemplating a difficult mathematic equation.
All this talk of beer and taverns and friends is making Faramir thirsty, and to be honest, it was evening back in Gondor, but since it's still morning here, he grabs the two coffee cups and refills them before settling back on the couch.
"If you would wish to see Theo again, and can find your way, then do so. I love the man but I have no hold on him. He is bound to another, Eomer, though both do as they please in these matters." Faramir chuckles, thinking of his two friends. "Believe me, I once tried to make my friendship and attraction to both Theo and Eomer a complex matter. It is not. Men from their lands have a more simplistic view of things, I think. They love who they love." Faramir reddens slightly as he slips into the language of this world. "And they fuck who they wish to fuck. There is no complication in their minds on this. They enjoy sex. Quite a bit. To stop either of them from finding their fun where ever their impulse takes them would be harder than trying to convince the sun not to rise."
Russell accepts the coffee cheerfully, though to be honest he's not in the mood for it any more. There definitely must be beer in their very near future, he decides. It's never too early for that. He listens, and Faramir's explanation makes him feel a little better about the situation.
"So if I'm getting this straight, it sounds like the only person with a potential problem here is Dave. And maybe Paris." He swirls the coffee absently. "I haven't met Paris yet. Which is going to be really weird, after Theodred-- Yeah. Definitely weird. 'Nice to meet you, mate, heard so much about you, oh no need to shake hands, your body and I are already well-acquainted...'"
Faramir nods. "This is most likely right. They are bound to each other, and in their way of thinking, I believe that means they remain true to each other. I cannot predict their behaviour if they were to find themselves in mutual agreement regarding another man's attractiveness, though..." Faramir wonders about this. For all he knows, they have already taken others into their bed together. He doubts it, though.
He turns his focus back to Russell after a moment lost in thought. "It is not your worry. I still hold to the notion that we are all not truly in our own worlds, and thus the rules of engagement are slightly skewed. A true escape world where all could be free to act upon fantasy would be a very nice place to find now and then, indeed, would it not?"
"I can see your point," Russell replies, slowly, thoughtfully. "After all, it is all a little crazy. Alternate worlds, fictional characters coming to life -- no offense," he adds, and sees none in Faramir's answering nod. "Either that or I've gone insane and I'd rather not be cured, thank you very much. Screw Auntie Em, there's no way I'm going back to Kansas. ...sorry, cultural reference. If Dave never subjected you to 'The Wizard Of Oz,' I'll have to make you watch it."
Russell knows he tends to chatter on a bit when he's trying to think without looking like he's thinking too hard, and he gives Faramir an apologetic half-smile. "And if none of that made any sense at all, I apologize. The thought of 'going back,' as you say...obviously I'd rather not. Do you?"
Faramir's let his head relax against the back of the couch, and his feet are now propped up on the coffee table. He's thoroughly enjoying the fact that Russell talks a lot. There's a couple of reasons for that. First, it makes him feel less self conscious about his own well-deserved reputation for using twenty words when two would suffice. Secondly, he likes the sound of Russell's voice. His accent, his flippant use of these cultural references, all of it. Faramir has a weakness here - he loves to hear a man's voice, and he's practically wallowing in Russell's right now.
"Sometimes, I don't mind going back. It depends on what I was doing when I left, because I return at nearly the same instant I left, no matter how long I am here. But I do not wish to go back right now, I am enjoying myself here with you."
Russell chuckles softly. He hasn't had much reason to laugh in a long time, but he's been finding all sorts of excuses since he ran into a certain Aussie on a certain Wellie beach. It's nice. "You say you can get a sense of Dave, wherever he is right now. Is he all right there for the moment? Because much as I love that guy, I have no idea when I'll have another opportunity to get to know you better."
If that sounds flirtatious, Russell didn't mean it that way...then again, maybe he did. His "signals" have been completely crosswired, after all. The fact that he also keeps clear eye contact and leans forward into Faramir's personal space as he speaks further muddies the waters. He's not really aware that he's doing it. But he is finding Faramir genuinely interesting. "If I may ask, what is your situation back home right now?"
Now, that is another complicated question! Faramir wonders if he can explain it. But if it keeps those eyes hooked on his and that warm body in close proximity, he's willing to try, and the realization of how much he's enjoying this new level of intimacy catches him by surprise. But he's perfectly willing to go along with it. "We are about to enter a great battle. I will be injured, but I shall survive. When peace returns, I will be married." Faramir smiles gently at the surprised look on Russell's face. "I am no seer. I am a fictional character, and I have read my own book. I know how my story ends."
Two things occur to Russell at that. The first is obvious: how odd that must be, and thank god there's a happy ending coming or he doesn't know how any man could stand it. The other, though...
"But you come here, and nothing's written," he muses aloud. "You can stay as long as you like and nothing changes back home, but here there's no book. No pat happy ending. Just...whatever happens, happens." He grins, boyishly. "I think you're a very lucky bloke to have your cake and eat it too."
Faramir can't help it. His grin spreads across his face, and he reaches to grab Russell by the arms. "That's exactly right! You see it. Whatever happens, happens. I know that I was brought to this world by another's wishes... but since then, many of us have taken back our destiny in this place. I am sure that it was never intended that I would fall in love here, or reunite with old friends, or come to the aid of Dave and his friends. But that is the way of life, when every step forward trods on a blank, unwritten page!"
"Life's full of surprises," Russell agrees, unable to resist mirroring that contagious smile. Faramir's so confusing, how he looks and smells like Dave and yet not. And his joy in spontaneity is so utterly infectious! "Want to know what I said to Dave about this world, when we first met?" His gaze dances with half-mad mischief.
Life is indeed full of surprises. This morning, Faramir had a full day of boring research and yet another in a series of countless meetings regarding the city conduits awaiting him. That day's only half over now back home, but here he sits, sharing a moment of connection with a new friend. Faramir's giddy that Russell's caught the mood. "Tell me! I would wish to know."
"Sure. But you have to come closer...a little closer...yeah, right there." With Faramir's hands still wrapped around his arms, Russell rests both palms on the Gondorian's knees and steals a kiss, bold as brass. "Or, hmmm, something like that. Maybe there was more tongue, come to think of it..."
Faramir is definitely caught off guard. He's grown quite fond of Russell indeed, and has been feeling that delicious feeling crawling around in his belly that signals a physical attraction. And then there's the interestingly disorienting smell the man carries... a combination of a very recognizable Theo, and what Faramir can only assume is his own shiftmate.
"If you are not sure you have translated this encounter correctly, perhaps you should repeat it... slowly and with great thought and effort?" And this time it's Faramir that steals the kiss. And lingers.
Russell would make some awful pun about scholars and foreign tongues, except that would mean dislodging the one hovering so temptingly at the very edge of his lips. Encouraged, he nudges a little to coax more from the other man, his palms moving on slow caressing circles now. He's not sure how much he has left in him after last night and this morning, but this is very nice... Probably wrong. But what isn't and why not? As long as Faramir isn't protesting. Which he isn't. Oh wow is he ever not protesting.
Farmair's liking this turn of events, though he's a little sad that keeping Russell's mouth so engaged is preventing him from joking, rambling... talking. Faramir is slightly disappointed to lose that sound, but he's well compensated as Russell realizes that kissing is a very good thing to be doing right now.
He shifts (no pun intended) sideways just enough to press up closer, and slides his hands up Russell's arms to find his shoulders, guiding them into a closer, more intimate position. The kiss breaks, eventually, and Faramir licks his lips, savoring the taste. "That tasted more like a literal translation. Thank you." Faramir's eyes twinkle with a teasing wit, but his lips are still wet and practically vibrating from the kiss. Dave has nothing he needs to explain or excuse himself for as far as Faramir's concerned. The Gondorian completely understands the lure, now.
The new position is better, but it could be better yet. Thus Russell moves the rest of the way over, joining Faramir practically on the same couch cushion with one arm sliding around the other man's back and the other hand still gently caressing through the nice slacks Dave had come home in.
"I have to ask something," he says quietly, nuzzling Faramir's cheek then leaning his forehead against his. "It's going to sound strange, but I don't want any misunderstandings. Don't...don't tell me to do anything, even if you're joking. I can explain later if you want, but I like this the way it is, and...it's complicated." He's still smiling to ease away the brief awkwardness, fingers sliding up over one hip. "Now this is interesting. Do kids 'make out' in Middle-Earth too, or are some lessons in order?"
Faramir finds Russell's request odd, but not a difficult one to honor. "I do not believe we need complications. Your time here should be pleasant, whether it is with Dave... or with myself."
Faramir laughs lightly at Russell's question. He has somehow missed hearing the phrase 'make out' up till now, but he thinks he gets the gist of it. "Kids are kids everywhere. Minas Tirith is a wonderful city to grow up in. So many niches and shadowed corners and small spaces behind the crowded homes." Faramir tilts his head and steals a kiss, letting his lips continue to brush against Russell's as he speaks. "It is amazing how two young teenagers can completely vanish in the midst of it all, if they so desire. Not that I would know anything of such actions, mind you."
"Oh no, not at all. Not a fine virtuous prince like yourself." Russell's delighted to affirm that some things are indeed universal...or panuniversal, as the case may be. And it's also nice to just play, with no pressure to perform. "Dave says I'm confusing. If I am, just tell me." He can't resist cupping his hand around Faramir's cheek and stealing another kiss, this time slow and thoughtful as he tries to sorta out what's like Dave and what isn't. It's strange. And pleasant.
It's not at all unpleasant to let the whisps of old memories linger at the back of his mind as Faramir's hands move over Russell's shoulders, then slide up the back of his neck, his fingers curling in the man's hair. Faramir wishes his hair was longer, but it still feels very nice under his hands. He lets his eyes slide closed, and imagines for a moment they stand in cool shadows in that one particular niche in the stone wall surrounding the city's fifth level...
Wherever Faramir's mind just went, it certainly seems like a good place to be -- Russell can feel his breath quicken, his fingers tighten slightly. He can almost sense the pulse quickening, and he has a feeling that if he laid a hand ever-so-accidentally in the other man's lap...
It's hard to resist moving that fast, but he manages. Instead, Russell lets his fingers drift up the other man's shirt, tracing familiar contours of stomach and chest. "Tell me what you're thinking?" he asks, very softly.
Faramir blinks slowly, and remembers he's still in Dave's cabin, 'making out' so to speak, with Dave's close friend. It's a surreal feeling to have slid in memories back into the city he's shifted away from today.
"I was thinking what a fine soldier you would be, had you been born in my lands. You are well built, beautiful of body, strong, yet thoughtful, too. Your spirit is bright."
Faramir's hands slide forward through Russell's hair, slipping down to his cheeks, gently tilting his head so that he can gaze full and strong into those clear, perfect eyes. "I would be reluctant to leave Minas Tirith so often were there one such as you in the ranks, who might offer pleasant distraction from duties at home."
Russell is genuinely touched, almost to the point of blushing. It's one thing to play a hero on screen, another to be told by someone who has almost died on the battlefield (god knows how many times!) that perhaps, in another time and place, you could very well have been one. He has a feeling Faramir doesn't flatter idly, so he doesn't put up any token bashful protest.
"Then I suppose I'd just have to ride out at your side, and to hell with what any other commander ordered," he replies, playfully, but with a quiet ringing undertone of truth. He kisses the corner of Faramir's mouth, light and soft, as his fingers find the edge of his shirt and rest against a sliver of bare skin. Faramir can feel him smiling. "The only question is, would I have to sneak into your tent after dark, or would you have some clever excuse for having me there n broad daylight the minute that tent went up?"
Faramir can't help it, he's competely ready to wrap his arms around Russell and pull him close in a tight grip for another nice snog, but instead he whispers softly, and dare he admit it, rather contentedly? "You'd be my second, and therefore I'd have need of your advice by day and night. All rules of camp would allow you free passage to my tent or anywhere I might take my leisure."
Faramir is a bit startled at his own suddenly encroaching daydream, one that follows on the heels of his words and settles into his mind. He'd best shake his head clear of cobwebs, this is Dave's friend, not a man he's close enough to to have the right to pull into his own fantasies. "I am a ranger. Tents are only one option. You'd be surprised to learn of the trysting places in my lands."
Well, maybe Russell's already well into Faramir's fantasies. Dave can just deal with it.
"I'm starting to think," Russell murmurs, eyes half-closed as he lets himself be tugged into this rather charming fantasy, "that I might have been better suited for any world other than my own. Though yours sounds especially interesting..."
The pull is so alluring he finds a sudden need to try to ground them both again; he glances up to add, teasingly, "Though I know you're leaving out the parts about rations and frostbite and bedbugs and gut wounds...still. It's got to be worth it to, to be what you are. To do what you do. To really make a difference. To have evil you can actually fight, actually do something about..." Another quick boyish smile, unable to resist. "And you really did like Gladiator? Damn."
"Bedbugs? Not in Gondor. Though, I hear Rohan sometimes mistakes their own for colts." Faramir snickers, knowing that joke would have gotten a dark flash of narrowed eyes from Eomer, before his friend would realize it was a joke. Russell's quicker than that, he's realizing. And Faramir is impressed. He knows that a good actor will spend time learning about the story they enact, and it sounds as if Russell prepared for his role. Though... might there be a bit of his own struggle in that wistful dream of fighting the good fight? "Of course I liked Gladiator. How could I not? A story to inspire, a hero dressed in enough leather to protect but not enough to hide his considerable assets." Faramir's eyes darkened slightly as he recalled some of the thoughts that crossed his mind at the sight of that outfit. "You wear leather well."
True enough, Russell is already snorting at the exceedingly silly joke. At Faramir's assessment of his onscreen...assets...he looks up to catch the man wearing that very interesting expression, and he can't decide whether to chuckle or blush, so he does both. "You wear leather pretty well yourself," he replies, stroking Faramir's chest with his fingertips as if tracing the worn-faint Tree of Gondor embossed on said armor.
"It's amazing, you know?" he adds softly, knowing it'll sound maudlin but not caring one bit. "All those times I've been lucky enough to get to play the hero, and you really are one. Or will be soon, when the rest of your world finally notices. About damn time, I say." It's suddenly sobering. He's not a deep fan of the books or movie, but the more he thinks about what he does remember of Faramir the character... His smile fades slightly, concerned. "You've never not been at war, have you?"
Faramir considered the question. He tested his earliest memories. Even as a child, his dreams were unnerving. And growing up so close to Mordor certainly had taken it's toll. Faramir somehow had always known he would lose his beloved brother, but it was only recently he had learned how it would happen. He was more at war now than he would ever be. To know your future, to know your family's fate, to know what would come to pass in your city, your country... and to stay silent, to continue following in your own footsteps, day after day, as events drew closer, there was Faramir's real battle. But silence had become a habit, one he tried to keep even now. "I suppose that is true. But Russell, I have heard the small comments you make about your world. And in your eyes I wonder if I see the reflection of my own nightmares. You may call it otherwise, but I believe you too have seen many battles."
"Not the same, really...I didn't have to grow up with it." Russell can't exactly say that he had a normal childhood, but it wasn't particularly traumatizing either. He got to be a child. He wonders if Faramir did. "Just the last year and a half or so. And it wasn't...it wasn't war. Not like that at all. Not something you could fight."
On second thought, though, he smiles wryly and amends, "I bet you'd try anyway. Or maybe you'd be smarter than me, and you wouldn't. I don't know." He doesn't mean to get vague, but it's hard to deal obliquely with what happened. Hitting it head-on or avoiding it entirely, either way works, but trying to sidle delicately around it is making his head hurt.
Faramir smiles, but it's a strange smile. "Just a year and a half. That's good. Well, not good for now, but good for what you had before."
"I think you must have been quite a child, Russell. I can see it. It's in the skin, just here, next to your eyes." Faramir reaches to lightly touch him, just at the edges of his eyes. "You've laughed. Many times. That's a part of you now, it's etched in your face."
Faramir wonders briefly if he carries any outward signs of his moments of happiness. Those days in the libraries with Mithrandir, the practice sessions with Boromir, the drinking bouts with Beregond. So many good times, enough to outweigh the bad?
"I'm told I was a handful..." Russell trails off, bemused, as Faramir's fingertip brushes the outside corner of his eye. It's an oddly sweet gesture, and he repays it in trust by not so much as blinking. He smiles crookedly, and yes he is conscious of the laugh-lines now. Despite all he still has the ability to smile, and to laugh, and that's definitely something.
He realizes then that Faramir is watching him, quietly, and he finds that he can't quite read his expression. "What? What is it?"
Faramir is a bit startled. He's not sure what the 'it' is that Russell refers to... but he struggles to understand that cryptic question, somehow knowing it's important.
"Who were you a year and a half ago? That 'handful', as you call yourself... Who did they capture, Russell?" Faramir strokes those eyelines again, then reaches down to brush his fingers across Russell's lips, before leaning back and really studying the man. "Who is the Russell that they hushed? That is the man I wish to learn more of."
Russell hears the questions, but the gentle touches forestall any reaction until Faramir moves away and brings that searching gaze to bear. Then Russell's stomach twists, his faint relaxed smile dropping away. For a moment he's tempted to ask that Faramir respect his privacy on this issue...and he knows Faramir would respect that. There's no question of it -- it's the kind of man the Ranger is.
But. If Dave knows, and good god, if Theodred knows...
There's nothing else for it but the truth. Russell manages a smile again, but this one is grey and humorless. "I'm still here, still me," he replies, quietly. "Just in pieces, glued together. Like I said, my world's not so far off from this one, but there are a few major differences. Slavery, for one."
Faramir's fingers trace light paths across Russell's face, down his neck, exploring out to his shoulders. It's as if he's looking for those seams holding his new friend together.
His voice takes on a soft, faraway tone. "Your world may be closer to my own than to this one. The evil in my world thinks nothing of taking slaves for it's own purpose and intent." He does not mention his father by name, but those twisted creatures massing in Mordor are not the only tools of the growing evil, and Faramir knows this all too well.
"Perhaps that is why you have been allowed to visit Dave." Faramir smiles gently, giving in to the urge to lean forward for another kiss before adding, "Maybe there is glue here, to help you remain Russell."
Though he tries to keep it under control, Russell always gets agitated when he has to broach the subject of his own...captivity. The kiss is a welcome distraction. As are Faramir's soft-spoken words. He tries to remember the movie, and he's glad Faramir understands even if he doesn't quite know what he's sympathizing with. It's best he doesn't know some of the things Russell had to do to survive...
"I'd like to hope so," he sighs, quietly. "I mean, if I had to go back tomorrow, it wouldn't be straight into the worst of it, but I didn't realize until I came here how it feels to live day to day knowing they could take you back at any moment. To, to have to socialize with people who know what happened...who helped do it to me...to have to smile and pretend they didn't, that they don't know! But of course they know, and they smile too. They smile. Christ..."
His jaw clenches hard as he struggles to rein himself back in, rubbing his forehead to shade his eyes for a moment. "Sorry. I'm sorry. You don't need this. Give a moment." And probably some serious medication, he thinks with dark humor, actually missing the weeks he lost sedated into happy oblivion.
Faramir speaks without hesitation, still in low, soothing tones though. And he means what he says. "Your apology is noted, but not necessary. I do not mind, honestly. Speak your mind and know I will keep your confidences - even from Dave, if you so wish."
The Ranger cannot imagine what it must be like for Russell to keep polite, pleasant company with those who betrayed him. He has no words of advice to offer, and really, Russell didn't ask for any. He simply seemed to need to voice these things. Faramir shifts a little on the couch to reach around and rub slow circles on the man's back. If he could do more, he would, but he knows that he cannot mend Russell's life. But he can allow him this safe haven to speak, and be heard.
"Would you like a drink? A walk in the cool air of the woods? A chance to shoot sharp pointy things into trees you name after folk you know? As a friend once said in a movie... 'you have my bow'." Faramir gives Russell a goofy, small smile as he makes that miniscule joke.
"Woods? There are woods around here?" To be honest, Russell has really only seen the house and the beach. A walk on the beach would be nice, but he's suddenly not in the mood to be that exposed, out in the open. It's too big.
Meanwhile, he's melting slightly under Faramir's touch. "Woods sound great," he elaborates, but he shows no inclination to move except to rest one hand on Faramir's knee and look up at him with a wry smile. "But...the making-out was nice. I wish I hadn't ruined it like that. Can I get another chance?"
Faramir reaches down to take a hold of the hand Russell's laid on his knee, and with a small grin and a twinkle in his eye, he nudges Russell aside just enough to stand up, then pulls his friend up beside him. "I love the woods, and am never happier than when I am out among the trees. Though, this 'making out' does hold a good appeal."
Faramir goes thoughtful for a moment, then grins, tugging on Russell's hand to lead him out the front door. "I want both. Come with me. You will get your second chance, and it will be in the place I would most enjoy."
"Greedy," Russell comments with a laugh as he lets himself be led out and around, away from the sea. He's genuinely curious what Faramir has in mind, and he's also struck with an urge to see the man in his native habitat. He may look like Dave, but he's not -- there's an underlying tranquil wildness that seemed out of place on the sofa, in retrospect.
He's soon wishing that he'd had time to pull some shoes on as sand becomes dead leaves, uneven and laced with treacherous stones, but he watches were Faramir sets his feet and follows suit. In this manner he's so busy looking down that he fails to note where they're going, nor what the forest looks like above ankle-level.
Faramir knows these woods like the proverbial back of his hand, and with Russell gingerly making his way barefoot, Faramir takes care to choose the softest path. He knows where he wants to lead his friend, especially at this time of day. Soon enough, they arrive, and Faramir steps into a small clearing - little more than a spot where the trees just forgot to grow. There's a few large rocks scattered about, and evidence that there's been campfires built here before.
Faramir turns to lead Russell in to the center of the clearing, letting him get a good view of the shafts of sunlight that filter through the trees. The sun's just below the level of the treetops, but still strong. It's as if a latticework of sunlight surrounds them, caught in a trap set here in the midst of the thick green trees. "This place is my secret, and I'm sharing it with you today. I come here when life gets too complicated. It's a good place to rest, or think. I suspect it's also a good place to make out." He ends that statement with a quick, blatently flirty wink.
It's a beautiful spot; if Russell didn't know better, he'd never guess they were practically within shouting distance of civilization. Then again, he's so turned around by their walk here that they could very well have crossed back over into Faramir's own world and he wouldn't have a clue.
"Hmmm, we won't know without proof now will we?" he replies with a mischievious grin. He's already moving, nudging Faramir back against a papery-barked eucalytus to seek out his mouth again, stealing whatever he'd been about to say in reply.
Faramir's grateful for the smoother bark of the eucalyptus - there's a rough pine not far off. He returns the grin as best he can in mid-kiss, his eyes only half closed due to the rather stunning effect of the threads of sunlight slanting across Russell's face. While his tongue explores his new friend's mouth, Faramir entertains a notion of what Russell might look like laid out on the ground (his Ranger's cloak would come in handy for that, wouldn't it?), every inch of skin laid bare to that filtered sunlight treatment.
As soon as this kiss ends, and Faramir's in no hurry for that to happen, he plans to see if Russell's willing to pose for him. And then, when the sun passes them by, perhaps Faramir would see if he could trace the memory of those sunbeams on Russell's skin with his fingertips. Oh, the fantasies that begin to burst in his mind. Faramir lets his thoughts drift, as he loses himself in sunlight, warm kisses, and the weight of Russell's body against his. A very nice day just may be about to turn into quite an interesting evening....
What: Russell's meets someone he's heard about.
Warnings: G? R for language? Hey! We behaved ourselves!!! Extra Warning: THIS IS LONG. Cancel all plans for the rest of the week if you plan to read it.
Note: We had so much fun with Dave and Russell a while back, that we decided to allow them another visit. But if you thought this was the last of the saga of Russell, Dave and Theodred... you just don't know us very well, do you? ;) We couldn't resist adding another personality to the fray. Whee.
A note about Valimar: Be warned: it's a very adult game, and is not recommended for all audiences.
A note about Dreams: Dreams players are 'dual' characters. Dave can shift to Faramir, Paris shifts to Theodred, and of course, confusion, angst and hilarity can often ensue.
This is part Two - be sure to read Part One first!!!
"No, I do not mind. I have not talked about this in so long. Only one other can know what took place, and he is no longer one I speak with. I became involved with a local man, a librarian actually. I have a love of books... I met him in the downtown library. He learned of our shifting lives many months later, well after we had fallen in love. He was a gentle, accepting man that did his best to understand. But he began to harbor a desire to travel to my world, and romanticized the notion far beyond what Gondor could ever provide him. And even worse... he got too close, and became a shift himself for a time, due to a stubborn pair of headstrong elves that were determined to come through, and grabbed the first two available men. One was my lover. The other was a friend, who then became my lover's lover as well, as their shifts were so intensely close that the attraction bled across. Eventually they were freed of the shifts. He has now left on something called a research grant, and I hope has found happiness elsewhere. I suppose your question was well-put. No one in their right mind would leave New Zealand - the manner of our lives here means that our minds are not always right, perhaps."
It sounds to Russell like Faramir really needed to get that off of his chest; so he just listens, quietly, one hand still idly stroking Irean's side. He's starting to get the grasp of this "shifting" thing. Dave has mentioned it, of course, even explained it, but the full measure of the phenomenom is in how it actually affects the people afflicted with it. It all sounds like a terrible burden, and no wonder! He wouldn't mind too much if Maximus or Jack or Jim "came across," so to speak, but with his luck he'd get Hando. Or, god forbid, Sid.
By the time Faramir looks like he's reached a conclusion, Russell looks quite absorbed. "I guess not," he replies, thoughtfully. "But...let me get this straight. It's not only affecting people who were in those movies? I mean, if these elves of yours could 'possess' innocent bystanders... Dave never mentioned that. Or if he did, I didn't get it at the time."
"I don't think there is a danger of this going past our small circle, Russell. The elves in question are young, strong and were determined to help save their father at the time. We were in a crises that crossed our worlds. The situation has been taken care of, though, and they are no longer needed here. It would seem that danger and uncontrollable hormones are two main factors in our lives. At first we shifted because another was pulling our strings, but so often these days, we shift in to find the objects of our desire in a city far from home."
Faramir snorts cynically, recalling the elves behaviour when they were here. They enjoyed their young new bodies immensely, and spend most of their time doing what two elves in lust would naturally be drawn to do. He's glad they have left.
But who is he to state that there will never be another odd shift again? "To be on the safe side, do not wander past the forest surrounding Dave's home. I would hate to see you find the source of our shifting, and prove me wrong."
Forest? What forest? Russell looks honestly baffled for a moment before making a leap of logic. This is a beach-house, after all. Not really the kind of place someone lives unless they're a surf bum, and if that were the case then Russell would have noticed the usual associated welter of board, wetsuits, and gritty fruit-scented wax.
"Oh, you mean Dave's actual home...safe enough, I've never been there. And I'd rather not push my luck. My life's complicated enough already without having to worry about randomly turning into a hallucinating math genius or something. Though on second thought, that might be useful..." He smiles at Faramir, liking the guy. He's a little dour, but very nice. "So aside from that, do you like it here?"
Faramir smiles, visibly relaxing. He doesn't mind explaining what he knows about shifting to Russell, but it can be confusing, even to one who's been doing it for years now. He's happy to move on to easier, pleasant topics.
"I do indeed like it here, and come here as often as I can. The library is very engrossing, much better than any we have at home. And hot dogs. I like hot dogs, with lots of mustard." He mock-frowns and continues. "The beer is a pale imitation of the ales I grew up with, though. Oh! But you have hot showers, better bedding, and very good theatre." He clears his throat, and adds slyly, "It's also a much shorter trip to visit with my friends from Rohan than actually riding to Rohan would be."
"You just haven't been having the right beer, then. I'll have to bring something over next time." Russell snorts at the very thought that any brew in any world could be better than his favorites; that will have to be rectified, and soon. Still, he's mollified by the "good theater" comment, because he considers his own work to be included in that statement. He idly wonders what Faramir would think of "Master And Commander"...
"And I assume you're talking about Theodred? He's the only other one I've met. I'm, uh, not very social these days. Dave's been nice about that. Or maybe he's just keeping me to himself. I admit I'm a little hard to explain." He cocks one eyebrow at Faramir. "He never mentioned me to you? Though come to think of it, how do you two communicate anyway? Notes?"
"Ah. At first, we were like children who did not understand the shifting, or how to control it. We did keep journals to convey messages to each other, but as time went on and we learned a closer acceptance of each other, our ties have strengthened. He can easily summon me, or I can reach him. I do sense anger and panic in him, this sense only started earlier this year. I do not mind helping my friend when he needs it."
Faramir pauses, and consider Russell's offer of beer. It might be nice to meet him again in a more social way, a visit intended for just the two of them, and not one in which Faramir is merely an interruption. "No, he has never mentioned you. Do not take offense at that, both of us try to use discretion when speaking of those we are intimate with. The shifting process can shatter all sense of privacy. We have reached certain agreements about sharing what we do with our lives here in Wellington. Dave wished this more than I... I suppose by his standards I am promiscuous. I meet Theodred here, yes, and also Eomer. Sometimes I make new friends in the taverns, for an evening." Faramir bites his lip to try to contain a smile, and continues. "Though perhaps it might be that Dave's standards are relaxing too of late." Faramir thinks that if this is the case, he has picked a fine one to relax with.
Russell pretends to look offended at that. "Hey now! Dave did not pick me up in a bar," he huffs indignantly. "Matter of fact, I was trespassing. He has a very nice beach out there." The name "Eomer" doesn't ring any bells, but by the sound of it and the context he's guessing a relative of Theodred's. And speaking of which...
"Theo was a, an accident, I suppose, or a whim, though it's feels rude to phrase it like that. Oh hell. That's not going to cause any problems on your end, is it?" He's not sure if he'll see the man again, but he knows that he does, saying "no" will be entirely out of the question. "Because if he does come back, I can't promise anything, but if you want me to try to back off just say the word." Russell's expression on that last part is interesting -- not quite the regret one might expect of someone contemplating breaking off a tryst. A little of that, yes, but also the dismayed look of a man contemplating a difficult mathematic equation.
All this talk of beer and taverns and friends is making Faramir thirsty, and to be honest, it was evening back in Gondor, but since it's still morning here, he grabs the two coffee cups and refills them before settling back on the couch.
"If you would wish to see Theo again, and can find your way, then do so. I love the man but I have no hold on him. He is bound to another, Eomer, though both do as they please in these matters." Faramir chuckles, thinking of his two friends. "Believe me, I once tried to make my friendship and attraction to both Theo and Eomer a complex matter. It is not. Men from their lands have a more simplistic view of things, I think. They love who they love." Faramir reddens slightly as he slips into the language of this world. "And they fuck who they wish to fuck. There is no complication in their minds on this. They enjoy sex. Quite a bit. To stop either of them from finding their fun where ever their impulse takes them would be harder than trying to convince the sun not to rise."
Russell accepts the coffee cheerfully, though to be honest he's not in the mood for it any more. There definitely must be beer in their very near future, he decides. It's never too early for that. He listens, and Faramir's explanation makes him feel a little better about the situation.
"So if I'm getting this straight, it sounds like the only person with a potential problem here is Dave. And maybe Paris." He swirls the coffee absently. "I haven't met Paris yet. Which is going to be really weird, after Theodred-- Yeah. Definitely weird. 'Nice to meet you, mate, heard so much about you, oh no need to shake hands, your body and I are already well-acquainted...'"
Faramir nods. "This is most likely right. They are bound to each other, and in their way of thinking, I believe that means they remain true to each other. I cannot predict their behaviour if they were to find themselves in mutual agreement regarding another man's attractiveness, though..." Faramir wonders about this. For all he knows, they have already taken others into their bed together. He doubts it, though.
He turns his focus back to Russell after a moment lost in thought. "It is not your worry. I still hold to the notion that we are all not truly in our own worlds, and thus the rules of engagement are slightly skewed. A true escape world where all could be free to act upon fantasy would be a very nice place to find now and then, indeed, would it not?"
"I can see your point," Russell replies, slowly, thoughtfully. "After all, it is all a little crazy. Alternate worlds, fictional characters coming to life -- no offense," he adds, and sees none in Faramir's answering nod. "Either that or I've gone insane and I'd rather not be cured, thank you very much. Screw Auntie Em, there's no way I'm going back to Kansas. ...sorry, cultural reference. If Dave never subjected you to 'The Wizard Of Oz,' I'll have to make you watch it."
Russell knows he tends to chatter on a bit when he's trying to think without looking like he's thinking too hard, and he gives Faramir an apologetic half-smile. "And if none of that made any sense at all, I apologize. The thought of 'going back,' as you say...obviously I'd rather not. Do you?"
Faramir's let his head relax against the back of the couch, and his feet are now propped up on the coffee table. He's thoroughly enjoying the fact that Russell talks a lot. There's a couple of reasons for that. First, it makes him feel less self conscious about his own well-deserved reputation for using twenty words when two would suffice. Secondly, he likes the sound of Russell's voice. His accent, his flippant use of these cultural references, all of it. Faramir has a weakness here - he loves to hear a man's voice, and he's practically wallowing in Russell's right now.
"Sometimes, I don't mind going back. It depends on what I was doing when I left, because I return at nearly the same instant I left, no matter how long I am here. But I do not wish to go back right now, I am enjoying myself here with you."
Russell chuckles softly. He hasn't had much reason to laugh in a long time, but he's been finding all sorts of excuses since he ran into a certain Aussie on a certain Wellie beach. It's nice. "You say you can get a sense of Dave, wherever he is right now. Is he all right there for the moment? Because much as I love that guy, I have no idea when I'll have another opportunity to get to know you better."
If that sounds flirtatious, Russell didn't mean it that way...then again, maybe he did. His "signals" have been completely crosswired, after all. The fact that he also keeps clear eye contact and leans forward into Faramir's personal space as he speaks further muddies the waters. He's not really aware that he's doing it. But he is finding Faramir genuinely interesting. "If I may ask, what is your situation back home right now?"
Now, that is another complicated question! Faramir wonders if he can explain it. But if it keeps those eyes hooked on his and that warm body in close proximity, he's willing to try, and the realization of how much he's enjoying this new level of intimacy catches him by surprise. But he's perfectly willing to go along with it. "We are about to enter a great battle. I will be injured, but I shall survive. When peace returns, I will be married." Faramir smiles gently at the surprised look on Russell's face. "I am no seer. I am a fictional character, and I have read my own book. I know how my story ends."
Two things occur to Russell at that. The first is obvious: how odd that must be, and thank god there's a happy ending coming or he doesn't know how any man could stand it. The other, though...
"But you come here, and nothing's written," he muses aloud. "You can stay as long as you like and nothing changes back home, but here there's no book. No pat happy ending. Just...whatever happens, happens." He grins, boyishly. "I think you're a very lucky bloke to have your cake and eat it too."
Faramir can't help it. His grin spreads across his face, and he reaches to grab Russell by the arms. "That's exactly right! You see it. Whatever happens, happens. I know that I was brought to this world by another's wishes... but since then, many of us have taken back our destiny in this place. I am sure that it was never intended that I would fall in love here, or reunite with old friends, or come to the aid of Dave and his friends. But that is the way of life, when every step forward trods on a blank, unwritten page!"
"Life's full of surprises," Russell agrees, unable to resist mirroring that contagious smile. Faramir's so confusing, how he looks and smells like Dave and yet not. And his joy in spontaneity is so utterly infectious! "Want to know what I said to Dave about this world, when we first met?" His gaze dances with half-mad mischief.
Life is indeed full of surprises. This morning, Faramir had a full day of boring research and yet another in a series of countless meetings regarding the city conduits awaiting him. That day's only half over now back home, but here he sits, sharing a moment of connection with a new friend. Faramir's giddy that Russell's caught the mood. "Tell me! I would wish to know."
"Sure. But you have to come closer...a little closer...yeah, right there." With Faramir's hands still wrapped around his arms, Russell rests both palms on the Gondorian's knees and steals a kiss, bold as brass. "Or, hmmm, something like that. Maybe there was more tongue, come to think of it..."
Faramir is definitely caught off guard. He's grown quite fond of Russell indeed, and has been feeling that delicious feeling crawling around in his belly that signals a physical attraction. And then there's the interestingly disorienting smell the man carries... a combination of a very recognizable Theo, and what Faramir can only assume is his own shiftmate.
"If you are not sure you have translated this encounter correctly, perhaps you should repeat it... slowly and with great thought and effort?" And this time it's Faramir that steals the kiss. And lingers.
Russell would make some awful pun about scholars and foreign tongues, except that would mean dislodging the one hovering so temptingly at the very edge of his lips. Encouraged, he nudges a little to coax more from the other man, his palms moving on slow caressing circles now. He's not sure how much he has left in him after last night and this morning, but this is very nice... Probably wrong. But what isn't and why not? As long as Faramir isn't protesting. Which he isn't. Oh wow is he ever not protesting.
Farmair's liking this turn of events, though he's a little sad that keeping Russell's mouth so engaged is preventing him from joking, rambling... talking. Faramir is slightly disappointed to lose that sound, but he's well compensated as Russell realizes that kissing is a very good thing to be doing right now.
He shifts (no pun intended) sideways just enough to press up closer, and slides his hands up Russell's arms to find his shoulders, guiding them into a closer, more intimate position. The kiss breaks, eventually, and Faramir licks his lips, savoring the taste. "That tasted more like a literal translation. Thank you." Faramir's eyes twinkle with a teasing wit, but his lips are still wet and practically vibrating from the kiss. Dave has nothing he needs to explain or excuse himself for as far as Faramir's concerned. The Gondorian completely understands the lure, now.
The new position is better, but it could be better yet. Thus Russell moves the rest of the way over, joining Faramir practically on the same couch cushion with one arm sliding around the other man's back and the other hand still gently caressing through the nice slacks Dave had come home in.
"I have to ask something," he says quietly, nuzzling Faramir's cheek then leaning his forehead against his. "It's going to sound strange, but I don't want any misunderstandings. Don't...don't tell me to do anything, even if you're joking. I can explain later if you want, but I like this the way it is, and...it's complicated." He's still smiling to ease away the brief awkwardness, fingers sliding up over one hip. "Now this is interesting. Do kids 'make out' in Middle-Earth too, or are some lessons in order?"
Faramir finds Russell's request odd, but not a difficult one to honor. "I do not believe we need complications. Your time here should be pleasant, whether it is with Dave... or with myself."
Faramir laughs lightly at Russell's question. He has somehow missed hearing the phrase 'make out' up till now, but he thinks he gets the gist of it. "Kids are kids everywhere. Minas Tirith is a wonderful city to grow up in. So many niches and shadowed corners and small spaces behind the crowded homes." Faramir tilts his head and steals a kiss, letting his lips continue to brush against Russell's as he speaks. "It is amazing how two young teenagers can completely vanish in the midst of it all, if they so desire. Not that I would know anything of such actions, mind you."
"Oh no, not at all. Not a fine virtuous prince like yourself." Russell's delighted to affirm that some things are indeed universal...or panuniversal, as the case may be. And it's also nice to just play, with no pressure to perform. "Dave says I'm confusing. If I am, just tell me." He can't resist cupping his hand around Faramir's cheek and stealing another kiss, this time slow and thoughtful as he tries to sorta out what's like Dave and what isn't. It's strange. And pleasant.
It's not at all unpleasant to let the whisps of old memories linger at the back of his mind as Faramir's hands move over Russell's shoulders, then slide up the back of his neck, his fingers curling in the man's hair. Faramir wishes his hair was longer, but it still feels very nice under his hands. He lets his eyes slide closed, and imagines for a moment they stand in cool shadows in that one particular niche in the stone wall surrounding the city's fifth level...
Wherever Faramir's mind just went, it certainly seems like a good place to be -- Russell can feel his breath quicken, his fingers tighten slightly. He can almost sense the pulse quickening, and he has a feeling that if he laid a hand ever-so-accidentally in the other man's lap...
It's hard to resist moving that fast, but he manages. Instead, Russell lets his fingers drift up the other man's shirt, tracing familiar contours of stomach and chest. "Tell me what you're thinking?" he asks, very softly.
Faramir blinks slowly, and remembers he's still in Dave's cabin, 'making out' so to speak, with Dave's close friend. It's a surreal feeling to have slid in memories back into the city he's shifted away from today.
"I was thinking what a fine soldier you would be, had you been born in my lands. You are well built, beautiful of body, strong, yet thoughtful, too. Your spirit is bright."
Faramir's hands slide forward through Russell's hair, slipping down to his cheeks, gently tilting his head so that he can gaze full and strong into those clear, perfect eyes. "I would be reluctant to leave Minas Tirith so often were there one such as you in the ranks, who might offer pleasant distraction from duties at home."
Russell is genuinely touched, almost to the point of blushing. It's one thing to play a hero on screen, another to be told by someone who has almost died on the battlefield (god knows how many times!) that perhaps, in another time and place, you could very well have been one. He has a feeling Faramir doesn't flatter idly, so he doesn't put up any token bashful protest.
"Then I suppose I'd just have to ride out at your side, and to hell with what any other commander ordered," he replies, playfully, but with a quiet ringing undertone of truth. He kisses the corner of Faramir's mouth, light and soft, as his fingers find the edge of his shirt and rest against a sliver of bare skin. Faramir can feel him smiling. "The only question is, would I have to sneak into your tent after dark, or would you have some clever excuse for having me there n broad daylight the minute that tent went up?"
Faramir can't help it, he's competely ready to wrap his arms around Russell and pull him close in a tight grip for another nice snog, but instead he whispers softly, and dare he admit it, rather contentedly? "You'd be my second, and therefore I'd have need of your advice by day and night. All rules of camp would allow you free passage to my tent or anywhere I might take my leisure."
Faramir is a bit startled at his own suddenly encroaching daydream, one that follows on the heels of his words and settles into his mind. He'd best shake his head clear of cobwebs, this is Dave's friend, not a man he's close enough to to have the right to pull into his own fantasies. "I am a ranger. Tents are only one option. You'd be surprised to learn of the trysting places in my lands."
Well, maybe Russell's already well into Faramir's fantasies. Dave can just deal with it.
"I'm starting to think," Russell murmurs, eyes half-closed as he lets himself be tugged into this rather charming fantasy, "that I might have been better suited for any world other than my own. Though yours sounds especially interesting..."
The pull is so alluring he finds a sudden need to try to ground them both again; he glances up to add, teasingly, "Though I know you're leaving out the parts about rations and frostbite and bedbugs and gut wounds...still. It's got to be worth it to, to be what you are. To do what you do. To really make a difference. To have evil you can actually fight, actually do something about..." Another quick boyish smile, unable to resist. "And you really did like Gladiator? Damn."
"Bedbugs? Not in Gondor. Though, I hear Rohan sometimes mistakes their own for colts." Faramir snickers, knowing that joke would have gotten a dark flash of narrowed eyes from Eomer, before his friend would realize it was a joke. Russell's quicker than that, he's realizing. And Faramir is impressed. He knows that a good actor will spend time learning about the story they enact, and it sounds as if Russell prepared for his role. Though... might there be a bit of his own struggle in that wistful dream of fighting the good fight? "Of course I liked Gladiator. How could I not? A story to inspire, a hero dressed in enough leather to protect but not enough to hide his considerable assets." Faramir's eyes darkened slightly as he recalled some of the thoughts that crossed his mind at the sight of that outfit. "You wear leather well."
True enough, Russell is already snorting at the exceedingly silly joke. At Faramir's assessment of his onscreen...assets...he looks up to catch the man wearing that very interesting expression, and he can't decide whether to chuckle or blush, so he does both. "You wear leather pretty well yourself," he replies, stroking Faramir's chest with his fingertips as if tracing the worn-faint Tree of Gondor embossed on said armor.
"It's amazing, you know?" he adds softly, knowing it'll sound maudlin but not caring one bit. "All those times I've been lucky enough to get to play the hero, and you really are one. Or will be soon, when the rest of your world finally notices. About damn time, I say." It's suddenly sobering. He's not a deep fan of the books or movie, but the more he thinks about what he does remember of Faramir the character... His smile fades slightly, concerned. "You've never not been at war, have you?"
Faramir considered the question. He tested his earliest memories. Even as a child, his dreams were unnerving. And growing up so close to Mordor certainly had taken it's toll. Faramir somehow had always known he would lose his beloved brother, but it was only recently he had learned how it would happen. He was more at war now than he would ever be. To know your future, to know your family's fate, to know what would come to pass in your city, your country... and to stay silent, to continue following in your own footsteps, day after day, as events drew closer, there was Faramir's real battle. But silence had become a habit, one he tried to keep even now. "I suppose that is true. But Russell, I have heard the small comments you make about your world. And in your eyes I wonder if I see the reflection of my own nightmares. You may call it otherwise, but I believe you too have seen many battles."
"Not the same, really...I didn't have to grow up with it." Russell can't exactly say that he had a normal childhood, but it wasn't particularly traumatizing either. He got to be a child. He wonders if Faramir did. "Just the last year and a half or so. And it wasn't...it wasn't war. Not like that at all. Not something you could fight."
On second thought, though, he smiles wryly and amends, "I bet you'd try anyway. Or maybe you'd be smarter than me, and you wouldn't. I don't know." He doesn't mean to get vague, but it's hard to deal obliquely with what happened. Hitting it head-on or avoiding it entirely, either way works, but trying to sidle delicately around it is making his head hurt.
Faramir smiles, but it's a strange smile. "Just a year and a half. That's good. Well, not good for now, but good for what you had before."
"I think you must have been quite a child, Russell. I can see it. It's in the skin, just here, next to your eyes." Faramir reaches to lightly touch him, just at the edges of his eyes. "You've laughed. Many times. That's a part of you now, it's etched in your face."
Faramir wonders briefly if he carries any outward signs of his moments of happiness. Those days in the libraries with Mithrandir, the practice sessions with Boromir, the drinking bouts with Beregond. So many good times, enough to outweigh the bad?
"I'm told I was a handful..." Russell trails off, bemused, as Faramir's fingertip brushes the outside corner of his eye. It's an oddly sweet gesture, and he repays it in trust by not so much as blinking. He smiles crookedly, and yes he is conscious of the laugh-lines now. Despite all he still has the ability to smile, and to laugh, and that's definitely something.
He realizes then that Faramir is watching him, quietly, and he finds that he can't quite read his expression. "What? What is it?"
Faramir is a bit startled. He's not sure what the 'it' is that Russell refers to... but he struggles to understand that cryptic question, somehow knowing it's important.
"Who were you a year and a half ago? That 'handful', as you call yourself... Who did they capture, Russell?" Faramir strokes those eyelines again, then reaches down to brush his fingers across Russell's lips, before leaning back and really studying the man. "Who is the Russell that they hushed? That is the man I wish to learn more of."
Russell hears the questions, but the gentle touches forestall any reaction until Faramir moves away and brings that searching gaze to bear. Then Russell's stomach twists, his faint relaxed smile dropping away. For a moment he's tempted to ask that Faramir respect his privacy on this issue...and he knows Faramir would respect that. There's no question of it -- it's the kind of man the Ranger is.
But. If Dave knows, and good god, if Theodred knows...
There's nothing else for it but the truth. Russell manages a smile again, but this one is grey and humorless. "I'm still here, still me," he replies, quietly. "Just in pieces, glued together. Like I said, my world's not so far off from this one, but there are a few major differences. Slavery, for one."
Faramir's fingers trace light paths across Russell's face, down his neck, exploring out to his shoulders. It's as if he's looking for those seams holding his new friend together.
His voice takes on a soft, faraway tone. "Your world may be closer to my own than to this one. The evil in my world thinks nothing of taking slaves for it's own purpose and intent." He does not mention his father by name, but those twisted creatures massing in Mordor are not the only tools of the growing evil, and Faramir knows this all too well.
"Perhaps that is why you have been allowed to visit Dave." Faramir smiles gently, giving in to the urge to lean forward for another kiss before adding, "Maybe there is glue here, to help you remain Russell."
Though he tries to keep it under control, Russell always gets agitated when he has to broach the subject of his own...captivity. The kiss is a welcome distraction. As are Faramir's soft-spoken words. He tries to remember the movie, and he's glad Faramir understands even if he doesn't quite know what he's sympathizing with. It's best he doesn't know some of the things Russell had to do to survive...
"I'd like to hope so," he sighs, quietly. "I mean, if I had to go back tomorrow, it wouldn't be straight into the worst of it, but I didn't realize until I came here how it feels to live day to day knowing they could take you back at any moment. To, to have to socialize with people who know what happened...who helped do it to me...to have to smile and pretend they didn't, that they don't know! But of course they know, and they smile too. They smile. Christ..."
His jaw clenches hard as he struggles to rein himself back in, rubbing his forehead to shade his eyes for a moment. "Sorry. I'm sorry. You don't need this. Give a moment." And probably some serious medication, he thinks with dark humor, actually missing the weeks he lost sedated into happy oblivion.
Faramir speaks without hesitation, still in low, soothing tones though. And he means what he says. "Your apology is noted, but not necessary. I do not mind, honestly. Speak your mind and know I will keep your confidences - even from Dave, if you so wish."
The Ranger cannot imagine what it must be like for Russell to keep polite, pleasant company with those who betrayed him. He has no words of advice to offer, and really, Russell didn't ask for any. He simply seemed to need to voice these things. Faramir shifts a little on the couch to reach around and rub slow circles on the man's back. If he could do more, he would, but he knows that he cannot mend Russell's life. But he can allow him this safe haven to speak, and be heard.
"Would you like a drink? A walk in the cool air of the woods? A chance to shoot sharp pointy things into trees you name after folk you know? As a friend once said in a movie... 'you have my bow'." Faramir gives Russell a goofy, small smile as he makes that miniscule joke.
"Woods? There are woods around here?" To be honest, Russell has really only seen the house and the beach. A walk on the beach would be nice, but he's suddenly not in the mood to be that exposed, out in the open. It's too big.
Meanwhile, he's melting slightly under Faramir's touch. "Woods sound great," he elaborates, but he shows no inclination to move except to rest one hand on Faramir's knee and look up at him with a wry smile. "But...the making-out was nice. I wish I hadn't ruined it like that. Can I get another chance?"
Faramir reaches down to take a hold of the hand Russell's laid on his knee, and with a small grin and a twinkle in his eye, he nudges Russell aside just enough to stand up, then pulls his friend up beside him. "I love the woods, and am never happier than when I am out among the trees. Though, this 'making out' does hold a good appeal."
Faramir goes thoughtful for a moment, then grins, tugging on Russell's hand to lead him out the front door. "I want both. Come with me. You will get your second chance, and it will be in the place I would most enjoy."
"Greedy," Russell comments with a laugh as he lets himself be led out and around, away from the sea. He's genuinely curious what Faramir has in mind, and he's also struck with an urge to see the man in his native habitat. He may look like Dave, but he's not -- there's an underlying tranquil wildness that seemed out of place on the sofa, in retrospect.
He's soon wishing that he'd had time to pull some shoes on as sand becomes dead leaves, uneven and laced with treacherous stones, but he watches were Faramir sets his feet and follows suit. In this manner he's so busy looking down that he fails to note where they're going, nor what the forest looks like above ankle-level.
Faramir knows these woods like the proverbial back of his hand, and with Russell gingerly making his way barefoot, Faramir takes care to choose the softest path. He knows where he wants to lead his friend, especially at this time of day. Soon enough, they arrive, and Faramir steps into a small clearing - little more than a spot where the trees just forgot to grow. There's a few large rocks scattered about, and evidence that there's been campfires built here before.
Faramir turns to lead Russell in to the center of the clearing, letting him get a good view of the shafts of sunlight that filter through the trees. The sun's just below the level of the treetops, but still strong. It's as if a latticework of sunlight surrounds them, caught in a trap set here in the midst of the thick green trees. "This place is my secret, and I'm sharing it with you today. I come here when life gets too complicated. It's a good place to rest, or think. I suspect it's also a good place to make out." He ends that statement with a quick, blatently flirty wink.
It's a beautiful spot; if Russell didn't know better, he'd never guess they were practically within shouting distance of civilization. Then again, he's so turned around by their walk here that they could very well have crossed back over into Faramir's own world and he wouldn't have a clue.
"Hmmm, we won't know without proof now will we?" he replies with a mischievious grin. He's already moving, nudging Faramir back against a papery-barked eucalytus to seek out his mouth again, stealing whatever he'd been about to say in reply.
Faramir's grateful for the smoother bark of the eucalyptus - there's a rough pine not far off. He returns the grin as best he can in mid-kiss, his eyes only half closed due to the rather stunning effect of the threads of sunlight slanting across Russell's face. While his tongue explores his new friend's mouth, Faramir entertains a notion of what Russell might look like laid out on the ground (his Ranger's cloak would come in handy for that, wouldn't it?), every inch of skin laid bare to that filtered sunlight treatment.
As soon as this kiss ends, and Faramir's in no hurry for that to happen, he plans to see if Russell's willing to pose for him. And then, when the sun passes them by, perhaps Faramir would see if he could trace the memory of those sunbeams on Russell's skin with his fingertips. Oh, the fantasies that begin to burst in his mind. Faramir lets his thoughts drift, as he loses himself in sunlight, warm kisses, and the weight of Russell's body against his. A very nice day just may be about to turn into quite an interesting evening....