{"@attributes":{"version":"2.0"},"channel":{"title":"InterShards: When Games Collide","link":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/","description":"InterShards: When Games Collide - LiveJournal.com","lastBuildDate":"Sun, 06 Nov 2005 09:19:23 GMT","generator":"LiveJournal \/ LiveJournal.com","image":{"url":"https:\/\/l-userpic.livejournal.com\/4659293\/1006956","title":"InterShards: When Games Collide","link":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/","width":"100","height":"100"},"item":[{"guid":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/22157.html","pubDate":"Sun, 06 Nov 2005 09:19:23 GMT","title":"Faramir\/Aragorn: Years and Years ago.... First Meeting and Other Firsts","author":"faramirofgondor","link":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/22157.html","description":"(Bit of OOC fun - this is a teenaged Faramir, and an awkward, innocent Aragorn, making each others aquaintance for the first time. Don't look for suaveness. They are gawky boys! So, without further ado, meet <\/a>cocoajava<\/b><\/a><\/a>i_aldarion<\/b><\/a><\/span>'s strapping young Aragorn. Rated G. Not by Faramir's choice. Heh.)

Aragorn:<\/b> *peeks around the frame of the IM at you*

Faramir's Mun:<\/b> Oh! Pretty. *reaches and grabs his hand* Hi.

Aragorn:<\/b> *awkwardly shifts from foot to foot* Suilad.

Faramir's Mun:<\/b> *shoves Younger Faramir towards Aragorn* Say hi, kiddo.



Aragorn:<\/b> O.o *backs up and hooks his thumbs through his belt, eyeing Younger Faramir uncertainly* *isn't used to other human youth*

Faramir:<\/b> *brushes leaves from his hair since mun yanked him from Ithilien duties* Good evening. *tries to match Aragorn's gaze, fails utterly, having spent the better part of a month on patrol in deep woods and lost all manners*

Aragorn:<\/b> Hello. *drops his own gaze, picking a twig out of his tangled brown hair*

Faramir:<\/b> Did my father send you to check up on me? All is well here. You can tell him the forests are secure. *slightly defiant*

Aragorn:<\/b> >.> No, no, it was the muns. I blame them.

Faramir:<\/b> Ah. Muns. I wish they'd come into the woods. My arrows are all growing moss on their north sides. I could use some fresh targets.

Aragorn:<\/b> I hear they don't run very fast, though. *examines the forest around them so that he doesn't have to make eye contact with Faramir*

Faramir:<\/b> Mine trips over her own feet a lot. It's really quite amusing. *chuckles a bit*

Aragorn:<\/b> Mine too. *rolls his eyes*

Faramir:<\/b> Bizarre that they take credit for such fine men as us!!!

Aragorn:<\/b> Oh, I pay rent. I don't let her take credit.

Faramir:<\/b> *laughs* I just confuse mine, I think. And that's reward enough. She's still trying to figure out what I saw in Haldir. *immediate blush, didn't mean to say that*

Aragorn:<\/b> Haldir? The marchwarden of 'Lorien?

Faramir:<\/b> *wonders if there's a knothole in any nearby trees big enough to hide in* Um, yes, him.

Aragorn:<\/b> *tries to avoid the mun stalking him with a tube of lipstick trying to paint a V on his forehead* *bats at her and sidesteps* *koff* You... he... >.> *glares at mun* *hsst!* go away!

Faramir:<\/b> No! I... never! Well, thought about it, but he's ancient! I'm just a human, he probably would think I was a bug, or worse. *mortified* He visited Minas Tirith when I was a child. A child.<\/i>

Aragorn:<\/b> *growls at mun loudly enough to scare her off* *returns attention to Faramir* I see. ^^; that is how most of the Elves in my home view me. A child.

Aragorn:<\/b> They really don't think so badly of Men as the stories go, though.

Faramir:<\/b> Really? If I was an elf, I'm sure I'd see us as hairy, bulgy beasts with ill manners.

Aragorn:<\/b> >.>; Well, they do, but... well, they do it without much rancor.

Faramir:<\/b> *lets a small hope of Haldir someday favoring him back into his daydreams* I suppose it's all we can ask for, from such creatures.

Aragorn:<\/b> >.<; Certainly. \/\/At least YOU haven't had to grow up amongst them*

Faramir:<\/b> *kicks leaves* I wish I had. Try growing up with... *rolls eyes* The Steward. He'd gladly send me off to the elves.

Aragorn:<\/b> The Elves ARE nicer than the Steward. They're just so... *growls* So perfect! Never a hair out of place! They smell nice! Dirt doesn't get stuck under their nails!

Aragorn:<\/b> *also has pimples, and is annoyed by THAT, too*

Faramir:<\/b> And perfect is a bad thing to be? *knows he's not perfect by a long shot, standing here with stringy hair and awkwardly fitting leathers, handed down from Boromir*

Aragorn:<\/b> When I'm not? Yes! >.0

Faramir:<\/b> But you were raised by elves? And probably came home with dirty fingernails and gave them heart attacks? Oh, but elves would have perfect hearts.... Ugh. All right. Maybe Minas Tirith isn't so bad.

Aragorn:<\/b> *is self-conscious just by existing next to the Elves in his home, especially since he is a particularly scruffy human* I'd take Minas Tirith for a while, believe me.

Faramir:<\/b> It's freezing in the winter and scorching in the summer. Maybe it looks nice from a distance, but just wait till you live there a year. You'll be begging for vacations in Rohan.

Aragorn:<\/b> *grins* Where it is windy all year 'round?

Faramir:<\/b> *snickers, leans in to whisper conspiratorily* Have you SEEN the women's hair, there? That wind does no one any good.

Aragorn:<\/b> Yes, it is almost as tangled as mine. *lopsided smirk*

Faramir:<\/b> But... we're humans. We're allowed, right? *ironically, a gust of wind flops a hunk of Faramir's hair over his eyes*

Aragorn:<\/b> That's true. *smiles* *hooks thumbs more firmly in his beltloops*

Faramir:<\/b> *shakes head to settle hair back in place* So. If you don't tell anyone about what I said about Haldir, I'll take you back to camp and find you some dinner. *slightly braggy* I'm good friends with the Captain of our rangers.

Aragorn:<\/b> *brightens at the prospect of a hot meal* My lips are sealed.

Faramir:<\/b> Come on, then! Maybe we can even pinch some wine afterwards. *turns back to the trail he came in on, shifting his quiver as it rides on his cloak* Fresh venison tonight. Guess who got a very fat deer today? *grinning back at Aragorn over his shoulder*

Aragorn:<\/b> *grins back* You? *follows*

Faramir:<\/b> You're a very bright man, Aragorn! You've guessed it. And, sniff the air. We're almost there, and I can tell it's nearly done cooking.

Aragorn:<\/b> It smells good. *is willing to be polite to the person who caught his dinner!*

Faramir:<\/b> *is quite full of himself, and thus, quite needfully, his boot catches on a root that's raised above ground, and he promptly trips over it* It must be an elven trap! *jumps back to his feet, brushing off leaves and dirt*

Aragorn:<\/b> *LAUGH!* Or perhaps you just need to watch where you're going!

Faramir:<\/b> I am certain this path was cleared earlier! There must be elves about. *a wink* Should we draw swords?

Aragorn:<\/b> I am certain that if there were, we'd still have nothing to worry about. ^.~

Faramir:<\/b> *hand on hilt, but not brandishing sword* I walk with one of their adopted sons! So, the elves would let me pass. *strides on* *falters* Right?

Aragorn:<\/b> Unless they were in a mood, yes. But there aren't any around. *grin* You just tripped on a root.

Faramir:<\/b> I did not. *adamant, keeps moving to increase distance from evidence* I think it was a set trap, and I narrowly avoided it.

Aragorn:<\/b> *shakes his head and follows lightly after him, nearly as graceful as any elf*

Faramir:<\/b> *furtive glances back, thinking if this one would only wash and braid his hair, perhaps shave a bit more often, he at least moved in the manner of the elves*

Aragorn:<\/b> *DOES wash often, it just... doesn't take.* *and thinks he looks silly with braided hair*

Faramir:<\/b> *ears perk* Did I hear voices?

Aragorn:<\/b> Up ahead.

Aragorn:<\/b> *gestures with his oh-so-angular chin*

Faramir:<\/b> *Follows chin to where it points* Ah. No elves. Just our camp. And you are now about 20 paces from your dinner. Come!

Aragorn:<\/b> Gladly! *follows like a great shaggy long-legged puppy*

Faramir:<\/b> *happily plops down crosslegged on ground with a full plate of venison stew, grinning at Aragorn to join him*

Aragorn:<\/b> *sits beside him, once he's negotiated getting his own bowl of stew* *grins over his bowl of stew at him, blowing on it impatiently*

Faramir:<\/b> *chews and talks with his mouth full, something he does in camp, being away from Denethor brings out the rebellion in this ill-favored son*

Aragorn:<\/b> *thinks nothing of it, as he does that all the time. It's something he was never quite broken of by his Elven foster parents*

Faramir:<\/b> *sets his plate aside and stretches, certainly doesn't belch, because that would be inappropriate in the Steward's Quarters. All right. So he belches*

Aragorn:<\/b> *amused* *wolfs down his stew as quickly as the heat will allow*

Faramir:<\/b> Had enough to eat? *grins* We could go raid the wine stores, if you liked. Oh! And if you want to stay here tonight, I could seek permission. It is late, you know.

Aragorn:<\/b> The hospitality would be appreciated. *smiles* *sets aside his plate* And yes, I've had enough to eat. *stands* Where are those wine stores?

Faramir:<\/b> In the back of the main cave. I'm not supposed to know about them, actually. *leads the way* A missing flask here or there is not a tragedy, right? *nips two, leads the way out a side passage, emerges in brilliant moonlight, the sun having set during dinner.*

Aragorn:<\/b> Certainly not! Especially when they're going to a perfectly worthy purpose. *lopes after Faramir, shaking his hair out of his eyes as they emerge into the gorgeous moonlight*

Faramir:<\/b> *passes a flask over* So, what shall we drink to? *fumbles with the corded cork on his flask*

Aragorn:<\/b> To a day well-spent upon the earth Eru made us? *takes the flask and digs his nails into the cork, pulling until the thing comes out*

Faramir:<\/b> Good use for filthy human fingernails, that. *follows suit, cork obeys* To this fine day! *drinks deeply*

Aragorn:<\/b> To this fine day! *chuckles and then takes a long, deep drink, feeling the alcohol warm his belly*

Faramir:<\/b> *plops on the ground, his feet dangling over the edge of the thin trail just outside the cave* So, where were you on your way to, when I took you as my formidable captive? *laughs*

Aragorn:<\/b> *smiles, seating himself a little more carefully, his long limbs sticking out at awkward angles until he settles down* *takes another sip off of his flask* Nowhere in particular, to tell you the truth. I was just wandering. *gazes up idly at the emerging stars*

Faramir:<\/b> I'd like to go nowhere in particular. My father arranges all my travels. Even here, in this wonderful place... I wish it had been my own choice to be here. It was his. But it's still a good land to spend time in.

Aragorn:<\/b> *nods* It's a good place. Why does your father control your travels so dearly?

Faramir:<\/b> Because my father wishes to control the rising and the setting of the sun and the moon, to make the seasons pass at his whims, and because his sons are here for his satisfaction in the case of my brother, and for his frustration, in the case of myself. And so he tells me where to go and what to do, and sometimes who I am allowed to be.

Aragorn:<\/b> >.0 That sounds trying! It must be a relief to escape from his realm from time to time, then, even on escorted excursions.

Faramir:<\/b> *takes another drink and slumps back, relaxing* Oh, it is. I love being out under the open sky, hearing the trees bend in the wind.

Aragorn:<\/b> Mmm. It smells brighter, away from the many living in one place. More living-things, growing-things. Better. Not that the Elves don't always smell nice... *grinchuckle*

Faramir:<\/b> *suppresses a wonder about how Haldir smells* Yes. A city of stone on a mountainside can..... well, Aragorn, it can positively REEK at times. *grin*

Aragorn:<\/b> *laughs* I can only imagine. *shakes his head* And then try not to. ^.~

Faramir:<\/b> *is getting a bit tipsy on the wine* So, how do<\/i> elves smell? You were raised by elves. Do you smell like one? *leans over and sniffs*

Aragorn:<\/b> *smells like clean sweat and leaf mould and leather, which isn't unpleasant, but not very Elfy* *low chuckle* 'Fraid not. I don't know how to describe how they smell, they just do.<\/i> *takes another long swig of his wine, feeling the world starting to pleasantly spin*

Faramir:<\/b> *snickers as Aragorn wobbles* That's good strong Gondorian wine. You might want to slow down a little. *swigs deep, apparently forgetting his own advice*

Aragorn:<\/b> *soft snort* Take your own advice. *grin*

Faramir:<\/b> Advice. Aaaaaaadvishe. That word sounds funny. Shay it again, Araghorrrrn.

Aragorn:<\/b> *eyes Faramir, then sets his flask aside, not sure he wants to get THAT giggly.* *looks uncertain* Do you want me to take you to bed? *is already far too serious for his own good, even at this young age*

Faramir:<\/b> *tries to eye Aragorn up and down, but vision wanders about to take in nearby rocks and leaves, too* Sure. You're.... good looking. I'd let you. *just drunk enough to not quite get it*

Aragorn:<\/b> *astonished, embarrassed look* I... uh...

Faramir:<\/b> Ish okay, don't be uverwhelmmmmed. I jusht Denethor's son, not a Maiar or nothing. *hics*

Aragorn:<\/b> That's... uhm, that's not what I meant. *blushing, red skin visible through his patchy adolescent beard*

Faramir:<\/b> *focuses carefully, thinks over the past few sentences* You wanted to take me to bed. OH. Put me in bed. Caush I'm drunk! *laughs, wobbles* You're very helpful. And very red.

Aragorn:<\/b> *reaches out a hand to steady Faramir, still very embarrassed, the alcohol not helping* *can't help but softly chuckle at the way his newfound friend is wobbling* That's what I meant.

Faramir:<\/b> But who's going to put *you* to bed. You're drunk too. *is totally serious*

Aragorn:<\/b> Um... *frowns, just drunk enough to be stumped by that*

Faramir:<\/b> Gotcha there. Hey, you seem like a Ranger. You can stay here if you like. I can get permission. Um. Wait. I'm maybe a tiny bit drunk, I don't want to talk to the captain like this. *ponders*

Aragorn:<\/b> *shy little grin* I am a Ranger. *looks around, then shrugs* Um, we could stay out here for a while longer together before bed?

Faramir:<\/b> Sounds good. I'm probably not very good at standing right now anyway, AragornTheRanger. *Leans back against rock wall, gazing at sky, breathing fresh air so as not to pass out* It's a very nice night, actually.

Aragorn:<\/b> *cocks his head to the side and stares at Faramir for a moment, then realizes that, oh yeah, he should be looking at the SKY* *is a little flustered from Faramir's earlier comment, and tears his eyes away from the boy next to him, looking up at the sky and taking a deep, slow breath*

Faramir:<\/b> *watches the sky, acutely aware that Aragorn's doing the same, is stuck in one of those long, awkward silences* *has a sudden urge to hold hands and chides self for acting like a twelve year old girl* So, then. *coughs, totally forgets whatever he was going to say*

Aragorn:<\/b> So what? *looks curiously at Faramir, losing his interest in the stars*

Faramir:<\/b> So...... I was thinking we could probably sneak in and sleep in my bed and not bother with permission. Eventually, I mean. Would save some trouble. *glances over, twitches as he sees big eyes focused on him*

Aragorn:<\/b> *looks away quickly, picking up his flask and taking a gulp from it, suddenly feeling he needs it* *stares up at stars fixedly some more* All right. If you don't mind a dirty Ranger in your fine home away from home. *lopsided smile at the sky*

Faramir:<\/b> *chuckles, reaches for Aragorn's wine flask* If you think this is a fine home, you've had quite enough to drink. *sniffs the air* And your nose stopped working too. I'm probably dirtier than you.

Aragorn:<\/b> *plaintively, as he halfheartedly tries to keep the flask from Faramir and fails* Haven't you had enough to drink already? That's mine!

Faramir:<\/b> *laughs and tosses flask off the path to be lost in the dark underbrush* Now it's nobody's. We've both had enough. We're going to feel like orcs trapped under a line of dancing oliphants in the morning.

Aragorn:<\/b> >.0 That bad, huh?

Faramir:<\/b> If I were at home, I'd get some headache powders from the cook. She always had some to lend me. But we've got nothing like that out here. *dramatic sigh* So, we'll be dead by morning, I'm sure. We should live life to the fullest tonight. If we could stand up.

Aragorn:<\/b> *eyes the cliff, then chuckles again* Perhaps we shouldn't... uh, stand up until we're back off the ledge?

Aragorn:<\/b> *belatedly realizes he still has that 'steadying' hand on Faramir's shoulder* *startles and yanks it back, furiously studying the stars again*

Faramir:<\/b> *jumps at absence of hand, had gotten used to it* I don't have leprosy, you know. At least I think I don't. *sheepish* You're allowed to touch.

Aragorn:<\/b> *eyes Faramir from the corner of his eye, turning delicately pink again beneath the beard* I'm sorry, I just... I didn't mean... um. *twists hands in his lap*

Faramir:<\/b> *sees that blush again* So, then. Nice night for being all stupid and drunk and awkward, don't you think? *said in high-mannered genteel, yet slightly slurred voice* *takes deep breath and grabs Aragorn's hand, waits for the spluttering noises*

Aragorn:<\/b> *startled look, not disappointing Faramir's expectations and sputtering away* I... uh... *stares at him, not sure whether to jump up and run away, or jump into his lap* Uh...

Faramir:<\/b> *is getting a touch more clearheaded since tossing the flask away and breathing the cool night air* You're older than me, you know. *mock-pouts* And now I'm doing all the hard work. *tugs Aragorn's hand to nudge the body attached closer*

Aragorn:<\/b> *confounded on TOP of flustered now* All the hard work...? *scoots a little closer as he's tugged, bewildered*

Faramir:<\/b> You know... the first move, the first snog. *said it out loud, might as well do it, leans across and steals a kiss*

Aragorn:<\/b> *nearly jumps out of his skin, as he's never been kissed by anyone but his family members before, and not like THIS.*

Faramir:<\/b> *definitely notices the ranger twitch* Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I mean, I thought you wanted to... Elbereth, if you didn't, I'm sorry. And I guess you could hit me if you want. *braces*

Aragorn:<\/b> *dazed goggle at Faramir* N- um... no, I don't want to hit you... *licks his lips, heart racing, eyes a little glazed over*

Faramir:<\/b> *hushed* You've never kissed another.... *cough* well, Ranger, before, have you?

Aragorn:<\/b> *shakes his head, flustered bewilderment turning into an embarrassed sort of awe at how nice that felt, even with the awkwardness*

Faramir:<\/b> Ah. Well, then. *suddenly straddles Aragorn, but doesn't do anything else, except stare and smile* It's not anything epic, if you don't want it to be. It can just be fun. If you let it.

Aragorn:<\/b> *stiffens beneath Faramir, eyes wide and heart pounding* *is in fight-or-flight mode a little bit, but doesn't think he could go anywhere, even if he wanted to... is transfixed* *licks his lips* Yeah? *leans back against the hard stone, dizzy and needing to be grounded a little*

Faramir:<\/b> *feels like he's trapped a deer with his bare hands* Yeah. Want to try it again? Count of three?

Aragorn:<\/b> *sucks in a shaky breath* O.O Sure... why not... *tilts his head to look up at the handsome boy pinning him down*

Faramir:<\/b> *really can't resist the wide eyed tempting sight just inches away* Well then. *dips down and kisses again, but doesn't rush it this time*

Faramir:<\/b> *chuckles against lips, having forgotten to count to three*

Aragorn:<\/b> *had noticed the lack of counting, thank you very much!* *continues to stare wide-eyed, now only able to see hair and the curve of Faramir's cheek* *sucks in a slow breath, trying to get used to the feeling of a body so close to his in such a strangely intimate way*

Faramir:<\/b> *isn't sure if it's odd or if it's exciting to have a quivering mass of boy trapped under him, but as he works to get Aragorn's mouth to open more, he decides that it's exciting. Yes.*

Aragorn:<\/b> *slowly relents his terror as he realizes that this isn't going to hurt<\/i> him, and begins to relax beneath Faramir. He closes his eyes because hey, there's not much to see anyways, and heaves a soft sigh. His lips cautiously part a little bit, wondering if that's what Faramir's trying to get him to do*

Faramir:<\/b> *does what every guy in every reality in every timeline wants to do once he's gotten his object of desire pinned and under his lips. He happily slides his tongue in as far as he can, because, well, it feels so nice*

Aragorn:<\/b> *startled sputter, pulling back so hard he bangs his head against the rock and sees stars* *was NOT expecting that!*

Faramir:<\/b> *blink blink blink* Sorry! I didn't mean to scare you! *is worried, reaches around to see if Aragorn's bleeding, prods at hair*

Aragorn:<\/b> Ow! *swats gently at his hand* Why'd you do that? *clearly does not understand the whole 'kissing with tongue' thing*

Faramir:<\/b> I... like it! It feels nice. *stammers* You feel nice. To kiss. I wanted to, well, kiss you more. Maybe if you tried it on me you'd see what I mean? Reverse it?

Aragorn:<\/b> *bites lip nervously, feeling like his heart's gonna pound right out of his chest* Um... O-okay...

Faramir:<\/b> Oh shush. I'm not some fell beast trying to eat your head. I'm just Faramir and we're just having some fun. Okay, this time I'll really count. One, two, three... *holds still, mouth slightly open, waiting*

Aragorn:<\/b> A: *awkwardly leans in, pressing his lips to Faramir's, hoping he's doing it right* *has to screw up his courage for a moment, sitting there and sharing breath with the other boy, before he can get himself to stick his tongue<\/i> into his mouth. He does eventually though, giving a delicious little tremble as he realizes how nice it really does feel*

Faramir:<\/b> *wills the bundle of nerves named Aragorn to relax, reaches to rest his hands lightly on his shoulders. It's an awkward, clumsy kiss, but it still feels very, very nice*

Aragorn:<\/b> *slowly starts getting the hang of it, realizing that it is nicer if he relaxes.*

Faramir:<\/b> *lets loose an audible moan of pleasure, strokes Aragorn's shoulders, as he gets the hang of this* *ventures a neighborly visit of tongue to tongue, flicking his over Aragorns in light tickles*

Aragorn:<\/b> *startles a little, but adjusts pretty quickly, enjoying the odd sensation*

Faramir:<\/b> *in spite of raging hormones, manages to tell that Aragorn's getting a little more comfortable with the whole idea. A few more tongue-tangles, and Faramir pulls away, letting both the boys gasp for air*

Aragorn:<\/b> *rests his head a little more calmly against the wall this time, wincing as the tender spot is touched by the cool stone* *pants and watches Faramir, dark and framed by the stars*

Faramir:<\/b> *looks concerned* You sure you're all right? I could find a healer, but... um, how do I tell him I kissed you THAT hard?

Aragorn:<\/b> I'm fine. *grins dopily* I've been knocked worse before.

Faramir:<\/b> I'd like to think I've got a better effect than a concussion, though. Um... so, what do you think? About the kissing? *nervous*

Aragorn:<\/b> It's nice. #o<\/a>.o#

Faramir:<\/b> Well, good then. Because I really liked that, too. *manages a blush in spite of having been rather brazen the past while* You taste good.

Aragorn:<\/b> *blushes right back, smiling* You do too.

Faramir:<\/b> *suddenly yawns, massively* I'm thinking that if I put my quiver over there.. *points* and we rearranged our cloaks for blankets, we could pillow down on the quiver and say to Mandos with explaining ourselves getting inside for the night....

Aragorn:<\/b> *little grin* Sounds like a good plan.

Faramir:<\/b> Wonderful. Because to be honest, I can't feel anything from the knees down. *wriggles around, arranges things, falls sideways and takes Aragorn down too*

Aragorn:<\/b> *laughs quietly again as he falls, grunting at the impact, and wraps his arms around Faramir*

Faramir:<\/b> *likes the happy relaxed version of Aragorn after spending time with the nervous side of his new friend* Be prepared for that orc\/oliphant effect in the morning....

Aragorn:<\/b> Yeah... well, don't have much choice, do I? *struggles to rearrange his cloak*

Faramir:<\/b> *sighs* Me either. Misery loves company. I think Mithrandir told me that once. Or something like it. *helps tug at Aragorn's cloak, snuggles closer for warmth*

Aragorn:<\/b> He always says things like that. He's a grouchy old wizard. *gets settled in the combined warmth of their cloaks, facing Faramir thoughtfully* *sleepy blink*

Faramir:<\/b> Ah, he's not so bad. I like him. He just takes some patience. *snickers* Like teaching *some* people how to kiss. *nuzzles down into Aragorn's neck, sighing in relaxation*

Aragorn:<\/b> #^^#; Yeah, well, you know... *is actually quite fond of Mithrandir, but knows that the wizard isn't big on affection, so keeps a lid on it*

Faramir:<\/b> Yeah..... I know.... *drowsily, drifting off, would rather think about Aragorn and how he tasted than about the wizard, right now*

Aragorn:<\/b> *falls silent as well, bemused and head still spinning from the kisses and the drink* *thinks about it, and realizes that this is the first time since childhood that he has slept cuddled close with someone*","comments":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/22157.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/21835.html","pubDate":"Thu, 06 Oct 2005 08:25:37 GMT","author":"halfwest","link":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/21835.html","description":"Attention muns, characters, and friends of Kielle~

In honor of <\/a>kielle<\/b><\/a><\/span>\/<\/a>_redpanda_<\/b><\/a><\/span> -- our dear friend, fellow player, mentor to us and our characters, and woman of incredible experience -- <\/a>metaphor<\/b><\/a><\/span> and <\/a>halfwest<\/b><\/a><\/span>'s characters Gorlim and Eilinel (formerly of the Middle Earth Sock Pupper Theatre, now of Milliways Bar) will be naming their firstborn daughter Kelly. We will be holding a naming ceremony here<\/a> to serve as a celebration of her memory. The placeholder entry there now will be changed to an actual post and comments will be unlocked shortly after midnight (EST) on Friday, October 7th<\/b>. It will remain open and active for as long as people post to it.

While Gorlim, Eilinel, and their daughter are active only in Milliways Bar RPG, all<\/i> muns and characters who played with Kielle in any<\/i> game are welcome to contribute, whether or not you know Gorlim and Eilinel, or their muns. You can post a poem, song, link to a scene you did with her, paste snippets of writing or a chat, or write your personal thoughts, in character or out. Post as much as you like, and feel free to reply to other posts. You are welcome to post from as many character journals as you wish, as well as your out-of-character journal, or annonymously.

This will be an ongoing collection, so don't worry about coming in late. We request that any links or text posts containing adult material are clearly labeled in the \"subject\" box of the reply -- but don't be afraid to post them!!

Please forward this announcement to anywhere you think it should be made.

Thank you,
~Ravenna and Rue


Cross-posted to: <\/a>intershards<\/b><\/a><\/span>, <\/a>meduseld<\/b><\/a><\/span>, <\/a>shardsofarda<\/b><\/a><\/span>, <\/a>i_love_kielle<\/b><\/a><\/span>, <\/a>intershards<\/b><\/a><\/span>, <\/a>sages_of_chaos<\/b><\/a><\/span>, <\/a>ways_back_room<\/b><\/a><\/span>, <\/a>mesptmuns<\/b><\/a><\/span>, <\/a>whitecityooc<\/b><\/a><\/span>. A link will be posted to <\/a>milliways_bar<\/b><\/a><\/span> when comments are unlocked. And will someone with access to the OOC communities please link this post to Sinyamar<\/a> and Valimar<\/a>? THANK YOU!<\/small>

Comment here<\/a>."},{"guid":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/21549.html","pubDate":"Mon, 26 Sep 2005 08:59:43 GMT","title":"A small announcement.","author":"cocoajava","link":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/21549.html","description":"This post is not a story or chat, but is of an informative nature. We will get back to the fun right after this, sound good?

*waves*

Ownership of this community has changed hands. I am taking care of it now, as the creator and one of the main participants of this community, <\/a>_redpanda_<\/b><\/a><\/span>, has passed away. This place is very<\/i> dear to me, and I will take good care of it in her honor.

I recall some rather snarky, fun, scathing conversations between the two of us, way back when. I mod another community where I tend to keep VERY strict rulings about what pups are allowed to remember from their home-games, while chatting betwixt venues. RedPanda put up with my stick-up-my-buttness, but also felt there was a time and place for pups to interact between games, and to remember who they were and what their game personas were all about. *smiles* She always had a good solid grasp on the concept of writing cross-game. And this is the community she created to give us all a place to express that avenue of writing. Please, go re-read the info page to remember what it was that she wished this place to be.

And then... go for it. She'd love that you did! If there's a pup in a game that you don't play in and they intrigue you... hit them up! Talk. Chat. Play. And when the results are a bit of writing.... this is where you can bring them.

Believe me, I love reading this cross shards play. And I know others do, to. So... bring it! RedPanda would be the first to squee over your adventures, we all know that. :)

Thanks for reading this. And now, let's get back to the fun!","comments":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/21549.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/21423.html","pubDate":"Wed, 29 Jun 2005 16:36:58 GMT","author":"cocoajava","link":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/21423.html","description":"Who:<\/b> David Wenham and Faramir<\/a> (Dreaming Theatre)<\/a> + Russell Crowe<\/a> (Valimar)<\/a>
What:<\/b> Russell's meets someone he's heard about.
Warnings:<\/b> 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> a while back, that we decided to allow them another visit. But if you thought this<\/a> 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<\/a> 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....","comments":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/21423.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/21228.html","pubDate":"Wed, 29 Jun 2005 16:32:24 GMT","title":"In which Russell still hasn't left Wellington!","author":"cocoajava","link":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/21228.html","description":"Who:<\/b> David Wenham and Faramir<\/a> (Dreaming Theatre)<\/a> + Russell Crowe<\/a> (Valimar)<\/a>
What:<\/b> Russell's meets someone he's heard about.
Warnings:<\/b> 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> a while back, that we decided to allow them another visit. But if you thought this<\/a> 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.



Russell isn't sure where David had to go today, but whatever it was it had to be important -- it'd dragged the poor bastard grumbling out of bed at an hour he couldn't possibly have liked, even if he hadn't been leaving a bed full of good-looking naked men to do so. Russell feels bad about it, once he's awake (and out from under Theodred) enough to think at all. He figures the last thing David would expect would be coming home to food and company...so once Theo heads out on his own errands, that's exactly what Russell does. Stays, and rummages the kitchen, and slaps together something that smells pretty damn tasty if he says so himself. But it gets later and later, and still no David... With a shrug, he finally chucks the food into the microwave and adjourns back to the bedroom to catch a few zzzs. He doesn't mean to fall fast asleep. But he does.

Russell's arrival yesterday had been a feat of great timing, since Dave had no plans for that day. Russell had been an absolutely wonderful distraction... a distraction that carried into the evening, along with their hitchhiker of a horseboy. Or was Dave the hitchhiker? He'd gone along with pretty much everything, hadn't he? And liked it all, quite a bit. It wasn't until just before dawn when reality caught up with Dave, quite literally pulling him out of a dream. Photo shoot. 7am publicity shots for the children's theatre. His agent had explained about the sun's early angles and the brick siding of the building and the cool effects and well it made sense, at least it did right up until Dave had to actually crawl out of a heap of warm bodies and get dressed.

He manages, grudgingly. And is thankful for his own personal reputation for scruffy hair and horrible shirts. The shot goes great though, and soon enough Dave's heading back home. He wonders if they'll still be sleeping. Or if they've taken Laurelea out for a ride, or if Theo's burnt the cabin to the ground making breakfast.

The place smells of breakfast, and thankfully, no smoke. Dave's puzzled though, no food is in sight and no men, either! Maybe they've eaten and run after all. Dave trudges up the stairs to change into a t-shirt, and soon is smiling broadly at the sight on his bed. He gets the dratted shirt off, and slides up next to the snoozing Russell. \"Hey, there. Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey?\" The silly words are whispered and end with a kiss to Russell's nose.

Russell makes an incoherent mumbling sound and tries to bat away what he thinks (in his semi-conscious state) is a fly on his nose. Instead he finds his hand splayed out over a face. And it's not his face. One eye cracks open to regard Dave blearily, then the other opens and his forehead creases. \"Eggs and what?\"

\"Bakey. Bacon, mate.\" Dave snickers and gently tugs at the covers Russell's gripping tightly in his fists, slowly getting them loose enough to slide the covers back. \"Someone's had breakfast, judging by the nice smells around here. And it wasn't me. Theo's gone. And you're sleeping. So....?\"

\"Mmmm.\" Yes, there was bacon in the kitchen somewhere; Russell now remembers making it. He also recalls what he and Theo got up to after Dave left, and he has to sit up quickly to try to mask the blush. It doesn't work. \"So...I raided your fridge and made something? Hope you don't mind.\" He's not really worried, though. Who could possibly mind bacon? On that thought he reaches out and ruffles Dave's hair until it's as messy as his own. \"Where'd you go?\"

Dave gives a sidelong glance to Russell as he blushes oddly. \"Had a photo shoot at the crack of doom. Someday I'll introduce you to my agent, Atilla the Hunette.\" Dave reaches up and grabs Russell's hand in mid-ruffle, smiling at his friend. \"So, this mystery breakfast. Any leftovers, or did you and Theo devour everything?\"

And there's that blush again. Dave's not sure if he should ask. He knows there's been enough going on the past 24 hours to fulfill the blushing requirements of an entire planet for a year... but he's curious about the timing here. He pulls the blankets well back, and tugs on Russell's arm. Either the man's going to get out of bed and feed Dave, or they're going to have to agree on some other course of action that will get Dave's mind off of food right now.

To be honest, Russell snitched enough bits while cooking that he's not hungry. Dave probably is...but then again Dave wasn't even expecting breakfast yet, was he? So Russell feels perfectly justified in grabbing the other man's arm in return and hauling him into bed. The last thing Dave sees clearly before the blanket is thrown up over their heads is a mischievious smile. \"No leftovers. I didn't even get out of bed to cook until after he left.\"

Dave's not sure what to say about Theo's leaving, especially considering he was still there when Dave left. He does know Theo's not one for a quiet exit, but should he be nosey and ask about that? Then he's enveloped in soft blankets and feeling warm breath on his cheek. Ah, to hell with Theo. \"Fine then. I'll just starve to nothing right here in your arms. At least send me off to the afterlife with a decent kiss, mate?\" It's hard to see in the vague light that gets in through the blankets, but Dave manages to find Russell's mouth, and sets about getting that decent kiss. If you want something done right, you've got to do it yourself, he reminds himself as he curls the tip of his tongue up behind Russell's upper teeth.

It's a very bold kiss, and a surprise -- the only reason Dave can get his tongue right there is because Russell's jaw was half-open to reply. He almost chokes trying not to laugh with his mouth full, and returns the favor in kind even as he half-turns to wrap his arms more securely around the other man. He's happy here, he realizes. He feels safe. A low raw grateful moan escapes him at that thought, vibrating against Dave's teeth and chest. \"Decent enough for you?\"

Dave lets out a low, happy sigh, and wiggles in Russell's arms, not that he's uncomfortable, he just likes to feel the strength in the arms surrounding him. \"More than decent. I'd go so far as to say... adequate.\" Dave winks to let Russell know he's kidding. He's trying to keep the mood light, since he needing to bring up a potentially tense topic. He hopes it's not, but he won't know until he dives in.

\"So, um.... are you all right with what went on? He didn't push you too far? I know Theo can be a bit, er, forceful. I'm still kinda reeling myself, to be honest.\"

\"A bit,\" Russell agrees, laughing softly with his eyes closed. It belatedly occurs to him that Dave probably means last night, not this morning -- because of course there's no way Dave would know what happened after he left -- but then again Dave's not stupid either, so on third thought Russell finds himself rather bemused. \"Forceful, perhaps, but not mean. I...look, I know I must have seemed rather...well, I just rolled over, and...oh hell. I'm doing that 'walking on eggshells' thing again.\" And maybe he's not the only one, judging by Dave's expression. \"Are you all right with what happened?\"

Dave chews on his lower lip and ponders the question.... just like he pondered it all the way back home this morning. He wasn't sure if he wanted to find Theo still here, or not. And he's not fully facing up to the slight sense of disappointment when he learned he'd taken off. At least that was tempered by the nice feeling in the pit of his stomach when he saw Russell was still here.

\"I guess I'm all right with it. Hell, he was right, I've wondered now and then what it would be like.\" Bit of confession time, Dave - you can be honest with him, he's been so open with you. \"I cheated on Paris once, when we were first together. I messed it up. Messed us up. After a long time, I got a second chance. I swore I wouldn't screw up this time. But, I keep having this nagging feeling like Paris might know about this crossworld thing, and that he'd be all right with it. I can't explain it.\" Dave smiles and wiggles closer for a kiss. \"I can't explain how you're here. I don't think anyone can. But I think it's all right, somehow. And if you're all right, then I think letting my curiousity loose with Theo was all right, too.\"

Russell just listens, making no move to interrupt until he's sure Dave's meandered to a comfortable stopping place. \"Well, if you're all right, and I'm all right, then there's really nothing more to worry about.\" The part about Paris is very strange, though; it's starting to sound like the \"two people in one body\" thing is more complicated than he'd first assumed.

\"Have you considered, oh, I don't know, asking Paris?\" he asks, chidingly. But then he frowns and touches a finger to Dave's lips before the man can answer. \"No, no, wait. Are we talking about me or about Theodred now?\"

Dave smiles wryly. \"You're starting to get the gist of it. Sometimes I'm not sure who I'm talking about, either. And in this household, there's more than just Paris to talk to. Faramir counts Paris among his best friends, I was starting to get a decent relationship going with Theodred which I hope I haven't complicated now, and I have a tendency to get really nervous when relationships start getting complicated. And there's no escaping complex around here, is there?\" Dave's lips are still tingling where Russell's finger touched them, and he knows things are getting even more complicated. And what's more, he wants them to.

But that wry smile is starting to fade out, and is quickly being replaced by a look of near panic. And that panic leads to another panic, as Dave feels a nudging at the back of his brain. Not now, Faramir.... Dave gulps hard, knowing he's roused the concern of his shift, who seems to always know when Dave's losing it. And Faramir's fully ready to step into any situation and help. But what would he think if he stepped into this particular situation?

The shift in mood is subtle but sudden; Russell picks up on it a moment later. \"Dave, it's all right, I don't want to make things too complicated for y--\" He's looking up to capture Dave's eyes at that, and he trails off as Dave's eyes visibly change color. Blue to gray he's seen before, so it'd be nothing but an interesting detail if it were not for the fact that Dave's hair is also changing color. And length.

While the logic centers of his brain are calmly informing him that this is probably what Dave's been talking about all along, it's still startling enough to make him let go and scrabble back. \"Holy shit!\"

Faramir's fully expecting to step into Dave's body in an upright position. Most likely pacing. The pacing is actually a nice, familiar beat to shift in to... but he's surprised as hell to find himself lying down on a soft mattress. Faramir's not expecting such intimate surrounds... or the scent and closeness of a strange man. He stares intently, not meaning to be rude, but he needs to do that to complete the shift in. The man facing him is certainly not unpleasant to look upon, but he is not Paris. Yet, this is Dave's bed, Faramir knows that.

He begins to understand why his shiftmate has become upset. He speaks softly, wishing to not aggravate whatever situation drew him to this bed with this man that's suddenly acting as if Faramir was on fire and he was being burned.

\"If you could calm yourself, perhaps we could sit up and discuss the situation? I... am not Dave, though you may choose not to believe that. But please know that I wish to help.\"

Not Dave. Yeah. That much is apparent. Russell manages to not go right off over the edge of the bed this time, as with Theodred; he holds his ground about a foot away instead. Dave did tell him about this, after all, and he's met Theodred. He knows it's real, and safe, but still: one moment he's in the arms of a man he cares about very much, and the next he's alone and almost naked with a complete stranger from a society he knows little about.

\"I'm calm,\" he manages, evenly. No need to be rude, right? Right. There's a skitter of wary animal fear in his eyes, however. \"Just wasn't expecting...you. You're Faramir, right?\"

Faramir nods quietly, his eyes darting about the room, taking in the situation. It's Dave's loft bedroom at the cabin, and really, that's enough to let Faramir know that something's not normal here today. If Dave's in bed, there's only one other man that should logically be in that bed, too. And this isn't him.

\"I do not know you, but your face is familiar to me.\" Faramir regards the man thoughtfully, while easing himself up and out from under the covers to sit crosslegged on the bed. \"Ah. You are also an actor. I have watched many of the movies Dave owns.\" Faramir laughs, very softly. The situation still doesn't make sense, but this man does. \"Dave has an extensive collection of your films.... Russell. You are from his homeland, as well. I have watched many of Dave's DVD's. You are a fine actor, but this does not explain your presence in his bed, does it?\"

There's something pleasantly insane about being recognized by a man who technically doesn't exist...and if he had, it would have been thousands of years ago. Except he does exist, and he's being very polite about what must be terribly awkward for him. Sheepishly, Russell relaxes. He's sitting at that \"comfortable distance from a stranger\" range for him, which means he's probably closer than Faramir would expect from someone he doesn't know. It's completely subconscious.

\"Thanks, that's right nice of you. You watch movies, eh? I bet that was strange at first.\" He tilts his head, gauging Faramir's reactions, and keeps going. \"But no, it doesn't explain any of this. Dave and I, we're friends. But more than that. It's complicated. Maybe I should start by saying that I'm not from this world either -- and no, I'm not a shift. I'm just...misplaced.\"

Faramir ponders Russell's explaination a while, then speaks softly. \"You say you come from another world, and find yourself misplaced here. Yet, I have seen your likeness in this world, in many guises.\"

Yes, it does seem complicated. It also seems very much like Dave to take in one who has lost their way... especially one who looks as fair as this man. Dave has always been a man who's passions run of their own accord, and that has gotten him into trouble more than once in his life. Is this why Faramir felt compelled to come though today? Is Dave giving in to those passions yet again? Russell seems too certain of his own stance, but Faramir is not convinced.

\"How do you know for certain that you are not a shift?\"

\"What? Well, obviously because--\" Russell is about to refute that when he realizes that it's not a bad question, actually. He hasn't met his other self, the one who'd gone on to release another album and attempted to make a movie with Nicole Kidman over the past year while he, in his own reality, had been locked away the moment \"Cinderella Man\" wrapped. And he hasn't been paying any attention to the media -- too many familiar faces. He'd just assumed his doppelganger was busy in LA or at the ranch or whatever.

\"That's a good point,\" he says slowly instead, nodding. \"I'm going to say that no, I'm pretty sure I'm not a shift because if I were, and I'd 'gone missing,' someone would have come looking for me by now. I haven't exactly been hiding in a basement; I've been recognized on the street. I don't know. I guess I should look into it.\" He shrugs lopsidedly, a little disturbed now. \"I don't like reading the entertainment news. Bad associations. People I never want to see again.\" More like 'people I'd like to beat to death with my bare hands,' and though he doesn't voice that it comes across loud and clear anyway.

\"I would not worry about 'looking into it'. If you are a shift, eventually it should become clear why you are. If you are not, you will waste time you apparently should be spending with your friend. The reasons for travels to other worlds may be more complex than we know. I know my purpose here, but cannot guess at yours.\"

Faramir wonders about these people Russell wishes to never see again. Perhaps coming here is a gift from whatever passes for his own Valar. He shrugs, and takes a good long look at the man. There is something in the way he speaks, and moves, and most of all the way he watches Faramir. \"Perhaps you would be more comfortable if we were to go downstairs? I have entertained men in this bed, but not in a conversational way. The horselords of Rohan are not much for small talk.\" It's meant as a small joke, one probably wasted on Russell, but Faramir can't resist.

\"No, that's for sure,\" Russell agrees readily, accepting the quip as common ground without thinking what Faramir may deduce from it. He moves to sit up on the edge of the bed but makes no effort to get up yet. \"Only if you promise to eat some breakfast. I made it for Dave, but I guess you'll do. No way am I wasting bacon that good.\"

That's said with a good-humored smile aside. Dave would have warned him if there was anything to worry about, right? And Faramir does have a disarming old-fashioned charm, even in a situation this awkward. Russell can admire that. He can also tell the man is watching him very keenly, and he sighs. \"Sorry. I'm a little jumpy around strangers in my personal space.\" He gestures as he rises, indicating that he means the room...maybe Dave's place in general. \"No offense meant.\"

\"No offense taken.\" Faramir needs to get to neutral ground, and a bed that's still reeking of sweat and cum isn't the place to accomplish that. He pushes towards the edge and stands on the floor, extending his hand to Russell. \"I swear I smell bacon, and the day a man stands between me and that delicacy is a day to rue.\" He smiles crookedly at Russell, hoping he'll realize Faramir's trying to give him some breathing space.

\"Have you met Dave's dog yet? She's downstairs. Her name is Isean, which means 'Chicken' in Gaelic, which is a mistake in naming Dave will regret for many years to come. Come down, play with her, and I will find this bacon you have hidden. And we shall talk more, by the warmth of the fireplace.\"

The bacon isn't all that well-hidden, actually...it turns out that they're just in time to rescue it from the aforementioned dog, whom Russell has met already. In fact, he'd actually already fed the dog about one third of the bacon before it was cooked. Needless to say, Russell is now very popular in IseanWorld.

Though reheated, breakfast is still good, the meal is short and passes in polite quiet. When Russell looks up from chasing a last bit of syrup around his plate with his fork and finds Faramir setting down his own silverware, he follows suit. \"So who clears up and who starts that fire you mentioned?\"

\"You clear up. I'll tend the fire.\" Faramir doesn't mention the fact that he usually breaks a dish every time he attempts to help. \"I'm better at fires than sinks, somehow.\"

After a time everything seems to be put into order, and a crackling fire is blazing at the hearth. Faramir joins Russell in the kitchen long enough to brew a pot of coffee, and then leads the way to the couch, two mugs in hand.

\"Sit? Here, it's Kenyan. Dave seems to think that's important.\" Faramir hands one steaming mug over, and eases back into the cushions.

\"So, Russell. Would you rather I leave now? Dave should be calmer upon his return. I could bring him back now, if you wish.\"

To be honest, yes: Russell wants Dave back. Part of him, the part that was terrified of open closet doors when he was very small, is irrationally scared that his friend and lover won't return at all...that this change is permanent. Which is completely ridiculous, of course, so he brushes it off with a snort.

Instead, he cradles the mug in both hands and basks in the firelight for a moment before shaking his head, looking back over at Faramir. \"No, that's all right. If this calms him, then it's good for him. A little longer won't hurt him. Though if you have any idea what set him off...for once, I don't think it was me.\"

\"I am not sure what has happened today. I take it you have visited him before, without such incident? Was something different this time?\" Faramir appreciates that Russell shows concern, and is beginning to realize that this is a decent and caring man. He begins to understand why Dave would wish to spend time with him.

\"If by 'incident' you mean him, uh, shifting,\" Russell hopes he's used the right word, \"then no. But I guess you would already know that.\" He frowns into his coffee, thoughtfully. \"I do tend to upset him on a regular basis...my world, where I come from, describing it, just knowing that it exists...it disturbs him. A lot. He's a good man, he hates knowing something's wrong and not being able to do anything about it. But that's never upset him so bad that you showed up, so I'd say it was something to do with what happened last night.\"

Now he looks up at Faramir, squarely. \"Theodred joined us. In bed. Not Paris, Theo.\" He expects this will mean more to Faramir than to him, and he watches the man's expression for clues to better understand.

\"Ah. Yes.\" Now it all makes some sort of sense. \"Dave and Theodred have had a very rocky relationship. For a long time, Dave hated him. They have achieved a truce of sorts, and the tenative beginnings of a friendship. He most likely fears that he has ruined this progress.\" Faramir sighs and runs his hand through his hair nervously. \"Theodred has an appetite, and Dave has discouraged all past advances. I am sure my friend from my world found it a small victory. He knows he could have me any time he wishes, but where is the challenge in that?\"

Russell is still wearing that intense little frown as he absorbs this. It's not that he's never encountered a complicated romantic entanglement before. It's just that usually, in his experience, the various parties therein didn't happen to share the same bodies in the process!

So as Faramir explains he just nods, slowly, and takes a mouthful of coffee before it gets cold. \"I see. Shit. I didn't think at all. This sort of thing is a bit more...casual, where I come from. Well, maybe 'casual' is the wrong word. Expected? I'm not used to saying no.\" He abruptly looks flustered. \"I, I mean of course I can say no--\" he's pretty sure, at any rate \"--but if there's no real reason, and I didn't think there was one because Dave seemed all right with the idea, and Theo came on all Master-like, and...well, hell.\" More coffee, the rest of the cup, dashed straight down the hatch like a shot. \"Dammit, David.\"

\"You did nothing wrong. The standards of my world are different than here, too.\" Faramir gives Russell a small smile. \"I'm not used to saying 'no', either. I understand.\" Faramir reaches to take Russell's cup, and gently sets it on the coffee table, then turns to grasp both of the man's hands firmly, looking him directly in the eye. \"Dave may have gotten himself confused, but it was his own doing. He could have said no at any time - Theo does like to dominate, but he never forces. Apparently Dave wanted this more than he was willing to admit. And after his hormones stopped howling, his reasoning returned. And he panicked. That is what I believe has happened.\"

Well, Faramir may look different, and the cadence of his speech -- his accent! -- is different, but the touch is the same. It's also unexpected, and kind. Russell glances down in brief surprise but doesn't flinch away. \"No, he didn't force,\" he agrees, carefully. There were arguable issues of consent, but he knows they're unique to his own scrambled psyche and he's not about to blame a stranger for blithely pushing the wrong buttons. Or the right ones, as may be. It's hard to say.

\"I really hope this doesn't cause Dave any problems. Theo isn't the type to brag about his, er, conquests, is he? Is that what Dave is afraid of? That his other friends will find out? Or is this just about Paris? And is that even technically cheating...this is giving me a headache.\"

Faramir can't help himself, now. He laughs lightly, squeezing Russell's hands. \"Welcome to Dave's world. Now you see how he could get himself into such a state!\" Faramir pauses, a thought crossing his mind, and he considers something Russell said early on in their conversation. \"A while ago, you said you were misplaced. I begin to believe you are correct. I think that all of you are somehow misplaced. You travel from another world, Theo takes what he knows he should not have, and Dave allows it to happen. Something is not quite normal, wouldn't you say? And that would logically mean I am misplaced, too, by virtue of being here right now.\" Faramir takes a deep breath, and relaxes, he did not realize how concerned he had been for the welfare of his shiftmate. \"Eventually misplaced things become found, and tucked back into their proper niche. Why not simply enjoy being lost, until you are returned home?\"

\"I suppose.\" Russell understands that Faramir means to be comforting; after all, most lost travellers long for home. It's only natural. However, Russell considers himself the luckiest man in existence for what he's found here: a place that's enough like home to be comfortable, and yet... The last thing he wants is to be un-misplaced.

He's a good actor, but not good enough to suppress the flash of black revulsion in his eyes even as he smiles and squeezes Faramir's hands and sits back, resting one palm on the dog's curled side. \"All things work out for the best in the end, I suppose. Do you consider yourself lost, when you're here?\"

Isean, goofy dog that she is, is clueless that the two men chatting on the couch are struggling for understanding. All she knows is that the new-smelling stranger feeds her bacon and thus is her favorite person of the day. She breathes a blissful sigh and rolls up against Russell's leg.

Faramir wonders how much of the truth he should admit to, the question is a good one. He decides to answer honestly, but won't mention every detail of his meaning. \"I do not. At first, I did, until I realized that Wellington was a safe haven away from the pressures of Gondor and my family. I have grown to love this place and now consider it a second home. Dave and I have learned how to reach through to each other, and he allows me enough time here to spend with friends, or simply relaxing.\" Another smile, and he adds, \"Some nights I just stretch out on this couch and drink beer and watch movies. I found 'Gladiator' to be a very engrossing tale.\"

It's hard to be edgy with a dog flopped half-over your lap. Russell's fingers keep moving through Isean's fur; it's a refreshingly normal sensation, and he relaxes as he listens to Faramir's tale. At the praise he warms a little more, with a soft laugh. \"Thanks. I guess that one's pretty archetypical, eh? Revenge, honor, love, freedom, swords, great bloody tigers...\"

Isean rests her chin on his knee to soulfully demand more love, preferably in the form of pork products, and only gets a brow-rub for her trouble. Russell's attention is elsewhere. \"You've made friends here? Do they know?\"

Faramir's eyes go soft and unfocused, for a moment he's lost in a memory. Then he snaps hs attention back to the present, with a rueful sigh. \"I have made friends here, yes. Most know me as Mark, a simple name I chose, as I know going by my real name here would probably earn me a trip to the local mental hospital. But one knew who I really was, he learned of my identity during a crises. He was able to accept who I am, because he loved me.\" Faramir reaches over and rubs the dog's back, and now she's in serious bliss with the double attention. \"He has left New Zealand now, it is for the best.\"

\"Who in their right mind would leave New Zealand?\" Russell jokes, but carefully; it sounds like something he should tread lightly around. The dog makes a blissed-out grunt and rolls onto her back for a tummy-rub. \"I'm sorry. Mind if I ask why, what happened? You can tell me to mind my own damn business if you like...I'm just asking.\"

Russell has no way of knowing that once Faramir gets relaxed and talking, he's likely to take a conversation into the next week. But it's too late now, and one can only hope he's got a great deal of time and very strong ears.

Continued in Part Two<\/a>, feel free to take a break before Faramir starts talking!<\/i>","comments":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/21228.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/20276.html","pubDate":"Tue, 17 May 2005 16:12:52 GMT","title":"Two's Company, Three's Something Completely Different","author":"cocoajava","link":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/20276.html","description":"Who:<\/b> David Wenham<\/a> and Theodred<\/a> (Dreaming Theatre)<\/a> + Russell Crowe<\/a> (Valimar)<\/a>
What:<\/b> Russell's in the wrong Wellington. Again.
Warnings:<\/b> NC-17 for mansmut!

Note: We had so much fun with Dave and Russell<\/a> a while back, that we decided to allow them another visit. Somewhere along the line, a certain horseboy crashed the party and... well. *cough* This was purely for fun - this does not reflect situations or plots of either Dreams or Valimar.

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.



It's cold when Russell shows up on Dave's doorstep, hands shoved deep in pockets and shivering from more than the cold. He hesitates for a moment, but then he sighs and knocks. It'd be ridiculous to come all the way over here and then walk away, like an angst-raddled teenager. Dave said to come over any time. He has a feeling Dave is the kind of guy who doesn't just say things like that.

Dave's contemplating a ride on the beach, but maybe a movie sounds good too. Or a book, or a nap. Face it, Dave's at loose ends. He's heading for the front door to throw a few sticks with his dog when he nearly jumps out of his skin - just as he puts his hand on the doorknob, there\u2019s a rap on the thick wood door. He peers out, and goes slack jawed. \"Russell?\" Those loose ends just got tied in a neat knot, and Dave grabs Russell's arm and pulls him inside, perhaps a little too forcefully. \"Er, sorry, mate. Just so amazed to see you again!\"

\"Hey, I said I'd be around.\" Russell grabs Dave\u2019s arm and pulls him into a bear hug, not letting go. \"Good to see you. Can I stay? Just for a few. If you've got plans, mate, kick my ass out.\"

Dave laughs and hooks his arms around Russell's broad back, breathing deep of the scent of the man. \"Been trying to plan all day! And am getting nowhere. You couldn't have picked a better day to visit, I was going out of my mind being flailed by loose ends. Your ass is staying right<\/i> here, you got it?\" What the heck. The couch is only three feet away. Dave reaches behind Russell's legs with a raised foot, nudges the back of his knees, and steers their tumble onto the thick cushions. \"See? Told you so. Ass. Parked.\"

\"Ooof.\" Russell manages to twist enough to not<\/i> land on Dave, catching him half across his lap and barely missing the arm of the sofa. As it is, he really hopes it won't take a proctologist to find the remote later... \"I don't know if you're humoring me or what, but I'll take it.\" He wraps an arm around the small of Dave's waist again, resting his head against his shoulder. \"Just...shit. I'm sorry. Needed company, that's all.\"

\"Don't apologize! You've got no idea how good it is to see you!\" Dave means what he says. He knows he's got a good life, an amazing lover, a career that only gives him a horrible haircut every third film, but still - there's a Russell-shaped gap in it since they last met. It's hard to describe and impossible to explain, but it's there. And right now that gap's gone and Russell's here and Dave is very happy about that. But Russell sounds like he's got something on his mind. \"Hey, talk to me. You all right?\" Course he's not all right, Dave. That<\/i> place makes sure of it.

Russell feels briefly like a heel. He really ought to come over here some afternoon when he's not<\/i> having needy, clingy issues. It's embarrassing. And rude. He mentally makes a random \"drop in unexpectedly with beer and bad movies\" date for next weekend, but in the meantime he starts trying to extricate himself from under Dave's rear. \"Don't take this the wrong way, but...bedroom? It'd be better...\"

\"All right.\" Dave should question that, but he doesn't. The last time they were in his bedroom was pretty amazing. Not just the sex, but the... whatever that was, that connection they made back then. Dave's never going to accept this Valimar, and much of what he felt back then was frustration and anger at that place... but there was also an overwhelming sense of connection and closeness with his friend. \"The bedroom is fine. Follow me?\" He leads Russell up the stairs, holding the man's fingers tightly as Russell follows closely behind him.

Russell's glad for the contact, and for the quiet acceptance. It's silly, maybe, wanting to crawl under the blankets and just put his head down on somebody's chest and be safe<\/i>, but it's been very a long time since he got too big to do that to Terry. Besides...Dave is anything but<\/i> his brother. The vibe is different, and it's just what he needs. Once there, he drags Dave in and does exactly that, relaxing with a sigh. \"Bad dreams,\" he admits. \"More than that. Memories cropping back up.\"

Dave winces at the dreams mention. He's had his share, and he knows his counterpart back in Middle Earth has had a lot more than he's earned, and the residuals of those dreams lurk in his own subconscious - it's strange to be the warehouse for the memories of bad dreams someone else experienced, but that's the way of his life. He reaches to stroke Russell's hair in slow, soothing strokes. \"Do you want to talk about them? You can, if it helps. I'm listening.\"

\"I'd forgotten a lot of the last few months,\" Russell murmurs, eyes drifting closed at the touch. It's a huge weakness. \"Starting to come back now, late at night. Tonight, fuck, I couldn't even try<\/i> to get to sleep. It's nothing specific...just...I guess I finally lost it. Bit a guard.\" It goes without saying that you don't<\/i> attack guards, in the slavepits of Valimar. He forgets that Dave has never been there. So he doesn't bother to elaborate. He laughs, softly, bitterly. \"Bad enough the Masters<\/i> can have anything they want...the guards get perks too? Fuck, Dave...I tried to be good, but I just snapped<\/i>.\"

\"Course you snapped, just amazed you didn't bite someone, anyone... hell, every<\/i>one long before this.\" Dave slowly gathers up bits of the horror of this place - every glimpse he gets into this world feels like he's picked up a sharp, jagged, dirty piece of glass without benefit of gloves. But he wants to know, he needs to know, and he doesn't need kid gloves to touch the shards. Well... at least not yet. Besides, he reminds himself, Russell has to live this life, day in and day out. Dave can certainly handle just hearing about it secondhand. \"Cumulative thing, then? Just got to the 'can't take anymore' stage?\" Dave's worried. \"What do they do to you when you snap like that?\"

Russell's quiet for a moment. That's something he didn't remember himself clearly, even at the time. But if he digs hard enough, past the rage, it's still there. \"Called me a bitch, I think. Or 'good doggie' -- something like that. I...don't cope well with dog jokes. Not after the Mistress's kennel.\" He can't remember if he told Dave about that, and he realizes that he may have just gone too<\/i> far. \"They could have done a lot worse, actually, but one of the guards was an okay type. Got a friend to calm me down. You have Johnny Depp in this world?\"

Dave nods. \"Johnny's only a quarter mile away, right now - just through the trees, in Hugo Weaving's bed. He's a good man, bit smartass for my taste, but when push comes to shove, he's strong and does what he knows is right.\" Dave's still stroking Russell's hair, but now he leans to touch his lips to Russell's forehead, wanting to be closer and have their words feel more private. \"Damn them.\" Dave whispers the curse softly, low, almost soothingly. \"How dare they call you such things? You're a treasure.\" Dave tightens his hold on Russell. He's never been good with pet names, it actually drives him crazy at times - he cares so much for certain folk and would love to have a special name for them, something out of public earshot. And that lack of talent for naming those dear to his heart is frustrating him right now. \"Russell... ah dammit, Russell! One hour. I'd pay good money for one hour in Valimar. Me and one good solid chain.\"

\"I'll pay that hour for<\/i> you,\" Russell replies with a slightly muffled chuckle. Dave's fierce protective streak is more than just soothing; it makes him feel like he's allowed to let go, to not have to be the one trying to hold it together for anybody else. He needs it -- almost took off a fan's head the other way, for no reason at all. The tabloids are, of course, crowing about it...no pun intended. He loops an arm around Dave's waist and just hangs on. \"It's okay, really. They went easy on me after that. Sedatives and easy appointments. That means no beatings,\" he clarifies with a gentle head butt to the chin. \"Some of the Masters really weren't so bad-- Shhh, Dave...come here.\" He tugs him closer. \"You're shaking.\"

\"I'm fine.\" Dave blurts the words out more forcefully than he means to, but he takes a deep breath after and kisses the top of Russell's head. \"I.... I just.... ah fuck, Russell, I grew up in boring suburbs, I've had a decent career and a good life, got this shifting curse a while back but I can deal<\/i> with it, cause Faramir and I have figured out how to respect each other.\" Dave leans back a little and reaches to nudge Russell's head up, so Dave can look his friend in the eye. \"I can't take it all in. What you live and breathe every day. I just can't. And I hate them all. I hate everyone there but you.\" Dave realizes Russell's right - he is shaking. \"You're far too special to be treated like dirt. I...\" Dave cuts his words off short and buries his face in Russell's hair.

Russell shifts to get his arm under Dave, rocking him slightly. He's both comforted and concerned, with this weird feeling that he should defend his world somehow...that it's not all bad. That the appointments when they only wanted sex were sometimes spectacularly good. But then again, he also knows he's been rather brutally conditioned to be grateful for an orgasm, and that to Dave a rape is a rape regardless of what it could<\/i> have been instead. So he just holds on, unsure what to say. At last he ventures, \"I'm sorry. It's...I know you want to do something, and you are. You really are.\"

\"Don't apologize... please. Never to me, ever.\" Dave means it. He doesn't want Russell making amends for the place he comes from. \"Just let me bitch about your Valiarrrrrrgh and you keep coming over when you need a time out and we're fine, you got it?\" Dave slows his words down, realizing he's probably going to make Russell offer another apology and that's the last thing he wants or needs. He takes a deep calming breath, and pushes back thoughts of that place, brings his focus to the here and now. \"Well, I can't go there, at least I don't think I can. But you're here, and the rest of your world isn't.\" Dave burrows down deeper in the quilts, pulling Russell with him. \"And that means we're alone. Tell me something that would make you smile, and if I can make it happen, I will. Right here, right now.\"

Russell considers that and then smiles, almost shyly. \"You have anything in the way of massage oil? I wouldn't mind an excuse to get my hands all over you.\" More seriously, in case Dave thinks he's just deflecting this back into the easy default of sexual innuendo, he adds, \"I like doing things with my hands. I'd really like to.\"

Dave smiles, suddenly feeling something on the nice edge of shyness at being the object of Russell's focus. \"I have lemon oil, it's really good stuff, the scent, I think you'll really like it. It's over on the dresser, by the railing.\" Dave's odd cabin has angles and elevations unlike a conventional house - and he indicates a dresser nudged against an open railing that makes up the fourth wall of his bedroom. One that if you leaned too far over, you'd find yourself quite suddenly landing in the living room.

\"I'll do that.\" Russell disentangles from Dave with a kiss on the ear and goes to fetch the oil in question. He pauses longer than he should at the railing, however; it's rather fascinating, and there is<\/i> something a little nautical about it. He returns with a slightly dreamy nostalgic look in his eyes. \"Clothes off, Wenham.\"

Dave has slid up to sitting in the bed, watching Russell as he stands at the wooden rails overlooking the stone fireplace and expanse over the living room. He works on unbuttoning his shirt, but his eyes never leave his friend. He sees a certain set of the muscles, the way he grips the railing... there's a confidence and comfortableness in his stance and Dave really likes seeing that. He slips his shirt off and tosses it on the floor, he does tend to be a slob in the privacy of his bedroom. The jeans and skivvies soon follow. \"Yes, Sir. Clothes are history, mere memory, sir.\"

\"Don't.\" Russell leans in to kiss Dave on the mouth, very lightly, little more than a feather and a breath. He's not all that bothered, actually, but with this man he feels it's all right to make even small silly demands like this. \"Not 'sir.' Please.\" And then he laughs, tapping his forehead against Dave's then bulling him down to the bed. \"Looks good...are these good sheets? I hope not.\"

\"The bedding's expendable - don't give it a second thought\" Dave gave in and stretched out full length against the soon to be sorry sheets. \"All right, then, what should I call you? Ma'am?\" Dave quickly pulled a pillow over his head after that wisecrack. \"Masseuse Maestro?\" He nearly giggled, then his voice got very quiet. \"Love?\"<\/small>

\"Oh good.\" Because Russell's pretty sure that there's going to be oil dripping everywhere in about ten seconds. He snorts at the first joke, doesn't quite catch the second, but then pauses at the third. \"I, uh...\" He leans down to press against Dave, nuzzling his ear, bewildered but wishing he'd say it again. \"You barely know me. And all I do is upset you.\"

Dave reaches above his head to stretch his arms, and curls his toes down over the end of the mattress. His body goes cat-like, stretching as far as it needs to. When he speaks, it's in soft, whispered tones. He'd determined that he's going to relax tonight and not get all worked up like he tends to do over Russell's situation, and he dearly wants Russell to relax and enjoy himself, too. \"You don't just upset me, your world does. You have no idea how happy I was to see you on the other side of my door today. I wish you could visit more often.\" Dave pauses as the oil drips on his back, then slowly fans out over his shoulder blades. He smiles anticipating the fingers to follow. \"I'm glad we found a way to spend time together, love.\"

And the fingers that follow are worth waiting for -- broad and strong, but not bruisingly so. The man's worked with horses, and it shows in how quickly he can turn Dave's knots into gooey mush. \"I'm sorry about that...trying to get my life back together here...I'll try to come by some night when there's no crisis, okay?\" Fingers track up to Dave's neck. \"Speaking of which, what about your, uh, situation?\"

\"Mmmmmsituation?\" Dave's voice is soft and lazy, he's breathing deep breaths and letting those amazing fingers melt him into butter. \"Things are all right here. We took a weekend vacation in the mountains, Paris' brother has a cabin.... Paris, me, Faramir, Theo.... we all had our time up there. I hated Theo when we drove up... and he was my friend by the time we left.\" I stretch and squirm a little, edging my shoulder blade up under you fingers, begging for a little extra attention in a sensitive place. \"Seems that guys from Rohan get all dumbfounded when you take them to see the ocean. Not that you need to know that... anyway, life is good. Really.\"

\"Rohan?\" Russell keeps working, slowly, not in any hurry. He doesn't want to leave, true, but also this simply needs to be done right...not as some sort of hasty seduction. He closes his eyes and just focuses on the hard-satin feel of Dave's back under his fingertips. \"I have a feeling there's a lot of meaning in that one word.\"

\"Oh, Christ, yes. Nothing to do with Rohan is simple. Well, let me take that back. Their minds are... hmmm... more focused. Intent. Stuck on familiar concepts. Ah hell, Russell, if you're born in Rohan, your cocks permanently set at high noon and you're good to go anytime. Just being around one of those guys is a battle for your personal honor.\" Dave chuckles, remembering Theodred's skinny dipping and stolen kiss. The Royal Brat. \"Hey. I'm just grateful you're from somewhere I understand.\" Dave's voice softens. \"You're from here, even when you're not.\"

Russell chuckles softly, shaking his head although he knows Dave can't see it. \"Sounds great, but for one thing: I don't know where Rohan is<\/i>. And I have a feeling it's complicated.\" He leans down to kiss Dave on the back of the head, through rumpled hair and all. \"Everything's complicated these days. But...try me.\" That last bit Dave said, he's still thinking about.

\"Rohan isn't in our universe, Russell. It's a story land place. It's landlocked. Dry, brushy, horselord country. Full of epic tales of legendary battles. Peopled by characters that flow from the tip of a pen. And... very real in my world.\" Dave twists his head around to smile at his friend. \"Simple version? I don't think there is one. But this much is simple. You are my friend, and twice you've found me here. I'm glad you have. And I'm happy you are here. So there's a million worlds out there and you and I come from separate ones. We're together now, and I'm smiling. And your fingers are amazing. Isn't that enough for now?\"

\"I should hope my hands would be enough any time, anywhere.\" Russell moves outward, working over Dave's biceps in a gentle kneading motion. \"Other universes...I wouldn't believe it except, well, you know. Hard not to believe.\" He wonders if he has the nerve to meet this world's Johnny Depp. He hopes he never meets this world's Rachel Weisz. \"I'm glad you're easy to find. And nothing like-- Well, that you're you.\"

Dave breathes out slowly, relaxing, losing a lot of his talkative ways under Russell's attention. \"Good Christ, you're amazing. I'm jello and you have to cope with that.\" Dave catches Russell's half-sentence, and wonders about the world he comes from. And then suddenly, he has to know the truth. \"Russell. Do I exist in your world? Tell me about... me.\"

Russell's hands pause, then resume slowly in circles over Dave's shoulder blades. \"Are you sure...? No, don't answer that, you wouldn't ask otherwise. David is...well, Master Wenham was...\" He sighs, softly. \"He wasn't the worst. But he was definitely up there. I heard rumors for a while, early on, that he was considering booking me. Him and a, a friend. I lost a few nights' sleep, waiting. It's been a long time, though, since anyone was...\" He squeezes Dave's shoulders, knowing That is an ugly thing for Dave to hear. \"Since he hurt anyone. Word gets around, down there. So if you ask me, I think he finally went domestic with Marton and fucked off somewhere else to get his kicks.\" His thumbs work at Dave's neck, soothingly. \"It's okay, mate. He never booked me. I don't associate you with him.\"

Dave doesn\u2019t realize he\u2019s tensing up until Russell's thumb suddenly feels painful on his flesh, and he winces - not so much from the touch of his friend, but from the thought of a man with his own face giving Russell reason to lose sleep. \"I guess that's some sort of karmic retribution for all the times I've littered and worse... my alter ego is a right arsehole, eh?\" Dave's hands had been resting above his head, on his pillow, but now he reaches his right hand back to lay over Russell's rapidly working fingers. \"I am sorry. Whatever he's done, I'm taking it on me to be an ambassador of sorts and take him down a few notches.\" Hell, It's been eons since I even saw<\/i> Marton, and he was with Liv way back then.

\"It's...different, there. You think you know somebody, and then you find out they...\" Russell sighs and stops rubbing, kneeling back with his palms running down Dave's sides. \"Roll over?\"

Dave nods, not at all happy to hear he's a right arsehole in another dimension, but thinking that maybe the gory details aren't really necessary, especially when Russell's asking him nicely to roll over. He does so, stretching his arms tautly overhead before lowering them to lie at his side. \"For what it's worth.. .you do know me here. Maybe my world is confusing, but hopefully I'm not. I'm sure not trying to be.\"

Russell shakes his head hard, fingers now roaming over Dave's arms. He ducks down to kiss him lightly on the chin. \"No. You're not. I was having nightmares and I ran straight here, to you...what does that tell you?\"

Dave smiles, and finds the kiss all too fleeting. \"That tells me all I need to know. Thank you. And... I hope running to me is giving you what you need.\" Dave feels a small sense of awe... that he would be the one Russell would run to for comfort from the dreams. This means a lot to him. \"It tells me that our friendship cuts right through realities. That's a hell of a thing, mate.\"

\"As long as you believe me.\" Russell gives him a thoughtful look, then braces his hands to either side of Dave's head to steal a more serious kiss. \"I<\/i> don't blame you for anything your doppelganger did, or anything you couldn't prevent. So you shouldn't either. Though...I appreciate you listening.\" He smiles faintly. \"Though there's a lot I don't think you need to hear. On the other hand, I want to hear more about this Rohan boy toy of yours.\"

Dave can't help but smile. This certain Rohirrim would be just about anyone's boy toy, but he\u2019s keeping hands off! There's just way too much of Rohan so close to call... and all Dave really want is his Auckland born Paris. Well, and on rare special occasions, like tonight, his Russell. \"Heh. If you like, I could probably arrange an introduction, at least to Theodred. But I have to warn you. The Rohan way of saying \"Hello\" seems to involve smashing you up against a wall in a body check. Eomer's patented that move.\"

Russell lightly bumps Dave's nose with his own, grinning. \"I think I could live with that. You're not the jealous type, then? Or would I have to fight you for his honor?\"

Dave can't help laughing. \"Fight Theodred for my honor? Mate, the guy would happily steal it from me in a heartbeat if I gave him half a chance!!!!! Give him more than the half chance and he'd get Eomer here too, and they'd both have a heyday with someone as gorgeous as you.\" Dave\u2019s snickering, trying to imagine those two raging sets of hormones plying the niceties pleasant society might dictate upon Russell meeting them. More likely they'd lick their lips and lunge for his zipper.

Russell laughs...and finds himself trying not to squirm. \"Dammit, Dave...it's not that you're not all I need, but all this talk of wanton shagging gorgeous men is, uh...yeah.\" Blushing a little, he starts petting Dave's chest, striving manfully to not<\/i> grind between his thighs.

Dave can't help but notice Russell's movements, event though his eyes try to look calmer than the man feels. \"What's that? Speak up Russell, I can't hear you.\" Dave grins, and stretches languidly beneath his friend. \"Something about wanton? and shagging? Hmmmm?\"

\"Daaaave, I didn't come over here for sex...\" Even as he protests, though, Russell gives in and presses against the inside of one of Dave's thigh with a hard little huff of exhaled air. He's grinning again, blushing. \"God, I'm sorry. Can't help it.\"

\"Doesn't matter what you showed up for.\" Dave huffed an echo of Russell's breath. \"What do you want *now*? Cause... I know what I want.\" Dave just might have been raising his thigh to meet the obvious growing arousal Russell couldn't help offering. \"You didn't come here for sex. But now you're here, we've talked some.... and dammit Russell, if that isn't an erection you're rubbing on my leg then I don't know what to make of it.\" Dave reaches down and slide his hand between them, grasping Russell, proving his own words true.

Russell hisses sharply between his teeth, hips bucking forward as his head falls back. \"Ah Christ<\/i> Dave!\" He rubs his lover's arm, trying to not fuck his hand and only barely succeeding. \"Cheater,\" he gasps, laughing, \"you know<\/i> I can't resist you...\"

Dave grins, and hums quietly, happily. \"Good. Glad to hear it.\" He raises up, finding Russell's chest with his lips, then his teeth, grazing lightly over his skin. \"So then. Tell me. Why exactly are<\/i> you resisting?\" Dave accompanies his words with a deft motion of his lithe legs, wrapping them up and around Russell's back.

With a soft moan Russell shifts to meld into that new position, nibbling on Dave's shoulder even as he reaches down with one hand to grip Dave's rear, fitting their bodies together like a jigsaw puzzle. Dave smells like the massage oil, but also the ocean and...garlic? Well, nothing wrong with that so long as he shares some of the leftovers later...

Dave tightens his hold on Russell's hooking his ankles together around the man's back. Russell's still grazing teeth over his shoulder, giving Dave some rather delightful shudders, which in turn are transmitted to Russell, who then happily thrusts into Dave, who shudders.... and the sensory loop goes round again. \"Gods. So good, Russell.\"

Arriving at Dave\u2019s cabin, Theo lets himself in, eager to share his surfing prowess with the man who introduced him to the ocean before Paris shifted back in. Theo is surprised that Dave doesn\u2019t seem to be home, but just as he is about to call out to him, he hears voices from the sleeping platform above, and his brow furrows. He walks quietly up the stairs, wondering who Dave is with while his lover sleeps in darkness.

It is quite a sight that greets him as he gets to the top of the stairs. Leaning relaxed against the wall, he watches for a moment, noting the broad back, shapely backside and strong, well muscled legs of the man who is fucking Dave. \u201cDo you do this every time I shift in?\u201d He asks in a low voice, not caring if the stranger knows of shifting or not.

Russell was so enjoying those oh-so-important first few moments of being in<\/i> and with<\/i> somebody he cares about that, obviously, he didn't hear their visitor arrive. He jerks back, startled, tries to turn around, and promptly slips off the side of the bed. Luckily, half of the blankets go with him, so the ensuing *thud* is somewhat muffled. \"Jesus Christ!<\/i>\"

Dave's savoring the feeling of being filled, focusing on what it feels like to have Russell so deep inside him, when suddenly Russell's just plain GONE. \"Dammit, Th\u00e9o!\" Dave blinks, having surprised even himself with the instant recognition that this isn't his own partner in spite of identical appearances. Th\u00e9o's attitude and tone is unmistakable. \"What the hell are you even doing here? You're supposed to be off with Eomer! Don't tell me he wore you out?\"

Th\u00e9o\u2019s eyebrows rise at Dave\u2019s tone. \u201cI actually came to see you.\u201d He takes a step further into the room and looks down at the man still sitting on the floor then back at Dave. \u201cI was surfing with Karl, remember, and although I wish he<\/i> had worn me out, he is still sticking to his honourable principles, something you seem to have forgotten about in Paris\u2019 absence.\u201d He smirks as his eyes rake over Dave\u2019s body and then back to his companion, his eyes narrowing.

\"Well, you wanted to see me, guess you got your wish.\" Dave scrambles to yank what bedding he can find over his lower half, before attempting a glare at Th\u00e9o. But it\u2019s hard to deny the fact that yes, indeed, Russell had been fucking him. But still..... Th\u00e9o doesn't understand! This is something aside from their lives... way aside. \"Russell is special. He's not from this world. He's not even from a reality we can understand, Th\u00e9o. I think it's further off than Middle Earth, in some ways.\"

Th\u00e9o stands with his arms crossed as he listens to Dave, a smirk still on his face as Dave tries to justify his actions. He has taken Th\u00e9o to task about similar situations before, and Theo is finding this more than a little amusing, and more than a little arousing being in he same room as two semi naked attractive men, the smell of sweat and \u2026 garlic in the air. He is, however, surprised and curious to find out Dave\u2019s companion isn\u2019t of this world. He walks over to Russell and looks down at him. \u201cSo you are special, are you?\u201d

Russell, in the meanwhile, has been surreptitiously sneaking his boxers back on and gauging his chance of getting through the door without being seen. Frankly, throwing himself over the balcony is starting to seem like a better option... He's guessing this is Dave's Rohirric lover. Fuck. \"Depends how you define special. I've been hearing some pretty 'special' things about men from Rohan, myself.\" Can't reach his jeans from here. Crap. \"Ah...hi.\"

\u201cYou have?\u201d Th\u00e9o glances at Dave, wondering what has been said and surprised he or possibly \u00c9omer have been topics of conversation between these two. So this Russell cannot be just a casual fuck. He sees Russell reaching for his jeans and puts his foot on them just as his hand reaches them. \u201cWhere do you think you are going?\u201d He reaches down and runs his finger down Russell\u2019s face. \u201cWhat if I want to find out exactly what makes you special.\u201d

Russell freezes and lets go of the cuff of his jeans, not pulling back as Th\u00e9o touches his cheek. He's still half-hard from what was interrupted, and there's definitely a presence<\/i> to this man that has him subconsciously throttling down a snippy \"fuck off.\" He tries to glance over to Dave, but from this angle he can only see a bare knee. \"As Dave said, Ma...mate, I'm no more from this reality than you are. Though I think yours has more horses.\"

\u201cRussell is my friend, this changes nothing with Paris, and if you think you're gonna get your rocks off with him just cause you caught us in bed...\" Dave's voice trails off. He'd started in with a damned fine argument, but he had precious little time to pull together a good conclusion. \"Why don't we all just go get some breakfast?\"

Th\u00e9o lets out a little snort of laughter at Russell\u2019s horse comment, but he doesn\u2019t fail to notice the man pull back his anger and wonders why. He supposes it could be out of respect for their mutual friendship with Dave, but has a feeling there is more to it. Breakfast? It wasn\u2019t quite what Th\u00e9o has in mind. \u201cDave, did it ever occur to you that I might want to \u201cget my rocks off\u201d, as you so eloquently put it, with you? But that finding the two of you here together is just too good an opportunity to miss?\u201d He looks back at Russell, whose lurking around on the floor is beginning to grate on him. \u201cWill you please just get back on the bed?\u201d Thinking he may have pushed his luck with the larger man, he waits for his reaction.

Lurking? Russell would be offended if he could read Th\u00e9o's mind, and in fact he does bristle slightly at the man's cavalier attitude. Even so, he's already pushing to his feet and thumping his ass down on the edge of the bed before his conscious mind registered the words beyond that imperious tone. \"Dave, look, I really didn't mean to cause a problem...\" His attention is attuned to Th\u00e9o, though. There's danger there.

\"You didn't cause a problem, Russell, if you think back about ten minutes, you were the one saying you didn't come here for sex. Just before I reached down and grabbed your cock.\" This is very weird for Dave to be talking like this, but feels called for somehow. He's looking at Th\u00e9o defiantly and hesitantly at the same time, while his arm slips down low and circles Russell's waist protectively.

\u201cI don\u2019t see why there needs to be a problem at all.\u201d Now Th\u00e9o has them both on the bed, and he didn\u2019t miss how Russell begrudgingly but swiftly followed his command, he is sure he can talk Dave around and is now certain he can get Russell to do what he wants. Not that he\u2019s interested in forcing Russell into anything he doesn\u2019t want to do, but he\u2019s now even more curious to find out how Dave came to know this man. He grabs the hem of his t shirt, and peels it off, throwing it to one side and looking down at Dave, reaching out to touch his<\/i> face, his voice husky. \u201cI know you\u2019ve thought of this Dave, thought of me, and this may be the only chance you ever get. Are you going to let it pass you by?\u201d

That puts him awfully close to Russell as well, who leans slightly aside to keep from being within the brief but obviously very personal space between the two men. He's not quite up to speed on the politics between these two -- especially taking multiple personalities into account! -- but the metaphorical heat is almost blistering off the left side of his face. He feels like a voyeur. But he doesn't want to leave.

\"Maybe I have thought of it. Hard not to when it's someone who's already...\" Dave cuts his words off. He doesn't want Russell to know about his past encounters with Th\u00e9o. Mostly because explaining them would take at least a week. Suffice it to say that sure, Dave's had the occasional fantasy, and he's justified the hell out of those. The man looks exactly<\/i> like his own partner. He's got the added bonus of being cocky as hell and with a definite kink towards control, if what Faramir's told him is true, and Dave knows it is. Hell. Dave's shift has shagged this guy countless times. Dave's brain gives up on finding the logic in knitting three realities together... three strangely quirked men, each with enough issues to keep a therapist on danger money till the year 4053. \"Fuck it. Just.... YES, I've thought about it, damn you.\"

A smile curls round Th\u00e9o\u2019s lips. \u201cSo then there is no problem.\u201d And when he bends down to brush his lips over those of another, it isn\u2019t Dave\u2019s hair his fingers thread through, it isn\u2019t Dave\u2019s mouth he tastes, it\u2019s Russell\u2019s and before the stranger can back away, he holds him steady and looks into his eyes. \u201cWill you join us?\u201d

Startled and, yes, aroused, Russell doesn't resist, and again he doesn't flinch. He's too well trained, too used to being startled in the bedroom to react, even when the surprise in his eyes is obvious. Halfway through the kiss, however, his eyes drift half closed at the feel of fingers in his hair, and at the question he just nods. \"I'd rather not leave,\" he replies, though he looks aside at Dave to see if this is all right. He values the man's friendship too highly.

Dave is grateful to latch onto Russell's eyes, he needs that solid connection with his friend. And he understands that the kiss he just broke from was most likely a damned nice one... and he wants a taste of that, too. Ah, hell. It's really no use constantly shoving back the urges in his mind. Dave wants Russell, tonight. And the fuck of it is, he wants Th\u00e9o too. Tonight. It's been a long, long time since he experimented with a threesome, but this one's been literally dropped on him. \"Don't leave, Russell.\" Dave gives his friend a small smile. \"It sure wouldn't be the same tonight without you.\" Dave leans forward and presses his lips hard to Russell's, needing to add the taste of his own mouth to Russell's memory of Theo's kiss.

Watching, Theo toes off his boots and unfastens his jeans, letting them drop to the floor before kicking them and his socks out of the way. As the kiss in front of him breaks, and Dave releases Russell, Theo grabs Dave\u2019s wrist and drags him to his feet, pulling him hard against his body and growling. \u201cI want you to be under no illusion exactly who will be fucking you later.\u201d His kiss is almost brutal, forcing his tongue into Dave\u2019s mouth, wrapping it around Dave\u2019s own, taking and possessing. When the need to breathe becomes urgent, he tears himself away from a panting Dave, and pushes him back down on the bed, moving over to where Russell still sits and places a hand firmly on his chest. \u201cI think you\u2019d be more comfortable further up the bed.\u201d As Russell scoots backwards up the bed, Th\u00e9o follows him, until he is crouched over him on all fours, and he lowers his mouth to Russell\u2019s and begins to kiss him long and slow.

For a moment there Russell almost started forward, suddenly irrationally worried for Dave...but he caught up short when he saw his friend's expression. No need to move in, not there...and then the force of nature that is apparently Th\u00e9o changes course, and the next thing he knows he's on his back under the man and...and he's the most incredible kisser, there's no doubt of that... He digs his fingers into the bedding and leans up into it, whimpering softly as he realizes that, yes, he did<\/i> put his boxers back on and they are suddenly far<\/i> too tight.

Dave stares. Fully, outright stares. Yep, it's been way too long since he's been on a bed with more than one lover . He's almost tempted to let Faramir shift in and cope, but there's a few things holding him back. He wants more time with Russell. And Th\u00e9o is making a spectacle of himself... and Dave wants a slice of that. Now. \"Th\u00e9o, I thought it was me you were craving.\" Dave takes a deep breath and hopes it's not his last, and yanks Th\u00e9o over on top of himself. There's a moment's hesitation while Dave wonders how he can hang onto Russell and kiss Th\u00e9o till the damned horselord is wheezing for air. And then he takes a deep breath, reaches for Russell, and goes for the kiss. Somehow, it all works out.

Th\u00e9o smiles at Dave\u2019s brazen outburst, and lets himself be pulled away from Russell\u2019s sweet mouth. There will be time for more of that soon he knows, and then Dave is kissing him, his fingers tangling in Th\u00e9o\u2019s hair and he kisses him back, suckling on his tongue until Dave\u2019s body arches to meet his. Th\u00e9o slides down his body, nipping and kissing a trail down Dave\u2019s neck, and as he reaches the black ring in his nipple, he sees Russell moving to kiss Dave. He waits until the second their lips touch before flicking the ring with his tongue and he hears Dave\u2019s cry, smothered by Russell\u2019s mouth.

Russell hadn't really paid attention to the ring before, and judging by Dave's reaction he realizes that was a mistake. He inhales the sound Dave makes, licking and pushing at his mouth until his lover responds in kind. Meanwhile his one hand is resting on Dave's up flung wrist, and he's unthinkingly running his other hand down Th\u00e9o's back to rest against his hip for balance. The man is definitely beautiful, and he knows what he's doing.

Dave's wanted to kiss Russell like this for hours now. Course, when he first set his sights on that, he didn't count on having Th\u00e9o to deal with too... but he's finding it easier than he might think to adapt to the situation. Keep in mind that not all that long ago Dave had a cock neatly buried in his arse, and that<\/i> situation didn't resolve itself in the normal, satisfying manner. So, Dave is antsy. Squirmy, even. Dave moans long and low into Russell's mouth, while arching up hard against Th\u00e9o's groin in a not too subtle manner.

Th\u00e9o knows what Dave wants, there is no mistaking the way he moves against him and he smiles as he remembers what he interrupted when he first arrived. He slips further down, kissing and licking Dave\u2019s firm stomach, and all the while, Russell\u2019s hand stays on him, and he moves under his touch. Tremors run through Dave\u2019s body as it craves the release he has been denied, and Th\u00e9o moves so he is kneeling between Dave\u2019s thighs. Bending down he swipes his tongue across Dave\u2019s swollen erection before lining up his cock at Dave\u2019s entrance and taking advantage of him already being ready, slides straight into the hilt. Dave\u2019s head slams back against the bed. Th\u00e9o sits back on his heels, dragging Dave\u2019s ass onto his thighs so he can rock into him at the precise angle required to drive him wild, and pulls Russell to him, holding onto him with one hand as he kisses him deeply.

Th\u00e9o moves fast<\/i> Russell doesn't know what he was expecting, but whatever it was wouldn't have been anywhere near<\/i> as interesting. He can taste Dave on Th\u00e9o's tongue as he hears the wonderful sound Dave makes as he's taken, hard; the bed shudders under that first firm thrust, and he groans into Th\u00e9o's mouth with one hand sliding into the man's thick blond mane for purchase. He wants to hear more of that, feel more...

Part of Dave's mind is protesting. He wanted Russell, he had<\/i> Russell and now he's reeling from Th\u00e9o just... taking him like this. But the horselord is amazingly strong and he's gotten Dave in a position that's driving him wonderfully mad. His brain is still yelling 'Th\u00e9o's off limits!' but his body doesn't care. He can't stop squirming, every move he makes is sending fire through his body and he likes it. He grabs onto Th\u00e9o's shoulder with one hand and Russell's arm with the other, watching the two men intently as they devour each other's mouths.

Th\u00e9o grips Dave\u2019s hip harder, holding him as steady as he can given the way Dave is thrashing and every time Th\u00e9o rocks into him, the head of his cock slides over the spot that has Dave crying out. He clamps down around Th\u00e9o, making him groan into Russell\u2019s mouth. Th\u00e9o\u2019s fingers thread into Russell\u2019s hair, tightening as he pulls back from him with a gasp, pulling his head back and licking a broad stripe up Dave\u2019s lover\u2019s throat, tasting his skin, feeling Russell\u2019s pulse racing. When he speaks, his voice is husky, raw. \u201cTake his cock in your mouth. Suck him as I fuck him.\u201d He kisses Russell again before pushing his head down towards Dave, and catches the redhead\u2019s eyes. \u201cDave.\u201d Now there is more than a hint of command in his voice. It will be easier for Russell to accomplish his task if Dave isn\u2019t moving quite so wildly. \u201cLie still \u2026 or do I have to tie you down?\u201d

Transfixed, Russell couldn't say no if he wanted to. And, luckily, he doesn't. He presses one palm gently against Dave's chest, butting Th\u00e9o in the side a little less delicately until the horselord sits up enough for Russell to accomplish his goal: namely, wrapping his mouth around the head of Dave's cock before closing his eyes and sinking down upon it. It's not going to be easy going, not with Th\u00e9o thumping away like a great jackrabbit, but he'll manage. His roaming fingers curl around Dave's shoulder then slide out to grip his bicep as he breathes in hard through his nose and swallows, firmly.

Dave had entertained notions of protesting Th\u00e9o's demands, the logistics were wild, but his own libido put up a fine argument against his brain about how amazing it would be if they could manage it. He gulps hard and eases back as much as he can when it becomes apparent that Russell is perfectly willing to give it a go. And damned if he doesn't manage it brilliantly. He bites his lip and focuses on matching Th\u00e9o's strokes in a way that won't leave Russell in a headlock, mesmerized by the sight of three men moving in harmony. But it's not a quiet admiration, since it's his own<\/i> body being plunged into and deeply sucked on. He wishes he could see Russell's face, but that really would be asking the impossible now. But he can see Th\u00e9o's face if he just looks up, which he does, and he knows the expression the horselord sees is one of wide eyed amazement.

An almost smug smirk curls around Th\u00e9o\u2019s lips at the look in Dave\u2019s eyes, but it doesn\u2019t last long as Dave tightens around him again as Russell eagerly does as he was asked. He threads the fingers of one hand through Russell\u2019s hair, needing to touch him as he rocks into Dave, his own orgasm beginning to build. Th\u00e9o breaks eye contact with Dave to let his head drop back, his hair brushing over his shoulder blades making him shiver, the curve of his throat taut as he holds back for as long as possible, wanting to feel Dave come first.

As ever, the slither of fingers through his hair makes Russell's brain just about short-circuit. He keeps meaning to cut it all off, because it reminds him of things he'd rather not remember, but then he keeps forgetting...and right now he's glad of that. As the other two settle into a rising tempo that doesn't<\/i> rattle his teeth loose, he's able to free one hand to ghost up the back of Th\u00e9o's thigh, working his fingers into the cleft of the man's ass and then simply gripping tight. Not invading him -- not a man whose every move screams \"top.\" But the added sensation, brushing just there<\/i>... Should be very pleasant indeed. Russell closes his eyes and returns full attention to Dave, plunging down and no longer bothering to breathe. What he desperately wants, in the grip of his throat and the contrasting gentle slide of his tongue, is obvious.

Somehow, in spite of the clash of wills when Th\u00e9o first arrived, the three men find themselves in complete agreement about what they want now. Th\u00e9o wants Dave to come. Russell wants Dave to come. Dave's body is putting up no argument whatsoever. He entertains a fleeting fantasy of staying just like this for another hour or so, not sure if he'll ever be trapped in such an amazing mesh of bodies again in his life... but there's no way to convince his cock to do anything other than twitch, pulse, and let go. Russell's ready for it, damn, feels greedy<\/i> for it, and that's enough right there. Dave tenses tightly around Th\u00e9o's cock, and pulses deep in Russell's throat. And is dearly convinced he could die happy right here, right now.

Russell\u2019s fingers brushing over his entrance send shivers down his spine, and he is so glad when Dave begins to tighten around him as he can\u2019t hold back for much longer. A whole day and night without the chance of release was bad enough, but to arrive here and find these two fucking in front of him \u2026 Th\u00e9o is amazed he lasted this long. He watches as Dave loses control, and as Russell swallows down all Dave has to give, Th\u00e9o rocks back against his fingers until the tip of one eases just inside the tight ring of muscle. Th\u00e9o hisses, and thrusts into Dave. Russell eases up off Dave, and Th\u00e9o\u2019s hand tightens in his hair. His voice is low. \u201cLet me taste him.\u201d As Russell\u2019s mouth meets his, Dave\u2019s seed slides across his tongue, and Russell\u2019s fingers still touch him, he lets go with a long groan, spending himself deep inside Dave\u2019s body.

Russell manages to gasp in one sticky breath before Th\u00e9o growls and invades his mouth. He doesn't resist; in fact he pushes into that kiss, giving Th\u00e9o exactly what he's demanding. Up on his knees he can no longer reach Dave with his left hand, but his right stays half-buried amidst clenching muscle as he grips Th\u00e9o's opposite shoulder in the freed other. He can feel the shudder of release as intimately as the groan which seems to vibrate down into his own lungs; he takes it all in, bracing himself, and the grip that was meant to steady himself becomes a support for Th\u00e9o as the other man sways with the strength of that release. He's a little stunned, himself. It happened so fast<\/i>, all of it...

Dave's in overload. He's just come, hard. Russell's taken fine care of that, and Th\u00e9odred's enjoying the after-effects in a blistering kiss, one that Dave's watching, but is only half focused on. Th\u00e9o's still buried in him and holding on to Dave, which is a good thing, since Dave's feeling like a rag doll and would probably just limply flop to the bed otherwise. He breathes out one long, relieved, tired breath, and tries again to focus on this kiss that's threatening to raise the temperature of the room by at least ten degrees.

Th\u00e9o is grateful for Russell\u2019s support as he gets his breath back and eases Dave down to the bed. He rubs his palm over Russell\u2019s hard length, feeling it pulse against his fingers, feeling the silky fluid that leaks from it smear over his hand and his eyes darken. His body may be recovering from the release he\u2019s just savoured, but that hasn\u2019t dimmed his lust. He swallows Russell\u2019s moan at his touch, and pushes him back to lie on the bed before bending down to run his tongue over Dave\u2019s lips, an arrogant smirk on his and a teasing gleam in his eyes. \u201cAh, another fantasy fulfilled. Glad I could be of service.\u201d He laughs against Dave\u2019s lips before plundering his mouth which is still soft and pliant, nipping at his lip before pulling away. He knows he annoys Dave on a regular basis, but he still has great affection for the man. \u201cYour lover needs our attention.\u201d Th\u00e9o\u2019s voice is husky as he turns back to Russell and rubs his kiss swollen lips over the other man\u2019s before heading down his broad chest, pausing to pay attention to his nipples and to the strange scar over his heart, running his tongue over the ridge of flesh before heading lower still.

Not expecting anything of the sort and still savoring the taste of those kisses, Russell is easy to push down. Th\u00e9o's banter is amusing, though he's still not sure of the dynamic between those two; he's not sure if he should be worried for Dave, or if-- Then Th\u00e9o's tongue is tracing the scars, cut into his skin a year ago in a language neither of them speaks. Except, unlike Th\u00e9o, he does know what it means. His breath catches sharply, startled, but the attention isn't unpleasant...and Th\u00e9o continues down, loose sun-bleached hair trailing down his stomach like a dozen whispery tongues. \"Uh, Dave?\" he manages, hoarsely, even as his fingers twine gratefully around one of those locks. \"He doesn't bite, does he?\"

It's too much effort to lift his head from the mattress, but Dave glances down at what Th\u00e9o's up to, isn't the least bit surprised somehow, then raises his eyes back to meet those of his friend. \"I don't think so, unless you ask nicely. Paris is usually returned... undamaged.\" It hits Dave all over again. That lithe, lean body sliding down Russell's, his mouth slipping towards a destination that's pretty obvious... Dave's just cheated on his lover with his lover's own body. He doesn't think he'll ever be able to really explain to Russell what it's like to live a shifting life. To share a body, to live separate lives in this reality in the same flesh. \"Whatever he does, I'm sure you'll like it. Hard to deny these horseboys their satisfaction.\"

Dave thinks on that for about a nanosecond, then decides he'd like a little more satisfaction of his own choosing. This all started with himself, and Russell, and damn it, he'd like to claim some of that back. Dave manages to get his head up off the mattress and bent towards his friends, and with a smile, he catches Russell's next gasp against his own lips.

Theo\u2019s tongue snakes out, rasping around the head of Russell\u2019s cock in one stroke, lapping up the pearly liquid dripping from the slit, noting the differences between Dave\u2019s taste and Russell\u2019s. He smiles wickedly at Russell\u2019s question to Dave, and looks up at him. \u201cI only bite if you want me to.\u201d With a grin and a wink, Th\u00e9o lowers his mouth back down and slips his lips over the head, sucking with a slowly growing intensity until Russell\u2019s hands clench tightly in his hair, and he can hear muffled moans as Dave captures his lover\u2019s mouth.

\"No...no biting...\" At least, that's that Russell means to say. Between what the two of them are doing to him, it comes out rather less intelligible. He doesn't mean to grip so hard but he can't help it; he does, however, manage to free one hand to blindly thump the bed until he finds Dave's hand and squeezes it hard as he moans into Dave's kiss, arching slightly in a struggle to not simply buck<\/i> into Th\u00e9o's mouth.

Dave likes that. He's the sort that needs to be grabbed, focused on, pulled to the center of whatever sort of mayhem or intensity is going on. He grips Russell's hand back, hard. That connection makes his entire body tense briefly, then relax. He knows Russell's doing the complete opposite though, relaxing is about the last thing on the man's mind. Dave lifts his lips from Russell's, just a hair's breath, and takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving those of his friend.

\"Ah what the hell.\" Dave breathes the words and plunges back down, enveloping Russell's mouth in a kiss that gives the man no option whatsoever than to simply let the invasion happen. Russell isn't sure what Dave's words meant, and probably doesn't care at this point. Only Dave knows that it's partially a competition with Theodred, partially just raw lust craving hot flesh, and maybe a tiny smidgen of that old enemy of his, the insecurity that's bled over from Faramir. That small need to be craved back<\/i>.

Th\u00e9o pins one of Russell\u2019s hips down, and eases him further into his mouth. He takes his time, running his tongue over Russell\u2019s length, mapping every contour of his hard flesh, before taking him in his mouth again and pushing him deeper, bit by bit, savouring the tastes the textures. He slips a finger into his mouth, and then works it lower, seeking, probing and then slipping inside Russell\u2019s tight heat just as he swallows him whole.

The man is just full of surprises. Russell makes a small incoherent sound against Dave's assault, eyes rolling back and flickering closed as he tries to respond in kind yet breathe at the same time. It's not working. It doesn't matter. He's more than ready to simply let go...and that's when he hits a figurative brick wall he wasn't expecting. Dave gave<\/i> him blanket permission to come, but his subconscious has registered in the presence of another man -- a very dominant one -- and oh shit<\/i>. This cannot<\/i> be happening! He whimpers with sudden frantic need, toes curling and nails biting into Dave's wrist as he tries to telegraph the problem.

That sharp dig of nails into Dave's wrist somehow feels wrong, it's not that nice pang of pain-pleasure, it's more like... Dave breaks the kiss and searches Russell's face, meets his eyes, shifts enough to free an arm to reach for his face, his fingers touching his cheek in concern. Something's off, Russell's twitching in response to Th\u00e9o's attentions, but more than that... ah, Christ. Dave utters a silent, mental curse.

Th\u00e9o. The ultimate Top. And here in this colliding of universes, he's managed to mesh up with a man from a world where slaves are common, and rules are meant to be obeyed. Th\u00e9o's taken on the Master role, and Russell's a Slave. Where does that leave Dave, though? He continues to stroke Russell's face, hoping to soothe, but knowing that a finger's touch can't soothe away what Russell feels compelled to be.

\"Baby - Listen to me. You're with Dave, and that means you aren't at home, you're in my world. That changes things. Do whatever you feel to do. Let go. Russell? Whenever you want. You can come. Your Dave would like to see you come. Let me see it in your eyes.\" Dave ghosted his lips across Russell's, then moved upward to kiss his cheeks, just below his darting, unsettled eyes. \"It's all right, love. Let go. For me.\"

Russell would be red with embarrassment if he wasn't desperate -- and on the verge of panic. But he stills, calms, locking onto Dave's gaze and his touch and the kind words...and then, like plunging into a scalding bath, he's completely aware of what Th\u00e9o's doing. Still doing, despite the awkward falter on the other end, thank god... Not looking away from Dave, Russell tightens his fingers in Th\u00e9o's pale-gold hair and around Dave's wrist as climax slams through him, welcoming it with a yowl and a short abortive lift of his hips before he struggles to hold still in Th\u00e9o's mouth. It's brief but poundingly intense, practically rattling his bones loose before it ebbs and he's left gasping.

Th\u00e9o swallows everything that Russell gives him, riding out the jerky movements of his hips before letting him finally slip from his mouth, and Russell's fingers slip from his hair. He hadn't missed the exchange between the two other men, the way Dave had given Russell permission, in his own way, to come and Th\u00e9o has more than a sneaking suspicion that he could have countermanded that permission with a word. He is certainly curious about where Russell comes from, and how he came to be so well trained. He moves up the bed to lie behind Russell. Th\u00e9o knows he is the outsider here, but after this, that is not going to stop him curling up with a warm body or two around him. He slides up behind Russell, and kisses his shoulder as he slips an arm around his waist.

That Th\u00e9o considers himself the outsider here would come as quite a surprise to Russell, who feels the same way...but not right now. Right now he's not thinking much of anything at all, muzzy and warm in the afterglow. He clasps his arm over Theo's immediately, rolling back to nuzzle his cheek in quiet gratitude before reaching up to catch Dave's shoulder. \"Come on. Lie down. Please?\"

Some snippet of verse about lions lying down with lambs makes a brief trip through Dave's brain, but the words look out, see the situation, roll their lettered eyes and leave. There aren\u2019t pat phrases for this tangle of men. Dave smiles. He'd just let himself be taken by both these guys, what's a little sleep between them? \"I think we could all use a good lie down.\" Dave snuggles in close to Russell, having no trouble enjoying the intimacy, or the lazy kisses that he can\u2019t resist being so close that that appealing face. And... what the hell. Dave slides an arm over Russell, rubs his back with the palm of his hand, then turns it, groping around until he finds an arm. He slides his fingers around Th\u00e9o's arm, and strokes it gently.

Two days of surfing must have sapped his strength indeed, as under most other circumstances, Th\u00e9o would be getting ready for another round. Nestled up behind Russell, he is content to bury his face in the hair covering his neck, and he closes his eyes with a purr as he feels Dave's touch too. He decides to stay until morning, sleep in this warm bed tonight and enjoy a shower before he leaves tomorrow. His arm tightens around the enigma that is Russell, and he drifts slowly off to sleep on the memory of waves crashing on the shore ...

Russell listens to Th\u00e9o's breath even out, feels it gently ruffling his hair and warming the back of his neck. Both Th\u00e9o and Dave have settled in with an arm around him, and he can't move without disturbing someone, and that's fine because he has absolutely no intention of moving. Possibly ever again. He can see Dave's eyes glimmering in the dim light, still open, and he doesn't want to wake Th\u00e9o, so instead he touches Dave's cheek with a smile and a nuzzle that manages to say \"thank you\" and promise a talk later at the same time. Th\u00e9o was a surprise, not a bad one at all, and god knows where that will lead, but Dave is already dear to him and he wants to reassure him of that. In fact, though fiercely independent by nature, Russell is starting to suspect that he needs the redhead. In the morning-- He blinks, realizing something. Morning. What if-- \"Paris?\" he mouths, looking worried.

Dave kisses the crinkles on Russell's forehead, whispering soothing words. \"I think Th\u00e9o will stay as long as he can, he knows he's got clearance to be here all night.\" Russell still looks concerned, even as Th\u00e9o shifts behind him, obviously getting even more comfy, settling in for a good sleep.

Dave knew that if the improbable happened and Paris did<\/i> show up, they'd get through it. Russell wasn't from here - the rules were strangely skewed when he came to visit. Dave would teach Paris to understand that, if needed. And Dave doubted if the man he loved and lived with could fully resist Russell's open charm. Dave seriously doubted if anyone<\/i> could. \"It's all right, Russ. Trust Dave on this. Sleep now, and sweet dreams.\"","comments":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/20276.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/20210.html","pubDate":"Tue, 08 Feb 2005 08:45:40 GMT","title":"\"You know, Sean Bean's prettier brother?\"","author":"fallencrowe","link":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/20210.html","description":"Who:<\/b> David Wenham<\/a> (Dreaming Theatre<\/a>) + Russell Crowe<\/a> (Valimar<\/a>)
What:<\/b> Russell's in the wrong Wellington. Luckily he winds up on the right beach.
Warnings:<\/b> NC-17 for mansex and unsettling references to an unsettling game...

Note:<\/b> This was just purely indulgent fun for us. It's not canon in any way, though it's ostensibly set after V!Russell's current one-year stint as a slave. If you click the Valimar links above, be warned: it's a very adult game, and is not recommended for all audiences.


Maybe the address was wrong. It's possible...Russell hasn't been to that particular bar since before his voice changed. Still, it's been a long fruitless day wandering the streets of Wellie looking for the damn place and he needs some time out. The beach seemed like a good idea; the farther he walks, the more deserted it is, and that's perfect. He sticks his hands in his pockets and watches the waves as he walks and doesn't notice when he's crossed deep into private land.

It's late afternoon when Dave walks down the narrow trail to the sand. Some quiet thinking time, maybe a short swim before getting dressed for dinner. The thought of dinner with his agent made him shake his head, he didn't want to think about that quite yet. An hour or two of peace, first...but someone's down here. It's not Karl, and no one else has been taking advantage of Dave's open invitation to use the beach anytime. \"Hello? Do I know you?\"

Russell glances up at the voice, startled. It's a strange thing to ask on a public beach, unless... Unless it's not. The complete lack of other footprints in the sand finally registers; Russell stops and turns, squinting as the breeze throws his hair across his eyes. \"Maybe...\" He gets recognized a lot; it doesn't mean he knows this person, except his voice is familiar. \"Sorry, mate, I didn't see any signs. This your place?\"

Dave turns to get a good look at the man's face, it's definitely familiar, and the voice is strangely soothing, sounds a little like home. He holds one hand up to shadow his eyes from the sun and the other hand sticks out at the newcomer. \"I'm Dave. It's my beach, yeah. I was just coming down to unwind a little. You're welcome to stay...?\" He raises his voice in that way people do when they're hinting to get a name.

\"Russell.\" The grip that envelops Dave's hand is warm and calloused, a firm shake that pauses suddenly short. Russell has the sun at his back, and thus the advantage. \"Hang on -- Dave? Wenham?\"

\"Yeah, mate. That's me. Hold on here.\" Dave takes a few steps to the side, still holding onto Russell's hand, nudging the man to step with him. Now Dave can get a clearer look at his face. \"I thought you sounded familiar. Russell Crowe. I...wow. We don't travel in the same circles, and it's a hell of a surprise to find you washed up on my beach!\"

\"We don't?\" That confuses Russell for a moment -- he knows the man from the club, though not closely nor intimately. Then again, it's possible Dave never really noticed him there. They'd never scened together, before or during. Still... \"Hope you don't mind. It's a very nice beach. Very quiet. Probably less quiet without me stomping about disturbing the wildlife.\" He grins and looks down at their hands. \"I'll stay if you let go, no worries.\"

Russell's acting oddly, but nothing that shouldn't ease out. \"Nah, mate, I haven't seen you in years, not since I lived back in Sydney! I know, I know, my sparkling wit stays in your mind, makes you think I'm around a lot longer than I am.\" And, there's that look Dave's used to getting from everyone but Hugo. His humor's lost on so many. Hugo only tolerates it, he suspects. \"So, you going to be in Wellie long? You're welcome to stay at the cabin, unless you've got other arrangements.\"

Russell can't help a smile at the generous offer, and at the humor. \"I hadn't made any plans...I just have a hotel room, nothing fancy. I just hadn't been in the country for a long time, and...this is your land here then? On the beach?\" He whistles softly. \"Very nice. Movies been treating you well?\"

\"I guess they have, working less than I used to, but I don't mind. Though, the cabin was a present from a good friend, and he still owns the land, so it's sort of my place, his land, mine to use...complicated, eh?\" Dave walks over to a nearby chunk of driftwood and sits down, reaching to pull off his shoes and roll up his khakis to mid calf. \"And you? Life being good to you?\"

\"It's been...complicated. If I may borrow a word. And even more complicated today than usual.\" Russell scuffs after him, barefoot in the sand -- he left his shoes in the car, of course. \"Mind if I ask you a very strange question? You're allowed to think I'm insane if you like, I'm rather used to it.\"

Dave wonders how insane Russell might think he was if he knew more about his own life. He's definitely not one to judge. \"You've got my curiosity up. Ask. And no worries, some of my best friends are completely round the bend.\"

\"I think being an actor does it.\" Russell settles down on the chunk of wood as well, a comfortable distance from Dave -- for him. To Dave, it's a few inches closer than almost-strangers usually sit, given room. \"You were in the Lord of the Rings movies, right? No, that's not the question, though if the answer is no then things are more screwed than I thought.\"

That's got Dave's attention. If there's one thing everyone knows about him, it's that he played Faramir in Pete's movies. Course, not many people know he's still playing him, but not by choice. \"Yeah, I was in those. Faramir. You know, Sean Bean's prettier brother? Go on...ask your question.\" Dave can't help but glance over Russell as he gets comfortable, noting how odd it is that the man can look both at ease and lost all at the same time.

\"Definitely prettier.\" That gets a chuckle, and a relieved look. \"Great. That's good. Right then. This is where you're going to start backing away to call the police. Who played Aragorn?\"

It's starting to feel like twenty questions, but Dave's beyond curious to see where this is going. \"Viggo. Viggo Mortensen.\" Dave looks Russell in the eye. \"Is that what you wanted to hear?\"

\"Not...exactly.\" Russell looks openly shocked, in fact. As if he was expecting a strange answer, but not one that<\/i> strange. He's staring at Dave now, brow knitting. \"Are you sure? No, don't answer that, of course you're sure. Stupid question. Not<\/i> Stuart Townsend, then?\"

\"Yeah, I'm sure, and I do have to say that is an odd question. Sure, Stuart was cast first, but Viggo was brought in after that.\" Dave's starting to get a weird tingle at the back of his neck. He's not a stranger to alternate worlds. He's hosted three personalities from other places in his own body: two versions of his Gondorian counterpart, and one time, a wayward elf. \"It sounds like we might not be from the same neck of the woods back home after all, Russell. And I'm not calling the police. I'm still listening.\"

\"Christ. Well.\" Russell's rubbing the back of his neck without seeming to think about it. He doesn't look upset so much as puzzled. \"Yeah, something's going on then. I started picking up on it when I caught a movie this afternoon, starring someone it couldn't possibly be starring. And then I find out that I<\/i> have a movie in progress that I've never heard of, and...yeah.\" He eyes Dave thoughtfully. \"I'm going to be guessing that you don't<\/i> own a place in California with Marton Csokas? Or a boy named Jaye.\"

If Dave had been sipping anything, it would have spewed from his mouth right there. \"Marton? CSOKAS? Mate, I haven't seen him in over a year, not since he broke up with Livvie. And I don't have a boy named Jaye. Wait...you didn't word it that way.\" Dave's look turns incredulous. \"Did you ask if I owned<\/i> a boy named Jaye?\"

\"Yes, that's exactly what I asked.\" Russell looks even more puzzled. Though he's been noticing some things strange, the lack of slavery hasn't hit his consciousness. New Zealand was never big into that industry, anyway. \"I'll take it that you don't. Own him, I mean.\" He's really looking<\/i> at Dave now, taking in the utter lack of haughty arrogance that characterized the David he'd met in passing a few times.

Dave can tell by the intent way Russell's studying him that he's not the victim of a practical joke. Russell is asking questions in earnest, and seems genuinely puzzled by the answers. Dave decides to take a step in his direction. \"Look, Russell. My turn to put myself out for scrutiny in the sanity department. I believe in other worlds, other realities. And I can tell you from personal experience, that sometimes they intersect.\" Dave digs his toes into the sand, wiggling them in the warmth. \"I think maybe that's happening again. Right now.\" He glances up, quickly darting a look at Russell. \"I don't mind it. I can cope. Can you?\"

\"Of course I can.\" Russell leans back a little, hooking his heels into the sand not far from Dave's feet. \"Believe me, I've been through worse. Not, uh, trips through the Twilight Zone, but I can take this. I already called home to make sure my family's still there; that's all that matters.\" He glances over again, this time curious. \"Now back up: you're used<\/i> to this sort of thing? I sense a hell of a story there.\"

Dave relaxes a little, the hard parts over. They've at least figured out they're strangers from two different places. Now, they can start finding out where they mesh. Russell's told him a little about his world, it's time Dave returned the favor. \"Yeah, well. Where to start? Here's the short version. If you were an actor in the Lord of the Rings movies, you're vulnerable to a curse. I've caught it. At any given moment, I could shift, become a completely different person. Faramir. Viggo goes to Aragorn, and my neighbor Hugo becomes a very enigmatic elf at very irritating intervals. Our two worlds got hooked at the hip and living a dual life has become pretty commonplace, at least for us.\"

Russell just quietly absorbs all that. Dave is perfectly serious and very believable. And in the wake of seeing Gerard Butler billed as the Phantom, he's willing to believe anything<\/i>. \"Everyone in the cast? And only<\/i> members of that cast of those movies?\"

\"Just our movie, yep. At least, as far as we know. I suppose the potential's out there for it to happen to others...but from what most of us feel, it's the collected weight of the written word of Tolkien and those who admired and emulated him that gave enough weight to the stories to make this possible. There's a lot more to it...but the upshot is, our cast is cursed. Or, blessed, depending on who you are and how you're coping.\" Dave leans to pick up a shell, and gives it a lob into the waves. \"Paris had it pretty rough. It's not fun to portray a dying man, then live it again for real.\"

\"Paris? I don't think I'm familiar with a Paris.\" Which is odd, because after the huge success of the trilogy all of the major players had been through the Valimar doors in one way or another. \"If I ask, will the answer make sense to someone who's not insanely into the books?\" It's a joke, but an honest one.

\"Paris...ironic, really. He wasn't an actor, and isn't one now. It was his one stab at acting, just a small role. He played the heir to the throne of Rohan. King Theoden's son. He had a miniscule role in the movie, most of his screen time was spent dying or dead.\" Dave gives Russell a sad look that speaks volumes of past troubles. \"Paris still lives in Wellington. He doesn't live at my cabin any more, but he is still my lover.\"

\"Sounds lonely,\" Russell replies without thinking. \"Being apart, I mean. If you're still together.\" He doesn't even bat an eye at the news that Dave's lover is male; in fact, it's somewhat familiar and comforting. One sign that the world hasn't changed entirely. \"So you have all this to yourself?\" Another thoughtful glance. \"And your 'curse'?\"

\"I'm not that alone -- oh, and I do share this beach with my friends. That includes you now, too.\" It's odd to hear a stranger try to describe his life. \"It's sometimes lonely. But we're back and forth to each other's places a lot.\" Dave leans forward and wraps his arms around his knees. He'd never really stopped to analyze this, not quite this way. \"Most of us have forgotten what it's like to be lonely. When you quite literally have a voice in your head, or emerging full-blown in your own body...in some cases, skulking and spying and scheming like Denethor does...well, you start to treasure your solitude.\"

\"Funny. I'm still getting used to being alone,\" Russell muses, conveniently forgetting that he's not making much sense out of context. He can't help it -- anything involving the last year or so of his life tips his personality a little off-kilter. \"And I'm not so sure I like it. World's a big, cold place, innit?\"

\"It can be, sure. But, take it a minute at a time. Like, right now. If I wasn't here, you'd still have warm sand under your feet, a good cooling breeze, and you know that sun's going to give a spectacular sunset tonight. Don't tell me those waves aren't relaxing out your tensions, either.\" As he speaks, Dave muses that Russell sounds rather lost, not at all the Russell he used to think he knew. He's...new. That's how he thinks of the man now, after talking a while. He reach to lightly rest his hand on his visitor's arm. \"And that, my friend, is part of that big, cold world. You take it in nibbles, it's not too bad.\"

That sounds quite reasonable, really. Wise even. Russell clasps one hand over Dave's, not in the slightest bit put off by the gesture -- welcoming it, rather. \"So you've never heard of Valimar, then. Or Mithril.\" He looks over to gauge Dave's gaze for recognition, suddenly hopeful. \"You were upset when I mentioned Jaye. Why?\"

\"Because, this Jaye, you mentioned him in context with my owning<\/i> him. I don't own anyone. Even my shift...er, that's what we call our alter-egos. Faramir has his own life, his own lovers, when he's here. That's not my concern or business. I don't own him. We're in this situation together, as equals. I don't know of this Valimar, and Mithril's the stuff they made Frodo's vest from, is all I know.\" I think about some of the things you've said. You're still getting used to being alone...you're not that comfortable with it, either. \"Russell, did someone own you?\"

Russell jerks at that -- not much, to his credit, but it's quite apparent to Dave's grip. \"You're quick,\" he replies, weakly. \"Damn quick. I'm legally supposed to not answer that, but I guess it's a moot point now eh?\" He sighs. \"All right, I'll just ask. There's no slavery here?\" Which is about as odd a question as 'there's no trees here?' but it's starting to sound like it's the case.

Dave twists his hand around to grasp Russell's, holding on firmly. He's dealt with fear before. Not this sort, but still. He can't believe a man with eyes this gentle could come from a world harsh enough to embrace slavery this tightly. \"You can say any damned thing you like here. Whatever laws you've been under don't exist here.\" Dave leans closer, holding Russell's eyes with his own. It's important the man understand this, fully. \"There's no slavery here. You're as free a man as I am. Perhaps more so, really.\"

Startled, Russell doesn't look away, doesn't even flinch back as his personal space is invaded. Frankly, he doesn't seem to have<\/i> any personal space. He answers that grip with one of his own, taking a deep breath and then nodding slightly, and the look of relief in his eyes is almost painful. \"It's almost worse not wearing a collar,\" he says quietly, \"because you're still under contract and there's no getting that<\/i> unlocked. You really don't have that here? No, I believe you, it's just...it's taking me a moment here to get it. Forgive me that.\"

\"They collared you?\" Like a dog?<\/i> The gentle tone of Russell's voice, his calm demeanor, contrasts so starkly with Dave's disgust at a world that would treat this man as less than his true worth. Dave is having difficulty reconciling these elements in his mind. \"There's nothing I need to forgive you for. You've done nothing wrong, not here and not with me. You've talked honestly, and haven't run off in spite of a difficult conversation. Thank you, Russell.\"

Russell took this trip to clear his head, to have no schedules and no responsibilities for a few weeks. He certainly didn't expect to run into someone like Dave, and he wouldn't have expected sympathy...nor would he have asked for it. \"If I didn't already know this was an alternate universe or something, that'd prove it,\" he says wryly, still gripping the back of Dave's hand. \"Being a slave...it's like it was your own fault, somehow. You only get sympathy from others who've been there. And David...well, the other David, he...\"

He stops short. Dave is obviously a warm, open man who wears his heart on his sleeve. This might not have been the best place to wander into, verbally. \"He's not like you,\" he finishes lamely instead. \"From what I've heard.\"

Dave suddenly feels a pang of misplaced guilt. Hearing Russell speak of this other version of himself...the little bits of puzzle pieces he's been handed fall into place. This other 'David' owned a man named Jaye. Memories of the outlash of anger Dave had poured into a Jay who lived in Wellington, a man of his own world who took on the full assault of Dave's rage at his own lover being used<\/i>... Dave cannot focus on the word he accused Jay of then. That rage, centered on one man assuming another man to be his property to use... Dave has come to terms with that past encounter. But now it rushes back in a wave of memory, and Russell has no idea what he's triggered.

\"I'm glad you don't think that David is like me.\" Dave curls his fingers around Russell's, moving them to stroke the man's skin. \"I'm not him. Does it hurt you to be around someone that reminds you of him?\"

\"No.\" Russell returns Dave's grip in an abrupt tight clasp and impulsively shifts closer, settling against his side. It's just second nature to him now, this returning physical affection or comfort with the like in return, even to a near stranger. He keeps control consciously in public, but there no need for that in private. \"I never knew him closely. He never booked me.\" He winced as that bald statement slips from his tongue. \"Fuck. I'm probably disturbing you ten ways to Sunday now.\"

Dave bites his lip and shifts to pull his hand away, but only long enough to wrap his arm around Russell's waist and ease him closer. \"I was already disturbed, Russell. You haven't added to that. Just reminded me of something, is all.\" It should feel strange to be holding a man he didn't even know a half hour ago like this, but it doesn't. Russell's relaxed way of nestling in is impossible to take offense at, and Dave has to admit there's something comforting about this. He'd always been one to coddle and fret, and damned if Russell wasn't bringing that coddle tendency out in force.

He reaches over with his free hand to smooth Russell's hair back, and brushes his hand down over his new friend's cheek. \"You'd have to find an eleventh way to Sunday to disturb me. Trust me, I may seem a little simple on the surface...but I've been fighting a desperate, quiet war for almost three years now. I don't think you're enough to scare me off.\" Dave doesn't even realize the possible effects of what might happen due to his leaning over and laying a gentle, prolonged kiss on Russell's forehead.

Dave is sweet and attractive and upset and close<\/i>. Russell has always been a creature of mad impulse, and even more so now. Call it training or conditioning, but he calls it choice as he turns upward unexpectedly. Of course that only skips the kiss down to his nose, but his intention is plain; he laughs sheepishly as it's obvious that he's been caught. \"I...ah...I should explain...well...\" He reaches to cup Dave's jaw in one hand, thumb sliding over red stubble. \"Great. Now<\/i> I'm probably scaring you.\"

Dave can't help the small laugh that escapes him. \"No explaining. My shift is the most talkative man in two worlds. Sometimes, it's best to just stop talking...\" Dave finishes giving that wayward nose a proper kiss, then slides lower to let his lips brush over warm, parted ones that don't pull away. He speaks quietly against them as he again reaches to touch that tousled hair, digging his fingers deep into its strands. \"I'm not scared of you, and I don't think you're scared of me. This is weird, and unexpected, but what the hell, right? One evening, you and me, no one else's business.\" Dave runs out of words, far too distracted by the feel of the lips moving easily beneath his as he speaks. He falls silent, and sinks into a kiss.

The kiss is perfect. Dave knows what he's doing; he's certainly no blushing virgin, and Russell is grateful for that. Nervous innocent boys have their place, and that place is not<\/i> here. He moans softly at the hand in his hair -- right to the weakness, you're good aren't you?<\/i> -- and lifts his other hand to grip and steady Dave by the hip as he leans up into it. He's not shy; it's a fierce grateful kiss, only slightly nervous in the face of the utter unknown.

\"Not scared if you're not,\" he replies breathlessly when he comes up for air. He rises, still touching Dave's cheek, tugging him in close. \"I guess there are a few things I should mention, but...inside, maybe? Unless you like having sand in uncomfortable places...\"

Dave stands with Russell, laying his hands on his waist, nodding but never breaking eye contact. Dave may abhor the casual acceptance of slaves in Russell's world, but he's not completely innocent himself. He recalls Christmas Eve, the collar Paris placed gently on him before leading him off to the club, saying over and over again the game would stop any time Dave said the safe word. It was never uttered that night. Dave has some appreciation of what it might mean to be a slave, though he knows he can only know the scratching of the surface. It's up to Russell to say what needs to be said. Dave sees him as an equal. How does Russell see himself, now? What does he need, what is he capable of? Dave has no idea, but he is very, very curious to learn the answers.

Dave doesn't say anything, but the way he shifts his weight and loosens his grip with a slight nod is enough. Russell does the same, letting go so he can follow him up the path from the beach, and halfway there the madness of this kicks in. They just met five minutes ago! This isn't the slave quarters, this is reality...no, this is an entirely different<\/i> reality... By the time Dave is reaching for the door, however, Russell has had time to think about this and decide that his first impulse was perfectly fine, and logic can go hang. That, and Dave looks amazing in his jeans...

Dave pulls Russell through the door, and gives him a nervous smile. It's not that he's never brought a beautiful man home, he's simply never acted on such quick impulses, but he still feels in tune with what Russell wants. \"So, here's my place. I do have one rule. If you're worth being kissed in this house, you've got carte blanche. No need to ask; just go find a drink if you want, or food, whatever. I insist. Now, as for that 'worthy of being kissed' test...\" Dave eases Russell back against the closed door, and indulges in another long, luxurious kiss. He's craving crawling all over every inch of his warm skin, when he remembers what Russell said down on the beach. \"You said you wanted to mention a few things...?\"

Russell has Dave in his arms by the end of that kiss, panting for more, his thoughts momentarily scattered like birds. It takes him a moment to recollect them, and they seem dreadfully prosaic under the glowing neon light of lust, but better now than later. He clasps his hands at the small of Dave's back. \"Well, first the awfully boring unromantic bit about how safe we have to be. I'm under tight contract to stay clean, and so's anyone I've been with.\" He nuzzling Dave just under the ear as he murmurs that, to take off the awfully boring unromantic edge. \"That, and I'm not packing any protection, so if you want that I hope you have something, I mean I really<\/i> hope you do...\"

Dave still doesn't like this slavery deal, with contracts and stipulations, but he nods and follows that with a knowing smile. After all, Russell's request is one he'd honor with anyone. He smiles at Russell, and leans back, leading him away from the door. \"Are you thirsty? Water, a drink, juice...anything?\" Dave pulls Russell close, and leans in to whisper directly into his ear. \"Once we go up those stairs, I can't be held accountable. Last chance at sanity and taking care of yourself here. And then I want you in my bedroom, and I will<\/i> make sure your contract isn't broken...damn them for forcing you to do what I'd care enough to ask about for your own sake, not theirs.\"

That isn't quite what Russell meant, but he can read between the lines enough to know that Dave would tell him if there was anything to worry about. Not that he's worried. Not as all<\/i>. Not with the way the fire in Dave's voice, in his eyes<\/i>, is curling around his stomach and dropping straight into his groin. Hard. In more than one way. His breath shudders slightly in Dave's own ear before he nods and lets go. \"Some water, if you would.\" Much as he wants to get upstairs rightthefucknow, he is<\/i> somewhat parched from the walk. \"And then after that I don't think either of us can be held accountable.\"

Dave crosses to the kitchen, and grabs a couple of bottles of water from the fridge. No, make it three, take one upstairs. Hydration is your friend.<\/i> He grabs a third, and tucks them all under one crooked elbow. He needs his other hand free to grasp Russell's hand. \"Upstairs...I think we have everything we need now.\" As they reach the top stair, Dave suddenly pauses. Fast, moving really fast here. He's not about to turn back, that's not the issue. It's...how often does a guy in his position, at his age, get the chance to simply rush ahead, go with the feeling, live in the moment? He savors it. And then he drops all three water bottles on the bed, grins, and nudges Russell back to join them.

Russell finds himself having to scrabble to not wind up smack on top of all three bottles -- of course they know exactly where to roll. Bother. He manages to sweep them off of the bed instead, trusting the plastic to bounce, and reaches up to catch Dave by the shirt. At the last second, he hesitates, hand twitching, but then he completes the motion with a mulish gleam in his eye to tug the other man down for another kiss. Just a quick one, playful.

Dave's enjoying seeing Russell relax, loosen up, smile...and he's got spirit, a sense of fun. Dave's grateful that a society that would keep this one as a slave hasn't broken his spirit. He laughs, and rolls to Russell's side, one arm flailing over the side of the bed till he finds a water bottle. He twists off the cap, and poises the bottle over Russell's mouth. \"Say ah.\" Oddly enough, his free hand has strayed down to explore Russell's legs, his hands feeling and gripping the muscles, testing the strength and weight of the man he's about to take on...then letting his hand trail up to his groin, pressing his palm against the bulging heat. \"These jeans need to go, now. They're way too tight on you.\"

Russell grabbed for the bottle with his teeth at the joke. The wandering of that other hand is very nice, and he'd just stolen a mouthful when Dave unerringly finds his target. Russell only barely manages to swallow without spluttering or choking, and he can't keep his hips from bucking up against that touch. \"Ohhh god yes I agree. Though the same goes for you.\" He's already picking at Dave's fly button, fingers sliding under the zipper to work it down.

Dave nods, and sets the bottle on the nightstand. Russell can grab or ask for it anytime, but right now, every hands needed to deal with the jeans situation. Russell's making good progress on Dave's zipper, and vice versa. A simultaneous 'zip' noise couldn't have been planned any better, and Dave knows it. He scrambles up to his knees on the bed, and tugs at Russell. \"Up here, now.\" The two men face each other, jeans are shoved down to knees. Bare skin meets bare skin. Dave grips Russell tightly around the waist, shifting his hips to push forward, and groans aloud. \"Russell. You've been a mystery that landed almost on my doorstep. You worry me, you intrigue me, and you arouse me. I most definitely want to fuck you. Get the rest of the way out of your clothes.\" Dave flopped on the bed, grasping for the drawer of the nightstand. His jeans bundled around his knees, and his erection did its best imitation of a sundial at high noon. He was so hard that it hurt.

Dave is a captivating sight, and if his strange looping punchline-straight-to-the-hormones banter wasn't already enough to have Russell struggling out of his clothes the direct order would have done the trick anyway. \"Why, you say the most romantic things, Mas-- Mr. Wenham,\" he jokes back as he wins a ferocious fight with his own ankles and finally sheds the damn pants. With Dave still fumbling in the drawer, he takes the opportunity to gather up that quite demanding-looking cock in one deft mouthful.

A handful of condoms shakes from Dave's hand and falls to the floor like so much plastic wrapped rain. He manages to hang onto one, a very impressive accomplishment considering his cock's just been taken very<\/i> rapidly into Russell's eager mouth. He hangs onto that last condom for dear life, and raises his head to look down his own body. Damn. If Russell is already a handsome man by nature, he's something else entirely when focused on taking in a man's cock as deep as feasible. Dave watches his cheeks fill and hollow as Russell worked Dave to a state of heavy-breathing insanity. Dave's hips raise up -- he can't stop them if he tried. \"God! Do you want to get fucked or not? Cause another half a minute, and you're going to be licking your lips and waiting for a recharge. Not that I mind that...\"

Russell laughs deep in his throat, a vibrating rumble that nearly cuts \"half a minute\" to \"now\" before he mercifully lets go and sits back on his heels, hands lightly palms-up on his own thighs. \"Goddamn right I want to get fucked. Hard. No skinning out of that<\/i>, gorgeous.\" His own cock is jutting up hard against the curve of his stomach, alive in time to his breath and heartbeat; his gaze flicks curiously to the condom but he makes no comment. \"How do you like this? I'm more flexible than I look, honest...\"

\"I want you on your back. Legs up in my grip, ankles close enough to kiss, might even suck your toes when you're not looking.\" Dave rolls over and crouches, crawling over between Russell's legs, straightening up to kneel and look down on what he's been told he can have. Russell's cock's going to need some attention, once Dave gets his hands free. He rips open the condom wrapper with his teeth and rolls it on. \"Lube's on the edge of the bed, I kinda lost my grip. Put some one me.\" Dave leaned forward as far as he could without toppling, and offered his hand, too. \"And a little for your benefit, I think.\"

Dave's shock of red hair is incredibly adorable, as is that infectious leer of his. Russell's breath is visibly hitching thanks to that measured description of exactly what's in store; widely, he casts around for the tube and finds it within reach, thank god. \"Toes, ankles, christ Dave, anything you want, just soon<\/i>,\" he replies thickly as he takes a generous dab and hands the tube over. He's already wrapping his anointed hand around Dave's cock. His fingertips are a little rough, but he knows exactly what he's doing. Which is, at the moment, trying to not<\/i> set Dave off too fast...

The logic portion of Dave's brain picks up on a few key things Russell's said, but for now it's crawled off in a corner so it won't be trampled by his rampaging libido. His urgency, his eagerness<\/i> reassures Dave. He wouldn't be happy with anything less than mutual need. \"Lie back, want to try something I managed a few years back, haven't tried it since, but there weren't any injuries the last time.\" Dave urges Russell back, leaning in with him, both men's cocks pressing against each others bellies as Dave gives in to the urge for another kiss. Russell's an amazing kisser -- playful, unpredictable, erotic...he could use his kissing technique as his personal resume.

The kiss ends with a moan that could be from either or both of them, and Dave swipes a pillow from the top of the bed as he leans back to crouch on his heels. \"Hips up.\" Russell complies, and Dave folds the pillow double, stuffing it under, raising those perfect hips and that incredible cock well up off the bed. \"Ankles on my shoulders.\" Dave's hand slides down one perfect thigh as he complies, eager fingers intent on finding their way in.

Practically blind with want<\/i>, Russell has absolutely no problem doing exactly as he's told. He's breathing hard, trying not to moan and squirm too much, but in this position there's not much else he can<\/i> do...especially when Dave strokes up along sensitive skin with an obvious target in mind. He can't get his legs much further apart with his ankles hooked and pinned, but he tries his damndest anyway. Inviting without hesitation, a \"pleaseYES\" sighing out with his breath...

Fingers find their way, and though Dave means to be gentle at first, the squirming, moaning man beneath him gives him a subtle clue by shoving his hips out to swallow Dave's fingers with alarming speed. Russell's writhing against them, and Dave gets the hint. He slides his fingers free and grabs his rumpled shirt from the bed for a quick cleanup. Dave's eyes slip shut, his mouth falls open, he rests his cheek against Russell's raised ankle, shuddering as he guides himself in. Russell presses eagerly back. Dave gasps at the quickness of his entrance, but there's no time to contemplate it. He needs to move, god, he needs to fuck this beautiful man. He grasps Russell's thigh with his free hand and pulls his cock nearly free, and then with a near-animal grunt starts well and truly fucking Russell, hoping the pillow beneath his head is going to give the poor man a buffer from the impending headboard.

And with luck it should be. Russell manages to get a deathgrip on the bedding, eyes rolling back into his head with a harsh grunt as Dave slams in, and it's perfect. No hesitation, no dilly-dallying about who's doing what or how to do it...no need to think<\/i>. Just hard, and in<\/i>, and weight pounding against the backs of his thighs and hot breath shuddering against his ankle and fingers digging in and oh fuck<\/i> that's just right! He doesn't hold back; each breath is driven from him in a sharp vocal gasp, and he bears down hard to meet each grinding thrust. Needing this. Badly. \"Ahgod<\/i>Dave--\"

Less than an hour ago Dave didn't even know this Russell existed. Now he can't get enough of him. His open mouth finds Russell's leg, sucking and licking, his hips bucking hard, uncontrollably. He won't last long at this pace, but he doesn't care. Dave's eyes open a little, and through his lashes he looks down, nearly coming right then at the sight of what he's doing to Russell, and sees that cock of his beating a rhythm against his belly. Dave wants all of him, and licks his lips before managing a few words. \"Try not to come. Please...I want to taste...\"

A year ago Russell would have laughed hysterically at the thought of holding back. Him? Not bloody likely. Now, though, even though the mental image of Dave's sweet mouth wrapped around his cock nearly murders him on the spot (as evinced by the strangled mewl in the back of his throat and the eager purpling jump of the cock in question) he manages a nod. \"Holding...all right...I can...but you, w-want you to come, please<\/i>.\" He's arching up, gripping down tight<\/i> with a low growl even as he curls his toes and pulls his knees down, bring Dave's weight closer and deeper and oh this is going to kill him, definitely going to die!

Oh, that does it. Dave's eyes go wide as he's plunged even deeper<\/i> into Russell. His balls tighten at the sound of that growl. \"Gonna. Right now. Have to.\" Dave lets loose a half-snarl, half-scream that dies off in a whimper as he jerks erratically, pumping in short half-thrusts into Russell, biting down hard on his bottom lip as his orgasm hits. He keeps thrusting even when he's completely spent, pulling those last trickles of sensation free, enjoying the ebbing tension and already missing it like hell. But he knows there's still more to savor. Dave finally slides free and shoves back on the bed in one sharp move. The condom's off in seconds and his poor shirt which will never be the same gets hastily abused once again. Dave crouches down low, managing a few words before his mouth slides over the head of Russell's cock. \"Your turn. Don't hold back.\"

Holding back is the absolute last thing on Russell's mind right now. He cries out something unintelligibly grateful as Dave releases the geas he unwittingly imposed, and as the other man's tongue swirls into place and those skilled lips clasp tight around his desperately taut shaft... It's funny that Russell manages to bang his skull on the headboard now<\/i> after avoiding it up until now, but he barely notices and he doesn't care<\/i>. Part of him wants to hold back, to savor this a little longer, but when Dave starts sucking fiercely, devouring<\/i>, Russell loses the fight with a clawing rising moan that breaks into an almost panicked-sounding gasp as his climax rushes crashing through him.

Dave's never heard anyone make noises like Russell's letting fly. He winces at the sound of headboard meeting head, but he can't do anything about that right now, not with Russell coming hot and thick against his tongue. Dave loses himself in the taste, holding his lips tight around his cock as he pulses, determined to have every drop of what Russell's giving. Dave's hands grip Russell's hips hard, definitely necessary to help him ride out the man's tremors. And ride them out he does. After what could be seconds or hours, Russell quiets, except for the sound of gasping for air. Dave slowly licks round and round his now soft cock before releasing it, and with a grin gives Russell a kiss on his belly. He then crawls up to collapse next to Russell, and reaches to gently push sweat-soaked hair from his forehead. \"Your head okay? I heard that.\"

\"Yeah...I'm fine...thick skull, y'know...\" Russell's grateful for the gentle touch and the physical presence, because he's not having any luck catching his breath and something's not quite right. A moment later he realizes what's happening, but it doesn't do any good -- rational reason is no good against a full-blown panic attack. \"...oh god oh god oh fuck<\/i> I'll be okay I'll be I'll just...\" He's shaking, breath catching in thick choked wheezes as he tries to go fetal, trying to hold it down, Dave doesn't deserve this--

Just...what? Dave's wondering why Russell's not calming out, he should be coming down from what they've just done, but he's not, something's not right. Dave doesn't even think about what he's doing, it's second nature for him to reach to hold someone that's hurting. Russell's curling in on himself, and Dave lets him, nudging him to his side, curling up against his back, bending his own knees up, holding the man close against himself. \"You'll be okay, course you will. Just breathe, I won't let you go, right here to see you though.\" He starts a gentle rocking motion, speaking in a soft voice, his hands stroking Russell's arm. He wants to see that mischievous smile return, see the man that's intrigued him so much. He knows he's still in there. As he listens to Russell struggle with whatever personal demons are pushing him about, he recalls their earlier conversations. Slavery. Collared. World's a big cold place, or so Russell said. Damn them, what did they do to him? \"I'm right here. You matter to me. Come on back, Russell, talk to me.\"

Russell reaches up unthinkingly to clasp Dave's arm where it wraps around him. He's not so far gone that he's not mortified by this; what a perfectly awful way to follow up on a perfectly lovely set of orgasms. The physical embrace helps anchor and calm; the rocking soothes away the shakes until the iron bands around his chest ease and he can breathe deeply enough to chase away the lingering darkness around the edges of his gaze. \"I'm here...I'm sorry...you're the first since...\" His vision abruptly goes hot with tears and he clenches his jaw, willing it to damn well stop.

Dave holds on. He can feel Russell relaxing, and hopes the worst of it's over for his new-found friend. He knows the exact moment Russell endeared himself to Dave. It was that playful lift of his face, back on the beach, when he teased that forehead kiss down to his nose. Dave feels an anger growing inside himself at whatever Russell's world has done to him to bring him to this state. \"The first since...what? Can you talk about it? I'll listen. Here, roll over. I want to look at you. I want you to look at me, and see that I'm not angry with you.\"

Quietly, jaw clenched, Russell does as he's told. For having just met Dave, he finds the man's arms terrifically comforting...which is not surprising. Russell comes from a world where sometimes the only comfort lies in trusting a stranger's kindness without wasting time for empty social pleasantries. He accepts Dave as a good person, and so it's a tremendous relief to simply press his forehead into the hollow of Dave's shoulder and close his eyes for a moment before complying with that look. \"All right. Not angry. Understood.\"

Dave swallows back his anger; there's no time right now to lash out at Russell's world. Russell's in his<\/i> world, and damn it, there's got to be a reason he's here. Dave manages a smile for Russell, and leans to plant a kiss in the crinkles of skin next to an eye that can't hide the fact that it's shining with near-tears. \"This would be that eleventh way from Sunday, wouldn't it? And I'm still not scared of you.\" Russell's shivering a little, and Dave reaches over him to grab hold of the bedspread and haul it up over the both of them.

Ohh. Warm. Nice.<\/i> It takes Russell a moment to get the joke, and then he laughs weakly. \"I guess so. Fuck. I got most of the way through without losing it, didn't I? I get points for that.\" He nuzzles Dave's neck, warm and a little scratchy. \"Nothing you did, Dave, quite the opposite -- goddamn<\/i> you're pushy. And that's good. I needed that. Being told what to do...I didn't have time to get sketchy. Thanks. I mean it.\"

Dave flinches a little at being called pushy, but Russell's not saying it in a bad way. Or, is he? Dave's a little confused. He's never been what he'd consider a dominant man. Sure, sometimes he insists on what he wants, and now that he thinks on it, that's just what he did earlier. If Russell had spoken up, Dave would have gladly let himself be the one to get fucked. \"I'm glad it was what you needed, Russell, but it could have just as easily been you telling me what to do. Can I ask? What do you mean, get sketchy? Russell, I want to understand. I'm sorry if I sound dense...I wouldn't last five minutes in your world, would I?\"

\"You'd be surprised. Some of the strongest men I know are the gentlest.\" Russell shakes his head. \"Not dense, just...there's a lot I didn't tell you, and I doubt I'm going to. No offense. Mainly, though, I haven't...done this...anything like this...since I was set free.\" Not even with my wife.<\/i> That's going to remain unsaid for certain. \"I was in for a year. Not much, really, but you can imagine I wasn't suited for it, and you can imagine that just made me even more<\/i> fun to play with.\" Impulsively, he catches Dave's hand and presses it to his own chest, above his heart. Dave can't miss the raised lines -- scars of deliberately inflicted cuts. \"Masters love breaking their toys. Over and over.\" He doesn't sound too good, like he's slipping sideways and away without moving.

Now it's Dave's turn to fight back tears, and he does, but it's tricky. It's rage that's blurring his eyes, making it hard to keep from letting loose a stream of curses. The feel of those hard lines of flesh under his hand is so damned real. Dave's been anxious for Russell to tell him more, but he's only let out fragments. Masters love breaking their toys. Over and over.<\/i> That's enough. The reality of what goes on in this other world slams into Dave's mind hard enough to send him reeling. His hand still rests on Russell's chest, and now it starts to tremble. He hears Russell start to drift. No! Not here. I hate what's been done to you.<\/i> \"Don't go, Russell. Don't leave me yet. We've still got more time.\" Dave pulls Russell closer, and leans to rest their foreheads against each others. \"I like you. Stay with me, as my friend. My equal. You're not a toy. While we're in my house, you just be who you really are. This is safe ground.\"

\"I know...I know I'm not...not a toy, I mean...not any more...not a dog or a goddamn pony either...\" Russell's trying for black humor but it's falling short because he's not joking. The simple, almost innocent words obviously encapsulate horrors buried deep. He presses his forehead to Dave's and takes a deep breath, trying to pack it all back down, and something Dave just said suddenly hits home so hard he almost starts struggling for breath again. \"This really is safe. Here. They can't reach me here. They can't take me back.\" His hand tightens on Dave's hip, convulsively. \"Please let me stay, Master. Please.\" And no, he has no idea what just slipped out.

Dave feels the anger easing as Russell speaks, his shoulders shedding some of their tension. And then Russell calls him that<\/i>. Dave feels like they've just slid downhill. Quietly, he leans away, rolls onto his back, and stares up at the ceiling. \"You're welcome to stay as long as you want. You don't have to ask permission. I'll stay in this bed with you as your friend, I'll go downstairs and cook us both up some dinner, I'll flop on the couch with you and let you see Viggo playing Aragorn on my telly. I'll do anything you'd enjoy doing.\" Dave takes a deep breath and sits up, swinging his legs out of the bed. \"But I won't let you call me Master. If that's what I am to you, then you'll be staying in the house alone.\"

\"W...what?\" Russell doesn't understand for a moment; with all of his shields down, the suddenness of Dave's retreat (and the sudden gap of cold air left between them) almost literally feels like a punch in the stomach. Then it sinks in. He doesn't remember saying it, but he can retrace the taste of the damned word in his mouth. He goes white.

\"Oh god. Oh god<\/i> Dave. It wasn't...holy fuck, you can't think I said that on purpose. I didn't. Do you want to know how many months it took them to beat that into me? Because I'm not exaggerating on the word 'beat,' and cut, and bloody near choked to death, and you're damn lucky I didn't go to my knees the moment I stepped into this bedroom.\" It occurs to him then that he'd been subconsciously in perfect \"present up\" form\" when playing earlier, and he sags as if defeated. \"Dave, believe me. I didn't mean anything by it. I didn't even know I'd said it. Christ. Stay. Please?\"

Dave hasn't moved to stand up from the bed. He's simply planted his feet on the cold floor, and hoped. He doesn't want to leave, but it hurts him too much to hear Russell call him by a title that belonged to those who would torture this man. His head slumps down, and he sighs. Quietly, he speaks. \"I'm beginning to see how much has been done to you. I can't accept it, Russell -- ever. No one will ever convince me there's a good reason to break a man for pleasure. You're already very special to me, damn it. Just...call me Dave, or call me anything else you like. I like nicknames. But don't ever call me that.\"

Dave swings his legs back up on the bed, and crawls back under the covers. And this time, it's Dave that nearly curls up into a fetal position, but he resists. He leans against Russell and whispers, words shaky with emotion, \"I don't know how you got to my world, and I've got a feeling I can't keep you here. If you're pulled back there...I want to forget I met you. I don't know if I can live with the knowledge that you've returned to such a place. I'll get hypnosis, whatever it takes. But until then, I'll stay, because you're my friend and I like being with you. You matter a lot to me already, damn it.\"

\"Then I won't go back. Simple as that.\" Russell can't help it -- he manages to work his arms around Dave and pulls him close, rubbing his cheek against that messy red hair. Broken, yes, cracked clear through in ways he hasn't been fathomed yet himself...but he's not weak. If he's needed, he gets up and keeps going. \"Because I really don't like being forgotten.\" He adds, with tentative humor, \"You must take in a lot of strays...\"

A small laugh escapes Dave. \"Been a while since I took in a stray. Got a horse out back, and a dog that gets mistaken for a chicken, but...yeah.\" Don't think too far ahead -- that wasn't real bright, Dave.<\/i> Sure, he'll have to leave sometime. But for right now, Russell's got the right idea. \"Easy as pie. Just don't go back.\" Dave's got whatever this is now, and that's what needs his attention. \"You'd be impossible to forget, anyway.\" This is nice. Dave gets his arms around Russell, and lets himself be held close. \"I meant that about dinner and a movie, too. Whenever. No rush. Tell me what you<\/i> want to do now.\"

Russell's quiet for a moment, because really, this right here? This is fine. This is better than fine. But then his stomach reminds him that he hasn't eaten since that bagel this morning, and he gives Dave a light squeeze. \"Well...you mentioned food...and Viggo as Aragorn. That I think I have to see.\" He's quickly flicking through the three movies in his head, trying to remember if he's had any unfortunate run-ins with Dave's castmates, and is relieved to find that answer is no. Though it'll hurt to see Billy... Let it go. You can't live in a bubble. And he's safe here too, in a way.<\/i> \"If I don't have to put anything on.\"

\"Nope. In fact, I think it's best you stay naked. If you spill anything, your clothes are safe. Er, unlike my shirt, which I think is officially retired.\" Dave nudges it off the bed with his foot. \"And if we do make a mess, I've got a shower big enough for two.\" Dave's full of plans, but hasn't loosened his hold on Russell in the least. It's like that last few minutes in bed before you know you have to get up, that's when everything feels the warmest, the most comforting.

And on second thought, it's not worth breaking up what was almost lost a few moments ago. Russell still feels vaguely sick to think of it. He's kept a tight rein to not screw up in public, either with the wrong words or simply punching out the wrong person. That he slipped that badly with Dave says something very interesting. He lets Dave wriggle a bit to kick the shirt away, but then resettles further down and burrows into him again. \"In a few minutes, then. Shower sounds good too. Can't believe we just met...this is... Thanks. I mean that. You don't know how much.\"

\"Yeah, just a few more minutes of this. Mmmm. I'm glad I met you. Funny thing is, I was going to go for a walk in the woods, changed my mind at the last minute and headed for the beach.\" Dave twists his head enough to find Russell's neck, and concentrates on leaving a fine line of kisses from his shoulder up to behind his ear. \"Thank you. Not sure why I was supposed to meet you, but I think I was. I'm glad.\"

\"And I have no idea why I decided to go for that walk in the first place, but fuck...I'm glad I did.\" Russell tilts his head aside to wordlessly demand more kisses, shivering at the lovely feathery sensations. He has a love\/hate relationship with having his neck touched; it's a measure of trust indeed that he likes Dave's attention there. In fact, he's practically purring -- rustily, like an alleycat. \"Thank you,\" he sighs softly.


[tbc?]","comments":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/20210.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/19744.html","pubDate":"Mon, 24 May 2004 08:41:01 GMT","title":"More Gofi\/Ioreth","author":"jenlittlebottom","link":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/19744.html","description":"((Dragged out of the depths of jenlogs, to be inflicted upon you. :P Cuteness. Totally work safe.))

Ioreth:<\/b> *knocks on Glorfindel's door and then enters, frowning, when there's no answer* Glorfindel?

Glorfindel:<\/b> *One of the apprentices came in and built a fire while the elf was sleeping. Now he sits in a chair nearby, staring into the flames, shivering a little, though not from the chill of the night.*


Ioreth:<\/b> *frowns a little more* What is it? *comes over and squeezes his shoulder lightly* Is it too cold still? Should I put some more wood on the fire?

Glorfindel:<\/b> *tenses* Shadow and flame ...

Ioreth:<\/b> *moves to stand between him and the fire* Now you're just worrying me. *checks his forehead, but he doesn't have a fever at all*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *turns haunted eyes to you* The city has fallen.

Ioreth:<\/b> *strokes his hair* Which city? You're in Minas Tirith, my Elf, and you're safe. The walls are high and strong and there is nothing for you to worry about.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *shudders* Gondolin burns. Can you not see it?

Ioreth:<\/b> No. *strokes his hair some more* *tries to remember what little history she knows* That was a long time ago. *safe enough guess*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *gaze unfocused, looking past you into memory* It burns. I cannot let it take the children.

Ioreth:<\/b> *suddenly realises what this might be about* Is this when you... *can't quite say 'died'* Maybe we should move you away from the fire, yes?

Glorfindel:<\/b> *unresponsive* I cannot fail them ...

Ioreth:<\/b> *sympathetic* I'm sure you wont. But what you are doing now is not particularly helpful. *kisses his forehead* You are dreaming, that is all. Time to wake up, though.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *desperately clings to your hand* It is no dream!

Ioreth:<\/b> *at least he's dressed - which makes this a little easier* Fine. If I show you where the children are, will that make it better? *there's always at least a few mothers with babies around and they tend to put them all in the same area of the Houses*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *shaky nod*

Ioreth:<\/b> *tugs on his hand* This way. *goes to open the door, hoping he doesn't go all creepy-mysterious-elf on anyone else*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *follows close, gaze darting to every shadowed corner and shying away from torches and candles*

Ioreth:<\/b> *takes him into one of the rooms that has several mothers and babies staying in it - but no fireplace, although there are torches and candles around* Here. *mouths 'don't ask' to the occupants of the room*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *eyes roaming nervously over the mothers and children, searching for any source of danger and finding now* *breathless whisper* They are safe?

Ioreth:<\/b> *nods* Yes. All safe. *Thank the Valar none of the babies have decided to start crying...*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *takes a deep breath, blinking as the haze of dreams disappears, leaving confusion in its wake* Ioreth?

Ioreth:<\/b> *puts one hand on the small of his back* Shall I take you back to your room, Randir? I don't think we should disturb the ladies any more. *makes a mental note to send some extra cakes their way, for no-one in the room is asking any questions*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *nods* Yes ... please. I am ... sorry.

Ioreth:<\/b> *sighs* *leads him back* There is no need to be sorry - although you did worry me there for a second. We're almost rid of you now - no relapses allowed.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *tries to force a smile and fails*

Ioreth:<\/b> *awkward silence the rest of the way back to Glorfindel's rooms* Are you going to be alright?

Glorfindel:<\/b> *still a little pale and uneasy* In time, yes. This ... it happens. Occasionally.

Ioreth:<\/b> *cuddles him a bit* Is there anything I can do to help?

Glorfindel:<\/b> They are memories that will not leave. *sits on the bed, exhausted, staring at hands as if amazed to find them whole and unblemished*

Ioreth:<\/b> *sits down beside him* I am afraid I only know how to ease the hurts of the body. Are there no healers among your people who could help? *snuggles*

Glorfindel:<\/b> I serve the greatest of them. He cannot heal me of this. None can, save perhaps the Valar.

Ioreth:<\/b> *shivers* You bear a heavy burden, then.

Glorfindel:<\/b> I chose it freely.

Ioreth:<\/b> I am sure that does not make it all that much easier to bear, though. *kisses his cheek* I feel sometimes as if I only know half of half of who you are.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *leaning wearily against your shoulder* Sometimes I think half of me was slain with the Balrog.

Ioreth:<\/b> I think all of you needs some rest. *is not really sure how to handle this situation. 'reborn Elves' were not covered in her apprenticeship*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *nods against your shoulder*

Ioreth:<\/b> *plays with your hair* Do you want me to stay?

Glorfindel:<\/b> Please. There will be nightmares. It helps to have someone near. Someone I trust.

Ioreth:<\/b> *nods, kicking her shoes off and turning down the covers* *kisses you gently*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *crawls in, back to the wall, and curls up on his side*

Ioreth:<\/b> *snuggles in next to you and pulls the covers over us*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *wraps arms around you, nuzzling into your hair, muscles still tense*

Ioreth:<\/b> Go to sleep. *curls her fingers around yours* I'll look after you.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *for once closes his eyes, forcing himself to take slow, calming breaths, remembering words of comfort that have been offered him over the centuries, by friends who have seen him in the hold of his memories, finally lulled to sleep by Ioreth's warmth*
<\/a>","comments":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/19744.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/19520.html","pubDate":"Sat, 21 Feb 2004 01:28:18 GMT","title":"Goodbye?","author":"eomer_of_rohan","link":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/19520.html","description":"Featuring...who else?...<\/a>eomer_of_rohan<\/b><\/a><\/span> of <\/a>mespt<\/b><\/a><\/span> and <\/a>karl_urban<\/b><\/a><\/span> of <\/a>slashpuppets<\/b><\/a><\/span>. Eomer's just been murdered<\/a>. And yet it's NC-17. Go us! No, this doesn't exactly fit with what's currently going in plotwise. Is it a dream? Did it really happen? Dunno for sure, but Karl wasn't doing so well<\/a>. This helped. :)


Eomer:<\/b> *I sit down gingerly on the edge of the bed in this strange place. I'm not sure I'm really here. I'm not sure I'm even really ME. But I'm here anyway. In part, at least.*

Karl:<\/b> *I fought going to sleep as long as I possibly could, to avoid the dreams that have been plaguing me since yesterday, since... I shift restlessly, sheets tangled around my legs, fighting phantom demons, battling to save you, even though I know it's too late*

Eomer:<\/b> *I chew my lip, watching you thrash, wondering what you're dreaming about, wondering if it's me. I hesitate, not knowing if this will do any good, but then I stretch out beside you, trying to put my arm around you, trying to brush dark tangles from your forehead*

Karl:<\/b> *unconsciously leaning into the whisper touch, dreams shifting, changing from madness to something soothing, almost calm... and I can swear I can almost smell your familiar scent -- woodsmoke and horse -- in the room. I blink bleary eyes, seeking the source*

Eomer:<\/b> *I go cold when you gaze right through me -- I manage to drag my thumb over your cheek, urging you to focus.* I'm here, Karl. Right here. Come on. LOOK.

Karl:<\/b> *there it is again...that same ghost touch...and, if I concentrate, I can make out words* I'm going crazy. *I state the words calmly, voice rough with sleep, but I hear it again...and if I squint just a bit...* who's here?

Eomer:<\/b> *a light pressure against your mouth, a faint warmth in the breath you inhale* Who do you think?

Karl:<\/b> *it's...no. no, I didn't. except, I did. and that was. I squint again, lifting my head to seek the source of the light kiss and can just make out...* eomer?

Eomer:<\/b> I think so. I know that, at least. And who you are. And that you were calling.

Karl:<\/b> calling? *okay, this is far too weird. except it's real. at least, it feels real. I struggle to sit up, yawning a bit to clear the cobwebs from my head...and you're still there. still wrapped around me, not quite as heavy as I remember, but here.*

Eomer:<\/b> *I'm relieved to be able to actually feel you moving against me now, heavy and real...perhaps now you can feel ME, and hear me...see me...* I guess so. Because I came, didn't I? Though I don't know where from... *I frown, a heavy barrier keeping me from knowing what happened, though part of me is absently glad that I'm not breathing because that would hurt too much*

Karl:<\/b> I don't care. *twisting to fully face you, fingers lightly trailing over your beloved features, still in shock over how real you feel, how warm. if this is a dream, I'm happy enough to have it*

Eomer:<\/b> *resting my forehead against yours* You were having a nightmare.

Karl:<\/b> you were dying and I couldn't save you. *the edges of the dream are fuzzy, but I still remember, in vivid clarity, the despair and desperation* it really happened, didn't it? *scooting closer, legs tangled with yours, wrapping tight arms around you. whatever you are, you smell and taste like him and it's enough for me*

Eomer:<\/b> *I jerk slightly at your words -- I'm not sure, I don't know, but somehow I sense that to say otherwise would be a lie, and I don't lie* I...maybe... *nuzzling into the curve of your neck* You tell me.

Karl:<\/b> there was blood. a lot of it. *struggling to put the vague dream visions into words while silmultaneously trying to crawl inside you and stay* I kept trying to get to you, but there was too much blood and I kept slipping on it. *softly* I felt it. felt our connection snap.

Eomer:<\/b> I did too. *the words escape before I think about it, and when I do I again find that I can't remember but I know it's true* When... Oh gods. If that's true, then...how am I here?!

Karl:<\/b> good question. *glancing up at you* and why me.

Eomer:<\/b> I don't know. Does there have to be a reason? Maybe here<\/i> is easier, because there<\/i> is where...where...I don't know. I don't remember. I don't want to remember.

Karl:<\/b> then don't remember. *fierce, low whisper, brushing my lips across yours in promise* stay here with me.

Eomer:<\/b> I can't. *another simple answer without thought, just fact*

Karl:<\/b> yeah... *sighs* what I thought you'd say. *I tighten my arms around you anyway in reflex*

Eomer:<\/b> I'm sorry. *the apology is a mere breath across your collarbone, and the cold is starting to seep in -- with a sudden convulsive shudder I push under your blankets, seeking contact, warmth, the reassuring feel of your heartbeat* I'll stay as long as I can.

Karl:<\/b> I'll take as long as you can give me. *whispering the words across your jawline, needy hands racing over every familiar, beloved inch of your body*

Eomer:<\/b> How long until sunrise? I think I can manage that much... *I close my eyes, savoring your touch, but jerk away as your hands run over my chest* Careful...

Karl:<\/b> sorry. *mumbles, brushing lips over yours* does it still hurt? *I don't dare look down; I simply let my hands wander lower, across your stomach and hips*

Eomer:<\/b> No...it's just...I remember, when you touch there. Don't want to remember. *I roll back, arm around your side pulling you with me, kissing you fiercely, sliding one leg down the outside of yours* Give me something else to take with me.

Karl:<\/b> what'd you have in mind? *curling closer, nails scraping across your back as our lips meet again in a fierce kiss*

Eomer:<\/b> *breathing the words into your mouth, one hand winding through your hair to hold you steady* Let me have you one last time.

Karl:<\/b> *I don't bother to speak -- I let my kiss say yes for me, and wrap tight arms around you as our tongues duel together in a slick, sweet dance*

Eomer:<\/b> *Good... My hands slide down your sides to push away the sheet twisted around your waist, tracing bare skin all the way until I cup your ass in both palms, fingers digging in to crush you close*

Karl:<\/b> *I don't even bother to question why I'm giving myself so willingly to a ghost. I don't care. it's you, you're here, you feel so fucking real and your hands still remember exactly how to make my body burn for more*

Eomer:<\/b> This could just be a dream. *now my voice is against your throat as I shift, rolling to push you down into the blankets, hands stroking up the outsides of your thighs*

Karl:<\/b> I don't care. *long, drawn-out sigh, shifting restlessly beneath you, sliding a foot up your calf, hands buried in messy, tangled hair as I try to tug your mouth back up to mine*

Eomer:<\/b> *I let you win that prize, shoving you into the pillows with a harsh sigh as my mouth claims yours, letting our bodies interlock in a heated shudder*

Karl:<\/b> *the hell with this being a dream -- it's far too vivid and the way you taste is far too sharp. I can feel the welcome weight of your body pressing mine down, taste the need and desperation in your kiss, return it just as eagerly.* please...

Eomer:<\/b> *It takes all I have to not simply slam into you right here, right now. I know you'd let me, but I still have some humanity left, and I won't do it. Luckily I know you too well -- a quick fumble at the bedside turns up what I need in your overnight bag* You had plans, \ufffdnm\ufffddla min...?

Karl:<\/b> harry...here last week... *shivering at the hot, possessive look in your eyes* what'd you call me? *it's not a phrase I ever remember you using before...and I never had to learn elven for the film*

Eomer:<\/b> *I don't answer until I've earned a gasp from you, one slick hand stroking your cock in passing before working back, fingers teasing -- I love the way you look, my dark mirror, as I place each word with a hard kiss down your stomach* Arrogant...proud...beautiful.

Karl:<\/b> *ragged gasp, hips arching off the mattress* you think... *one look from you silences further words. you truly do think I'm beautiful. and while it's not something I would normally be comfortable hearing, from you it feels right. loss once again threatens to overwhelm me and I ruthlessly tamp it down, comfort myself with running my fingers through your hair again, parting my legs for you in invitation.* more...

Eomer:<\/b> *Your plea undoes me entirely -- I can't hold back a moment longer, hooking an arm under your knee and guiding myself into place with one shaking hand. I'm looking straight into your eyes when I fall forward into you, driving deep and true with a strangled cry, fingers digging into your hip*

Karl:<\/b> *fuckyes... I force myself to keep my eyes open as you fill me, take me, claim me so completely that it shatters another hard kernel of grief buried deep. I tighten my legs around you, hips tilted up as you push me across the mattress with each ragged thrust. there's nothing practiced in this, nothing calculated. just raw need spilling from you to me and back again in an odd sort of feedback loop. no one else gives me this. no one else ever could. just you.*

Eomer:<\/b> *any brief reluctance I had, any half-formed resolve to treat you tenderly in this our last night, is destroyed in the way you feel, the way you look, the way you buck and rise to meet me. No thinking, no remembering, no creeping bonechill of wherever your need brought me from -- just heat, your body and your blood and in your voice as I pull you close, crying out softly with each deep thrust, not wanting this to end but soon, soon...*

Karl:<\/b> *I want so badly for this to last forever, to know only the bliss of your body pinning me in place, of your cock thrusting deep with each twist and counter-twist of hips and limbs. I swallow your moans with tangled kisses, tongues rubbing, lips melding, bound together by sweat and need... and love.*

Eomer:<\/b> *There's something different about this, but it's masked in so many layers of \"different\" that at first it's hard to discern. As I slow down slightly, trying to drag this out, to savor every shift and shiver of your muscles as I take you, I become aware of...something...something in your kiss, the half-formed words behind them, the desperate way your hands move through my hair...and I remember something I don't mind remembering* You said...you've said, before... Do you? Still?

Karl:<\/b> Always. *I cup a bristly cheek in one palm, need pulsing through me with each shift and glide. I don't even need to ask what you're talking about -- I already know. I've always been able to read you.* I love you. *I say the words as simply as I know how, some part of my soul still breaking at the fact that I didn't tell you enough while you were alive, that maybe you died thinking that I'd stopped just because we were no longer together*

Eomer:<\/b> *And just like that, with the small clear click of a puzzle piece clicking into place, I know why I'm here. There was something incomplete about the way we parted. I'd felt abandoned, at the time. Like you'd pulled away before...what? I never understood. Now I know. I curl to touch my forehead to yours, briefly, golden hair falling around your face* And I love you. *And with that the dam breaks, my body arching up and back with a long deep keening gasp, completely here, completely real, and completely lost within you*

Karl:<\/b> *I fight to keep my eyes open -- want to see everything reflected in yours -- but the raw emotion is too much for even me. my arms tighten, convulse, around you as I finally give in, succumb completely to you, lifting my head to yours to bury my moan in the back of your throat*

Eomer:<\/b> *For a few long perfect moments all that exists is your body and mine -- breath and sweat and the creak of abused bedsprings, and the slow sleepy pull of total satisfaction. Nothing else exists. But then ice seems to sluice down my back -- I go terror-stiff and my eyes fly open, staring at something over your head where nothing could<\/i> be, given the placement of the hotel wall. Nevertheless a moment later I'm down, pulling the blankets over us and shoving bodily into your arms, frantically, shaking so hard my teeth are rattling* I don't want to go yet. Don't let me go. Please...

Karl:<\/b> alright. *I hold you as tight as I can, trying not to let the concern show in my voice as you do your best to crawl inside my skin. your body feels like ice for a moment, then warms up once more and the odd contrast has me more than a little worried. not now... I'm not ready yet. I bury my face in the crook of your neck and hold you as close as I can. if by sheer force of will I can keep you for just a bit longer, I will*

Eomer:<\/b> *Once I'm completely within the circle of your arms, my head upon your chest so I can hear\/feel your heartbeat, the cold abates. Mostly. It'll be back. It's not going to go away. I'm not going to get better. I don't get to go home.* I don't know where I'm going. *I didn't mean to say that aloud, murmured softly against your collarbone*

Karl:<\/b> Hopefully someplace that doesn't have cold water. *the words are out before I can stop them -- an echo of our banter before you... yeah. before.*

Eomer:<\/b> *I laugh softly* I don't mind that so much, actually. I haven't in a long time. *calming, safe here for now*

Karl:<\/b> Hey. *twisting in your arms, propping my chin on your shoulder as I smile up at you* remember that first time...in dol amroth? you, me, the beach... *chuckles* ...god, you were incredible. still are, I mean, but... eh, ignore me. feeling nostalgic.

Eomer:<\/b> *sleepily* Of course I do. Nothing stopping us from trying again. Just...give me a few minutes. And don't let me fall asleep. All right?

Karl:<\/b> *softly, cupping your cheek* no sleeping. promise. *smiles* I think I can keep you awake.

Eomer:<\/b> Promise? ...yes, of course you do. Thank you. *looping an arm around you, squeezing you hard* Nothing is ever certain. Not where I come from. Just...remember that.

Karl:<\/b> I know. *leaning in to give you a sweet, soft kiss* that's the only thing making this bearable right now. that, y'know. you might be...

Eomer:<\/b> *pulling you under the blanket* No \"mights.\" Not here, not not. Just \"is.\"

Karl:<\/b> *snuggling close, hand resting warm on your stomach and drifting lower* what I love most about you. you always got<\/i> it.

Eomer:<\/b> *I close my eyes, following your hand by touch alone, letting all else fall away for now* And I still do. Whatever \"it\" is...","comments":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/19520.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/19390.html","pubDate":"Wed, 04 Feb 2004 05:13:24 GMT","title":"Maglor harasses Ioreth","author":"lastexile","link":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/19390.html","description":"
Ioreth: *is dreaming of Hurin, thank you very much, and not some annoying Elf*

Maglor: *cheerfully butts in*

Ioreth: *thwackthwackthwack*

Maglor: *conveniently ethereal* *smiles a little creepily at Yorry*

Ioreth: *grumps* Piss off.

Maglor: *smiles some more* Hello. *peers* I know you, don't I.

Ioreth: Yes. *mutters rude things about damn Elves*

Maglor: ....who am I? *looks slightly puzzled* That has been bothering me. *his voice is a good deal more melodic than his 'Verion' voice*

Ioreth: *stares* You're Maglor. You're an Elf. You're highly annoying.

Maglor: *smiles even more* *moves to peer at Ioreth at close range and many angles* What are you doing here?

Ioreth: I'm not entirely sure.

Maglor: Sometimes they come to talk to me. They try to tell me that I'm not dead. Which is very silly. *casually takes off his shirt, which disappears the moment it loses contact with him - concentrates, and a gaping sword wound appears on his chest* *happily* See?

Ioreth: Yes, you're quite dead. I remember having to deal with poor Haldir afterwards. Shouldn't you be off talking to him, wherever he is, if you're going to talk to anyone?

Maglor: *brow furrows - his mind is not up to handling his emotional response to that name* *ignores it for now* They keep talking at me and talking at me. They won't let me have any peace. And the -world- talks at me too. So I found this place. They're quiet here.

Ioreth: That's nice. Could you be quiet, too? I'm trying to get some sleep.

Maglor: I'm not going back there. You're interesting. I like you.

Ioreth: *groans* You don't belong here...

Maglor: *curiously* Why not? It feels right here.*pokes around Ioreth's memories*

Ioreth: *glares* *swats at* Go AWAY.

Maglor: I don't want to go back. And I don't think I can go -out-.

Ioreth: Then just... shut up. Argh.

Maglor: *not hitting on Ioreth, not, honest >.>*

Ioreth: *goes back under the blankets* Arrghhh...

Maglor: *seriously* I'm sorry about the tall mortal with the hair.

Ioreth: *pokes head out of blankets* Why? What did you do to him?

Maglor: Well, he's not here and he should be. *nods sadly*

Ioreth: Who? ... Hurin?

Maglor: *sheepish* I'm not good with names.

Ioreth: *stares* Just go away. Please.

Maglor: But that sounds like a nice name. Very pretty. *thinks* I suppose he wasn't the mortal with the red hair and the chair, so it must be your Hurin.

Ioreth: He's not meant to be here. I'm meant to be there. Stupid Elf.

Maglor: It's much the same. *smiles* Silly lady with loose threads.

Ioreth: *stare* Is that how you got here?

Maglor: *vaguely* She talked at me and talked at me and I couldn't go away until I did. *smiles*

Ioreth: Answer the damn question. How did you get here?

Maglor: I went away from her. She wasn't as tidy as she could have been.

Ioreth: *wishes he was solid so she could beat some sense into him* But how? And do you know how to get back?

Maglor: I think I could go back to that place. But you have fleshy bits and I don't think you would fit.

Ioreth: *glares* Then go back.

Maglor: *patiently* I don't want to. They -talk- at me about being bad.

Ioreth: That is because you are bad.

Maglor: Well, yes, but they want to turn me into something I'm not. And that's irritating.

Ioreth: What do they want you to turn into? A rabbit, or something? *grins*

Maglor: Someone who listens to them, and pretends they don't make stupid mistakes all the time.*at Ioreth* I wouldn't think you would be taking -their- side.

Ioreth: Not if they landed me here, I don't suppose. *frowns* Could you get me back into the right place?

Maglor: Maybe if you left the fleshy bits behind you could come with me to the dark place - but they probably wouldn't give you new fleshy bits.

Ioreth: ... come up with another plan.

Maglor: I'm not good at that either.

Ioreth: What are you good for, then? Other than annoying me, that is.

Maglor: *smile redux, now creepier* I'm not good. I'm bad. That's what they tell me...
<\/a>","comments":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/19390.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/18782.html","pubDate":"Wed, 21 Jan 2004 17:37:56 GMT","author":"ramlatch","link":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/18782.html","description":"I wasn't sure where this belonged, so posting it here. But it's <\/a>eol_mornedhel<\/b><\/a><\/span> and <\/a>orofinwe<\/b><\/a><\/span> from <\/a>whitecity<\/b><\/a><\/span> - mostly fluff but smut too, Orophin is ah, er... a virgin, and they're taking things slow. Since Eol is dead in White City - well, yeah, means I wasn't sure where to put this. I guess a sort of future point where he's been reborn in Aman and is with Orophin now?



Orophin:<\/b> *fidgets*

E\u00f6l:<\/b> Yes, love?

E\u00f6l:<\/b> What is it?

Orophin:<\/b> I was wondering *looks embarrassed* you mentioned chains and I keep wondering how you would use them, because I don't understand how you would go about doing that. *is honest*

E\u00f6l:<\/b> Well, love, that would depend on what you were comfortable with. I might bind you to the bed, or simply shackle your hands together, or if you do not like those ideas, simple adorn you with them.

Orophin:<\/b> *odd look, thinking about all that* Wearing them does not sound very comfortable...

E\u00f6l:<\/b> Ah, but these would be light chains, such as those used in jewlery...at least if you were only to wear them.

Orophin:<\/b> *nods* *suddenly flushes* I would have to know what I don't like, probably. I don't even know what I like, yet. *is rather not sure what to say*

E\u00f6l:<\/b> *laughs gently* Then perhaps we should let the chains alone for a bit.

Orophin:<\/b> *nods again and just takes one of Eol's hands and holds it*

E\u00f6l:<\/b> *kisses his lover gently*

Orophin:<\/b> *responds, exploring, still learning how to do this but liking it a lot*

E\u00f6l:<\/b> *pulls Orophin into his arms and delves into his mouth*

Orophin:<\/b> *makes a surprised sound and holds onto Eol*

E\u00f6l:<\/b> *pulls back* Are you all right?

Orophin:<\/b> *nods a little* ... you are very intense. *wry smile*

E\u00f6l:<\/b> *a slow grin spreads over the dark Elf's features as his hands wander boldly over he younger Elf's body* Am I?

Orophin:<\/b> Very. *shivers and arches against his hands, leaning against him*

E\u00f6l:<\/b> *moans softly at the sight of Orophin in the midst of pleasure and begins to plant soft kisses over the beautiful youth's throat*

Orophin:<\/b> *a quiet moan, reaching behind to clutch at Eol's hair and neck to hold himself steady, every kiss like sparks shooting down to Orophin's groin. He isn't complaining*

E\u00f6l:<\/b> If I am bold, sweet Orophin, it is you who make me so.

Orophin:<\/b> You make me a lot of things, mostly I feel like I've been sucked into a forest fire wind and am about to explode to peices. *grins a little and kisses* Not that that is a bad thing, mind you.

E\u00f6l:<\/b> Oh, but it is...we cannot have you...exploding. *grinning, Eol slides his hands down to Orophin's groin* Not without a little more help.

Orophin:<\/b> *unintelligible sound that sounds like he agrees*

E\u00f6l:<\/b> *laughs softly and undoes Orophin's leggings, taking a very sensitive extremity in-hand*

Orophin:<\/b> *gulps a little at the sensation* What...what about you? *rests one hand flat against Eol's belly, curious*

E\u00f6l:<\/b> *all put purring* I would not object if you wished to satisfy...curiosities about me.

Orophin:<\/b> *wordlessly opening Eol's own trousers to palm him, lifting and holding him in hand, exploring how he feels against his palm and fingers*

E\u00f6l:<\/b> *shudders, breath catching in his throat* Ai...*panting slightly*

Orophin:<\/b> *watches Eol* You like that? *does something again with his fingers, trying to learn*

E\u00f6l:<\/b> *takes Orophin's hand gently, guiding his fingers carefully along the underside and head of his arousal*

Orophin:<\/b> *closes eyes, letting his fingers and hand remember and know what is going on, exploring Eol's sensitive skin. The care to guide Orophin overwhelms him and he tries to mimic the guided movements as best he can, knowing with more experience he will understand better what to do*

E\u00f6l:<\/b> *lets out something like a whimper and pushes up into Orophin's hand*

Orophin:<\/b> *utterly delighted at the sound, tries to think back on the stories told furtively around the campfires back in Lorien among the younger marchwardens and hesitantly palms him, fingers wrapping around to press ever so gently before releasing and sliding up his length and moving back down*

E\u00f6l:<\/b> *speaking between gasps* Ah...you will finish me soon, sweetling.

Orophin:<\/b> Do you want me to stop? *still stroking him, slowly getting used to the feel of him in his hand*

E\u00f6l:<\/b> No...no, sweet stars, no...

Orophin:<\/b> *is silent but hasn't stopped, muscles of his wrist working to try to change the rythm of his strokes**

E\u00f6l:<\/b> *hugs Orophin close, finally remembering what he hold in his own hand and begins to fondle his lover*

Orophin:<\/b> *breathing deeply and quickly against Eol, hand reflexively tightening as he feels Eol's hand moving on him - then relaxing*

E\u00f6l:<\/b> *whispering soft, desperate love-talk against Oro's neck*

Orophin:<\/b> *finally twitches and shudders bodily as he comes, gulping hard for air and eager to have Eol find completion alongside him*

E\u00f6l:<\/b> *the spasm of his lover, the sudden warmth upon his hand...they combine to drive Eol over the edge. He finishes and lies, spent and happy, against Orophin*

Orophin:<\/b> *feeling the stickiness on his hand, Orophin finds it curious and licks tentatively at his own hand -- he pulls it away at the first taste, deciding it is something to think more about another time and leans into Eol, exhausted and equally spent*

E\u00f6l:<\/b> *grooms his own hand clean with his tongue, then repeats the procedure for Oro*

Orophin:<\/b> *watches Eol curiously, surprised when he doesn't feel himself blush, instead when Eol is done, kissing him deeply*

E\u00f6l:<\/b> *purrs happily*","comments":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/18782.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/18512.html","pubDate":"Wed, 21 Jan 2004 02:59:44 GMT","author":"ramlatch","link":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/18512.html","description":"Annnd here's the last, continued from here<\/a> and the previous post of Jen's. About 5,200 words. *faints from having to edit this thing*

WARNINGS: Maglor\/Haldir smut, Maglor\/Haldir\/Maeglin smut, three-way-cousin!cest and cousin!fetish, discussion of incest, Feanorians, angst, violence, angst, Feanorians, attempted murder, Elves, angst, angst, angst, smut, angst. >.> I think that about covers it. Oh, and Haldir\/Maglor fluff.




Maeglin:<\/b> *wakes up very suddenly* Hey! *grumbles* Trust a Noldo... *gets to his feet* *only just now notices Haldir* *leers at*

Maglor:<\/b> *cuddlesprawls on the bed, trying to ensure that there's no room for Maeglin*

Haldir:<\/b> *on his back, sprawled under Maglor* *wakes up and eyes Maeglin* My face is up here. ...

Maeglin:<\/b> *grins* *drapes himself casually across Maglor* Macalaure, introduce me, why don't you.

Maglor:<\/b> This is Haldir, my...*flounders a bit* chosen.

Maeglin:<\/b> Oh? *still not looking at Haldir's face* You've got good taste... for one of the Noldor, anyway.

Maglor:<\/b> *blushes hotly* *tight* The door is right over there. It might even be unlocked.

Haldir:<\/b> *shifts a little under Maglor - isn't sure whether to be flattered by Maeglin's attention or annoyed*

Maeglin:<\/b> I had the bed first. You can take your chosen pretty and go play elsewhere, or you can stay. And we can play. *smirk*

Maglor:<\/b> ...actually, I found the bed first.

Maeglin:<\/b> But I had it first. *sighs* If you want to kick me out, I'm going to need some clothes. *grins at Haldir* Can I borrow his?

Maglor:<\/b> *if he had hackles, they would be rising* You may not.

Maeglin:<\/b> Oh? *tugs at Maglor's leggings* Best take these instead, then.

Maglor:<\/b> *flushes, glances at Haldir*

Haldir:<\/b> *kicks at Maeglin's hand, is annoyed* Ask.first.

Maeglin:<\/b> *innocent* But Macalaure doesn't like it when I ask. He likes to make me make him.

Maglor:<\/b> *to forestall further discussion* You can have them, if you wish. I suppose I owe you that much.

Maeglin:<\/b> *triumphant grin in direction of Haldir* You're too kind.

Maglor:<\/b> *wriggles out of his leggings -under- the covers, tosses them at Maeglin*

Maglor:<\/b> *wriggles out of his leggings -under- the covers, tosses them at Maeglin*

Haldir:<\/b> *wraps one leg around one of Maglor's possessively* *watches Maeglin distrustfully*

Maeglin:<\/b> Thank you. *examines leggings for a moment, and then grabs them with both hands and rips them down the seam* Whoops. Shoddy Noldor craftsmanship, obviously.

Maglor:<\/b> *sputters incoherently*

Haldir:<\/b> -now- can I kill him? *mutters*

Maglor:<\/b> ...I think he might like that.

Maeglin:<\/b> *to Haldir* You can try. Winner gets Macalaure?

Haldir:<\/b> *gives dangerous look and holds onto Maglor*

Maglor:<\/b> I am -not- a...-prize- for you to fight over!

Maeglin:<\/b> *enjoying himself far too much* Not much of a prize, at least.

Haldir:<\/b> He's not a prize, he is -mine-.

Maglor:<\/b> *stays quiet now*

Maeglin:<\/b> And how much do I owe you for the use of him, then? *very very quietly* Daddy's little whore.

Maglor:<\/b> *snarls and starts half-out of the bed before restraining himself*

Haldir:<\/b> *dangerously quiet* If he is anyone's whore, he is my whore, because he has always been -mine- and I share with no one. He chose to touch you, not I. *sneers* Anything you owe me, is blood, not money.

Maglor:<\/b> ....*eyes glowing weirdly, he snaps his head back to look at Haldir* I'm not -anyone-'s whore.

Maeglin:<\/b> *shrugs, arms out to the side, palms up* Then take your payment from me, if you can. Or do you and your whore want some time together? I don't mind watching.

Haldir:<\/b> *growls* I know that. But I share you with no one, what you do with another is your choice and never mine. Bad choice of words.

Maglor:<\/b> .....good. *backs down a little, returns to glaring at Maeglin*

Maeglin:<\/b> *smirks* How sweet.

Maeglin:<\/b> *perches on the edge of the bed* *reaches out to play with Maglor's hair* *pretends to ignore Haldir*

Maglor:<\/b> *glares, but suffers the touch* What do you think to accomplish?

Maeglin:<\/b> *winds a strand of hair around his finger* Forgetfulness? *eyes* What do you think to accomplish. by allowing me this trespass?

Maglor:<\/b> ....I don't know.

Maeglin:<\/b> *to Haldir* Will you try and stop me... if he doesn't? Come, take the blood you are owed!

Haldir:<\/b> *pushes Maglor off and grabs Maeglin by the neck* You want it too much.

Maglor:<\/b> *wraps the blanket around him and gets to his feet, watching the two of them on the bed*

Maeglin:<\/b> *pouts at loss of his plaything*

Maeglin:<\/b> *slow smile* I get that from my mother's side of the family.

Haldir:<\/b> *Narrows eyes* Are you trying to provoke me?

Maglor:<\/b> ....most likely.

Maeglin:<\/b> *struggling a little* And it seems to be working.

Haldir:<\/b> *decides not to mention the being a part of Finarfin's kids as it'll only add fuel* *To Maglor* Any rope within this room to tie him down and keep him from being a nuisance?

Maglor:<\/b> There's the sheets in the closet - though here is not much to tie him to if you don't mean the bed.

Maeglin:<\/b> If there was rope, somebody'd already be tied down, and it wouldn't be me.

Haldir:<\/b> *reflexively tightens grip on Maeglin's neck, trying rather hard to restrain doing anything else*

Maeglin:<\/b> *choked out* Yep. It's working.

Maglor:<\/b> *at the same time* I don't think whatever you are doing is working, Haldir

Haldir:<\/b> I don't like him touching you. *Not letting go but unwillingly easing a little of the pressure*

Maglor:<\/b> Well, I'm not too keen on you touching him, either. *amused quirk of his mouth*

Haldir:<\/b> *Complaining maybe...just a little. Maybe.*

Haldir:<\/b> *Calm as if discussing the weather* You mean like this?

Maglor:<\/b> I don't want you to kill anybody. It's not worth it.

Maeglin:<\/b> My dear cousin was all too willing before now. *struggling a bit more* Killing me wont change that fact. *leers at Maglor* It'll just stop me coming back for a second taste of him.

Maglor:<\/b> ...*stares at Maeglin for a moment, and then blinks, annoyed* You are very silly.

Maeglin:<\/b> *shrugs, as best he can* What?

Maglor:<\/b> What's the point of annoying Haldir? *shakes his head*

Haldir:<\/b> *Silently agrees with Maglor*

Maeglin:<\/b> ... Because it's fun? Not all of us can be all angst, angst, angst all the time, you know.

Maglor:<\/b> *sniffs* I don't think that's truly a word...

Maeglin:<\/b> ... and he doesn't seem likely to let me do anything else other than annoy him. Unlike some.

Haldir:<\/b> I don't trust you.

Maglor:<\/b> You should have left while you had the chance.

Maeglin:<\/b> *giggles* And go where? And do what?

Maglor:<\/b> *furrows his brow* I don't know. This is a...strange place.

Maeglin:<\/b> *shrugs* May as well make the best of it. *brings one hand up and attempts to grope Haldir*

Haldir:<\/b> *stiffens - and not there you pervs*

Maglor:<\/b> *just watches for now, head tilted slightly*

Maeglin:<\/b> *smirk* Pretty pretty. You might not like sharing, but I think Macalaure might not mind.

Haldir:<\/b> *frowns* You do not want me, you want the idea of me.

Maglor:<\/b> *evenly* There are limits to my forbearance. Pray you do not find them.

Maeglin:<\/b> You have no idea what I want, pretty. And if you're going to threaten me, Macalaure, would you mind actually going through with it this time?

Maglor:<\/b> *amused* Do not think that my wrath is impotent, child of twilight.

Maeglin:<\/b> *near-convulses with laughter* You know, that's the closest you've got to calling me by my name yet. And yes, I'm well aware that you are not impotent.

Haldir:<\/b> *Pleading look, to Maglor*

Maglor:<\/b> *sighs a bit* Just don't -kill- him.

Maeglin:<\/b> *still giggling* Gone soft, Macalaure?

Maglor:<\/b> *mildly* Just because I don't try to toss babies off buildings....

Maeglin:<\/b> No, you and your darling brothers preferred to leave them to starve to death.

Haldir:<\/b> *decides now is a good time and half drags half bodily lifts Maeglin by the neck from the bed, throwing him forcefully against the wall*

Maglor:<\/b> *eyes narrow and he watches Haldir and Maeglin almost hungrily*

Haldir:<\/b> *grabbing Maeglin's hair with a fist and slamming his head several times into the wall before kicking him while he's down in a most unsportsmanlike manner*

Haldir:<\/b> *crouches to grab Maeglin's hair again to lift his head up and watches, eyes reminiscent of the distant eyes of a wild cat* Anything else to add?

Maeglin:<\/b> *spits blood* Not... bad, pretty... *grimaces* You do this often?

Haldir:<\/b> *A look of tightly restrained violence* I'm of the hit first and ask questions later type of creatures. Give me a good reason to stop?

Maeglin:<\/b> No. *spits again, this time at Haldir* Try harder.

Haldir:<\/b> *looks at Maglor*

Maglor:<\/b> *walks absently towards the linen closet*

Haldir:<\/b> *Keeps a knee at the small of Maeglin's spine, pinning him down and taking his arms to fold them restrained against his back* You really like this, don't you. *distantly*

Maeglin:<\/b> *squirms in Haldir's grip* I'm rather like your Macalaure that way.

Maglor:<\/b> *gets a sheet to drape around himself, since he has no clothes currently* *glances back at the pair of them*

Haldir:<\/b> Yes, I know.

Haldir:<\/b> *looks up over to Maglor, questioningly*

Maglor:<\/b> *gets another sheet and also drapes it on himself and wanders over to the two of them* You done yet?

Haldir:<\/b> I suppose. Why?

Maeglin:<\/b> *slightly perturbed that he didn't manage to get more of a response out of Haldir* Because he's planning to tie me up so you two can go off and fuck like happy bunnies. Bet I can guess who's going to top.

Maglor:<\/b> ... *dryly* The door is locked again.

Haldir:<\/b> *glances at Maglor* ...what do you think?

Maeglin:<\/b> I think I wouldn't mind watching. *grins*

Haldir:<\/b> *is thinking of what Maeglin said*

Maglor:<\/b> I think tying him up and doing the bunny thing sounds like fun.

Haldir:<\/b> I would have to agree.

Maglor:<\/b> *tosses Haldir a sheet and goes to work, aware that the poor materials on hand likely won't hold an elf long*

Maeglin:<\/b> *tries to wrench his arms out of Haldir's grasp, but no such luck* I think you both talk too much.

Haldir:<\/b> *shrugs a little even though Maeglin probably can't see it* *helps Maglor*

Maglor:<\/b> *finally ties Maeglin up fairly well* glances at Maeglin* Would you prefer to be gagged or blindfolded?

Maeglin:<\/b> *wriggles around, trying to make things as difficult as possible for them* You're giving me a choice?

Maglor:<\/b> *indulgent smile* Sure.

Maeglin:<\/b> Go ahead and gag me then. *smirks* Wouldn't want to distract you, or anything.

Maglor:<\/b> *gags him - not too tightly - and pulls Haldir onto the bed* Clothes. Less of them.

Haldir:<\/b> *Takes off the rest of his clothes without a word*

Maeglin:<\/b> *is suddenly rather glad he chose not to be blindfolded*

Maglor:<\/b> *rolls over to rummage in Haldir's clothes*

Haldir:<\/b> *stroking one of Maglor's calves with his feet while he waits, not in a hurry*

Maglor:<\/b> ....I'm impressed. *finds little bottle* Don't you ever run out? *amused*

Haldir:<\/b> *impish grin* One of those multi-purpose things, really.

Maglor:<\/b> *glances over at Maeglin*

Maeglin:<\/b> *manages somehow to leer while gagged*

Maglor:<\/b> *just looks amused, tosses Haldir's shirt over Maeglin's head as if he were a clotheshorse*

Maeglin:<\/b> *shakes head wildly until it falls off* *glares at Maglor*

Maglor:<\/b> *ignores him and turns back to Haldir, looking the other over* Well.

Haldir:<\/b> *arches an eyebrow* Well?

Haldir:<\/b> *stretches out sinuously across the bed*

Maeglin:<\/b> *thinks there is still too much talking going on*

Maglor:<\/b> *pounces on Haldir, bearing him down, watching him with intense eyes*

Haldir:<\/b> *wraps one leg over and between Maglor's, matching his look*

Maglor:<\/b> *very predatory smile, focusing on Haldir...he traces old patterns with his fingertips, before deliberately uncorking the bottle and letting a dollop of it ooze out onto his hand*

Maeglin:<\/b> *enjoying the view, but shifting back and forth in his bonds at the same time, trying to work them loose*

Haldir:<\/b> *arches up a little under Maglor's fingertips and smiles back, a heavy lidded look that remains equally predatory and yet sedate*

Maglor:<\/b> *still in what seems like slow motion, moves to grasp himself, hissing softly at the cold unguent as he coats himself with it*

Maeglin:<\/b> *raises an eyebrow* *wasn't expecting that*

Maglor:<\/b> *places his hands now on Haldir's chest, sliding over them slickly, feeling the warm rise and fall*

Haldir:<\/b> *stroking his own chest idly where Maglor's fingers brushed and bringing his own slick finger to his lips, tasting it then brushing Maglor's lips too*

Maglor:<\/b> *nudges Haldir's legs apart with his knees, smouldering gaze passing over Haldir and to Maeglin and then back to Haldir again*

Maeglin:<\/b> *muffled grumbles around the gag*

Haldir:<\/b> *sliding his calves up along and against Maglor's back in slow sweeping movement, edging him on*

Maglor:<\/b> *amused, and tickles at Haldir's mind for amusement before holding Haldir's hips steady and gradually insinuating himself in, wiggling provocatively*

Haldir:<\/b> *grabbing onto Maglor's shoulders and releasing a low hiss as his feet give more pressure to Maglor's back, pulling him deeper*

Maeglin:<\/b> *whimpers behind the gag and starts pulling at his bonds more, feeling them just start to loosen...*

Maglor:<\/b> *smiles, and his eyes close as he concentrates on -sensation-, grip tightening on Haldir as he sheathes himself slowly*

Haldir:<\/b> *Trembles slightly around Maglor at the achingly slow penetration, blurting out his name - whether in protest or pleasure is rather indistinguishable*

Maeglin:<\/b> *winces as he manages to pull his hands free - spitting out the gag and rubbing his wrists before starting on untying his ankles*

Maglor:<\/b> *eyes dancing as he starts to settle into a comfortable gentle rocking rhythm*

Maglor:<\/b> *eyes dancing as he starts to settle into a comfortable gentle rocking rhythm*

Haldir:<\/b> *Fingers twining in Maglor's hair, looking up at Maglor and watching him, overwhelmed by enough sensation that he can't think of anything else - much less what's going on, Maeglin forgotten*

Maglor:<\/b> *hesitates* It's been a while, hasn't it. *broad smile*

Maeglin:<\/b> *stands up, carrying a strand of bedsheet between his hands* *just watches for a moment*

Haldir:<\/b> It has yes. *returns the smile*

Maeglin:<\/b> *moves to stand behind Maglor* Got bored of watching, pretties.

Maglor:<\/b> *eyes closed, ignores him as he breathes deeply*

Haldir:<\/b> *sliding one hand up under the pillow near him, now a little aware of Maeglin but trying to ignore him as much as he can, as well*

Maeglin:<\/b> *loops the makeshift rope around Maglor's neck* I don't like it when you make me hurt you, Maglor.

Maglor:<\/b> ...if you hurt me, I think he will kill you. Do you mind? I'm busy.

Maeglin:<\/b> *sulks* Promises, promises. *licks Maglor's shoulder; doesn't let go of the rope*

Maglor:<\/b> *reaches back to grab Maeglin's hand, thrusting forward as he does so*

Haldir:<\/b> Listen to him, cousin mine. *To Maeglin, soft dangerous tone even as his neck arches back as he is pushed back across the bed a little at each thrust*

Maeglin:<\/b> *momentarily stunned* *starts giggling* Might have guessed. Promises, promises, cousin. Macalaure, let me know if this -hurts-, then. *bites hard at the back of Maglor's neck*

Maglor:<\/b> *yelps as he feels Maeglin break skin - his remaining hand claws into Haldir's hip and he shudders as he orgasms, letting out another low cry before trying to shake Maeglin off*

Maeglin:<\/b> *licks Maglor's neck, not in any hurry to move*

Maglor:<\/b> *manages to tug the sheet-garrote away from him, in any case*

Haldir:<\/b> *not happy with Maeglin but reluctantly leaves him to Maglor*

Maglor:<\/b> *finally despairs of unlatching Maeglin without tearing a chunk out of his shoulder and decides to focus on Haldir's pleasure for now*

Maglor:<\/b> *slips out of Haldir and clasps him close, pulling himself up to the other's head (and dragging Maeglin along, presumably)*

Haldir:<\/b> *relaxed sigh against Maglor, holding him just as closely and bumping his head against Maglor's affectionately*

Maglor:<\/b> I do love you: *snuggles, but bonks head with Maeglin* *sighs*

Maeglin:<\/b> *smirks* Is he still going to kill me?

Haldir:<\/b> It's okay. *kisses Maglor's forehead as if to sooth him* I do love you too. *pointedly ignores Maeglin for now*

Maglor:<\/b> *tilts head* I don't know. *to Haldir* Are you still going to kill him?

Haldir:<\/b> Only if you want, I suppose. *nuzzles*

Maglor:<\/b> *petulantly* I would -like- him to let go of my neck.

Haldir:<\/b> *Pokes Maeglin with a foot* Stop chewing on him.

Maeglin:<\/b> *lets go* I am not chewing him. Just having a little taste. *absentmindedly rubs up against Maglor*

Maglor:<\/b> You've had quite enough. If you aren't going to be civilized right now, get off me.

Maeglin:<\/b> I'm comfy enough where I am. *starts licking Maglor again* I don't suppose if I asked one of you to pass me the lube, that I'd get any sort of positive response. *sighs dramatically*

Haldir:<\/b> ...should I kill him now?

Maglor:<\/b> It's not worth it. *reaches back and pulls his hair instead*

Haldir:<\/b> Mmm. *just a little reluctantly agrees*

Maeglin:<\/b> *swats at Maglor's hands* You're both fucking teases.

Haldir:<\/b> ...we're both very -possessive-.

Maglor:<\/b> *just chuckles*

Maeglin:<\/b> *mutters* Don't see why you're complaining about me hurting him when he likes it so much... *eyes Maglor's neck*

Maglor:<\/b> At least you're not biting me anymore.

Maglor:<\/b> *rubs bleeding hickey and several faded ones from last night*

Haldir:<\/b> Because I would rather be the one doing anything to him. *calmly*

Maglor:<\/b> ...I thought you wouldn't want to hurt me. Not after...*swallows* And I was curious.

Maeglin:<\/b> *flops heavily onto Maglor's back* Shouldn't you be basking in the afterglow or something, Macalaure?

Maglor:<\/b> It's very difficult to bask in the afterglow when you are plagued by a leech. *pauses as something occurs to him, and then asks Haldir* Was I ever that annoying?

Haldir:<\/b> *breaks into an amused smile* You definitely had your moments, oh yes.

Maglor:<\/b> I can't imagine what you ever saw in me then. *grins too*

Maeglin:<\/b> From this angle, I can take a guess. *licks the nearest patch of skin*

Maglor:<\/b> *just rolls his eyes* And I remember you were that persistent, lover-mine.

Haldir:<\/b> *grins back* I was, yes. I knew what I wanted, and so help me I was going to get you.

Maglor:<\/b> *thoughtfully* I wonder if there is a person out there who mixes the -better- of both of us. *smiles*

Maeglin:<\/b> *fake-gags* I think I'm going to be ill.

Haldir:<\/b> Perhaps. *trying not to laugh*

Maglor:<\/b> I suppose he's not that bad. Maybe we can play with him...if he promises to behave.

Maeglin:<\/b> Define behave. No hurting you... unless you ask for it?

Haldir:<\/b> As long as he does promise to behave, maybe yes.

Maglor:<\/b> *eyes Maeglin on the bed* And will you be civil and respect what I have with Haldir?

Maeglin:<\/b> *sulkily* *obviously reluctant* ... fine. I'll behave. If you will refrain from calling me 'dark elf'.

Maglor:<\/b> Very well. I'm certain Haldir would take offense, in any case. His mother also married a...native.

Maeglin:<\/b> *bites back what would be an uncivil and unrespectful remark* I see.

Maglor:<\/b> *smiles a bit at Maeglin's discomfiture* So what do you wish, Lomion?

Haldir:<\/b> *no intention of calling him 'dark elf' as Maglor is correct*

Maeglin:<\/b> *haltingly* I... *growls* You don't care what I wish, so why do you ask?

Maglor:<\/b> I want to know. I might decide to oblidge you.

Haldir:<\/b> *is silent, deciding to let them argue over things*

Maeglin:<\/b> *starting to sound a bit panicked* I'm not stupid. Things don't work like that. Nobody asks me questions like that. What do you want from me?

Haldir:<\/b> *reaches over to stroke one of Maeglin's cheeks* Maybe we just want you to tell us what you want.

Maglor:<\/b> *smiles* Haldir told me he wanted -me-, and I decided to oblige him...eventually. *winks at Haldir so he doesn't take that the wrong way*

Maeglin:<\/b> *flinches* I want you to stop lying. *eyes flick between Maglor and Haldir*

Maglor:<\/b> *confused* I don't lie. I sometimes play with the truth, but I don't lie. It's just....something I don't do.

Maeglin:<\/b> *half-talking to himself* I'm not stupid. I don't tell people what I want anymore. They use it against you. *glares at them* That's what you're planning, is it?

Haldir:<\/b> How would we use anything against you of what you would like? This is not so complicated, Lomion as you make it to be.

Maglor:<\/b> *glances at Haldir, looking worried for Maeglin in a way he wasn't before*

Haldir:<\/b> *catches Maglor's look and shares it*

Maeglin:<\/b> ... Noldor tricks. *rambling* Tell me I can trust you, make me believe you... dear cousins. *brings his knees up to his chest and tucks his head down, muttering in Sindarin*

Maglor:<\/b> *gently* If we wanted to do something you -wouldn't- like, we would just...bite off your cock, or something. I'm fairly sure you wouldn't like that. But we want to know what you would like.

Haldir:<\/b> You are so young... *softly, gently as well and only remarking - almost envying the innocence Maeglin might have had that he no longer has* It is easy to forget just how young.

Maglor:<\/b> ...he would have been as old as you.

Maeglin:<\/b> *confused* I thought you hated me.

Maglor:<\/b> *just raises an eyebrow* You see what difference being polite makes?

Haldir:<\/b> Barely two hundred years, when he died. Young. *To Maglor* - *To Maeglin* I don't hate you. I just don't trust you with what is mine.

Maeglin:<\/b> *quietly* It doesn't matter. I can't have what I want. *curls back up into even tighter ball*

Haldir:<\/b> And what is it that you want. *Starting to get a bit exasperated with this*

Maeglin:<\/b> *shrugs* The one I cannot have because she is lost to me... and the other, because I do not deserve it. *mutters* It makes things easier if you hate me.

Maglor:<\/b> *to Haldir* Is he sounding like me again?

Maeglin:<\/b> *ignores them and keeps sulking*

Maglor:<\/b> Well, if he insists on sulking, I'll just finish having fun with you instead. *smiles at Haldir*

Haldir:<\/b> *smiles back* I think I'm rather agreeable to that idea.

Maglor:<\/b> ....though I'm afraid you will have to take the lead this time. *smiles more*

Haldir:<\/b> *chuckles, groping for the fix-everything ointment and finding it, and groping Maglor while he's at it*

Maeglin:<\/b> *turns away* *will not cry, dammit*

Maglor:<\/b> *smiles a bit sadly at Maeglin -then his eyes dance again* Haldir may not be a princess, but he's pretty, and blond, and he has nice feet.

Maeglin:<\/b> *surprised into a giggle* *peers at Haldir* He does have nice feet... *bites his lip again* *not sure where this is going*

Maglor:<\/b> Are you sure you don't want to join us?

Haldir:<\/b> *wiggles his toes*

Haldir:<\/b> *lips twitch, trying not to laugh at Maglor's description of him* Thank you. *Not sarcastic*

Maglor:<\/b> *smiles at Haldir, then looks curiously at Maeglin*

Maeglin:<\/b> *moves a little closer* I... yes? *looks to Haldir*

Haldir:<\/b> *Watches Maeglin expectantly*

Maglor:<\/b> Well, then hop on the bed. I think there's room for all of us if you don't hog the covers.

Maeglin:<\/b> *hops onto edge of bed and hovers there for a bit, floundering now that all the rules have changed*

Maglor:<\/b> Will you tell us what you like, or must we simply hope to get it right? *smiling again - if he doesn't stop soon his face will stick that way*

Maeglin:<\/b> Can I... can I kiss him? *indicating Haldir, but hasn't quite worked out -who- he's supposed to be addressing the question to*

Maglor:<\/b> *glances at Haldir*

Haldir:<\/b> *gives Maglor a look that surprisingly manages to convey a great deal - how he has been with others so it's not that bad he supposes - as much as he likes it just him and Maglor*

Haldir:<\/b> ... You may, yes. You have my permission to kiss me.

Maeglin:<\/b> *reaches up and kisses Haldir, very softly*

Haldir:<\/b> *gently presses back into the kiss, trying to let Maeglin know that it is taken well*

Maeglin:<\/b> *pulls back, nervous and flustered* *to Maglor* I like... that. *blushes*

Maglor:<\/b> *quietly* The gentler ways are nice too. So is being in love *closes his eyes*

Haldir:<\/b> Yes it is. *quietly too, reaching to stroke Maglor's face and trying to hide his worry*

Maeglin:<\/b> *withdraws a little* Only if someone loves you back.

Maglor:<\/b> I don't love you. But I think you deserved to be loved. And not everyone is as patient as Haldir. *smiles and strokes Maeglins hair*

Haldir:<\/b> *glances to Maglor and smiles a little again*

Maeglin:<\/b> *freezes* Don't say that. You know what I did. I don't deserve... *looks like he's about to flee*

Maglor:<\/b> I know what you did. At least I know what they say of it. And I know what I did, and I know...well, I don't -deserve- Haldir, but he found me anyway.

Maeglin:<\/b> Don't talk. Please? I just want to forget... for a little while. *reaches out* Maglor, please?

Haldir:<\/b> *Rather silly heart-in-eyes look at Maglor for a moment that goes quickly - too personal*

Maglor:<\/b> *inscrutable glance at Haldir before he nods solemnly at Maeglin, and raises a hand to touch him gently*

Maeglin:<\/b> *leans into the touch a bit, purring* *closes his eyes* *seems to be calming down again*

Maglor:<\/b> *touch dances away and is replaced with a kiss*

Maeglin:<\/b> *eyes still tightly closed, almost afraid to open them* *kisses back, hands reaching out blindly*

Maglor:<\/b> *glances at Haldir and embraces Maeglin, not presuming anything for now*

Haldir:<\/b> *curls up against Maglor's back, embracing his lover and resting a hand against Maeglin's lower back*

Maeglin:<\/b> *is hoping Maglor or Haldir will take the lead, because he's not sure what he's 'allowed' to do, and he doesn't want to have to ask for it* *is kinda happy where he is, though*

Maglor:<\/b> *is still sated from earlier, and besides, is not thinking in Maeglin as a lover as much as someone who just needs to be comforted right now*

Maglor:<\/b> Do you prefer to take, or be taken, or *frowns* I'm afraid neither of us is a maid, if that is what you truly desire.

Maeglin:<\/b> *snuggles in and whimpers* ... I don't know.

Maglor:<\/b> *smiles* You're as bad as I...

Haldir:<\/b> *looking at Maeglin over Maglor's shoulder* You do not need to know too quickly. Do not worry about it.

Maeglin:<\/b> *nods at Haldir* *licks Maglor absentmindedly* Can... can I pretend something?

Maglor:<\/b> *glances at Haldir* I imagine so.

Haldir:<\/b> If it is alright with Maglor, I suppose so then, yes.

Haldir:<\/b> *looks back at Maglor too*

Maeglin:<\/b> *shyly* I know you don't... but can I pretend you love me?

Maglor:<\/b> *glances at Haldir again - not willing to concede that without the other's consent*

Haldir:<\/b> *deep flash of sympathy, remembering something like that back in Gondor* ... *hesitates* You may.

Maglor:<\/b> For me as well. Even if I am not good at it.

Maeglin:<\/b> *traces circles on Maglor's chest* I don't suppose I'd know the difference. I never... I mean, nobody ever... *attempts to burrow into Maglor*

Maglor:<\/b> *hugs him, and kisses him again, lingering this time*

Maeglin:<\/b> *kisses Maglor back* *reaches around, wanting to touch Haldir too*

Maglor:<\/b> *breaks the kiss and moves to kiss down his neck and further, sliding down Maeglin's body*

Haldir:<\/b> *grasps Maeglin's hand for a moment in acknowledgement before letting it free to do as it wants*

Maeglin:<\/b> *eyes closed* *pets Maglor - uncertain, fleeting touches*

Maglor:<\/b> *wiggles down further and eyes Maeglin's cock, reaching out a hand to touch it*

Haldir:<\/b> *faces Maeglin quietly and reaches to softly kiss him again*

Maeglin:<\/b> *gasps, letting out a slightly whiny -please-*

Maglor:<\/b> *kisses him now, gently and licks tentatively*

Maeglin:<\/b> *whimpers and kisses Haldir - hard - gripping his shoulders because he doesn't trust himself otherwise.*

Maglor:<\/b> *licks a bit more, and finally engulfs Maeglin tentatively*

Maeglin:<\/b> *hips thrust up - just can't help it*

Maglor:<\/b> *gives in before that, carefully trying to angle his throat so that Maeglin can thrust as much as he wants - as a singer, he has more than enough control of those muscles to keep from choking*

Haldir:<\/b> *kisses Maeglin firmly - he knows that Maglor can handle almost anything as a singer, but doesn't like the idea of him being hurt unwillingly, and takes that out perhaps on Maeglin*

Maeglin:<\/b> *kissing Haldir back, trying not to thrust too hard but rapidly losing control*

Haldir:<\/b> *sliding a hand up behind one of Maeglin's ears and brushing fingertips along the soft skin*

Maglor:<\/b> *does the best he can to 'encourage' Maeglin - figuring the least he could do is accept the same he dished out on poor Maeglin last night*

Maeglin:<\/b> *surprised by Haldir's touch on his ear - thrusts up suddenly and comes* *too blissed out for the moment to realize or worry about what's just happened*

Maglor:<\/b> *does manage to swallow without choking* *takes a moment to recover though, then smiles*

Haldir:<\/b> *Stroking back Maeglin's dark mane of hair, he combs it a little with fingertips before shifting a little to allow room for Maglor to reposition himself, giving Maeglin another kiss this time at the corner of his mouth*

Maglor:<\/b> ....*holds Maeglin* Is that what you wished?

Maeglin:<\/b> *looks a little worried* I didn't hurt you?

Maglor:<\/b> I am well enough.

Maeglin:<\/b> Oh. *not sure what else to say* *is feeling pretty happy and a bit sleepy* *stifles a yawn*

Haldir:<\/b> *reaches to find the blanketing and begins to silently tug it around them all*

Maglor:<\/b> *agrees with that sentiment*

Haldir:<\/b> *holds tightly to Maglor, brooking no argument, holding him close and leaving Maeglin to do whatever he wants, here*

Maeglin:<\/b> *just sorta snuggles in as close as he dares and goes to sleep*

<\/a>

What's a log without mun commentary?


Ramlatch: Alright that does it, who the hell slipped them the catnip.

noldorfirstborn: yes. it's like in the treehouse :P

Ramlatch: Yes.

Ramlatch: Namo must be doing something to the air filters for Mandos Halls.

noldorfirstborn: maybe getting them away from teh angst leads to this :P

Ramlatch: ...good point.

Manwe: Namo, are you doing one of your experiments again? Feanor's being nice.

Namo: *eyedart* It's getting unnerving having him foaming at the mouth everytime I turn the lights on, I thought maybe it'd make a better...ambience.

Manwe: Well, I think you overdid it. Now, do you think you could come up with a way to stop him humping my leg?

Namo: ... *Thinks this time saying 'I knew it would happen\" isn't going to cover it* Give him a bag of marbles and he'll either start trying to chew on them or be happy as a kid in a sandbox. >.>

IorethOfGondor: *snickersnort@Namo*<\/small>","comments":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/18512.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/18387.html","pubDate":"Wed, 21 Jan 2004 01:32:52 GMT","author":"ramlatch","link":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/18387.html","description":"Okay, since Maeglin's mun is doing this through her journal I'm doing it through mine too -- I do have a Haldir journal, which is <\/a>haldiroflorien<\/b><\/a><\/span> and him and Maglor are from <\/a>whitecity<\/b><\/a><\/span> which alas is over, but was REALLY a lot of fun. Oh and Maglor!mun made me post this. Completely random and OOC and I should probably mention that I was high on being really really really tired from sleeping sixteen hours a day during winter break before having to move back into the dorms >.> Er. Yes.

WARNINGS: Haldir\/Maglor fluff ...for now. >.> Wait until the post right after this.




Haldir:<\/b> *eyes Maglor* I never really expected you to be sappy. I know you're a bit crazy, and that's okay.

Maglor:<\/b> *tries to pretend he's not half-naked and curled under the covers with Maeglin* Yes, yes....

Haldir:<\/b> *catlike grin* Having fun, lighto'mylife?

Maglor:<\/b> *looks pathetically guilty* ....not really.

Haldir:<\/b> *almost sympathetic for Maglor* And yet you aren't leaving.

Maglor:<\/b> ....the door is locked. Er. Was.

Haldir:<\/b> Ahhhh. *plays with a bit of Maglor's hair while he's got him here*

Maglor:<\/b> ....I wanted to...test myself.

Haldir:<\/b> ...test yourself?

Maglor:<\/b> ...see if I really was any different from him.

Haldir:<\/b> Well, he's certainly much more interested in sex than you are. *good natured smirk* -- And what did you find?

Maglor:<\/b> *very quietly*....I wanted to see if he could break me. Like he was broken.

Haldir:<\/b> *odd look* ...ah. I do not know how he was, but I am certain it was far worse than any mortal man could devise. And do you think you broken?

Maglor:<\/b> ...no. *slightly confused look* He was very pre-occupied with sex, as you said.

Maglor:<\/b> *absently* I tried to kill him at one point too, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

Haldir:<\/b> Then maybe you aren't broken. Though killing him might be a mercy killing, even for him.

Maglor:<\/b> I don't think we were....done. *corrects* He was done.

Haldir:<\/b> So you still wait for him to see if he will break you? *thinks it's all rather silly*

Maglor:<\/b> .....I am a little crazy *apologetic*

Haldir:<\/b> *smiles - a bit fondly* Yes, you are. I know. *kisses Maglor's forehead* Should I leave you to him,
now...?

Maglor:<\/b> *shrugs* If you want. *looks a little lost* I don't even know what I should do, why should I know what you should do?

Haldir:<\/b> Then I will stay here a little longer. *A bit as if speaking kindly to a lost child*

Maglor:<\/b> ....you aren't mad at me?

Haldir:<\/b> I think this is a little silly, what you are doing, but as long as you don't try doing this another time, then I'm not mad at you, no. *leans half against the wall, half against the bed*

Maglor:<\/b> *nods, pondering on a tangent* I need a new shirt. Mine was wrecked....he needs new clothes, though. *ponders* I suppose he could wander around in a bed sheet from the mysteriously appearing linen closet.

Haldir:<\/b> *blinks* Linen closet...? Ah... He can suffer a bed sheet. I...don't want to know what happened to his clothing, do I.

Maglor:<\/b> ...they were fine, but I, er, cleaned myself off on them before I discovered the washroom. We were in the other room. *waves hand to door in wall*

Haldir:<\/b> *slightly reproachful look* I will see what can be done.

Maglor:<\/b> *cringes at the look* It was -his- mess....and we didn't do anything...much...

Haldir:<\/b> *still not-pleased look* -much-?

Maglor:<\/b> *cringe resolves into facing-his-doom-like-a-Noldor-prince-damnit* He wanted to see if he could break my

composure. He *vague gesture towards his groin* with his mouth. *sudden amused gleam in his eyes* I let him.

Haldir:<\/b> *Helplessly amused by what he can only think reminds him of Rumil at twenty five* And did it?

Maglor:<\/b> ...Not at the end. *Maglor is -definitely- amused and more than a little smug now*

Haldir:<\/b> Not at the end? You mean, by the end? *Starting to want to laugh* *will kill Maeglin later but for now, thinks he'll just laugh*

Maglor:<\/b> ....He was so deeply, deadly earnest about seducing me. Or something. He wanted to see me beg. *shrugs* I suppose I put him up to it. I think he was planning on trying to bring me to the edge and then hold off, planning on my impassioned resistance. *stifling a wide grin* The look on his face was just -priceless- when I came down his throat.....

Haldir:<\/b> He is young though. The young desire that sort of thing I've found, it's rather strange. *thinks that explains a lot* *trying hard to avoid a licking of lips at rest of what Maglor says* I'm sure it was -quite- priceless.

Maglor:<\/b> *not quite so sure of himself now* Er....well...anyway. He was rather annoyed. I got shoved against the wall and he just...wiggled against me. That seemed to work for him *shrugs* And then he made a mess and I cleaned up and we found this entirely-too-convenient four-poster in the other room. *peers around him suspiciously* In any case, nothing else happened.

Haldir:<\/b> Mmm. Good. *thinks Maglor's description of things is entirely too endearing for some reason*

Maglor:<\/b> *glances at Maeglin-lump, then at Haldir* You aren't going to hurt him?

Haldir:<\/b> Do you want me to?

Haldir:<\/b> *watching Maeglin-lump*

Maglor:<\/b> ...not really. Feel free to tip him off the bed though. *eyes* He has stolen the covers*

Haldir:<\/b> *snorts quietly*

Maglor:<\/b> *raises an eyebrow to Haldir to underline that that last was an invitation*

Haldir:<\/b> *catches the hint - goes and tips Maeglin off the bed and replaces Maeglin's spot, a bit closer to Maglor though* I believe you wanted these? *holds large bit of the covers while smelling Maglor's scent* *doesn't like smelling Maeglin on him but hey, what can you do* *Possessive-Noldor trait*

Maglor:<\/b> ...I lost your ring, when I....left the city. Along with everything else....I don't know if I deserve a replacement.

Haldir:<\/b> Do you -want- a replacement? *gently*

Maglor:<\/b> .....*not looking at naked-lump-on-floor* ....just hold me?

Haldir:<\/b> *holds* *kisses his forehead - no idea why he keeps doing that* ...just because you're a bit crazy doesn't mean I can't love you.","comments":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/18387.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/17936.html","pubDate":"Wed, 21 Jan 2004 01:14:40 GMT","author":"jenlittlebottom","link":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/17936.html","description":"Okay, I don't have a Maeglin LJ and Maglor!mun made me post this. Completely random and OOC and I should probably mention that I was high on chocolate-covered expresso beans for at least part of this.

WARNINGS: Maeglin\/Maglor smut, cousin!cest, cousin!fetish, discussion of incest, Feanorians, angst, knives, angst, Feanorians, issues of dodgy consent, attempted murder, Elves, angst, angst, angst, smut, angst. >.> I think that about covers it.


Maeglin:<\/b> *pouts* I'm bored. Wanna play, Noldor-boy?

Maglor:<\/b> *eyes* But we've never met and I want to throw you off a cliff.


Maeglin:<\/b> Yes, but you're almost as pretty as my cousin and there aren't any cliffs around here. If there were, I think Mahtan would have taken a flying leap over one already to escape what the mun keeps doing to him.

Maglor:<\/b> So I take it you snuck in the back door while that woman was too distracted to hit you with someone's bedpan? *smiles*

Maeglin:<\/b> Which woman? The fussy healer who can't decide whether to hit me or give me tea, the prissy Princess, or the mun? The healer and the Princess were otherwise occupied, and I distracted the mun by kidnapping Mahtan and dressing him in a corset and heels. *smirks*

Maglor:<\/b> ........*so didn't need that image*

Mahtan:<\/b> *wibbles*

Maglor:<\/b> *sighs, gets a knife, and cuts the silly heels off the shoes so he stops wobbling, if not wibbling*

Maeglin:<\/b> *leans again the wall and watches Maglor's arse*

Mahtan:<\/b> *falls over* *whimpers* Thank you...

Maglor:<\/b> *also unlaces the corset, mysteriously undeading* Horrible little boy.

Maeglin:<\/b> Aw, but without me, you wouldn't be having this incredibly touching grandfather-grandson bonding moment. If I was capable of emotions other than lust, obsession, and anger, it would bring a tear to my eye.

Maglor:<\/b> *just glares* I'm -glad- we've never met, traitor.

Maeglin:<\/b> Oh yes. How dare I betray those who killed my father and treated me like a second-class citizen all my life. Not to mention my dear Idril, who passed me over for that... mortal thing. Besides, you're not really in a position to be judging me, kinslayer.

Maglor:<\/b> *icily* I never parleyed with Bauglir, nor -consorted- with orcs.

Maeglin:<\/b> No, he didn't have to bother parleying with you. You did his work for him without him having to ask. He did tell me these things, you know.

Maglor:<\/b> *scornfully* And you believed him?

Maeglin:<\/b> *giggles insanely* He would have laid Doriath to waste, sooner or later. The son and grandchildren of Luthien would not have been suffered to live, not even as thralls. But you fixed that wee problem for him, didn't you? Pity you didn't manage to get the girl as well - it's not enough that you're a kinslayer, you couldn't even do that properly.

Maglor:<\/b> ....shut up, dark-elf.

Maeglin:<\/b> I think you have me confused with my father. Now he had a good handle of the finer points of kinslaying. Perhaps you could have asked him for lessons. *smirks*

Maglor:<\/b> *smirks* Pity he missed you - couldn't even do -that- properly.

Maeglin:<\/b> Oh, I don't know. Worked out rather well for me. *stretches* Just don't call me dark-elf.

Maglor:<\/b> That's what you -are-, and worse. I know my crimes. And I know I can -still- look down on you, wretch.

Maeglin:<\/b> *grins* You're not all that much taller than me, cousin.

Maglor:<\/b> Morally speaking. *looms ominously*

Maeglin:<\/b> *snickers* I'm being lectured on morals by a kinslayer? Oh, that's rich.

Maglor:<\/b> At least I realize that trying to throw babies off cliffs is wrong. *crosses arms*

Maeglin:<\/b> So sure of yourself. *smirks, invades Maglor's personal space* You think the Valar care a whit for you, your 'redemption', or your holier-than-thou attitude? Besides, it depends on the baby.

Maglor:<\/b> Hell no. But then, I don't care for them either.

Maeglin:<\/b> Then why? To make you feel better about yourself? *strokes Maglor's crossed arms* You think looking down on me is going to improve your pathetic little existence?

Maglor:<\/b> No, but it's fun.

Maeglin:<\/b> You have strange ideas of fun. There are far better ways we could be entertaining ourselves. *licks lips* Most of those involve you on your knees, but don't worry, I'll find somewhere with nice soft carpet. *smirks*

Maglor:<\/b> *glares* You wish.

Maeglin:<\/b> What, you'd prefer to be on your back?

Maglor:<\/b> *backs towards a wall, bringing the knife he used earlier up to defend himself* I'd call you a bastard, but for you it would be a -compliment-.

Maeglin:<\/b> *eyes* For me? Do I get a kinslaying demonstration all of my own? *smirks* You know, I think I'm going to have to gag you. All that talking is going to get distracting. Question: do you ever shut up?

Maglor:<\/b> You're the one that seems to enjoy listening to the sound of your own voice. *hisses* You're -mad-.

Maeglin:<\/b> Are you surprised? You think I would come out of His tender care with my mind entirely intact? *edges forward, intent on wrestling the knife from Maglor's grip*

Maglor:<\/b> My brother did. But you're not half the elf he was. *scorn*

Maeglin:<\/b> *edges forward a little more* You call throwing yourself into lava sane? *smirks*

Maglor:<\/b> Considering the alternatives - yes. We will not submit to -thralldom-.

Maeglin:<\/b> That sounds like a challenge to me. *leaps forward, trying to snatch the knife away*

Maglor:<\/b> *parries, or attempts to - nicks Maeglin*

Maglor:<\/b> *hissing* -Degenerate-.

Maeglin:<\/b> *mutters an old Doriathian curse under his breath, wound on his forearm bleeding* Coming from you, I think I'll take that as a compliment. *leaps foward again, this time trying just to pin Maglor*

Maglor:<\/b> *is slammed back against the wall, his wrist effectively pinned - grips the knife but can't use it - starts struggling to free it*

Maeglin:<\/b> *presses into Maglor, quite obviously enjoying himself* Wriggle, wriggle, little Feanorian worm. Will it make you feel better about yourself, that afterwards you can say you tried to resist me?

Maglor:<\/b> *glares and intensifies struggle - but is finally forced to drop the knife* -Orc-.

Maeglin:<\/b> *kicks the knife away as best he can* I'm not an Orc, cousin. You don't want to know what they'd do to you. How much they can do, and leave you still alive. Even if you beg for death. *almost gentle* I wouldn't do such things to you. You just need to learn a little humility, is all. *little smile* Are all your brothers as pretty as you, I wonder?

Maglor:<\/b> Is this what you wanted to do with my cousin, orc?

Maeglin:<\/b> *momentarily distracted* Fair Idril... no, she deserved so much better. Better than him. I would have cherished her, loved her... *frowns* Don't bring her into this. She isn't here. She's gone, she left me. Gone, gone, gone. *grip on Maglor starts to loosen* You know, they say the Orcs were Elves, once. Makes it kind of fitting, that you should call me that.

Maglor:<\/b> *sneers* She deserved anything other than -you-. -Monster-.

Maeglin:<\/b> Shut up! *shoves Maglor back into the wall, hard* You don't know me. You don't know what I might have been, if she had only loved me. But instead she mocked me, flaunted that Man of hers, made sure everyone knew... *shakes* Noldor are like animals, they look for a weakness and then they attack - just like Orcs, just like Him... *gives Maglor another shove and then lets go of him, backing up* Go away.

Maglor:<\/b> *eyes Maeglin warily, then stoops to pick up the knife* You were -never- worthy of her.

Maeglin:<\/b> *sulky* Neither was he. Go 'way.

Maglor:<\/b> It might be best if I slew you now - for what insult you have done your kin.

Maeglin:<\/b> *starts giggling again* For what insult I have done my kin? No thought, of course, for what insults they have inflicted upon me. *eyes Maglor* What, you think you're going to kill me? Think you can? *snorts*

Maglor:<\/b> *crooked smile* I know what I'm doing.

Maeglin:<\/b> Right. *flops into nearest chair, closes eyes, tilts it back* Maybe you should shut up and get on with it, then. I told you, I hate it when you talk.

Maglor:<\/b> *hand shakes a little - he finally drops the dagger with a quiet oath*

Maeglin:<\/b> *opens one eye* What now?

Maglor:<\/b> I won't let you turn me into you. *quietly*

Maeglin:<\/b> Hate to break it to you, cousin, but you're already a kinslayer. What difference would one... I believe it's 'mad wretched orc', or something of the like - make?

Maglor:<\/b> *shrugs* It's the -principle- of the matter.

Maeglin:<\/b> *matching shrug* I don't think I have any principles left. *thinks* I'm not sure if I had any in the first place. Can't really remember. *eyes* You dropped your dagger.

Maglor:<\/b> *just glares* That's the difference between you and me.

Maeglin:<\/b> Well, that and the fact that I look far better in leather. *smirks*

Maglor:<\/b> *harrumphs* What do you -want-?

Maeglin:<\/b> *stands up* Not really sure. All the things I thought I wanted... well, the ship's sorta sailed on that. *tilts head* What do you want? What's left for you now? Your family and your precious jewels, all gone. My father, my mother, my Idril... all gone.

Maglor:<\/b> *shrugs* I'm not going to let them win.

Maeglin:<\/b> *moves closer* Maybe they already have.

Maglor:<\/b> Maybe. But I'm not going to give them the satisfaction of having me admit that.

Maeglin:<\/b> Such a hollow victory. But you have to stick to your principles, right? I'm rather glad I don't have any. They seem to make things awfully complicated. *steps forward quickly and kisses Maglor, body tensing in preparation for the blows that he's sure are about to follow*

Maglor:<\/b> *shrugs* It passes the time. *eyes Maeglin is vague amusement after the kiss*

Maglor:<\/b> And if the Valar don't give a damn...well then. That proves we were right all along. *smiles*

Maeglin:<\/b> *a little annoyed at Maglor's lack of reaction* Like I said before - there are better ways to pass the time. *kisses Maglor again, this time slipping one hand up to tangle in his hair*

Maglor:<\/b> Quite a notch in your belt, would it not be. *green eyes flicker* I begin to think perhaps I should spite you this too.

Maeglin:<\/b> Oh? And what are you going to do? *twists a braid about his fingers and tugs, hard* You dropped your dagger, remember?

Maglor:<\/b> *smiles not-quite-sanely* Nothing. *continues refusing to react*

Maeglin:<\/b> *shrugs* Whatever. *conversationally, one hand still playing with Maglor's hair* At least you're not talking so much. That's an improvement. *pinches Maglor's nipple through the fabric of his tunic* Too much clothing, though.

Maglor:<\/b> *dryly* I suppose it shall serve to distress others - though I can't imagine what my father would think. *suddenly, unhappily* Mandos can -have- him.

Maeglin:<\/b> *rolls eyes* Clothes. Off. *shucks his own surcoat and tunic*

Maglor:<\/b> *mildly* Make me.

Maeglin:<\/b> *suddenly looking very well named* Don't tempt me.

Maglor:<\/b> *eyes Maeglin, then deliberately turns his back on him*

Maeglin:<\/b> *growls and lunges, sending them both down into a heap on the floor, grabbing what he can and pulling until he hears something tear*

Maglor:<\/b> *pulls himself up after the shock into a half-kneeling position* I'm not afraid of you.

Maeglin:<\/b> Don't care. *kisses Maglor hard, tearing the tunic more while he's at it* Just want you. Takes the pain away. Helps me to forget.

Maglor:<\/b> You are a fool. *stays still though*

Maeglin:<\/b> *shrugs* Just one more thing we have in common. *pulls what's left of the tunic off Maglor and throws it to one side*

Maglor:<\/b> *twitches just a little as the balrog-scar is revealed, along with the faint white reminders of lesser weapons*

Maeglin:<\/b> *murmurs* Pretty... *traces the scars with his fingertips*

Maglor:<\/b> You -would- think so. Or did you quail before the Balrogs even touched you?

Maeglin:<\/b> Mine are mostly on the inside... *fascinated* *follows one of the scars down to Maglor's waistline and hooks his fingers in, tugging on the leggings* These come off now.

Maglor:<\/b> *shrugs* As expected. You are a coward and that is the fate of such.

Maeglin:<\/b> Yes, yes, you're better than me, we've been through all this before. *only slightly annoyed, 'coward' is hardly the worst thing he's ever been called* Are you going to take the damn leggings off, or am I going to have to 'make you' again?

Maglor:<\/b> *shrugs* I remain inviolate where it matters. *amused* Do what you will.

Maeglin:<\/b> *lets go of Maglor's clothing and stands, scowling* You don't want to say that to me. You don't want to know what I will. *looks down at Maglor* Although I was right. You do look pretty on your knees.

Maglor:<\/b> *shrugs* I can take whatever you deal to me. I am the stronger.

Maeglin:<\/b> *idly, while removing his own leggings* I look at you and I wonder how hard would be to bruise you. How hard it would be to break you. Quite difficult, I'd imagine.

Maglor:<\/b> My blood is strong, mongrel. Do you not comprehend this? I have not the heart now to slay you - but you have not the strength to hurt me, craven.

Maeglin:<\/b> *shrugs* We will see. *strokes Maglor's hair* Will you put that pretty mouth of yours to better use for me? After all, you do not fear me - yet you are still on your knees, cousin.

Maglor:<\/b> *just raises an eyebrow, amused - sits on the floor*

Maeglin:<\/b> Is that a yes, a no, or a make me?

Maglor:<\/b> *quietly* I want to see how far you will go.

Maeglin:<\/b> Why? So you can know how much to despise me?
*quietly* Every time you tell me that I cannot hurt you it merely tempts me more. I will go as far as it takes.

Maglor:<\/b> *mildly* I will endeavor to hold myself to my brother's standard, then.

Maeglin:<\/b> If you please me half as much as I heard tell your brother pleased Him... *smirks* then you'll have done well.

Maglor:<\/b> *quietly* You lie. -he- never broke. -you- did.

Maeglin:<\/b> Never broke, perhaps, but maybe bent a bit... *softly* I don't blame him. You don't understand, Macalaure. He wouldn't have told you. You can't understand, if you were never there.

Maglor:<\/b> *quietly* He told me enough. I hope to hold myself to his standard.

Maeglin:<\/b> *shrugs* So that's a make me, I guess.

Maglor:<\/b> *half-smile*

Maeglin:<\/b> *weaves the fingers of one hand through Maglor's hair and tugs him closer* Touch me.

Maglor:<\/b> Why should I?

Maglor:<\/b> You have...a passing resemblance to your mother

Maglor:<\/b> *amused* But certainly not enough for me to be -infatuated- with you.

Maeglin:<\/b> Just wanted to give you one last chance. *knocks Maglor onto his back and kneels on him, knees pinning down his shoulders* You just had to do that, didn't you? If I even thought for a moment it was what you wanted, I could make this good for you. I would make it good for you. But no. You're too good for that. Too good for me, is that right?

Maglor:<\/b> Of course.

Maeglin:<\/b> But you're still going to let me... *trails fingers across Maglor's lips* I haven't even decided yet. So many choices... don't suppose you have a preference. *a little unnerved still by Maglor's lack of any sort of decent response*

Maglor:<\/b> You wish to hurt me. I understand that. I wish to...test myself.

Maeglin:<\/b> I don't wish to hurt you. I'm just tempted to.

Maglor:<\/b> *shrugs* I care not.

Maglor:<\/b> I only thought you could help me...prove something

Maeglin:<\/b> *visibly flinches* No, of course you don't. *backhands Maglor, temper flaring up* I was going to gag you, but I don't think I will. I want to hear you beg. Don't much care what for.

Maglor:<\/b> *meets Maeglin's eyes unflinchingly* As you will.

Maeglin:<\/b> *looks away, muttering* Don't know what you want to prove, anyway. That you're above me? Yeah, got that. All that anyone ever saw when they looked at me was my father. *stands up* Want to be tested? Then lets make the test a little more interesting. *retrieves the dagger* This proves nothing. This is nothing.

Maglor:<\/b> *eyes Maeglin, betraying for the first time the tiniest hint of uncertainty*

Maglor:<\/b> Do you think anyone ever saw anything more than my father in me?

Maeglin:<\/b> Never met your father. Wouldn't know. Don't care. *gestures with dagger* Get naked. I know you're about to say no, and then I'll have to make you, but might as well ask, don't you think?

Maglor:<\/b> *shrugs, and unexpectedly complies without a hint of modesty or particular vanity*

Maeglin:<\/b> *looks him over and smirks* *kisses him yet again, the hand not holding the dagger entwined in Maglor's hair, holding him still, not letting him pull away, seemingly determined to keep this going until they both suffocate*

Maglor:<\/b> *tries to breath through his nose and stay calm - his heartrate is going up fast though - he hopes Maeglin doesn't notice*

Maeglin:<\/b> *wishes his other hand was free but isn't quite ready to let go of the dagger yet* *deepens the kiss, trying to press his body against Maglor's as best he can*

Maglor:<\/b> *tries to push Maeglin away a little as he feels he's in serious danger of either suffocating or losing his cool*

Maeglin:<\/b> *breaks off the kiss, but doesn't move away* Something wrong, cousin?

Maglor:<\/b> *takes a gasping breath, snarls* -Nothing-.

Maeglin:<\/b> *smirks* *dagger-hand just resting on the small of Maglor's back as a disincentive to movement* *free hand moving down Maglor's body, tracing out patterns, in no particular hurry* Thought you wanted me to test you. Haven't even started yet.

Maglor:<\/b> *regaining his equilibrum* ...aye.

Maeglin:<\/b> *This close up it's impossible not to notice that Maglor is not nearly as... affected... by all this as Maeglin is, which irritates him* Do as I will? *drops hand down, stroking him gently*

Maglor:<\/b> *shivers - closing his eyes and trying desperately to maintain his control - Sauron in a dress, Gothmog showing off women's swimwear - but not to any real effect except to psychologically scar him further. He is turned on by this, noticably half-erect now*

Maeglin:<\/b> *swiftly sinks to his knees and takes Maglor in his mouth, the mental image of the other near orgasm, begging for the release that Maeglin plans to withhold providing plenty of motivation*

Maglor:<\/b> *flushes a bit* It is hroafelme, no desire of the min....ai! *suddenly goes very quiet as he is engulfed, biting his lip*

Maeglin:<\/b> *would smirk if he was not otherwise occupied, putting the dagger aside so he has both hands free*

Maglor:<\/b> *draws blood as he bites, shuddering quietly....*

Maeglin:<\/b> *pulls away for a moment* Nothing to say? How unlike you.

Maglor:<\/b> ... *curls in a bit on himself*

Maglor:<\/b> *tastes a little bit of blood in his mouth - physical torture he could handle but...he's not so sure about this*

Maeglin:<\/b> Didn't I tell you? Want to hear you beg. Don't much care what for. *Wrapping his mouth around Maglor again, shuddering a little as he lets one hand fall to his lap, thinking he's enjoying this far too much*

Maglor:<\/b> *tries to remember something his brother once told him - just at the edge of his mind*

Maglor:<\/b> ..........oh! *smiles a bit and seems to relax a little*

Maeglin:<\/b> *realises Maglor's not paying as much attention as he should be* *snatches up the dagger again and presses the tip against Maglor's thigh*

Maglor:<\/b> *twitches as he is nicked* *orgasms rather unexpectedly*

Maeglin:<\/b> *manages to glare while choking - wasn't expecting that*

Maglor:<\/b> *looks at the look on Maeglin's face* *starts giggling madly*

Maglor:<\/b> *manages to regain his composure but smirks at Maeglin*

Maeglin:<\/b> *finally recovers* *still glaring* Was that up to your brother's standard, do you think?

Maglor:<\/b> *reflectively* He told me once - sometimes they want things that will hurt people. Never give them those. But when they want...ah...silly things, sometimes giving them what they want just makes them look even sillier. And sometimes it's only torture if you let it be.

Maglor:<\/b> I imagine he took great satisfaction on coming all over some poor minion's face. Maybe the Black Foe himself...and isn't that an image. *chuckles*

Maeglin:<\/b> *scowls* *switches dagger-hands and digs a nail into the little wound in Maglor's thigh* Think they had to cut your brother to make him come, too?

Maglor:<\/b> *quiet again*

Maeglin:<\/b> *smirks* No, I suspect your brother had more control than that.

Maglor:<\/b> *trying to brush it off lightly* maybe.

Maeglin:<\/b> *stands up and goes back to kissing Maglor, savouring the knowledge that he will be able to taste himself on Maeglin's lips, and adding a bit of extra fun by trailing the tip of the dagger over his back, not hard enough to break the skin - yet*

Maglor:<\/b> *makes face of distaste as he is kissed* *tenses as he feels the dagger*

Maeglin:<\/b> *smiles* What are you more afraid of, cousin? That I'll cut you, or that you'll like it?

Maglor:<\/b> ....shut up.

Maeglin:<\/b> Well I was attempting to find something else to do with my mouth, but that didn't last all that long. *stills the dagger* Guess I'll have to find something else to do with you now.

Maglor:<\/b> ....*uneasy silence*

Maeglin:<\/b> *almost purrs* What, no preference? You did mention something about coming all over someone's face, and although the details of that suggestion seem to be eluding me at the moment, that does sound rather interesting. Or, seeing as I was just so nice to you, you could return the favour. *starts the dagger moving again* Or you could beg me to release you. Beg me, Maglor, and I'll let you go.

Maglor:<\/b> ....no.

Maeglin:<\/b> *digs the tip of the dagger in just a little* No?

Maglor:<\/b> *more firmly* No.

Maeglin:<\/b> *cheerfully* Two choices left. Will you kneel for me, Maglor?

Maglor:<\/b> .....no.

Maeglin:<\/b> Are you sure? Although I don't know that I'd trust you. Even if I put a knife to your throat, you'd probably bite me anyway. *pets Maglor thoughtfully* It must be hard, to have to live with such pride.

Maglor:<\/b> Better to be proud and free than a humble, craven slave

Maeglin:<\/b> You have an interesting definition of 'free'. *presses the dagger in a little more, definitely drawing blood this time* I think I want you on your knees anyway.

Maglor:<\/b> *closes his eyes and stands firm, for now*

Maeglin:<\/b> *rolls his eyes* *takes the dagger away and sucker-punches Maglor in the stomach instead*

Maglor:<\/b> *not expecting that, is slammed back into the wall with the breath knocked out of him - slumps halfway down it*

Maeglin:<\/b> Better. Not quite kneeling, but close enough.

Maglor:<\/b> *slumped against the wall, blinks and tries to focus on Maeglin*

Maeglin:<\/b> I don't get why you're doing this. *starts playing with Maglor's hair again* Making me hurt you. Not that it isn't fun. *smirks*

Maglor:<\/b> *still trying to recover*...get your...filthy hands off my hair.

Maeglin:<\/b> *responds by wrapping his fingers around as much of Maglor's hair as he can, and yanking, while his other hand starts stroking, a slow, lazy rhythm upon himself* You're doing it again. Careful, sweet cousin mine. I might start thinking you like this.

Maglor:<\/b> *just glares murderously at him, getting his breath back*

Maeglin:<\/b> *keeps up the running commentary* Besides, my hands are not filthy. That look you're giving me? Now, that's filthy. *grins* Not to mention an incredible turn on. You have no idea how good you look right now. Practically edible.

Maglor:<\/b> *abruptly looks away tries to stagger to his feet and shake off Maeglin's hands*

Maeglin:<\/b> *eyes* Edible... *lets him get to his feet, slams him back up against the wall* If you ever decide you want to beg, the offer's still open. *licks along Maglor's collarbone* Delicious...

Maglor:<\/b> *snarls* Never. *struggles a bit, but is in a disadvantageous position*

Maeglin:<\/b> Something the matter? *licks up his neck* Am I not hurting you enough? *nips at Maglor's earlobe*

Maglor:<\/b> ....-dark-elf-.

Maeglin:<\/b> *growls and bites down hard - has managed to lose hold of the dagger somewhere along the way, but is too distracted to think about that right now - grinds himself against Maglor's thigh*

Maglor:<\/b> *shivers as Maeglin bites his ear - a frantic fear of maiming crossing his mind briefly before being forcibly dismissed. Unfortunately, he has had to concede that the smith is the stronger - physically. He suspects that he can outrun Maeglin, should it come to that - but he is determined it will not*

Maeglin:<\/b> *whispers* I would have been happy if you'd just let me taste you. But no, you have to make me hurt you. What are you afraid of? That I'm not as far beneath you as you'd like to think?

Maglor:<\/b> *snaps head around to glare at Maeglin*...I'm not afraid of you.

Maeglin:<\/b> No, you're afraid of yourself. You're afraid to admit what you want.

Maglor:<\/b> ....what do you think I want, dark-elf?

Maeglin:<\/b> Well, other than wanting to kill me - which you're not having much success with - and wanting me to stop - which you're not going to get until you beg for it... *licks Maglor's cheek, grinning* I think you want this. Not so much the sex... but the pain. Quite fascinating, you are. *pinches Maglor's nipple*

Maglor:<\/b> Maybe I deserve a little suffering, for what I have meted out in my time. But you are presumptuous....-cousin-.

Maeglin:<\/b> One of my best qualities. And when you call me cousin in that tone you sound awfully like Idril. *twists nipple some more* I wish I had some rope. You'd look pretty tied up. We aren't talking about what you deserve, though. Just what you want. What do you want?

Maglor:<\/b> *quietly* I don't know.

Maeglin:<\/b> That's the first time I've ever heard a Noldo admit to ignorance. Congratulations. *purrs* Do you want me to stop?

Maglor:<\/b> ...I'm not going to let you win.

Maeglin:<\/b> *sneers* Maybe I ought to sit you on my lap, let you ride me. I'm beginning to suspect what you really need is a good fucking, and at least that way you could maintain that illusion of control you treasure so much.

Maglor:<\/b> *dirty look* Maybe if you had a Silmaril, dark-elf.

Maeglin:<\/b> Is that what you are, after all? An expensive whore?

Maglor:<\/b> *cold fury* I'm not a -whore-, and not Angband's thrall either.

Maeglin:<\/b> No, you're just Adar's little boy. Would you kneel for him, then? How exactly did you honour and obey your father, I wonder?

Maglor:<\/b> *incoherent snarl*

Maeglin:<\/b> Or your Maitimo, perhaps. Did you kiss... *slow lick up the side of Maglor's neck* his wounds better, Maglor?

Maglor:<\/b> ....you're -sick-. *doesn't move*

Maeglin:<\/b> Is that a no, then? What a pity. That would have been a very pretty thing. *kisses Maglor chastely on the cheek* I heard he was well named, Maitimo. Did you want him, cousin? Did you long for his touch? Long to lick every trace of Angband from his skin, banish it from his memory? *murmurs* When I hold you like this, it takes that pain away from me, Maglor. Would you not want to give that gift to your dearest brother?

Maglor:<\/b> .....if he asked it of me, I would have given him what I could. He....is my lord.

Maeglin:<\/b> But he didn't want you? *chuckles, leaning his head on Maglor's shoulder, relaxed, a bit off-guard* Poor baby. My poor cousin.

Maglor:<\/b> *mouth working, seriously at a loss for words* I'm not -like- you, I didn't....-lust- after him, if that is what you are implying.

Maeglin:<\/b> You don't know what you want. So confused... *trails a hand down Maglor's chest* You say you don't want me, but you don't fight me... not really, Macalaure.

Maglor:<\/b> *sharply* Don't call me that.

Maeglin:<\/b> That's what he would call you, isn't it? That's what he would say... 'kneel for me, Macalaure'. And you would... for him you would.

Maglor:<\/b> *eyes rake up and down Maeglin's body, lips curl in scorn* -You- are not my brother.

Maeglin:<\/b> *calmly* Wasn't saying I was. Just making an observation, Macalaure. *draws out the name, smirking*

Maglor:<\/b> *snorts* I suppose your father would slay you for even -thinking- in Quenya.

Maeglin:<\/b> He could have tried. Your point?

Maglor:<\/b> *eyes narrow* What do you want of me? *finally notices Maeglin doesn't have the dagger anymore*

Maeglin:<\/b> I want to taste you... all over. *smiling* I want to hear you beg. Both at once would be nice
.
Maglor:<\/b> *eyes* I cannot stop you doing the former - as for the latter, you have no hold over me that would incite me to do that.

Maeglin:<\/b> We'll see about that when I get done tasting you. *kissing Maglor again, sick of all the talking*

Maglor:<\/b> *tilts his head back, trying to break the kiss nonviolently*

Maeglin:<\/b> *is not about to let that happen*

Maglor:<\/b> *closes his eyes, finally - not resisting Maeglin*

Maeglin:<\/b> *murmurs something that might be 'delicious' into Maglor's mouth and lets his hands rest on Maglor's hips, strangely gentle now Maglor isn't fighting anymore*

Maglor:<\/b> *shudders* *tries to say something, is stifled, by, you know, Maeglin's tongue in his mouth*

Maeglin:<\/b> *strokes Maglor's back, still gently, but doesn't give Maglor a chance to back out of the kiss, either*

Maglor:<\/b> *tries to relax - not let this affect him - it isn't working, damnit*

Maeglin:<\/b> *keeps up the gentle caresses, but shifts now so he can press the full length of his body against Maglor*

Maglor:<\/b> *twitches as he feels -all- of Maeglin, extremely conscious of his unclothed state and his own slowly reawakening erection*

Maeglin:<\/b> *stops kissing Maglor for a moment, only to shift his attention to Maglor's neck and ears* *whispers* So sweet, Macalaure. *starts to rock his hips, shivering with each movement of flesh against flesh*

Maglor:<\/b> ...*going a rather amusing pink*

Maglor:<\/b> ....*mutters almost indistinguishably* wrong...

Maeglin:<\/b> *does not seem inclined to stop what he's doing any time soon* You feel wonderful,

Maglor:<\/b> *distantly* How amusing for you.

Maeglin:<\/b> Not really. *starting to speed up* Not... *drops a kiss on Maglor's shoulder, a quiet moan escaping* amusing.

Maglor:<\/b> *a bit nonplussed* Well...good.

Maglor:<\/b> *makes an odd squeaky noise and, if anything. blushes more*

Maeglin:<\/b> *whimpers* Beautiful... my cousin...

Maglor:<\/b> ....I don't belong to you.

Maeglin:<\/b> *doesn't answer that* *not actually talking now, although certainly making a lot of noise*

Maglor:<\/b> *leans back against the wall, eyes closed, finding the whole experience quite humiliating and more than a little arousing. Also has the nagging feeling he gets occasionally that Manwe is watching him*

Maeglin:<\/b> *suddenly thrusts up hard and buries his face into the crook of Maglor's neck as he comes, murmuring something that sounds suspiciously like 'Idril'*

Maglor:<\/b> *at a bit of a loss - tries to disentangle himself from Maeglin - makes a face at the mess - definitely an anaphrodisiac for him.

Maeglin:<\/b> *blinks* *stumbles backwards a bit* Sorry about the mess there... *happy grin*

Maglor:<\/b> *looks around for something to clean himself off on - settles for Maeglin's clothes*

Maeglin:<\/b> What, I don't get to clean you off? *sticks his tongue out at Maglor and waggles it* *doesn't want to get dressed, anyway*

Maglor:<\/b> *resolutely ignores Maeglin for now, seems to be seriously considering making a play for his clothes as well - especially as he's spotted the dagger*

Maglor:<\/b> ....is that it?

Maeglin:<\/b> Sweet that you're so eager for round two, Macalaure, but I'd like a rest first. *reaches out and pats Maglor on the cheek* Maybe in a bit.

Maglor:<\/b> *scowls, puts on his leggings, and heads for the door - only to find it locked - turns to glare at Maeglin*

Maeglin:<\/b> *smirk* It's a door, cousin. The handle turns, and then it opens. Unless of course, the door is locked, in which case you might have to put up with my company a little longer. Unless I recall where I put the key... and I'm feeling terribly forgetful at the moment.

Maglor:<\/b> *paces the room, trying to see what else is in there (not much) - tries a side door hopefully - it opens into a smaller room*

Maeglin:<\/b> *comes up and peers over his shoulder* *pinches his arse for good measure*

Maglor:<\/b> *eyes the four-poster bed that dominates the room gloomily, slaps Maeglin's hand away, and checks the three other doors - one is locked, one leads to a small stone room with a washbasin, and one is...a linen closet. Maeglin can see Maglor's mind going 'well, fuck.' from here.*

Maeglin:<\/b> I'm taking the bed. *smirks* If you want, you're welcome to share with me.

Maglor:<\/b> ...you certainly are not. I found it first.

Maeglin:<\/b> Well, then I'll share with you. Better? *annoyingly happy*

Maglor:<\/b> *glares, then decides not to contest the point - goes to use the washroom*

Maeglin:<\/b> *stretches out, still nude, taking up as much of the bed as possible - and over the covers*

Maglor:<\/b> *re-emerges, glares once more at Maeglin, and burrows under the covers in what space is remaining*

Maeglin:<\/b> *rolls over, hooks an arm and a leg firmly over the blanketed lump of Elf* Goodnight, Macalaure. *pretends to be sleeping*

Maglor:<\/b> *actually does go to sleep in a few minutes - blankets over his head, a lump under the blankets*

Maeglin:<\/b> *pokes lump* You'll suffocate.

Maglor:<\/b> *asleep*

Maeglin:<\/b> *grins when he gets no response* *hops up, pulls the blankets back, curls around Maglor, pulls the blankets over himself, and then goes to sleep*
<\/a>","comments":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/17936.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/17743.html","pubDate":"Sun, 18 Jan 2004 19:48:54 GMT","title":"More het!smut","author":"ioreth_wc","link":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/17743.html","description":"This goes as follows: Fluff-angst-smut-fluff. (angst). NC-17 in parts, Ioreth\/Glorfindel. Occurs some random amount of time after the last thing posted.


Glorfindel:<\/b> *flirts*

Ioreth:<\/b> *flirts back*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *smooches*

Ioreth:<\/b> *plays with your hair* I'll admit, you're healing much faster than I thought you would. *smirk* I'm going to
have to figure out some way of testing whether you're strong enough to be let out of the Houses. *pretends to think about it*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *leans back against you* Oh? And what kind of test would you propose?

Ioreth:<\/b> I'm sure I'll think of something... appropriate. *kisses*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *snuggles* I think I should remain her for some time yet.

Ioreth:<\/b> And you are welcome to stay as long as you wish. I do not wish to interfere with your duty, though. *quietly* Or allow my feelings to interfere with mine.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *sighs and closes eyes* My duty calls me north again as soon as I am able to make the journey. The Darkness spreads, and my lord needs me.

Ioreth:<\/b> I know. *falls silent* *starts playing with your hair again*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *quietly* It will not be long.

Ioreth:<\/b> And even so, you have already stayed here too long for your liking, I'm sure. *idly redoes a braid*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *faint smile* Nay. I am frustrated with my weakness, not with my accomodations.

Ioreth:<\/b> You're right. The beds are soft, the rooms are warm, the company is good... *grins* *snuggles* What were you complaining about again?

Glorfindel:<\/b> The infrequent baths? Dependency on Secondborn for all my smallest needs? *grins and tickles* Nagging healers.

Ioreth:<\/b> *squirms* You get twice as many baths as anyone else here. Either you're twice as fussy... stop it!... or twice as dirty.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *stops and kisses* Elves are fussy by nature. It's difficult work, being so stunningly beautiful all the time, all so we can live up to human expectations.

Ioreth:<\/b> *chuckles* Is that so? What's your excuse for always pulling me in there with you, then?

Glorfindel:<\/b> All work and no play makes Glorfindel a sour elf.

Ioreth:<\/b> *smiles* *kisses* And we can't have that. As cute as you are when you pout.

Glorfindel:<\/b> I get grumpy. *abruptly pulling you down in a tangle of sheets for a deeper, longer kiss accompanied by a healthy amount of groping*

Ioreth:<\/b> You look... mmm... cute when you're grumpy, too. *wriggles into a more comfortable position and kisses your shoulder*

Glorfindel:<\/b> I thought I looked terrifying and stern. *nuzzles*

Ioreth:<\/b> Stern and cute.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *smiles* How disappointing. I shall have to improve upon it. *lightly strokes your arms* You are wearing entirely too much clothing, my dear.

Ioreth:<\/b> *chuckles* Demanding Elf. *sits up and quickly gets rid of the layers, throwing them off to one side somewhat carelessly* *leans down for another kiss* Better?

Glorfindel:<\/b> *playfully snuggling against you, letting my hands roam freely and lingering where I know you find the most pleasure* Much.

Ioreth:<\/b> *breath catching* I think now you are the one, my Elf, who is wearing too much clothing. *tugs at his trousers*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *raising my hips obligingly* Do with them what you will. I've been pondering a means of getting out of them all day.

Ioreth:<\/b> *smirks* *kisses your chest and then undoes the trousers, ending up out of the bed holding them and looking like I've just had a good idea* I think I might have to confiscate these. You're not meant to be getting out of bed anyway. *puts them to one side and then pounces you, giggling*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *catches and rolls you onto your back beneath me* Terrible shame. I shall have to explain my state to Lord Elrond when I return home. \"It is a strange new custom of Men, my lord ... \"

Ioreth:<\/b> *starts laughing hysterically* No, no... I will return them to you when you have to go. But for now, I don't think you'll be requiring clothing of any sort.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *Grinning wickedly, I slide down the bed and part your legs, brushing teasing kisses over the inside of your thighs*

Ioreth:<\/b> Damned... *bites lip* tease...

Glorfindel:<\/b> *crouches over you quick as a cat, still wearing that spritely grin* Would you prefer I get straight to business?

Ioreth:<\/b> *pouts* Just don't tease.

Glorfindel:<\/b> Very well then. *drops down for another long kiss, my growing arousal brushing against you*

Ioreth:<\/b> *arches up against you* I've not got forever to wait, Elf. *nips at your shoulder*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *nips at your lower lip* Then perhaps you should set the pace, Healer. *I pull you to me and easily reverse our positions, so you are now on top and in control.* Show me what you desire.

Ioreth:<\/b> *eyes fluttering closed as I sink down on you* Be careful what you ask for. *starts to move, shifting position until the angle is just right.* Ah...

Glorfindel:<\/b> *squirms and tries unsuccessfully to maintain a semblance of dignity*

Ioreth:<\/b> *drags nails lightly down your chest as the tempo quickens* Mmmnn... good idea.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *shuddering breath* Clearly ... you do not ... need my ... guidance. *groans and grasps your hips, pulling you down further*

Ioreth:<\/b> *murmurs something incoherent in agreement and lets my hands wander over you blindly, eyes still closed*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *letting you control the pace and tell me what you want with your movements, urging you on, sometimes having the presence of mind for a grope or two*

Ioreth:<\/b> *cries out softly and clenches around you, still moving although the rhythm grows more and more erratic*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *bites lip, following you as best I can, all thought of anything but your warmth around me gone*

Ioreth:<\/b> *shivers, leaning forward to kiss you* You're going to need another bath, I think.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *breathing raggedly* A hot bath. With lots of water. And a pretty assistant.

Ioreth:<\/b> Mnm. *shifts to your side, snuggling in* Hot bath. Lots of water. Can't promise I'll be able to find you a pretty assistant, but I'll try my best. *little yawn* Definately need a bath. In a bit.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *wrapping an arm around your shoulders* Yes. In a bit. *I snuggle close, resting my head against yours. Our remaining time together is far less than you think. In two days, maybe three, I will be fit to ride for Imladris.*
<\/a>","comments":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/17743.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/17539.html","pubDate":"Sun, 11 Jan 2004 07:18:15 GMT","author":"ioreth_wc","link":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/17539.html","description":"Part the Third of... Eru only knows when these two will decide to stop harrassing us.


Ioreth:<\/b> *knocks at the door to Glorfindel's room* I come bearing gifts! Or lunch, at least.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *silently slips back into bed, wearing only breeches, and pulls the covers up to avoid a scolding* Come in.

Ioreth:<\/b> *does so, setting down the tray and eyeing him suspiciously, although she can't prove<\/i> he was out of bed* You're healing well, Elf. I didn't even hear you clambering back into bed that time.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *innocent expression* Now why would I do something like that?

Ioreth:<\/b> *smiles* Because you're far too stubborn and impatient for your own good. Soon you'll be well enough to leave us, and then that beast of yours can stop terrorizing the stable-boys and you can stop giving me headaches. Eat your lunch.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *snorts* He does not terrorize the stable boys. His manners are better than that. *eyes the tray* What delicacies did you bring today? Please tell me no more broth.

Ioreth:<\/b> No more broth. *grins* Hurin and some of the other guards went hunting yesterday, and I managed to... acquire some of the proceeds. So it's roast venison, and some bread to soak the gravy up.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *answering grin* Solid food. This is cause for celebration. *glances at the door to be sure it's closed, and then quick as thought steals a kiss*

Ioreth:<\/b> *reluctantly pulling away* You should be eating, and I should be working. *teasing* You need to keep your strength up. *winks*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *pouts cutely* Won't you join me, sweet nurse? I fear I might need your assistance. After all, I'm only a poor, helpless elf.

Ioreth:<\/b> *snorts* Helpless nothing. *settles down on the edge of the bed anyway* And I've already had my lunch, but I will keep you company, if you wish.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *sets to work on the meal* Tell me a story?

Ioreth:<\/b> A story? Once upon a time there was an Elf who asked too many questions, and complained too much, and generally made a nuisance of himself... *grins* I don't think you'd find my stories all that interesting, surely.

Glorfindel:<\/b> Here we've spent so much time together, and I know so little about you. Indulge me, please. It's been a long time since I've ventured south.

Ioreth:<\/b> I grew up in a quiet little town in Lossanarch by the name of Imloth Melui... and then I came here. Not much to tell, really.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *traces a pattern on the back of her hand* You underestimate how intriguing I find you.

Ioreth:<\/b> *blushes* I grew up in Imloth Melui... and then I came here because if I'd spent one more moment smiling and nodding there I would have gone insane. *shaking my head* We had a good healer, that was the one good thing about the place. She taught me a lot. Told me to come here, if I wanted to learn more. I had absolutely no idea what life was like outside my home and I am forever surprised that I managed to get myself from there to here in one piece.

Glorfindel:<\/b> Ah, you see. There's a story in that. Few young women would leave their homes and travel alone to a strange place, all in the name of medicine.

Ioreth:<\/b> *shrugs* My mother is a happy woman. She got married at seventeen, had eight kids, spends her life sewing and cooking and has never been further than the market two villages over. She has a good life. I just didn't want it for myself. *bites lip* I may have gone a little out of my way to make sure that I did not<\/i> end up that way. In Lossanarch, gossip travels fast. People get reputations, deserved or not.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *raises an eyebrow* You may be certain I will have nothing but the highest praise for you, Ioreth.

Ioreth:<\/b> That sort of thing doesn't bother me any more. Things in Minas Tirith are different. *smiles brightly* Here's a story for you. Ioreth was my grandmother's name. People said she had foresight. I don't know if it was true - I don't really believe in such things, you know? Or rather, I don't like the thought that your path is laid out in front of you. She'd look at that palm of your hand and tell you what your future would be. She told me once that I would meet a king. Isn't that silly?

Glorfindel:<\/b> *smirks, knowing that you may have already met that king* You should not doubt the foresighted. Theirs is a gift from the Valar--a fickle one, to be certain, but a gift nonetheless.

Ioreth:<\/b> *smiles* Well, perhaps. When I was eighteen, and she was ill, she called me into her rooms, and she told me *imitating an old woman's voice* 'What are you doing still here? You'll never meet a king, hanging around Imloth Melui. Get going, girl.' *dissolves into giggles* I swear, she said it just like that.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *laughs* For what it's worth, I think she was right. Why should meeting a king be so remarkable? After all, you've known a \"legendary Balrog slayer\" for some weeks now. A king is not so uncommon.

Ioreth:<\/b> I'm sure you've met hundreds of kings. *rearranges your blankets* But I would still be surprised to come across one. Now, eat your lunch.

Glorfindel:<\/b> Yes ma'am. *eats in silence until the plate is clean* Do I get a reward for being a good patient?

Ioreth:<\/b> *puts plate and tray to one side and sits back down on the bed* Oh, I think you should. *smiles* *reaches down, tugs a lock of hair sharply, and then jumps back to her feet* Come on. *holds out a hand*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *blinks, surprised* Is this an invitation to get out of bed?

Ioreth:<\/b> *grins* Take it easy - if you try to push yourself too hard you'll do yourself an injury and then I'll carry you back here and tie you to the bed. But yes, I thought that you might like to take a walk to the gardens.

Glorfindel:<\/b> My dear sweet nurse, those words are music to my old ears. *kisses your hand with a flourish and slips out of bed, then looks down* I suppose a shirt and boots are called for.

Ioreth:<\/b> *produces shirt, socks, and boots from a cupboard* That might be a good idea. *pokes your chest gently* You'll get enough of the girls staring at you as it is.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *eyes twinkling as I sit long enought o pull on the footwear before pulling the tunic over my head* Then maybe you should keep me cloistered, lest I be exhausted by their advances.

Ioreth:<\/b> *chuckles at that* Or perhaps I should wear you out myself, before they can get their hands on you.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *loops an arm around your waist and leans rather closer than necessary* Oh, Ioreth. I feel faint. Take me outside so I might see the sunshine one last time.

Ioreth:<\/b> *swats lightly, but doesn't move away* Oh, quit it. Come on, then. Before you faint and I have to carry you everywhere.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *chuckles and lets you lead the way, using my recent injuries as an excuse to stay close as we make our way through the halls*

Ioreth:<\/b> *nods and greets people as they pass, smirking at the more-obviously jealous* Here we go! *The gardens of the houses are carefully tended and quite beautiful - even if every herb, flower, shrub and tree has been chosen for not just its looks, but its medicinal purposes, too*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *The effect is instantaneous. It has been long since I was outside, and the quiet music of the garden is a balm to my restless spirit. I pause with you just outside the door and close my eyes to listen.* Bain ... *I murmur softly.*

Ioreth:<\/b> *waits a moment before tugging you onwards* Come on. There's a bench around the corner - or the grass is quite soft, if you prefer.

Glorfindel:<\/b> The grass, please. Just beneath that tree. *nods towards the spot in question* This is truly magnificent, Ioreth. People must come here often.

Ioreth:<\/b> I come here to eat lunch, when I get the chance. It is used a lot for training, as well. *drops into a cross-legged position* But healers of Gondor do not just sit in gardens doing nothing.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *settles beside you* Oh? What do they do here?

Ioreth:<\/b> *smiles* Each plant here has a use in medicine, even if some of them... *plucking a flower and sticking it in Glorfindel's hair* look pretty as well. The apprentices learn to recognise them, and learn their uses.

Glorfindel:<\/b> My lord keeps such gardens. *selects a small white flower and begins to braid it into your hair* They are pleasant year round, very fragrant. I used to sit with his family on warm days as he taught his children the values of the herbs.

Ioreth:<\/b> Year round? How does he manage that?

Glorfindel:<\/b> He is powerful amongst the elves, and our land is blessed with somewhat kinder weather than the mountains around it thanks to that power. Our people plant so that there is something to be enjoyed every season, in each garden.

Ioreth:<\/b> It sounds lovely. *half-twist* What are<\/i> you doing to my hair?

Glorfindel:<\/b> *grins* Adorning it with the flowers of the season. Elves are quite fond of hair in general, you know.

Ioreth:<\/b> *dryly* I'd noticed. You're lucky you didn't catch lice; we had a bit of an epidemic of the damn things going round a bit back. I'd have had to cut it all off if that happened.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *snorts* Elves do not catch lice.

Ioreth:<\/b> *eyes* You tell me a lot of things that start with 'Elves do not...' you know.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *innocently* Do I? Then perhaps you should ask me questions about what elves do<\/i> so we can halt that unfortunate trend. *finishes an intricate braid and plucks another flowers to begin work on another pattern*

Ioreth:<\/b> Fine. What do Elves do, then, when they're not getting themselves in trouble, irritating innocent healers, or not resting when they should. *smiles* What do you do, when you're home?

Glorfindel:<\/b> I help manage the day to day business of my lord's house, ride out on patrols, train warriors and horses. In the evening, there are tales and music around the fire, and numerous attempts to escape the mischief of my lord's sons.

Ioreth:<\/b> *laughing at that last* Mischievous children are a constant wherever you go, it seems. My youngest brother was just like that - couldn't take your eyes off him for even a moment.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *chuckles* The twins are nearly three thousand years old.

Ioreth:<\/b> *eyes widen comically* Oh. *attempts to get mind working again* That's a lot of mischief.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *smiling* They are quite young compared to many of us. It is good to hear them laugh again. There were many years when I feared they would lose all joy in life.

Ioreth:<\/b> *sighs, leaning into you* I have not even seen so many as thirty summers yet, you know. *sideways glance* Perhaps I should get you a walking-stick, and sit you by the fire at night so the cold does not get into your old bones.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *nuzzles your hair and whispers into your ear* This body is far younger than than the spirit that wears it, and does not bear the same scars.

Ioreth:<\/b> *draws back, confused* I don't know what that means. I don't think I even want to know what that means. *looks up, as one of the older healers can be heard yelling about something or other* And I think I should get back to work.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *kisses you lightly beneath your ear and finishes with the second flower* Then let us away.

Ioreth:<\/b> *bites lip* I'm sorry... did you want to stay out here a bit longer? If you promise not to run away - I could come back later, or.. *shrugs* if you wanted, that is.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *glances at a group of apprentices coming into the garden for the lessons you mentioned* I think it best that I return with you.

Ioreth:<\/b> *stands wordlessly, brushing bits of grass from my skirts and then offering a hand to help you up*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *I rise gracefully, and again use my wounds as an excuse to stay close to you as we walk the halls* Thank you for sharing your gardens with me, Ioreth.

Ioreth:<\/b> They're not my- *stops* You're welcome.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *gives a gentle squeeze* I am fortunate to have you for my healer.

Ioreth:<\/b> Thank you. *opens the door* May I ask what the chance is that you will actually go get some rest now?

Glorfindel:<\/b> *smirks* Do I get a treat if I take a nap?

Ioreth:<\/b> *pulls you into the room and closes the door* You can have a treat now. *smirks back*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *grins* Hoping to wear me out so I'll sleep better?

Ioreth:<\/b> It does seem to work. And helping my favourite patient sleep better is a worthy goal, wouldn't you say? *goes up on tip-toes so I can kiss you*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *returns the kiss, drawing it out before pulling you onto the bed atop me with surprising strength for a supposed convalescent* Very worthy indeed.

...fade to black, I'm afraid. We're sorry... you perverts.<\/i>

<\/a>","comments":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/17539.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/17229.html","pubDate":"Sat, 10 Jan 2004 18:54:56 GMT","title":"More Ioreth\/Glorfindel crazyness...","author":"ioreth_wc","link":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/17229.html","description":"Part 2, in which Ioreth goes to find Thorongil, and Glorfindel and Thorongil have A Chat. Part 1, which includes het!smut - you have been warned - is here.<\/a> Or just scroll down the page.

Thanks to Nicole for being our Thorongil. Oh, and there is also a special guest star... well, it's just one of the Jen's, really, playing a different part... DO NOT LOOK BEHIND THE CURTAIN.


Ioreth:<\/b> *Elbowing my way into the barracks and aiming my best 'innocent wee healer' smile at the first soldier I recognise* Hurin, is Captain Thorongil about?

Hurin:<\/b> *glancing up from my reports and managing a pained smile* Aye, he's somewhere. What do you need him for?

Hurin:<\/b> All right. All right. *eyes suspiciously* What kind of message? There's not some silly girl claiming to be his long lost sister again, is there?

Ioreth:<\/b> *laughs* No, no, nothing like that. Just a message from the Houses. *reaches over and pets Hurin's hand* You're a sweetheart. I owe you one.

Hurin:<\/b> *tries to scowl convincingly, but cannot hide a genuine smile* I'll remember that. Wait here. *heads off to find the Captain*

Ioreth:<\/b> *openly admires Hurin's arse as he heads off, and then perches on the edge of his desk to wait*

Thorongil: *So far today I have made a review of a few troops of men and given a report to Denethor. Now I help to train a small group of new recruits, eager but inexperienced. This is going to be a long day.*

Hurin:<\/b> *I wander out to the training grounds, and take a moment to watch Thorongil with the new soldiers. When I judge it safe to interrupt, I step into his line of sight and clear my throat to catch his attention.*

Thorongil:<\/b> *When H\u00farin calls for my attention I dismiss the men for a water break and turn to him.* H\u00farin, well met. May I help you?

Hurin:<\/b> Good afternoon, Captain. If you have a moment, Lady Ioreth would like a word with you.

Thorongil:<\/b>: *nodding* Certainly, where is she?

Hurin:<\/b> Waiting inside. If you'll come with me, sir?

Thorongil:<\/b>: Of course. *I follow H\u00farin inside and nod to Ioreth.* Good afternoon, my lady.

Ioreth:<\/b> *curtseying* And to you, Captain. *sideways glance at Hurin* The message I have to give you would be better given in private, my lord.

Hurin:<\/b> *takes the hint* My reports will no longer wait. *bows to the both of you and ducks out*

Thorongil:<\/b>: *raising my eyebrows* Very well. *slight bow to H\u00farin* Thank you for your assistance.

Thorongil:<\/b>: Ioreth, what is this message? You've gotten me curious.

Ioreth:<\/b> *trying to remember the exact wording* Glorfindel... brings word from home.

Thorongil:<\/b>: *surprised look* Glorfindel? Where is he?

Ioreth:<\/b> In the Houses. A couple of soldiers found him on the road outside the city, badly wounded *hastily adds* He is healing well, although not quick enough for his liking, apparently.

Thorongil:<\/b>: *slowly* I see. *nodding sharply* Thank you for bringing this message, Ioreth. I shall go to him.

Ioreth:<\/b> The other healers know him as 'Randir', and as far as I know I am the only one aware of who... what he is. I only found out by accident. *and quite a pleasurable accident it was, too*

Thorongil:<\/b>: *grinning* You didn't touch his hair, did you?

Ioreth:<\/b> *among other things, yes* I'm afraid so. I think he's forgiven me, though. *blushes*

Thorongil:<\/b>: *noticing your blush and grinning wider* I see<\/i>.

Ioreth:<\/b> *Oh dear* Well, that was all the message... and I really should be getting back... lots of work to do. Simply swamped, really. *babbles*

Thorongil:<\/b>: I can accompany you to the Houses and speak with him now. *offering my arm*

Ioreth:<\/b> *Why do I get the feeling this is Not a Good Idea?* As you wish. *Not like I can think of any good reasons to say no... that seems to be becoming a theme of late...*

Thorongil:<\/b>: *I take Ioreth's arm and we begin to walk at a casual pace to the Healing Houses.* So, Randir, is it? He must have been drugged when you found him.

Ioreth:<\/b> He was wounded by orc-arrows, and between the poison and the medicine we gave him to combat it - he wasn't exactly coherent for a while, no.

Thorongil:<\/b>: It is good that he was found. I'm sure he's very grateful. *smirk*

Ioreth:<\/b> Grateful? No, mostly he complains about being stuck in bed. *Although I do have a couple of interesting ways of getting him to stop complaining*

Thorongil:<\/b>: That sounds like him, certainly. Ah, here we are. Which room is he in? If you'll direct me to him, I'll leave you to your work.

Ioreth:<\/b> This way. *leads you through the corridors and peers in through the door, making sure there's no other healers around* Glorfindel, you have a visitor.

Glorfindel:<\/b>: *shifting my gaze away from the window to the open door* Oh?

Thorongil:<\/b>: *stepping through the doorway, grinning cheekily* Hello, \"Randir.\"

Glorfindel:<\/b>: *grins* Don't mock your elders, \"Thorongil.\"

Ioreth:<\/b> *grinning a little at the two of them* I'll be off on my rounds, unless there's anything you need.

Glorfindel:<\/b>: Thank you, Ioreth. I appreciate your fetching him for me.

Thorongil:<\/b>: Yes, thank you Ioreth.

Ioreth:<\/b> *winks at Glorfindel from behind Thorongil's back and heads off*

Glorfindel:<\/b>: *fixes Estel with a meaningful look* Not a word of this to your father.

Thorongil:<\/b>: *innocent face* Why would I tell him any of this?

Glorfindel:<\/b>: Because the twins taught you well, that's why. *grits teeth and levers self up to a sitting position*

Thorongil:<\/b>: *helping you sit up* Not a word, on my honor. What brings you here?

Glorfindel:<\/b>: Elrond. Your mother. We haven't had word in quite some time. They worry, and to be honest, so do the rest of us.

Thorongil:<\/b>: *frowning* The Steward watches me carefully, Glorfindel. It is not easy to send word. I have no intention to worry you.

Glorfindel:<\/b>: Is Ecthelion not pleased with your service?

Thorongil:<\/b>: No, Ecthelion is a good man, trusting and trustworthy. His son dislikes me greatly, though. *sigh* If I were to leave to Imladris, I fear what rumors he would spread of me during my absence.

Glorfindel:<\/b>: Ah. *frowns* The Stewards have grown jealous of their power. I know this errantry is necessary, Estel, but please be cautious. Your actions as Thorongil may well set the stage for Aragorn, son of Arathorn.

Thorongil:<\/b>: *nods* I understand. I will be careful.

Glorfindel:<\/b>: Good. *shifts around in an attempt to ease some of the pressure on one of the exit wounds* Your mother asked me to bring you here love, and to tell you that she is well.

Thorongil:<\/b>: That is good news. Thank you. I would be grateful if you would take the same message to her on your return.

Glorfindel:<\/b>: I will. *looks you over* I trust that I will be telling her the truth?

Thorongil:<\/b>: I am well. Better than you, in any case. *smirk*

Glorfindel:<\/b>: *scowls* We should never have let the twins raise you. I am well enough, young Dunadan.

Thorongil:<\/b>: Of course you are. How long have you been a guest at the Houses? When will you be returning?

Glorfindel:<\/b>: *frowns* I'm not really sure ... of either. Better to ask Ioreth.

Thorongil:<\/b>: *nods* I will. *poker faced* I'm sure she's been treating you well.

Glorfindel:<\/b>: *playfully* You're an impertinent whelp.

Thorongil:<\/b>: *laughs* You shouldn't have let the twins raise me, remember?

Glorfindel:<\/b>: Yes, well, I intend to repay them when I get home for all the thoughts they put in your head. *tries to get a bit more comfortable* I don't suppose you have any athelas here.

Thorongil:<\/b>: Not at the moment...

Glorfindel:<\/b>: *mutters a soft curse in Sindarin*

Thorongil:<\/b>: *grins and produces some from a pouch at my belt*

Glorfindel:<\/b>: Estel! You should not tease a wounded elf so!

Thorongil:<\/b>: *laughing and administering the athelas to your shoulder* It's good to see you again, Glorfindel.

Glorfindel:<\/b>: *smiling* And it is good to see you again. I rather wish it was under different circumstances.

Thorongil:<\/b>: As do I, but we cannot have all that we wish for. I have to get back to training, but I'll return to visit you soon.

Glorfindel:<\/b>: *adjusts the bandage over my shoulder* Of course. I should not keep you from your duties. Thank you for the athelas. Would you do me the favor of asking Ioreth to come in if you see her on your way out?

Thorongil:<\/b>: *nods and clasps your good shoulder in a friendly manner* I will. *impish grin*

Glorfindel:<\/b>: *returns the grip, and graces you with an equally mischievous smile* Hannon le.
<\/a>","comments":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/17229.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/16964.html","pubDate":"Sat, 10 Jan 2004 09:39:25 GMT","title":"No Reason Needed","author":"eomer_of_rohan","link":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/16964.html","description":"[The morning after this<\/a> -- contains sexuality\/sensuality, but not rated NC-17 for once... ]<\/small>

Karl:<\/b> *fuck, but the floor is cold...forgot to turn up the heater. 'course, had a few more (ahem) important things to attend to last night...and early this morning. i stretch pleasantly used muscles as i throw some wood on the fireplace & start up a pot of coffee. wonder exactly how long it's going to take you to wake up...*

Eomer:<\/b> *I wake up face down, arm and leg trailing off the bed and cheek to the pillow, with the oddest smell tickling my nose. Once regain my bearings (Karl, Germany, temporary lodgings, movie), I pull my leggings back on, wrap a blanket around myself, and pad out in search of that scent* Mmm. Morning.

Karl:<\/b> *half-grin as i snag some eggs from the fridge, tracksuit pants riding low around my hips...didn't bother with a shirt. i never do when i cook* four minutes. i must've worn you out.

Eomer:<\/b> *good-naturedly* You must have. *flopping on the sofa* Feed me.

Karl:<\/b> *slightly sardonic smirk as i expertly scramble the eggs & rummage around the cupboard for some bread* you forget, my king<\/i>, you don't rule me. and if you want breakfast, i at least expect a proper kiss good morning.

Eomer:<\/b> Mmmph. *leaving the blanket on the sofa, I shamble into the kitchen, hook an arm around your neck, drag you half over backwards, and deliver a very IMproper kiss good morning*

Karl:<\/b> *immediately burying my hands in the coarse silk of your hair as i return the kiss with eager slides of my tongue along yours, body humming in lazy satisfaction*

Eomer:<\/b> *I break the kiss with a nip and a lick at the corner of your mouth, stepping back to lean against the counter* Now food?

Karl:<\/b> *bright laugh as i put the bread in the ancient toaster* anyone ever tell you that you're remarkably easy?

Eomer:<\/b> *lazy grin, lounging like a lion* Why actually, yes. You, for one.

Karl:<\/b> i was right. *my lips find yours again for another quick kiss before i shove two full plates of eggs & toast & bacon at you* no, they're not both yours. table's there. you want coffee?

Eomer:<\/b> Coffee...no, I don't think so, I believe I tried it and didn't like it. If you have any juice or tea...? *I speak over my shoulder as I set the table, snagging a piece of bacon impatiently*

Karl:<\/b> orange juice. *i take the coffee (definitely need the caffeine after last night) and pour you a glass of juice before meeting you at the table* sit. eat. tell me why you decided to pop by. unless it was just because you missed my blowjobs and scrambled eggs. *winks*

Eomer:<\/b> *I laugh and take a large bite to express my appreciation of both* I hadn't seen you in some time. Do I need a reason?

Karl:<\/b> *simply, digging into my own meal* it's been a long time.

Eomer:<\/b> *setting my fork down, curiously* Are you angry with me?

Karl:<\/b> why, what hideous sin have you commited lately?

Eomer:<\/b> As you say, it's been a while...

Karl:<\/b> *smiles* sorry, quoting. no, i'm not mad. curious, though. it has been many months. what drove you to seek me out? anything in particular, or just a yen for travel. *places a hand over your wrist* is everything alright in your realm?

Eomer:<\/b> *quick smile* It's fine. It's winter, Halbarad's married, Gorlim's clinging to my cousin now, and I'm a father again. *beaming uncontrollably at that last*

Karl:<\/b> you're a... fuck! that's brilliant. *laughing as i lean over & give you a quick, friendly kiss of celebration* boy or girl?

Eomer:<\/b> *happyhappyhappy* A boy. Drefen Kethanin. I THINK I have the second name right, it's elvish -- one for each parent, it's something from Luthien's people. *shaking my head in amazement* Alcawyn's a child again and Niphredil's walking...gods, Karl, I have an actual family. It's a little...big.

Karl:<\/b> sounds lovely. *grins, tightening my fingers over your wrist, beyond happy for you* and perfect. mine's growing as well, so i feel you.

Eomer:<\/b> Oh? Talk to me, Karl, what do you mean?

Karl:<\/b> *very nonchalant shrug that doesn't fool you a bit* oh, not much. gained a husband & i'm gonna be a father again come summer.

Eomer:<\/b> You...what? *my breakfast is completely forgotten* You didn't mention...Karl, stop teasing, tell me!

Karl:<\/b> i'm having another baby. *wide grin*

Eomer:<\/b> *I'm going to throttle you in a moment, I swear...* With who? Anyone I know? What husband? When?

Karl:<\/b> not unless you know who lucy lawless is. *still grinning* she wanted another child, i wanted another child... kinda like how me & sadie are with hunter. *taps you on the nose* and you know about harry already.

Eomer:<\/b> Ahhhh. Good. Still with Harry. I was worried. And...no, I don't know her, but if you care enough about her to do this, then congratulations to you...both? all three? *I'm grinning again* How long?

Karl:<\/b> she's about three months now.

Eomer:<\/b> I'd like to meet her someday. But I always say that about those you love.

Karl:<\/b> oh, she'd love you. *warm smile* to bits, even. you need to finish your food.

Eomer:<\/b> *I glance down* True. It's very good. *I take another bite, thoughtfully* But you never do, you know.

Karl:<\/b> never do what? *draining my coffee cup & pouring another before sitting back down*

Eomer:<\/b> Introduce me.

Karl:<\/b> *quietly* harry doesn't think you really exist. and... *sighs* ...orlando just got back. he still really wants to meet you, too.

Eomer:<\/b> *wry smile* He'd believe in me if he saw me. *curious head-tilt* Where did Orlando go?

Karl:<\/b> away for a bit. *frowns, pushing the last, unfinished bites of egg across my plate* fuckin' missed him.

Eomer:<\/b> *I consider what little I know -- cautiously* Do he and Harry get along?

Karl:<\/b> no.

Eomer:<\/b> Ah. *I finish a piece of toast to get the taste of my own foot out of my mouth, then venture carefully* But...you still care about him? Orlando, I mean.

Karl:<\/b> *soft smile* he & i are always going to love each other. and yeah, always be *in* love with each other. it's complicated...but i expect you'd know about that. *covering your hand with mine again & squeezing*

Eomer:<\/b> Of course I do. *squeezing your hand back* I didn't mention the situation with Faramir because I thought you didn't approve, but...we've resolved matters between us, and it's all good.

Karl:<\/b> you guys make everyone i know look sane. and that's saying something. *i smile again, then push the plates out of the way before straddling your lap, arms wrapped tight around your shoulders. voice muffled* thanks for dropping by. for whatever reason.

Eomer:<\/b> *I hold you instinctively, comfortingly* Like I said, I don't need a reason. Just some time, and to be welcome.

Karl:<\/b> you're always welcome. *looking deep into eyes so like mine, yet not* always. no matter where i am or what i'm doing.

Eomer:<\/b> *wickedly* Or who?

Karl:<\/b> no kinky threesomes, if that's what you're after. *laughs, nuzzling your neck* have to settle for just me.

Eomer:<\/b> Oh, I suppose I could settle. Though you're missing out on the kinky threesomes. *purrs, cuddling* Mine. Here\/now, anyway.

Karl:<\/b> yeah? *gently nipping at your collarbone* prove it.

Eomer:<\/b> Again? *I grin, arms tightening around you as my voice drops to a low husky growl* All right then...","comments":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/16964.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/16755.html","pubDate":"Fri, 09 Jan 2004 09:25:15 GMT","title":"Yup, at it again! (Actually, wasn't expecting it...)","author":"eomer_of_rohan","link":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/16755.html","description":"Yet another OOC encounter between <\/a>eomer_of_rohan<\/b><\/a><\/span> and <\/a>karl_urban<\/b><\/a><\/span>. NC-17, so what else is new? Hey, it's been AGES. :)


Eomer:<\/b> *I'm confused. This is where Karl is, I know<\/i> it, but it's not his house. It's small, and dark, and I immediately trip over what feels like a suitcase. Ack.*

Karl:<\/b> *raking a hand over bleary eyes as i stumble down the hallway of my rented place, shivering a bit...fucking forgot to turn the heat up *again* & it's colder than a witches tits and...fuck...shadow...survival instinct kicking in & i silently grab the cricket bat by the door as i pad on bare feet into the living room*

Eomer:<\/b> *I regain my balance and some common sense, standing still until my eyes adjust. A small amount of moonlight is filtering through a gap in curtains at the other side of the room -- carefully, I make my way over and draw them open. The moon is familiar, at least.*

Karl:<\/b> *rapid blinking as the moonlight filters in from the window & it takes me a second to adjust...and when i make out your (somewhat) blurry form, i lower the bat, laughing nervously* the fuck, mate? i almost brained you.

Eomer:<\/b> *I whip around, staring from the bat to you and back again* I didn't hear you. You're getting good at that. Where is this?

Karl:<\/b> berlin. *setting the bat against the wall* germany. i'm filming. fuck, you're a sight. *stepping forward, arms wrapped tight around your waist as i rest my head on your shoulder & breathe in a familiar, never-forgotten scent*

Eomer:<\/b> *I return the hug willingly, short-cropped beard scratchy-soft against your cheek and ear* The same. How long has it been and what's Germany?

Karl:<\/b> entirely too long. *not moving, content to stay here wrapped in warmth & strong arms, thin t-shirt scraping against the rough linen of your shirt as i settle in closer* germany's a country. i'm making a movie right now.

Eomer:<\/b> Oh? Another one about Arda? *I eye your hair critically* This is new...

Karl:<\/b> what's that? *peeking up at you* oh, yeah, the hair. *nuzzling your jaw with the top of my head* it's for the role. another book, not one based on your world.

Eomer:<\/b> Oh... *absently kneading your lower back* Is this a bad time for me to visit?

Karl:<\/b> no, it's a lovely time. *snuggles closer, hands worming under your shirt, for emphasis* how the fuck did you find me, bra? not that i mind...better than a furnace.

Eomer:<\/b> I'm going to fall over if you keep shoving like that... *I work around until I can fall ass-first onto the sofa, dragging you with* I find you personally, not your home.

Karl:<\/b> *practically crawling on your lap as i place tiny, teasing kisses across your chin, lips abrading stubble* glad you were bored enough to look.

Eomer:<\/b> *I blink, raking my fingers through your aforementioned hair* Missed me? Or lonely in general? *enjoying the kisses, shifting uncomfortably*

Karl:<\/b> missed *you*, wanker. *affectionate cuff on your shoulder as i lean in for a quick kiss, tongue darting out to moisten your lips* honestly, for a king, your self-respect is for dick. *smiles, running calloused hands down your arms* so, what brings you to my doorstep?

Eomer:<\/b> *indignantly* It has nothing to do with self-respect. I just don't like to assume. You have a complicated life. *roughly catches one of those teasing half-kisses and claims a more satisfying one* I hadn't seen you for a while. And I haven't been human for a while. It just seemed like good timing.

Karl:<\/b> *opens mouth, shuts it & shakes head* i don't wanna know. *grabbing a fistful of hair (kinda missed that being done to me) and dragging your head back so i can plunder your mouth properly with lips & tongue, rediscovering your dark taste, darker moans*

Eomer:<\/b> *low soft sigh, falling back into this without the slightest hesitation...my hands slide down to cup and seize your rear, pulling you close*

Karl:<\/b> *knees hugging your thighs as i take the hint & shift closer, groins & chests & abs rubbing in tantalizing friction as i swallow your moan, teeth worrying your lower lips in a quick bite before sliding my tongue over\/under\/around yours again...fuck, but i've missed the way you kiss...*

Eomer:<\/b> *I don't know anyone else who kisses so wholeheartedly, with teeth as well as lips and tongue, and I forgot how much that turns me on. I growl softly, dragging you more firmly into my lap so I can curve my hands into a very<\/i> intimate place; I half-expect you to break this off and I want to get as much of you as I can before you do!*

Karl:<\/b> *impatient, needy, tugging at your shirt with a muffled protest at stubborn fabric, and i whimpermoan into our next full-throttle kiss at the feel of your hands on me...been so fucking long since i've tasted you, felt you, and i find i'm greedy for all i can get*

Eomer:<\/b> *You're not stopping me yet...maybe you're not going to...* Mmmmdon't like sofas. *I squirm out from under you and pull you up with me, locking my arms around you from behind so I can work your jeans loose while murmuring in your ear* Bedroom. Which way?

Karl:<\/b> *my jeans are hastily kicked aside and i turn, stretching into your embrace, nipping at your ear* down the hall. *soft murmur, finally getting rid of that annoying shirt of yours & tugging you by your belt-loop down the darkened hallway*

Eomer:<\/b> *I trail my free hand along the short hall, and a bit of moonlight to the left indicates our destination -- in a heartbeat I've knocked you flat across the bed, straddling your hips and nuzzling under your ear as I tug your shirt up*

Karl:<\/b> *yeah, lovely, naked is good...naked means i can arch up, rub my chest against yours as i tilt my head back for greedy lips & tug clumsily at your breeches, trying to remember just how to get the damn things off* wearing too much... *okay, so it's more a breathless gasp than actual command, but, then, how do you expect coherency when your lips and...* ohgod... *your hands are, um...* christ...

Eomer:<\/b> *I rediscover your most sensitive spots, just where to drag my nails to make your eyes roll back in your head -- I impatiently strip off my breeches and return to mauling your throat, pausing only to grunt\/shudder softly in the curve of your shoulder as I grind against you, my bare stomach sliding over yours as I interlock our bodies just...so...*

Karl:<\/b> *fucking hell, but you haven't forgotten a thing, have you... i drag my hands along a sweatslick back, arching up as bodies shift, rub, glide together in soulsweet friction & need, and my mouth on yours is now a ravenous thing as i close teeth over your lower lip, silently urging you to move with me*

Eomer:<\/b> *sinking back into the kiss, barely breathing, eyes closing, my hair falling loose around your face and ears as I shift with you, moving deliberately over\/against your body in slow deliberate thrusts as if I were already within you*

Karl:<\/b> *tangling one fist in your hair, staring into clouded eyes, aware that my own reflect the same need & longing* if we're doing this, we're doing it properly. *my hips lift on your next slow grind, telling you more effectively than any words what it is i want...and what i know you want*

Eomer:<\/b> If? No \"if,\" not now... *I dip one shoulder to catch you behind the knee, my hand stroking the back of your thigh and down and between, fingers teasing as I reacquaint myself with your body, forcing myself to take my time, though I'm painfully hard and nearly blind with need for you right the hell now<\/i>*

Karl:<\/b> then do it. *i stare up at you in challenge, defiance mixed with desire, and lift my hips completely off the bed, blindly reaching for any part of you i can reach, molding my lips to yours in another plea*

Eomer:<\/b> Just like this? *But even as I ask, I'm moving to raise your other knee. Caution be damned -- I spit into my hand with dark dilated eyes and a feral grin, giving my cock a quick wet stroke and then shifting to press against you, my fingers circling and curling and insistant* Ask me again...say it...

Karl:<\/b> *unblinking, i stare up at you, wrapping my ankles around your waist* take me. *not so much an invitation as a coommand, punctuated by a hard press up, seeking more heat*

Eomer:<\/b> *I grin a little at your imperious tone and waste no more time, hand sliding away to grip behind your knee as I push into you, hard and sure, filling you in one deep satisfying plunge and a deep hoarse moan as my eyes flutter shut*

Karl:<\/b> *my hands reflexively spasm against your back as you fill me -- hot, hard, heavy weight bearing down, stretching, burning -- and i lift my head, seeking your lips, already rocking with every shift and movement you make*

Eomer:<\/b> *It's a little difficult at first, but not for long -- fucking you is so natural, so second nature, that it's easy to lose myself in you completely. The warmth of you in my arms is almost as sensual as moving within you, slowly at first but then faster, curling to kiss you, breathlessly laughing and clumsy and rough, my mouth almost bruisingly intense as my thrusts jolt you to the heart*

Karl:<\/b> *your laughter is infectious, and i smile even as your next thrust suprises me with its ferocity, its heat. truly, i've missed this, missed the slick fullness of you inside me, the strong arms cradling me, the supple, familiar back under my fingers as each thrust grinds your stomach along my aching cock, pushes against my prostate with each shift and rock of your hips*

Eomer:<\/b> *I know your body language, the subliminal shiver and the pitch of your breath...I've found the right angle, and I plan to capitalize on this knowledge mercilessly* Hold on... *my voice is dark with promise as I slide my hand between us, cupping your cock against my stomach as I let myself loose entirely...no more kissing (I'd likely split your lip!) as I take you hard and deep at that perfect angle, soft panting groans rising rapidly to a wordless cry as I spill hot and hard within you*

Karl:<\/b> *fuckohfuckohfuck...no, you haven't forgotten a fucking thing... i bite hard on your shoulder when i come, hot & sticky, over your fingers, shuddershivering as you collapse on top of me, familiar weight pressing me into the mattress. not that i give a good goddamn. i just want to lie here & try to remember how to breathe*

Eomer:<\/b> *After a few (or many) lost moments I remember to roll aside, careful not to twist your shoulder or hip, giving you room to regain your breath as I seek my own -- with a dazed grin* So...you come to Germany often?

Karl:<\/b> *breathless laugh as i roll over & plaster myself on top of you, seeking your warmth* i'll be here all month. you?

Eomer:<\/b> I...could arrange to visit... *wrapping my arms around you, comfortable under your weight*

Karl:<\/b> yeah? *pleased smile, pushing matted strands of hair from your forehead & placing a kiss to your brow*

Eomer:<\/b> *contented purr, pausing only to spit out a loose blond lock or two* If you'll have me. Which, ah, you already have, so...oh Bema. What about...

Karl:<\/b> *i place a finger to your lips to silence you, then brush mine over yours before dropping my head to your shoulder. i find & pull the blankets over us, seeking more insulation from the terrible wind & cold outside* don't. just enjoy now.

Eomer:<\/b> Mmm. I like \"now.\" I'm a huge fan of \"just now.\" *I tangle my ankles amid yours and curl close, one arm serving as your pillow and the other draped over your waist under the blanket. Only now am I noticing the chill in the air* It's winter here, too. Not so different, really...

Karl:<\/b> in zid, it's summer. *burrows as close as i can, eyes fluttering closed, happy & sated & well-fucked for the moment* hateithere...

Eomer:<\/b> *deliberate murmur in your ear, palm ghosting along your ribs to clasp your hip* Not right now you don't.

Karl:<\/b> *smiles, flexing against your hand* absolutely right, you are.

Eomer:<\/b> *kiss on the forehead, shrugging the blankets a little higher* Tell me, how do you keep track of time here?

Karl:<\/b> *points to the digital alarm clock beside the bed* why?

Eomer:<\/b> Why? *I prop myself up on one elbow and brush my lips against your ear, saying softly but clearly in a voice that shoots sparks down your spine* Because in precisely one hour I'm going to wake you up and fuck you again.

Karl:<\/b> *slow smile, trailing my fingers through the soft hairs on your chest* who's to say it won't be me fucking you this time?

Eomer:<\/b> *I have to clamp my jaw hard for a moment to give away what I think of THAT tempting idea, but the shiver escapes regardless* Depends who wakes up first, I suppose...

Karl:<\/b> you're on. *soft, teasing kiss before cuddling once more, head resting on the crook of your shoulder as i try to get a little bit of rest...i'm going to need it...*","comments":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/16755.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/16564.html","pubDate":"Tue, 30 Dec 2003 18:18:05 GMT","title":"crossposted to intershards.","author":"dandyb","link":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/16564.html","description":"Frodo and Eomer were bored and went adventuring. Or well actually they interrupted a conversation between two other pups that were not part of either one of their games. LJ's Elronds Brothel meets DJ's New_Age_Arda. What happens when you take some strange muns and mix in a bit of insanity, a little horse play, a little Nc-17; and a little bit of fun.
lj user=\"those_eyes\" Frodo
dj user=\"against_the_bit\" Eomer


Eomer!mun <\/b>: brb
Frodo!mun <\/b>: k
Frodo!mun <\/b>: twiddles thumbs
Eomer!mun <\/b>: *puts up iconses*
Frodo!mun <\/b>: ah.. fun where at?
Eomer!mun <\/b>: my personal lj. I caved and bought the extra pics
Frodo!mun <\/b>: heh.. i got them as a birthday prezzie
Eomer!mun <\/b>: oo fun
Frodo!mun <\/b>: i will prob. have to keep them now.. i love them all
Eomer!mun <\/b>: hehe. I\u2019m putting up a lot of my character icons that I retired from their games
Eomer!mun <\/b>: my Eomer is very pleased
Frodo!mun <\/b>: oh hurray <3
Eomer!mun <\/b>: *kicks Eomer* brat

Eomer: Considering that I\u2019m in a wheelchair right now..
Frodo: Climbs onto your lap.. can we go for a ride?
Eomer: *eyes* I suppose. It\u2019s not the same as Firefoot though. Jumping...*far away look*
Frodo: Horses are too big. Prefer the lap.
Eomer: I can see your point *nods, and wheels forward a little* That would have to be a pain. It would be even worse than the beginer class that they made me teach once *shudders* Children...Bema....
Frodo: Bema?
Eomer: Orome. Kind of the patron Vala of Rohan
Frodo: Oh. I see. Like say \"By Elbereth!\" when the kids and birds steal into the strawberry patch.
Eomer: *nods*

Eomer!mun <\/b>: Its sad. I actually HAVE said Oh Bema in my real life
Frodo!mun <\/b>:*blushes* *hides under the desk.
Eomer!mun <\/b>: lol i play too many pups connected to the mark
Frodo!mun <\/b>: I had at one point in time four shire pups. 3 hobbits and an half-elf
Eomer!mun <\/b>: oo wow
Eomer!mun <\/b>: I once had Eomer, Theoden and Theodred in the same game
Eomer!mun <\/b>: and random rider npcs

Frodo: your wheels stopped moving
Eomer: You're right. My mun was ignoring me. *continues wheeling* Better?
Eomer!mun <\/b>:Im more shocked that you're being civil to someone
Eomer: Its a Frodo.
Eomer: Im not going to be rude to a Frodo.
Frodo: Much better. *grins at your mun* Being uncivilized can be fun. especially with an agreeable hobbit on your lap. We could go terrorize Wyn and look up her skirts.
Eomer*laughs* Mine would KILL me. She fences. She's evil.
Frodo: *chuckles* the Wyn I knew nearly killed me a time or too.. Trust me the movie had her cooking skills perfect.
Frodo: but then.. i couldn't cook either so it made great fun in the kitchen

Eomer!mun <\/b>: *laughs* I had an Eowyn for a few months once. She tried to make brownies once
Eomer: Dont remind me of that THING mun .
Eomer!mun <\/b>: She was a werewolf actually. Looong story
Frodo: *nods* *Pets the werewarg* Cooking with Wyn was fun. We nearly destroyed Elronds kitchen on several occasions

Eomer*laughs* Thats great.
Frodo: So do you miss riding the horses?
Eomer: Gods yes. More than I can even say. I used to be headed to the Olympics before this *indicates his leg* happened. Riding accident ironically. Still, maybe I'll get some of it back.
Frodo: *strokes your leg gently* what did you do to it?
Eomer: Firefoot and I were jumping actually. We were just coming off the best round we'd ever had...would have won the event until a speaker backfired and he spooked. Fell on me. I guess all things considered I'm lucky to be alive.
Frodo: *nods* I would be a pancake if a horse landed on me.. Will you be able to use it again? Or will you always be trapped in this contraption
Eomer: They had to put in a new joint actually. I've been to therapy. Can walk about two feet now. My therapist is a drag though. The man's an idiot.
Frodo: You could lean on me. I would help you.
Frodo: what is a drag? and why is he an idiot?
Eomer: A real pain. And believe me if you were in a room with Beren Erchamion for more than five minutes...*headshake* He used to be doped up on Prozac and insanely cheerful. THEN he got a new mun and dumped the antidepressants so now he's just a bastard.
Frodo: *nodding without a clue as to what you said, deciding it must be rohirrim speech* I could help you. You wouldn't have to take very large steps with a hobbit. *grins* I could help you settle into bed.
Eomer: *cant help but grin back. being the utter slut that he is* Mm that could be fun.
Frodo: *grins* Besides I wouldn't hurt your.. leg.. if I was in your bed.
Eomer: Very true *grins back*
Eomer: Shall we?
Frodo: *chuckles* yes.
Frodo: are you sure you can walk that far?
Eomer: Hmm if you help me.
Frodo: *Climbs down off your lap* I can do that. You can lean on me. I'm not fragile you know.
Eomer*standing up slowly, balancing weight on good leg and coming over to lean on you a bit* Thank you. And no Im sure you're very strong indeed. *smirks a little*
Frodo: *smiles ..sighs* some people treat me as though I am going to break. *helps you slide your bad leg across the floor* does it hurt when you use it?
Eomer: Not for short enough distances...I'm getting used to it..*wobbles a bit* Somewhat... I did try to ride a while ago. THAT hurt.
Frodo: *tightens my arm around your hips to steady you* I'll say it would with a new joint *grins* does the thera-pissed massage it for you.
Eomer: Not very often. Mostly I get bitched at about my attitude now.
Frodo: cause you get all gruff and cranky? Cousin Bilbo said that just goes to show others that you are healing.
Eomer: Actually Diva is the word that's been used.
Eomer: But its not that much a change. I was a bastard before the accident too.
Frodo: *helps you sit onto the bed, starts to pull off one of your boots* Is that the name of another Rohirrim God? *chuckles* we all have our moments
Eomer*laughs* I'm the worst character in my game. I've beaten people up in walmart
Frodo *snorts in laughter, pulls off the boot off your good leg first* They shouldn't have been behind the wall then.
Eomer: *deciding to ignore language inconsistency. Figures its a shire thing* Right under the CD rack...He deserved it. Called me a hick.
Frodo: *begins to work in the second boot* Ah so you were in the grainery then, the man shouldn't have been under your seedy rack. And he had no call to you any sort of name *gently pulls this boot off*
Eomer*grits teeth then relaxes as it comes off* Thank you. Bad thing was...I got arrested for that. And banned from coming back. And of course my Uncle didn't post bail.
Frodo: You are most welcome. *Lifts your leg* Now we'll just swing it onto the bed with the other. *grins* I am sorry to hear that your uncle didn't help bail you out. I would like to think Bilbo would have helped me out if I would have gotten into trouble. Though we don't fight very often in the Shire. *grins* Just keep out of an arrow's or a slings reach.
Eomer*swings up onto the bed* Well its more that I'd done it so often...
Frodo: *climbs up onto the bed after you* Well that's part of being young and impetuous. *begins to massage the muscles in the upper part of your sore leg *
Eomer: I kind of miss those days...*smiling and leaning into your massage* That feels so good. Thank you
Frodo: *grins* Don't we all. I've had practice both giving and getting massages. *pressing into the muscle* It helps to stimulate the blood flow. *undoing the strings that hold your breeks together* to the extremities.
Eomer: Ah yes *grinning* Stimulating the blood flow...
Frodo: *grins down at you* But you have all these damb clothes on. *untucks your shirt and begins tugging on the legs of your breeks.* It is difficult to give a proper massage when you are dressed.

Frodo!mun <\/b>: eee and i saw your unicorn got a chance to run at the ocean.. *hee* i love the blushing pup
Eomer!mun <\/b>: ehehe hes so CUTE
Frodo!mun <\/b>: yes he is <3 what a little treasure. <3
Eomer!mun <\/b>: Paris*snuggles*
Eomer!mun <\/b>: Paris: Viggo, Halbarad and I are the nice ones
Frodo!mun <\/b>: I liked your wee eomer with frodo <3
Frodo!mun <\/b>: Elijah: And I like your bookstore keeper
Eomer!mun <\/b>: That Eomer was NOT a nice pup. At all.

Frodo: He was nice to me :)
Eomer*smiles at him* Because you were nice to me. And didnt treat me like I was someone's problem child
Frodo: *G* when your raised in a household of a couple hundred brandybucks, even the problem children can be fun
Eomer*smiles* see everyone in my game hated me.
Eomer!mun <\/b>: they TRIED to be nice to you
Eomer: As they acted like I was three
Frodo: I hate when they try to treat you like a stainglass window.
Eomer: or that
Eomer: My cousin is GREAT for that
Frodo: who .. theodred?
Frodo: treated you like stain glass.. or was treated like stainglass
Eomer: Treated me like stain glass. After the accident
Frodo: oh.. *nods* but that doesn't help keep your legs from atrophying
Eomer: No it didn\u2019t. *sighs* They tried to keep me from Firefoot.
Frodo: *crawls up on your bed* For someone who is very close to horses that must have bothered you. I rode a horse once.
Eomer*cuddles* It was like I'd lost my entire life... Aren't they the greatest?
Frodo *lays comfortably in your arms* Well actually I liked it but as i said before they are rather big. We just have small shaggy ponies in the shire.
Eomer: they sound wonderful *smiles*
Frodo: *snuggles down in your arms tracing light trails on the skin between your breeks and shirt* I'd like to see your Firefoot one day.
Eomer*strokes your hair* That would be great. You'll have to come out to the stables. *happy sigh*
Frodo: *undoes a button or two* I would definately go into the stables with you. I could feed your horse an apple. Though I might have to steal it from Merry. Would you give me a ride too? I promise not to tell Theodred and have you get in to trouble.
Eomer: That would be great. And I dont think he would care now. We currently aren't speaking...Again.
Frodo: *runs my fingers up your shirt* I don't think I have ever ..not.. talked to my muns other pups. someone has to keep them in line..
Eomer: Thats your job then? *smiles* In our head it falls to Halbarad and Viggo.
Frodo: *Sighs* Yeah our game had kind of slow down when pups got scattered all over ME. And recently we had a new elronds hall opened up. *grins* I maybe small but i keep the other pups in line. Well except Elijah, he talks to much.
Eomer*laughs* He should meet Ian. Actually thats a scary idea
Frodo: *unbuttons the rest of your buttons since your not complaining about it, traces the light battle scars.* Ian Hughes? Why would that be is that a scary idea?
Eomer: *reaching to remove your shirt* Because he's too hyper for his own good.
Frodo: By Elbereth two hyper pups in the same proximity? That would be unsanity. *unbluckles your breeks* The muns would have a field day.. so what did he see in the mirror?
Frodo: *slips your shirt the rest of the way off* The scars look like one of Bilbo's treasure maps. *grins* Will i find the treasure if my fingers follow it?
Eomer: *grins back at you* Why not find out?
Frodo: *Pushes you until you lie on your back and climbs on top of you* Actually I think I will follow the trails with my lips instead of my fingers.
Eomer*shivers* I think I like that idea even better

Frodo *Sneaks into your window, nuzzles your Eomer's neck* How did you get a scar on your neck back here?

Eomer: Ah that one...*tries to remember* I Think *Snuggle* I got that one when Erchirion and I ran into each other at nationals two years ago after we were tied for first...Who knew she had concealed weapons?
Frodo: *Sits on your bared back* That wasn't very fair of her. *lightly nips along the scar following it down to your shoulder* you have bunches of them.
Eomer: We don't get along *laughs* To put it mildly we *Squirms*
Frodo: Obviously you don't. *tracing the scar marks with a light fingertip* How many of these came from her. *follows one down to your tail bone, and then continues on over your ass*
Eomer: About *low moan, and kisses you* Eight of those, one or every year since she entered the circuit...admittedly about half were deserved...I'm an ass when I'm a at shows *nibbles your ear* but still...
Frodo: It's the thrill of the competition. *trails my lips just barely touching over yours*
Eomer*presses lips harder against yours* Yes competition...
Frodo: *tangles my fingers into your hair and forces my tongue between your lips* but .. the prize.. must be.. worth it
Eomer: *Meeting your tongue and twining it around mine* It..always...is...
Frodo: *Groaning as you deepen the kiss. My fingers tighten in your hair pulling lightly*
Eomer: *continuing to twirl my tongue around yours, my hand slips towards your chest, stroking lightly.*
Frodo: *my heartbeat racing as your hands move about my chest. I have to remember at some point to breathe, I feel your cock hardening against me, knowing mine is doing the same.*
Eomer: *my erection brushes against you as I claim your lips once more.*
Frodo: * I widen my legs over your lap as I lean into your body, feeling the heat of your lips soaking into mine.*
Frodo: *grins and nibbles on your lip* I don't break by the way.
Eomer*grins back a bit nervously* I don\u2019t want to hurt you or anything...there were no hobbits in my game so I never got the chance to meet any
Frodo: *kisses you* I was wondering. You seem to pause or to pull back at the most inopportune times. Just think of me.. well.. as just one of your newer esquires.. Granted a new esquire with a lot more experience.
Eomer*Esquires....thinks for a minute, chalks it up to stable boy and grins* That I can do. *Pulls you against me again, tightly.
Frodo: *pinches your nipples and twists them slightly*
Eomer*Moans and slips a hand into your pants*
Frodo: *Whispers in your ear* do you have any saffron oil

Frodo!mun <\/b>: [frodo: hee.. of course tease the brothers.. you should see when elijah or sean get laid.. its like neener neener from one to the other]
Eomer!mun <\/b>: (XD yes)
Eomer!mun <\/b>: (Viggo is bad with that)
Eomer!mun <\/b>: (Viggo: Its not my fault I get the most sex)
Eomer!mun <\/b>: (LeeLee*looks over from her game* Whore)
Eomer!mun <\/b>: (Viggo: Crossdresser)
Frodo!mun <\/b>: [frodo: watches amused]

Eomer*reaches into drawer and pulls out lube* I have something even better
Frodo: *presses against you as you move* Oh? better then saffron oil? Do tell or share. The only thing I have seen better is jasmine oil but that is a rare find.
Eomer*grins* Welcome to my century.
Frodo: *chuckles* Doesn't Rohan share the same calendar as the Shire. Well wait. no.. no one shares the same calendar as the Shire. We are odd that way. Has to do with The crossing of the brandywine.. *Stops talking when you press your lips again to mine to mute the Hobbit ramble that had suddenly came spilling forth. Any more thoughts of the shire forgotten as my hand reaches down to stroke your cock.*
Eomer: Calendars yes but not ages. It is a strange thing...*pausing as you stroke and cupping your balls while using my other hand to shove down your pants.* Its a long story.
Frodo: oh I like tales.. *helps to wriggle out of my breeks while still kissing you, suddenly made speechless as you cup my balls* ..aye..
Eomer: Time enough for those later I think *pulling your pants completely off and taking hold of your cock.*
Frodo: Aye.. *kissing you again.. agreeable to anything at the moment*
Eomer*Stroking along the head of your cock and kissing you*
Frodo: Eomer.. *Head spinning. Both my hands tighten around your cock as I lean into your kisses.* by elbereth.. You make me ache.
Eomer: Frodo...*claiming your lips in a desperate, hot kiss and stroking harder*
Frodo: *gasping for breath, and unable to keep still now as your hand works its magic over my cock. I feed upon your lips with an undeniable hunger*
Frodo: Your hand quickens and my eyes clench shut. Lips parted, my hands rest upon your shoulders.
Eomer*nipping your neck, I move to squeeze your cock hard with my other hand in time with the stroking.*
Frodo: *I gasp at the sensation. The burr of motion, arousing me to the point where my mind blanks of thought. My head tilts back to feel the lighter nips upon my neck. My breath ragged and my voice gone...by the gods..* eomer... soon.
Eomer: Soon hmm? *smirking and continuing to tease you, then suddenly nipping sharply at your neck again..*
Frodo: *my fingers tighten their grip into your shoulders, as if I am holding on for dear life, and I am.. trying to hold out.. to let it last.. but the sudden bite undoes it for me.. I cry out as I come blushing and so soon in your expert hands.*
Eomer: Mmm did you enjoy that Frodo? *licking my hands clean then pulling you against me for another kiss*
Frodo: mmm.. *leaning into your kiss, my body wonderfully trembly* very .. much so..
Eomer: Good...*licks your ear * Very good...
Frodo: *humming with pleasure into your shoulder.. My hand reaches down to lightly tease the head of your cock* yes.. you are..
Eomer: *squirms against you* mmm and you seem to be very good yourself
Frodo: Do you have your oil still handy?
Eomer: That I do *takes out the lube again*
Frodo: *grins and puts some of it on my fingers and runs it down your shaft, deliciously lipping the lobe of your ear, whispering softly* I am not fragile Eomer. *with that I spread some of it onto your fingertips*
Eomer: *smirks suddenly* So you wish a riding exhibition?
Frodo: *laughing out loud* Well I got to ride in your rolling chair.. why not your rolling lap too.
Frodo: My lips tease over his shoulder and with light fingers I run over his shaft.. teasing the velvet skin. spreading the oil.. no he called it lube.. letting it warm with my fingers onto his flesh.. My body was hot against his wanting his fingers and then his cock inside of me..*
Eomer: Frodo...*writhing against you as the heat in my groin increases* Need you..now...*gasps*
Frodo: *lean up and lightly kisses * yes.. I want you.. inside me too.
Eomer: Yesss, *reaching behind you, my already slick fingers slide into you now, searching*
Frodo: *gasping as your fingers run over my ass and then enter me. The feel of the oil covering them adding to the warming sensations* ah.. by elbereth.. that feels good
Eomer: Anything to please...*wriggling my fingers around a bit more, then slipping in another.*
Frodo: *sighing with pleasure, my eyes shut, i feel my body melting against yours, a soft whimper of need escapes and whispers about your ear*
Eomer*slowly removing my fingers, then positioning myself behind you, moving slowly, still cautious*
Frodo: *notices again your briefest of hesitations, biting my lip in concentration only and rocking back lightly onto your head. Pausing momentarily to get use to the size, before I nod* Yes.. now..
Eomer:*Are you sure, I want to ask, still afraid, but begin entering ever so slowly and then once I am in, forgetting all my worries, rocking back and forth inside you*
Frodo: *sighing softly into the feel of you inside me.. the heat of your thrust, and the gentleness of your strokes adding to my pleasure.*
Eomer: *slowly increasing speed as I grow used to you.* Mmm Frodo...
Frodo: *kisses your shoulder lightly and moans softly into your shoulder, my hands tangle into you hair seeking for something to hang onto*
Eomer: Frodo..*gasping as I feel myself nearing completion and rock faster until I spill into you.*
Frodo: *Crying out softly as I feel you come, my body still rocking onto yours to absorb a much as i can of you inside me, finally unable to move* sweet.. elbererth.. that was wonderful.. *kissing you lightly* See.. not breakable at all.
Eomer*kisses you back* mmm not at all. *grins* We need to do this again I think
Frodo: Yes.. *snuzzles up to you and grins* Make sure we get it right and all that..
Eomer: Of course *nuzzles*

<\/a>","comments":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/16564.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/16279.html","pubDate":"Fri, 19 Dec 2003 01:02:00 GMT","author":"ioreth_wc","link":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/16279.html","description":"This - which some of you have no doubt already had the misfortune of hearing about over Trillian from a couple of highly-excitable and sugar-fueled Jens - is, well there's really no explaining it. Other than it seemed like a good idea at the time. Honest.

Ioreth (nominally a younger version of <\/a>ioreth_wc<\/b><\/a><\/span>) and Glorfindel (from Sinyamar on GJ), meet up for some shameless!het!smut. Second half of this is rated NC-17. There's even something approaching a vague plot!


Tauron:<\/b> *My horse's hooves clatter on the cobblestones just outside the Houses of Healing. My companion dismounts and hurries up the stairs, calling for healers and a litter, as I try to keep my burden--a traveler pierced by orc arrows--from slipping off my horse's back to the hard ground.*

Tirnen:<\/b> Healers! Quickly! *Blast it, where are they?*


Ioreth:<\/b> *At first grumbling as I am called away from my meal - then quickly running to assist as I see the source of all the commotion.* Quick as we can, quick as we can. *Several others now join us, and I swear low under my breath as I see the arrows*

Tauron:<\/b> *The apprentices and Tirnen reach up for the wounded man, and I lower him into their arms as carefully as I can. He stirs and groans as they try to get him on the litter without jostling the shafts. A stable boy comes for the horses, and I hop down to accompany Tirnen and the stranger into the houses.* We found him on the road to the city, a day's ride out, collapsed in the dirt with his horse standing over him.

Ioreth:<\/b> *The arrow in his side's the one that's the most worrying, though I can't imagine the others are doing him any good, either* Careful, careful! *growling at some of the apprentices* *to Tauron* We will do all that we can for him.

Tauron:<\/b> *nods* The captain needs us back with the patrol. We'll have to leave him here with you. *turning to go, then pausing as a thought comes to me* If he asks about his horse and gear, tell him it's safe. Another rider is leading the animal back, but Tirnen and I were instructed to bring the stranger to you in all haste.

Ioreth:<\/b> I'd be more worried about his hide than his horse, if I was him, but I will pass the message along. *nods*

Tauron:<\/b> Thank you. Good luck. *With that I march out with Tirnen.*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *The thrice-cursed orcs have poisoned their arrows. I feel the chill spreading where fire once was, and through the fog of pain I can tell nothing but that I am being moved.*

Ioreth:<\/b> *He's unconscious, and it's fairly lucky, because what I'm about to do to him would be quite unpleasant for him if he were not* Get the tansie-plaster, for the poison. The wounds are full of it, no doubt. *starts the rather bloody process off removing arrow-heads from flesh*

Apprentice:<\/b> *runs to do as Ioreth bids, having never seen a man so sorely wounded and a little stunned by it all*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *I would that I could open my eyes, but there is no helping that now. A swift prayer to Nienna and Este for mercy is all I have time for before another seizure--how many there have been I do not know--grips me.*

Ioreth:<\/b> *working as swiftly as I can* Hold on, now. No dying on me. *taking the plaster off the apprentice - ai, when I was an apprentice I swear I was not so slow.*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *Someone is speaking to me. I can tell it is not an orc's voice, but who? My travels have taken me far from elven realms. I'm not even certain what country I was in when at last my strength failed and I could no longer remain on Horthafaen's back.*

Ioreth:<\/b> *The wounds are wrapped and treated the best I know how. There is not much else to do but wait* Can you hear me, traveler? You are lucky, that the soldiers found you when they did, you know.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *I'm breathing hard, the seizure past, and I can feel soothing poultices on the wounds. Some of the pain is already drawn out, but gathering the energy to focus on the voice is a challenge. Finally I catch some of her words. Westron. It cannot be the North. I cannot be so close to home. Somewhere in Gondor then? I force my eyes open and reach for the woman's hand.* Where? *I manage to choke out.

Ioreth:<\/b> *It is clear that he struggles to speak, but that he can even do that much with his injuries is impressive* Minas Tirith. The Houses of Healing.

Glorfindel:<\/b> ...Tirith? *With a pang of heartache, I remember my former city, it's white tiered walls and great tower, the shadow that consumed it as surely as an echo of that same shadow looms over this city now.* My horse?

Ioreth:<\/b> Safe. And in better shape than you, no doubt. *One of the apprentices brings yarrow tea, as instructed* I have tea here that will help you. *frowning* You can worry about your horse later.

Glorfindel:<\/b> Help how? *It's so difficult to speak the Common Tongue, to not stray into Sindarin or Quenya.*

Ioreth:<\/b> *taken aback - most people don't question what the healers give them* It cleanses - help to stop the poison. This *touching one of the bandages lightly* is not always enough. It will ease your pain, as well.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *short nod; it will be measured for the Secondborn, and should not addle my wits too badly* All right. *I cannot afford to turn away anything that might help combat the poison. I do not think the Valar will give me a third chance at life in Arda.*

Ioreth:<\/b> *All right, he says, as if I would let him turn it away, but I don't say that, just hold the bitter concoction to his lips to help him drink*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *Holding back a grimace, I swallow the noxious brew, momentarily wishing it was Elrond holding the cup to my lips. My lord's gentle teasing and admonitions would be better than trying to keep my guard in a land of Men with poisoned wounds.*

Ioreth:<\/b> *putting the cup aside* I get the feeling you're not from around here. *talking more to myself than anything else* What where you doing, out by yourself, I wonder? Main road or not, not even soldiers of Gondor ride along in these times.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *tiredly* From the North. *I am never going to hear the end of it from Estel when he finds out I was injured looking for him.*

Ioreth:<\/b> Hush. Rest. *tucks blankets around him and settles back to keep watch*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *I close my eyes, oddly thankful that in my condition, I will not have to explain the natural Eldar tendency to walk the paths of dreams with our eyes open, and drift off, finding a place where the pain is but a memory.*
<\/a>


Ioreth:<\/b> *Our visitor is healing remarkably well - old Eirien even said that I had 'not handled the situation badly', which coming from that old biddy is practically a compliment. He's still rather cagey about where exactly he comes from, or what he was doing before he got shot full of arrows - and stubborn as a mule, too. Just try and get him to take painkillers - ai, and don't touch his hair! He reduced one of the apprentices to tears the other day - which was actually quite amusing.* I know you're awake. *eyeing the still figure* I have food and medicine for you. Eat one, drink the other, and don't give me any grief, please. I\u2019ve had a rotten day.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *smirking, though I keep my eyes closed and my hands neatly folded over my chest* Are you implying that I am a difficult patient, Lady Ioreth? *I am mending well, though perhaps not as swiftly as I would at home, and while I am grateful for the care that has been given me, I am still unwilling to let these people know just who or what they've been treating. The relations between Men and Elves are not so stable as they once were.*

Ioreth:<\/b> Lady nothing. I keep telling you, call me Ioreth. *smiles* Implying nothing. You're far more than merely difficult, our Randir. Now eat up.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *snorts delicately, finally cracking an eye open* And what is on the menu today? Broth and tea? *I push myself up against the headboard, grimacing as the movement pulls at still healing wounds and leaves me a little light headed.*

Ioreth:<\/b> Broth, tea and... *producing an orange with the air of a magician in the market square* A wee treat for you. I'm sure you're tired of broth, for all that it is very good for your health.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *I cannot help it. My eyebrows must climb straight to my hairline. Such fruit is difficult to procure even in this climate!* You are full of surprises, Healer.

Ioreth:<\/b> *laughs* I do have my sources. Now, does this mean you will behave and take your medicine without complaint?

Glorfindel:<\/b> *theatrical sigh* If I must. I rather fear I am at your mercy.

Ioreth:<\/b> Oh, am I really all that bad? *offers the tea* I promise you, if you leave it to go cold it will be ten times worse.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *accepts the tea with the air of a martyr and drinks it down all at once* You are not so bad as some healers I've known. *Elrond is going to give me the tongue-lashing of the Age for getting into trouble like this.*

Ioreth:<\/b> Oh? Well, that's something, I guess. *takes the cup back* If you were feeling up to it later, I was going to suggest a good hot bath. Might take a bit of doing getting you in there, but it would do you a world of good, I'm sure. *And I would be more than happy to help out... washing your back, that kind of thing... DOWN GIRL.* No offense, but you're getting a little ripe. *joking in an attempt to take my mind away from mental images of you naked... and failing.*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *A little ripe? You have no idea how much I offend my own admittedly fastidious sensibilities.* A bath would be marvellous. *noticing your faint blush at the thought and finding it rather charming*

Ioreth:<\/b> *firmly* After your dinner. *holding out the bowl of broth*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *takes the bowl, glad that you no longer insist on feeding me--a point of some contention between us previously as I tried to convince you my shoulder was mended enough for me to use my arm--and finishing the broth in short order*

Ioreth:<\/b> *while you are eating, corners a couple of apprentices and has them prepare a bath* Better have your orange now. Leave it unattended, and someone will swipe it - I swear, the apprentices are all little thieves. *Professional detachment, 'Reth. Remember that? Stop drooling over him, for the love of Yavanna!*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *Long, slender fingers delicately pick the skin away from the meat, and I neatly split the fruit in half and hand you a section with another entirely too charming smile.*

Ioreth:<\/b> *blushing again, as I accept the segment of orange, perhaps letting my hand linger a little longer on his than necessary* Thank you.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *Elrond and even Estel would scold me for flirting, saying it is only the affection for my healer a patient often feels and entirely inappropriate, but when it comes to a pretty woman, I have never been the model of proper nobility.* Is it not I who should be thanking you?

Ioreth:<\/b> *chuckles* Perhaps. Thank you for not being quite as difficult today, then.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *granting you a faint half smile* It is in my nature to be stubborn, though I do appreciate your efforts on my behalf.

Ioreth:<\/b> *Bad 'Reth! No flirting with patients!* I'll.. uh, just go check on the bath. *hurries into the next room*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *I manage to stifle my laughter until she is out of ear shot. Ai, that hurts! But the boon to my spirits is definitely worth it. If she is willing, I would certainly not object to company of a more...intimate...sort that I have been enjoying of late. If not, then I will not press her.*

Ioreth:<\/b> *There is certainly no shortage of volunteers to help our mysterious visitor into his bath - but after chasing off all the hopeful apprentices myself and two others will be easily enough to carry him into the bathing room - and the bath itself is set up so that it only takes one helper to shift a patient in and out of it - I don't know whether to be thankful for that or not* *voice carries back through the corridors, probably audible to Elvish ears* Oh, shut it, Merilien. Why don't you go back to inflicting your company on the visiting Rohirrim - I hear they're not all that<\/i> fussy. *followed by rapid exchange of insults and innuendo* *comes back into Glorfindel's room, still grumbling a bit, with the two helpers* The bath is ready.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *biting back yet another smile* I suppose you'd object to me getting out of bed and walking to it.

Ioreth:<\/b> I'd object to all the damage you'd do yourself if you tried, yes. *comes up to the top of the bed, the other two healers taking their places* Now behave. The point of this is to get your wounds clean, not rip them open.

Glorfindel:<\/b> Oh, very well. *I allow the three to lift me from the bed without protest, for despite my protestations to the contrary, my wounds still pain me and the poison has left my blood thin.*

Ioreth:<\/b> *We put him down on a cot that is kept next to and on a level with the bath, and I send the helpers away with instructions to change the bedclothes* *trying my best not to blush* Will you need assistance... disrobing?

Glorfindel:<\/b> *frowning as I test the mobility of my right arm and finding it not up to much more than holding a soup bowl, let alone shrugging awkwardly out of a shirt* I'm afraid so.

Ioreth:<\/b> Oh, I don't mind... *BLUSH* I mean... it's just part of a healers job, really.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *I catch myself before I automatically reply in Sindarin.* Thank you.

Ioreth:<\/b> *Not like you didn't see him half-naked when you were taking the damn arrows out of him* *carefully removes the shirt, as well as the bandages underneath it* We'll need to redo those after the bath as it is. *deep breaths, 'Reth. Deep, calming, breaths*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *I am well aware that by mortal standards, the wounds are healing remarkably well, but for me this is a slow recovery.* How long before I can go home, do you think?

Ioreth:<\/b> *tracing fingertips gently over the wounds* I wish I could tell you for certain. *eyeing* You're recovering quickly, although I'm sure not as quick as you'd like, my impatient patient.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *suppressing a shiver at your touch* I'm not used to lying about all day, and I am anxious to see home again. *First I will have to find Estel, if I can, and then find a suitable means of telling Elrond about the orcs, perhaps skip over a few details of my convalescence which he really does not need to know.*

Ioreth:<\/b> *keep talking, try to keep your mind of the fact that you're about to take his trousers off and his skin really is quite incredibly soft and what was I thinking about again... oh, yes.* Where is home, then? *knowing that you're unlikely to tell me anything more than 'North' like you have every other time I've asked, but it makes for a good distraction*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *amused* North. Near what you would call Arnor, I suppose. *There. Perhaps that tidbit of information is enough to occupy your thoughts of where I'm from. I don't really want to imagine what would happen if this city found out a resident of Imladris is within the walls.*

Ioreth:<\/b> Hmm. *Unlacing the loose breeches and removing them gently, folding them up and putting them aside on top of the shirt. I'm not gawking, honest! Although there's certainly no shortage<\/i> of anything to gawk at.* You remind me of that Captain Thorongil. Just as cagey about where he's from, though there's no end of rumours about it. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were related, though you look nothing alike. *No, Thorongil's not nearly as good looking...*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *Thorongil? Then he is still here! Well that certainly simplifies my errand. I wonder if I might glean a little more information as you help me into the warm waters of the bath, though it is rather difficult to think when I'm enjoying the warmth of your hands on my skin.* He is from the North as well? *Hang it all, I don't know how much he might have told the people here, or how well you might know him.*

Ioreth:<\/b> *helping you into the bath, hands possibly dipping a little lower than completely necessary in the process.* So we've gleaned. He served in Rohan under Thengel King, and now he fights for Gondor. Although exactly why he has chosen to do so, or where exactly he comes from, nobody seems to know. *smiling faintly* That's not to say there aren't a dozen rumours, each more ridiculous than the next, popping up every day to explain it. I found the one that suggested he was Ecthelion's bastard by an Elf-woman particularly amusing. *snorts*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *choking on laughter--Sweet Varda, that's priceless*

Ioreth:<\/b> *lathering up a washcloth and handing it to you, grinning* I think the truth is probably something entirely mundane - but mundane answers never did make for good gossip. At any rate, the soldiers under his command speak highly of him - whatever or whoever he might be.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *half muttered* I imagine so. *wincing as I realize what I just said. Damn it, Glorfindel.*

Ioreth:<\/b> *mistaking the wince* Still a bit tender, eh? Aren't you glad now I didn't let you walk here?

Glorfindel:<\/b> *Thank Eru for small favors.* Aye. I suppose you were right after all. *mischievous smile* Could you perhaps give me a little help? I do not think I can reach my back.

Ioreth:<\/b> Of course. *frowning at the mass of golden hair* Just a moment, I'll get something to tie your hair up. Lovely as it is, Randir, it's going to be in the way.

Glorfindel:<\/b> You needn't bother. *quickly taking hold of the tresses with my good hand and neatly pulling them over my shoulder so my ears remain safely covered* There. The weight will hold it.

Ioreth:<\/b> *teasing* Fussy. You're worse than a woman about that hair of yours, you know. *starts washing your back, finding it much easier to joke around when I don't have the full-frontal view to distract me*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *teasing right back* My mother gave it to me. Why shouldn't I fuss over it? Mmm, right there. Eru, that feels nice.

Ioreth:<\/b> *half-washing, half-massaging* Demanding, aren't you? *pressing a little harder* Shouldn't you say please?

Glorfindel:<\/b> *closing my eyes and relaxing into your touch, mumbling* Please ...

Ioreth:<\/b> *taking my sweet time washing the rest of your back* Enjoying your bath?

Glorfindel:<\/b> *nodding wordlessly, silver tongue silenced*

Ioreth:<\/b> *humming an old song as I roll my sleeves up and washing as far down as I dare - or as I can reach* There - all done. *My hands are lingering, though, still massaging the knots out of your shoulders.*

Glorfindel:<\/b> Already? *I'm practically purring with pleasure. I can't say I won't be disappointed if you decide to stop there.*

Ioreth:<\/b> Yes. *leaning in* Although if there is anything else that needs attending to... *peeks over your shoulder and smirks*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *quirks a smile* Well, I do think you missed a spot.

Ioreth:<\/b> Oh? *shifts round the edge of the bath* Here? *hand starting at shoulder level and moving lazily downwards* Or here? No, let me guess... *stroking the length of you gently and grinning as you jump* Right there.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *forcing my breathing to steady so I can talk* My lady, you are perhaps the cleverest healer I have ever had the fortune of knowing.

Ioreth:<\/b> Shh. You're supposed to be resting... *kissing your shoulder and then leaning my head on it so I can feel the way your body trembles as my hand moves* Although I thank you for the compliment.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *This an entirely different kind of tension, one I rather enjoy.* And you are supposed to be *gasps as your fingers brush lightly against my erection* healing ... *That last was decidedly high-pitched and not at all warrior-like.*

Ioreth:<\/b> Oh, but I am. *decides to cut out the teasing and wraps my hand around you, stroking firmly* Bet you feel much better already.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *blood rushing...hard to think...Elrond's going to kill me if he finds out, but what he doesn't know can't hurt him--or me...Eru, she knows what she's doing.* You have ... very skilled hands.

Ioreth:<\/b> *smiling* Daughters of Lossanarch take pride in being excellent at everything<\/i> they do. *slipping my other hand around the back of your neck and kissing you, more gently than I might have done if you were fully healed*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *Reaching one hand up and twining my fingers in your hair--not as soft as an elf's but thick and wonderful to the touch all the same--I draw you around to where I can kiss you for a change. Curse the luck that saw my shoulder injured so I cannot use my hands to better purpose in this position.*

Ioreth:<\/b> *Ai Yavanna, but you can kiss! I will have to make a point of inviting you back to visit me when you are fully healed - I do not wish to aggravate your wounds but oh, the things I am tempted to do to you...*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *I fear your hands will drive me mad before much longer, but what a sweet madness it would be. My fingers trail lightly through your hair, and I idly wonder what your reaction will be should you happen upon my sharply pointed ears in your explorations. Ah well. I suppose one mortal knowing wouldn't hurt.*

Ioreth:<\/b> *drawing back from the kiss when I finally run out of breath* You taste sweet as honey, Randir. *impish grin* Are you as sweet all over, I wonder?

Glorfindel:<\/b> *eyes sparkling* Would you like to find out? *tracing my fingers down the edge of your ear* You are wearing entirely too much clothing for the bath.

Ioreth:<\/b> Ah, but I am not the one in need of a bath. *leaning into your touch a little*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *amused* You can take a bath even when you do not need one. Besides, I cannot repay you in kind from here. My shoulder will not allow it. *pouts cutely, knowing full well the effect of this particular expression*

Ioreth:<\/b> *laughs* Such a gentleman. Very well, have it your way. *steps back and starts to strip off, not at all shy, leaving the clothes in a messy pile on the cot and turning back to you with a smile* There. Happy now? *already considering the best ways to fit two into a one-man tub*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *openly admiring your form* Oh yes. Quite happy. *suppressing a smirk as I think the best way to fit us both in this small tub involves you on my lap*

Ioreth:<\/b> Is there room in there for me, then? *eyeing the tub dubiously*

Glorfindel:<\/b> Oh, I think we can manage. My legs are perfectly sound.

Ioreth:<\/b> *It seems the best position, after a little consideration, is for me to sit myself down into your lap, leaning back against you. It takes a little doing, and it's not the most convenient position... but it has possibilities...* This is certainly... mmm... cosy.

Glorfindel:<\/b> They say warmth is good for lessening aches. *And you are warm. Wonderfully so. My hands trail to your waist, lightly tracing patterns over your skin, never quite going as far north or south as you might like them to. It's my turn to tease.*

Ioreth:<\/b> *squirms* I've heard that said before, yes.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *grinning, broadening the territory covered by my ministrations little by little* And good company hastens the long hours of recovery.

Ioreth:<\/b> Speaking from personal experience, are we? *eru. damned. tease.* Ai...

Glorfindel:<\/b> *grin broadening* Perhaps just a little. *Finally letting my hands stray to your breasts. After all, it's only fair that I start recompensing you for all the wonderful sensation your squirming in my lap is giving me.*

Ioreth:<\/b> *slightly breathless* Good company is a cure for many things, yes... *I swear if you do not stop teasing me soon I am going to give you another injury or two to add to your list*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *lifting your hair away from your neck with one hand, the other finally dropping down to delve between your thighs as I kiss the back of your neck, your shoulders and collarbone*

Ioreth:<\/b> *shivers* I thought I was supposed to be the one looking... *gasps and wriggles* after you.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *wriggling a bit myself* A little mutual ... looking after is ... *Oh my. That felt nice.* ... always a good thing.

Ioreth:<\/b> *I'm not going to disagree, but I seem to have lost my voice, even if I was, and I'm far too busy squirming against your fingers to worry about anything else, anyway* please... *Oh, so I haven't lost my voice after all, but that doesn't matter, nothing matters as long as you don't stop.*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *It doesn't take much more teasing and squirming for both of us to be quite ready for the next step, and I end my ministrations with one hand so I can guide myself inside you. There will be no damning repercussions for this act. Elves have no diseases to pass on, and we can determine for ourselves when we want our lovemaking to result in children.*

Ioreth:<\/b> *moving as well as I can in this position, finding a rhythm of my own to match the thrust of your hips*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *My hands rest on your hips, steadying you. I continue to trail kisses over your skin as I move inside you, resisting the urge to murmur Elvish endearments in your ear. The pain and weakness is not forgotten, but it has receded to a barely noticeable level in favor of the rhythm and sensation of making love to you.*

Ioreth:<\/b> *biting my lip to keep from crying out - it would not do to be discovered now, not at all - as my movements grow faster, more frantic*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *keeping pace with you, guiding my angle for your pleasure as well as my own ... we're both almost there, but a gentleman lets the ladies go first*

Ioreth:<\/b> *I can't help but let a soft cry escape as I reach my peak - still moving on you, riding out the pleasure* Randir...

Glorfindel:<\/b> *shuddering, hardly able to keep my voice steady as I come* Ioreth ... *and then we are both spent, our movements slowing until I finally slide out of you, leaning my forehead against your shoulder and breathing hard, most definitely in need of a second bath, but relaxed and happy and hoping you feel the same*

Ioreth:<\/b> *softly* The bathwater is getting cold. *quite happy just to sit here for the moment, though*

Glorfindel:<\/b> Mmm. But we are both warm. *takes up the soap and washcloth, works up a lather, and moves the cloth in leisurely circles across your back*

Ioreth:<\/b> True. *almost purring* And there you are, taking care of me again. *half-turning to peek back over my shoulder* I'm not too heavy, then?

Glorfindel:<\/b> Of course not. Do not mistake me. I will not be sweeping you off your feet any time soon, but my legs are sound and you are as light as a child.

Ioreth:<\/b> I am hardly a child. *sighing* I suppose if I were to ask you again where you are from you will still tell me 'North'

Glorfindel:<\/b> Well it is true.

Ioreth:<\/b> Stubborn man. *leaning back against you*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *chuckles, hands busy bathing your arms now* Hardly.

Ioreth:<\/b> *idly* Hardly which? Hardly stubborn or hardly a man?

Glorfindel:<\/b> *turning my attentions to your front in a deliberate maneuver to distract you* Which do you think?

Ioreth:<\/b> *laughing* Well, I thought I'd had definitive proof of both. *closing my eyes* Mmmm...

Glorfindel:<\/b> I suppose you have. *attending you with more feathery kisses, gestures of affection more than anything else* It is my way. I was born stubborn, and I shall always be so.

Ioreth:<\/b> *smirking* Then by your own admission, you are hardly a man.

Glorfindel:<\/b> Oh?

Ioreth:<\/b> *ticking the points off on my fingers* If you are either hardly stubborn or hardly a man, and by your own admission you are stubborn, then there is but one option left. *turns a little and kisses the side of your neck* You should know better than to argue with a healer, particularly this healer. We always win.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *If only that were true. I remember too many nights when Elrond did not win, when the soul he tried to save slipped into death. I distract myself from the memories by urging you to turn around completely so I can stroke your back and kiss your lips.* We know from observation that I am hardly a eunuch.

Ioreth:<\/b> Then you should not make foolish statements to the contrary. *twisting around to kiss you properly, hands tangling in your hair*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *returning the kiss, a long, searching one that leaves us both gasping for air* Will we not be missed?

Ioreth:<\/b> Mmm... *laying kisses on you* I suppose.. *kiss* I should be *kiss* getting back... *the fingers of one hand come into contact with the tip of your ear... and several pieces of puzzle fall into place as I push your damnable hair away so I can get a better look* Hardly a man, indeed.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *rueful smile--your kisses are quite distracting* I'd wondered when you'd find that. I must ask you not to tell anyone.

Ioreth:<\/b> *eyes you for a long moment and then nods* As you will - be warned,
though, that I'll be taking the payment for my silence in kisses.

Glorfindel:<\/b> That is payment I will gladly deliver ... and since you know what I am, I suppose there is no point in hiding my errand from you.

Ioreth:<\/b> Oh? *smiling* Tell me when we're out of the bath. The water really is cold now.

Glorfindel:<\/b> I await your convenience, Lady.

Ioreth:<\/b> *lightly swats* Don't start up with that 'Lady' nonsense again. *shivering at cold air on wet skin as I get out of the bath*

Glorfindel:<\/b> Ai, you wound me sweet damsel, a poor helpless elf at your mercy.

Ioreth:<\/b> *snorts and starts giggling* Oh, hush. Come on, then. Out of the bath with you. *There's no point me drying off, since I'm quite sure you're going to get me all wet again anyway*

Glorfindel:<\/b> *I try to lever myself out of the tub, and manage to slip onto the cot without too much pain--or at least, not so much that my head swims and I pass out. I know that you will help me, but the more I am able to do for myself, the better.*
Ioreth:<\/b> *You start to move before I even get the chance to move into position to help you properly, and although you do manage to get youself out without too much help from me as it is...* Are all Elves this stubborn, then, or is it just you?

Glorfindel:<\/b> *grimacing* A little bit of both.

Ioreth:<\/b> Hmm. *handing you a towel, before quickly drying myself off and trying to sort out the tangle that is my clothing - now the afterglow is starting to wear off I'd rather not be caught naked with one of my patients, thank you very much* I wouldn't know. Never had the.. pleasure.. of meeting any Elves before.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *drying off, careful of the healing wounds and idly wondering if they'll scar and how badly* You are not likely to again. You may have noticed we don't exactly frequent Gondor these days.

Ioreth:<\/b> Not if you all hide behind your hair, no, I suppose not.

Glorfindel:<\/b> We elves have a fascination with hair. *finally dry, I begin pulling on my clothes, but freeze and go a little pale when I wrench my shoulder.*

Ioreth:<\/b> Stubborn... Elf! *hurries over to help* I will tie that arm down if you aren't careful.

Glorfindel:<\/b> *through gritted teeth* I was. *Trying to steady my breathing and cursing my own stupidity. I thought it was better healed than that.* It's going to be interesting explaining this delay to my lord. I don't suppose we can forego the recovery period and just send me off?

Ioreth:<\/b> What, all by yourself, still wounded so the next time you run into orcs they can finish you off? *helping you into your clothing* No. *eyes* I thought Elves were supposed to be patient.

Glorfindel:<\/b> In most things, yes, but you must understand that by my people's standards, I am healing slowly. *quickly* It is no fault of yours. There are medicines available to the elves that the Secondborn do not have. You have given me the finest care, and I am truly grateful.

Ioreth:<\/b> And none of those medicines will do you any good unless you actually make it back to your home and your lord. *kissing your forehead* Patience is a virtue, you know.

Glorfindel:<\/b> So I've been told. *Thinking for a moment, then finally deciding to ask you.* Earlier, you spoke of a man named Thorongil, from the North.

Ioreth:<\/b> Yes... *tilts head* Don't tell me he's really kin of yours after all.

Glorfindel:<\/b> Not so much kin as a friend. I was on an errand to find him when the orcs attacked me. *smiles* He is no more an elf than I am a man.

Ioreth:<\/b> *smiles* If you wish, I can pass a message along, have him come to visit you. *eyes* For you are not leaving the Houses yet, and that is for certain.

Glorfindel:<\/b> I would appreciate it. *Pausing, wondering if I should give you my true name. Estel will not know who \"Randir\" is. It is a hastily contrived alias, conceived while my mind was still clouded by the weakening poison.*

Ioreth:<\/b> And what would the message be? *playing idly with your hair* Or should I just tell Captain Thorongil that Randir of 'North' wishes to speak with him?

Glorfindel:<\/b> *leaning into your touch* Tell him that Glorfindel brings word from home.

Ioreth:<\/b> *stilling for a moment, realising what you've just said* I will. Do you think you could make it back to your bed on your own two feet, if you leant on me, *pausing* Glorfindel?

Glorfindel:<\/b> *bit of a smile* I would at the very least like to try. And I am sorry that I did not give you my name sooner, but it is sometimes better known than I would wish.

Ioreth:<\/b> I understand. Well, sort of. *offering you my arm* How old are... *shaking my head* No, I probably don't want to know, do I.

Glorfindel:<\/b> No, you probably do not. *I use my good arm to lever myself up and wrap it around your waist to steady myself--not leaning on you, yet, though I know I will probably need your strength by the time we reach my room.* You are a treasure, Ioreth.

Ioreth:<\/b> No, just a healer-girl from Imloth Melui *smiling* but one with skilled hands, or so I've been told. *muttered* Stubborn. Lean on me if you need to.

Glorfindel:<\/b> Fear not. I will.
<\/a>","comments":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/16279.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/16079.html","pubDate":"Sun, 07 Dec 2003 08:05:20 GMT","title":"Dwimmerlaik: Part Two","author":"rohanmaiden","link":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/16079.html","description":"Continued directly -- see all disclaimers on Part One<\/a>. This is an aftermath and is thus not as graphic as the first half, but it still might be disturbing to anyone uncomfortable with the theme of this \"fic\" (again, if you weren't paying attention, that means rape) and thus is rated a cautionary R<\/b>.


Lawrence:<\/b> *I blink to find myself naked and freezing my ass off in the middle of the bedroom. Was I sleepwalking? I turn to find you in the bed -- usually you notice, and you stop me, but you're not there... Ah! The bathroom door is shut. I consider crawling back into bed, hoping you'll not notice I ever left it, but as I move I become aware of pain. My jaw, my back, my thighs... What the hell? Suddenly frightened for no clear reason, I shuffle across the room and tap on the bathroom door.* Mir?

Dernhelm:<\/b> *I can hear you calling to her and as loathe as I am to do it, I leave. She will need you more than I do and I have things to attend to at home. Like weapons training.*

Miranda:<\/b> *I reach up with one shaking hand and flush the toilet. Crawling to the shower, I turn the water on and wait for it to heat. I want to answer you and I don't. I need to and I can't. The enormity of it comes crashing down, the numbness of before slowly fading. Pulling my knees to my chest, I wrap my arms around them. Unable to even cry yet* Bathroom. *Was that my voice?*

Lawrence:<\/b> Well, yeah, luv, obviously... *I'm REALLY cold, deep-down bone-cold, and as I grab a blanket from the bed to wrap around myself it registers that I'm cold AND damp -- in a rather personal manner. What the double hell...? And as the blanket crosses my back something stings. With a curse, I stop to look. Blood on the blanket. The vague sense of doom coalesces into something much, much worse, and I'm back at the bathroom door with my heart in my mouth. The shower's running...?! Oh god...* Miranda? Are you all right? Please, Mir, answer me...you don't have to open the door, just talk to me...

Miranda:<\/b> Come in. Please. *rubbing my eyes and pushing my hair out of my face. I would open the door, but movement is beyond me. Looking at the door, I see it's not locked* Lawrence?

Lawrence:<\/b> *I touch the door again and you're right, it's barely even closed...a push, hesitant, just enough to poke my head in, staring about wildly for a moment before spotting you curled up, dishevelled, and red-eyed between toilet and shower* Oh my god. *I shoulder the door the rest of the way open, shoving in to kneel on the bathmat before you* Mir, what...

Miranda:<\/b> Why, Lawrence? Why didn't you tell me? *I force myself not to flinch away as you kneel beside me, it wasn't you. Wasn't you any more than it was me that attacked you when we were fliming.* You looked into the bowl. *reaches out and touches your hand, looking at it carefully. * Warm.

Lawrence:<\/b> *I just stare down at your hand on mine, my brain a whirling silently screaming blur. Unable to think of anything else, I unwrap the blanket and I would tuck it around you but I can't, not in that small space...* Please come out of there. Please. I was going to. Tell you, I mean. I was.

Miranda:<\/b> *shaking my head I draw back.* I want...need...*think brain think* I need a shower first. *takes a shuddering breath* Please...I just...*reaches into check the water, glad that the ripped clothing isn't in here. I can't say it, can't tell you. I can't. My legs are shaking so badly, that it's hard to stand, but using your shoulder I manage to get myself in, bracing against the wall to keep from falling* Can you get in here with me? Please. *wasn't you, wasn't you, wasn't you*

Lawrence:<\/b> Of course, god, love, of course... *my arm is instantly around you, under your shoulders, supporting, moving you into just the right spot for the hot water to cascade over you, averting my eyes from the ricocheting spray* Just lean on my, that's it, it's okay (*it's not okay is it?*)...hold still... *brushing wet hair from your eyes, tucking it behind your ears, half frantic not knowing what happened and too scared to ask*

Miranda:<\/b> *rests my head on your chest, then slowly wrapping my arms loosely around your waist. The water feels good and strangely now that I'm warming up, I start shaking like I'm freezing to death.* He said you wouldn't remember. *I fucking wish I didn't remember. The one time I don't want to and I do.*

Lawrence:<\/b> *my knees almost give out at your words, my worst fear confirmed -- but I brace myself. I have to stay strong for you, I can't let you down now, my arms warm and comforting around you, except for a small uncontrollable tremor beginning to set in* I don't. I swear to god, Mir. The last thing I remember is falling asleep, watching you breathe... *panicking* Did he hurt you? Do you need to go to the hospital? No, you can't, what do we tell them?!

Miranda:<\/b> *pats your back to try and calm you* Shh...I'll...It's going to be fine...just...*and then I'm crying, sobbing and clinging to you as I try to breath without inhaling the water. *

Lawrence:<\/b> *I back up a step, taking you with me, out of the water, grabbing the towel I left draped over the top of the shower door hours ago and enveloping you in it* Come on, out of here, come on... *I coax you a few steps out of the stall so I can scoop you up, carrying you to the bed* Can I put you there? Or would you rather we go to the front room? Anywhere, name it, I just want to wrap you up warm...

Miranda:<\/b> *allows you to wrap me up, resting my head against your chest and trying to stop the flood of tears* Bed. He didn't...we weren't...*closes my mouth and when you lay me down, I immediately curl up. Trying to get all of me beneath the towel. I swear I can still feel the chill of his presensce in the room*

Lawrence:<\/b> *Now that the shock is wearing off, I find myself choking with helpless rage. I swallow it down hard -- it's useless, it won't help either of us -- as I swathe you in every blanket I can find then lie down atop the uppermost comforter, curling around you, cheek against your hair* I didn't think you were in any danger, Mir. I didn't think it could reach us here.

Miranda:<\/b> *working one hand out of the cocoon of blankets, I rest my hand against your cheek* Wasn't you. Okay? Wasn't you. *opens my eyes and focuses on your face, your eyes* wasn't you. *presses my forehead hard into the side of your neck*

Lawrence:<\/b> *miserably* But he USED me, didn't he? In more than one way, I bet. If it'd been anybody else...

Miranda:<\/b> If it had been anyone else I would have killed them, but it wasn't. *tries to press harder against you, seeking that comfort and glad it still is a comfort* I couldn't...not without losing you and I couldn't handle that...

Lawrence:<\/b> *the rage is fading, and here comes nausea...to be used in such a manner, and to not know if it will happen again at any time...* I'm not going anywhere. Unless to protect you. But I think I can prevent this from happening again. *hesitantly* May I come under there with you...? I'd understand if you say no, believe me...

Miranda:<\/b> *nods against your neck* Thank you. *takes a slow breath* You can, but...pajamas? Please? *Fuck I hate asking that, but...I just...I... hope you understand*

Lawrence:<\/b> Of course. *a gentle kiss to the crown of your damp head and I'm up, rummaging through drawers until I find an old pair of sweats -- I hesitate then add a long-sleeved shirt before burrowing under the blankets and gathering you into my arms, heartbroken at the way you're shaking*

Miranda:<\/b> *curling into you, I take a slow breath, then another before burrowing into you, my forehead tight in the curve of your neck. The heat from your skin begins to wash over me, and the shaking subsides* You're warm. *murmurs quietly*

Lawrence:<\/b> I know. You bitch about it on hot nights. *carefully wrapping my arm around your back, trying not to make you feel trapped* You're soaking wet, did you know that?

Miranda:<\/b> *Blinks* I guess I am. *pulls back to look at you* I should take care of those scratches too...I don't want you getting them infected. *starts trying to get untangled. This I can do. It's action, movment, and has a purpose. Focus, I can do...I just can't think.*

Lawrence:<\/b> *misinterpreting your need to be free, letting go* I'm sorry...if you don't want me to stay, it's okay.

Miranda:<\/b> *immediately freezes and looks at you* no...please don't leave. I...*wraps my arms tightly around your neck, clinging tightly as I whisper* Please, I...I can't...don't want to be alone. Please.

Lawrence:<\/b> Mir...shhh...I don't want to go, I thought...I don't understand, I want whatever you want. *holding you tight, rocking you, petting your hair, praying I'm not doing anything to remind you of whatever happened -- the thought makes me feel sick, and I can't stop babbling* I didn't do it. Please don't blame me. Please. I'd never hurt you. Never. I'm not him. I'm not whoever it was. Please...

Miranda:<\/b> *Now it's my turn to try and comfort you as I cling back to you.* I know it wasn't...wasn't really me. Dernhelm, she...she...*breaks off unable to finish that sentence* I remember, but it wasn't me and I know it wasn't you. I know. It's okay, it was him, there was nothing you could do love. Nothing. *taeks a shaky breath* You tried to protect me, he didn't know who I was at first.

Lawrence:<\/b> I...did? *closing my eyes, trying to reach back into that blank emptiness* I don't remember, but I would have done anything I could have. You know that. Right?

Miranda:<\/b> *smiles a bit, surprised to find I'm leaking tears again. Resting my forehead against your chin, I nod slowly* I know that. I...I'm sorry. I tried to stop him, but I couldn't because I couldn't hurt you. I *quietly* She...allowed it to save you. I...fuck I'm sorry.

Lawrence:<\/b> Mir, please, don't...that sounds like you're blaming yourself, somehow, in a twisted sort of way. *gently thumbing tears from your cheek before they can drip into your ear* Dernhelm's tough, but she's not that tough. Dunno who would have won in a fight like that, but with no weapons... *hating myself for saying this* I've got the weight advantage on her, and I'm sure he would have seriously hurt her if she'd fought harder. Maybe even killed her. Killed you<\/i>. So don't either of you go thinking it's your fault. Because it isn't.

Miranda:<\/b> *still almost whispering* As fucked up as it is...it's no one's fault. Just a horrendous accident. It's not like even if I had known of the possiblity of him showing up I would have let you stay away. I can't...we can't let them steal our lives. *cups one hand over your cheek and tries to force a smile* We'll survive. Always do.

Lawrence:<\/b> *leaning into your hand* We do and we will. It won't happen again. I'll find some way. Don't worry about it. *sigh* ...it's funny, I'm glad I don't remember but at the same time, not knowing what I did...no, don't tell me, I'm just saying...

Miranda:<\/b> I won't...not even if you beg me would I tell you love. I...I'm glad you don't remember. He...fuck, he threatened that you know. Somehow he knows exactly how to tweak me. *sighs softly and closes my eyes before burying my face in your neck again and allowing that warmth to calm me further*

Lawrence:<\/b> *weakly* For me? You...that...for...oh god. *holding you close, eyes closed, balanced on the knife's edge between anger and horror and guilt and thus totally numb* Okay. Okay, let's focus on what we CAN fix. Did he hurt you?

Miranda:<\/b> *I don't want to answer that and try to make it oblique* It's...I'll heal...a few days maybe...nothing can be done to hurry that. *swallows hard as I cling tighter to you, speaking of the aches suddenly brining them back into my mind* Some advil...and I need to clean the scratches on your shoulder. *runs one hand over your head, feeling the lump beneath your hair* You should get some ice on that and I should...*gingerly touches my jaw, which is probalby all kinds of lovely colors now*

Lawrence:<\/b> *my hand closes over yours, thumb smoothing over your skin -- and to your surprise, I'm almost smiling* At least we match, eh?

Miranda:<\/b> Yeah...but we already knew that. *Yawns and snuggles into you even more, even though I'm already as close as I can get* Actually...sleep sounds even better.

Lawrence:<\/b> *gentle kiss on the forehead as I roll you off of my arm and get up* Advil and ice for both of us, first. I'll get it. All right?

Miranda:<\/b> *nods slowly as I move* Yes. *As you leave the room, I get up and wince as I move toward the closet. Pulling on another night gown, I look at the bed and the damp sheets and blankets...shit. Dragging the bedding off, I go to the closet and take out some clean bedding then sit down and wait for you to help me put it on*

Lawrence:<\/b> *I return in a few minutes juggling teatowels, a mixing bowl full of ice, and a cup of water, with the Advil box under my chin. I offer the cup and the pills to you* Get some out for me too, if you would? I'll get the icepacks together.

Miranda:<\/b> Yes. *takes the box and wretles it open before opening the bottle and swearing at the cotton. Finally I manage to dump the pills into my hand. I wait until you are done with the ice packs then hand you yours and swallow my own before I hand you the water* How are you feeling?

Lawrence:<\/b> Like my head's gonna explode. And like crawling under the bed and never coming out again. *I trade you, pressing the cold mass to my head with a groan*

Miranda:<\/b> Don't crawl under the bed...I''m too sore to sleep on the floor. *taking the ice pack, I gesture to the bed* Want to help me put this together then we can crawl under the blankets. How does that sound?

Lawrence:<\/b> It sounds great. *between the two of us the bed is tucked and covered in no time, and I'm quick to wrap around you (sweats and all) once we're back in*

Miranda:<\/b> *holding the ice on my face, while you hold yours on your head makes things a bit uncomfortable, but I need that contact with you and I'm pretty sure you do to. After a few minutes, I take the ice off and toss it back into the bowl before curling around you* I love you. *whispers softly as I kiss your cheek. Now if only the advil would kick in...I swear I can feel my pulse in my entire body, thenI could sleep*

Lawrence:<\/b> And I you. Thank you for not thinking *I* had anything to do with... *I let that thought go, instead running my free hand down your back in a soothing ceaseless motion that always drives away your nightmares*

Miranda:<\/b> In the morning. We'll figure it out then okay? *kisses your jaw and closes my eyes* When I can think again...we'll...somehow we'll figure it out.

Lawrence:<\/b> All right. *and then I refuse to speak or think any more tonight, seeking sleep for us both*","comments":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/16079.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/15444.html","pubDate":"Sun, 07 Dec 2003 07:19:12 GMT","title":"Dwimmerlaik: Part One","author":"makoare","link":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/15444.html","description":"This takes some serious explanation... *deep breath* Okay. Both of these puppets -- <\/a>rohanmaiden<\/b><\/a><\/span> and <\/a>makoare<\/b><\/a><\/span> -- originated in <\/a>lotr_dreams<\/b><\/a><\/span>. When the first left the game, the second didn't...but we muns liked playing together so much that we created our own idle little A\/U wherein they had<\/i> stayed together. Light and fluffy, for the most part. An OOC amusement, little more.

Here's where it suddenly takes a turn for the ugly. In Dreams, Lawrence has started manifesting his alternate selves, namely the Witch King and Lurtz. One thing led to another, and this chat was proposed. After much hemming and hawing we decided to see if we could even TRY to do it. In some ways we may have gone too far and in others we may not have gone far enough, but it was a good effort, and so we're posting it.

Thus. The following is rated NC-17 for violent rape.<\/b> All disclaimers apply -- none of this is real, This never happened, and nothing like it ever should. You have been warned. Do not click the link if you do not wish to read this sort of thing.


Witch King:<\/b> *It was odd, waking to a warm bed and a woman's body pressed against my back, but it was not difficult to disentangle myself without waking her. A search of Lawrence's belongings turned up the book I need...and pictures. Photos of a woman in armor, with a sword. Blonde. Something starts to fit together, but I cannot yet be certain. Rather than remaining in the living area, I return to the sleeping chamber, making notes in the book from a bedside chair where I can observe this woman at the same time*

Miranda:<\/b> *Turning in my sleep, I pull the blankets up tighter, but I'm still cold, still chilled as if the temperature in the room has suddenly dropped several degrees. Turning back to you, I move across the bed searching for your warmth.*

Witch King:<\/b> *I pause in my work, glancing up as you move, eyes narrowed -- I try to search Lawrence's memories of you but they are unexpectedly difficult to grasp. Odd. He's never been able to fight me before, even in so small a fashion. Still, that does answer my question: you are important to him.*

Miranda:<\/b> *When my hand flops over the edge of the bed, I wake up enough to realize you aren't here. It's not like you to have to get up in the night, but I try not to let it worry me as I move back to my side of the bed and try to go back to sleep. Unfortunately, now I'm awake and I can't here you moving around. Sitting up, I rub my eyes, then startle as I make out a shape in the chair* Lawrence, you fucking scared me. *blinks sleeping* Problems sleeping, love?

Witch King:<\/b> *quietly but clearly in the shadows* No. Go back to sleep. *I am not unappreciative of your shape, one eyebrow rising slightly, but the color of your hair... I snort softly and resume scribbling Adunaic notes in the margins of your lover's \"Return Of The King\"*

Miranda:<\/b> *That...that does not sound like you.* Nightmare? Would you like to talk about it? *Concerned, I throw the blankets off and slide out of bed. Padding quietly over to the chair, I feel the chill even more, your posture seems awfully...tight...upright, something.* You sure you're okay? *reaches out to lay a hand on your shoulder* It's freezing in here.

Witch King:<\/b> *glancing up at your touch, expression unreadable* I am quite well... *a missed beat as I realize that I do not know your name, and I curse Lawrence for this token resistance -- I set the pencil within the book lying open in my hand* Cold? Perhaps it is just the time of year.

Miranda:<\/b> Riiight, because it's generally cold in the middle of the summer. *Oddly you feel chilled, like hypothermically chilled. Shaking my head, I lay the back of my hand against your forehead* Love, I think you might be getting a virus. You feel really cold. *turning my head I look down at the book you were doodling on* Why didn't you turn the lights on? Or, go to the study? *Now I'm getting a bit freaked out, something is definitely odd here. Either you're really sick or...that thought is immediately shoved down. You would have told me if you'd looked. It's just waking up from a sound sleep. Flipping my hand I brush your hair off your forehead and kiss you,but draw back right away* I think we need to get you in a warm bath or something. You have chills.

Witch King:<\/b> *I sigh softly, setting the book aside and rising, my fingers closing around your wrist -- I do not think I feel cold, but you feel blood-hot to the touch* You are not going to let this go easily, are you?

Miranda:<\/b> *Immediately, I pull my hand out of your grasp. It's almost instinctual, that and backing up a step, which surprises me...I mean, this is you. When I look up into your eyes, I feel the first stab of fear...this is not you. There is nothing there, no warmth, barely even any recognition.* Law... *I stop as the realization hits me* Bastard...you didn't even WARN me?

Witch King:<\/b> *dryly, not bothering with pretence any longer* Are you referring to myself or to your lover? If the latter, I would advise that you not bother. *I step aside to block your escape, closing the bedroom door* Do you have a name, or are you merely a pretty plaything?

Miranda:<\/b> *Backing away slowly, horror written plainly across my face. I brush my hair out of my face with a shaking hand. Oh no...no, no, no. Lawrence...oh Christ. Why didn't you tell me? I can feel Dernhelm's strength slowly seeping into me, but my own fear still blocks her.* It doesn't matter which one I was speaking of. I don't think giving you my name would be wise.

Witch King:<\/b> *I'm before you in a heartbeat, using this body's height to full advantage, capturing your raised arm with a cold, merciless twist* You have the ill manners of a northern wench as well as the appearance it seems. *grip tight enough to grind the bones in your arm, right where the old injury lies* Your name.

Miranda:<\/b> *I bite back the whimper that wants to escape, I will not give you the satisfaction. I know how carefully I must tread. Dernhelm threatens again, but I can't... Lawrence. She would not hesitate to kill the man before me. Then it hits me...if I cannot bring him back, there may be no toher choice. The WitchKing cannot be allowed to roam freely through my world. Meekness then. It's worth trying.\" My apologies, my Lord. I attempt a curtsey, which is hard with your hand locked against mine* You might know me as Eowyn.

Witch King:<\/b> I might indeed. *I relax my grip, but only slightly -- contriteness is all well and good, but I now know you are capable of achieving my death* That changes matters entirely. It seems that I may soon owe you a great debt.

Miranda:<\/b> *That is not what I expected, but some of the pain eases as you relax* You owe me a debt? *Keeps my eyes downcast in an attempt to appear humble* What debt could you possibly owe me?

Witch King:<\/b> *I nod at the nightstand, at the dog-eared book* If that tale is true...if it becomes true, I may soon owe you my freedom. And my life regained. *Life with all its attendent pleasures -- blonde or no, you are pleasant to the eyes, and you can almost feel my gaze taking in your full measure*

Miranda:<\/b> I would glady grant it to you, however to do so requires the loss of one who is dear to me. *my skin crawls as I feel your eyes on me and I can't figure out how it can feel so different. Wishing for something a little less...revealing, I barely manage to refrain from stepping back again. I have a distinct feeling that falling onto the bed would be a very, very bad idea*

Witch King:<\/b> Yes, it will. *I shrug slightly* But that is no concern of mine. *dropping my grip and your arm to the small of your back, pulling you closer, othe hand sliding under your chin so I can gauge the fight in your eyes* You may bear the horsewoman's name, but you are of THIS world...

Miranda:<\/b> *Anger rises in me to hear you dismiss Lawrence so lightly.* You think I will not fight for him? That I would allow you your freedom at the expense of his soul? *twists my chin out of your grasp* I may be of his world at this time, but like him I too can call on those from yours.

Witch King:<\/b> *laughing softly, a deep quiet chilling sound, my arm like iron around your waist* Without a sword? Without so much as a hairpin? Without her blade, a shieldmaiden is merely a maiden. *ironic smile down at you* Or, in your case, no maiden at all.

Miranda:<\/b> *I feel it then, *her* wrath, spitting from my mouth, but using my words.* Fuck you. *Shit...Dernhelm, keep quiet. Stupid sheila. I twist again, trying to free myself as your laughter slides like rancid oil over my skin* It's none of your concern. Now is it?

Witch King:<\/b> Quite the contrary. *Oh, this is interesting -- leaning close to watch the war within your eyes* You are very much my concern. We are bound, you and I. We share a fate. You must strike, and I must fall -- to rise again, yes, but in another world where I will no longer trouble your people. *I can feel your heart beating against my chest, your angry breath warm against my face, and it is more distracting than I expected* Vengeance and victory. The price of one man's soul is more than worth THAT, I should think.

Miranda:<\/b> *Recoiling even further, as if shrinking into myself. You are an agent of Sauron and despite the logic of your statement, I know better then to believe it, but it still twists at my heart. Could I do that? She could, but I know I could not.* If I had any reason to believe you, then yes it would be, but I don't.

Witch King:<\/b> *a slight smile dancing in my dark eyes* When have I ever lied to you, or any other known to you? I have no need to lie. The truth is simpler, and more useful. *cupping my other hand around the back of your head -- if you recoil any further, you may very well fall over without my support!* And the truth is this: what will happen, will happen. I do not set these wheels in motion -- this fate was set long ago, and you are its weapon. Or...you will be. For now, you are merely mine. *impulsively claiming a kiss, fingers tightening in your hair and at your waist*

Miranda:<\/b> *My heart skips a beat at that smile that has nothing of joy or mirth, but it almost stops as your hand moves to the back of my head. Then just as suddenly, it's hammering again as your mouth covers mine. Any ability to think is gone as my hands press back hard against your chest to shove you away. Dernhelm is there<\/i> right there almost begging me to take over, but the bloodlust I feel in her makes that impossible. *

Witch King:<\/b> *There's a strange tension in your body, a resisting stiffness, and I realize it's more than physical. You're holding back something...your shift, perhaps? Ah. Of course. A shift liable to attempt to kill me for these liberties, and kill your beloved as well. This is intriguing indeed. As are certain stirrings I have not recalled for centuries... I release your mouth and twist my grip tighter into your hair, baring your neck so I can slowly lick and nuzzle my way down to your shoulder*

Miranda:<\/b> *Licking my lips, I try to distance myself, try not to feel so I can think. I have to think. You shouldn't taste the same. It should be different, but your hands are different. I close my eyes so I don't see. I don't want to see this as you, so much easier if I picture it as the movie image. * Stop. *Shoving back against your chest again, harder this time* Stop it!.

Witch King:<\/b> *petting your hip* Oh, DO stop whining like a virgin. Considering whose blankets I found you warming, I'd say you have no virtue to protect. *Unexpectedly I plant one hand in the middle of your chest, shoving hard -- the edge of the bed hits the back of your knees, and as you topple over I am already over you, straddling your legs, pinning your wrists* And I do not take \"no\" for an answer. *dropping my head to take your left nipple between my teeth, through your thin nightshift*

Miranda:<\/b> *Reaching for the nightstand and groping a bit, I find the heavy flashlight Lawrence has been keep there lately for power outages. I don't even think, just wrap my fingers around it and bring it down as hard and fast as I can on the back of your skull. I know it won't stop you, but if I can get to my sword...*Get off. *Somehow I manage to get out from under you and race for the door*

Witch King:<\/b> *It's a good blow, but a glancing one, and this body has a thick skull. You almost make it to the door before my arms close around you from behind, knocking the...club?...from your grip* Very well then-- *my fingers rake down, ripping thin cloth as I bear you to the ground, familiar flesh jarringly cool against your own*

Miranda:<\/b> *then I have to let go. I can't face this. I know I can't. I won't look, won't look into your face to see one I know so well. * I'm sorry love. *Letting go I allow Dernhelm to come forward. She is so much stronger then I could ever be.*

Dernhelm:<\/b> *with a virulent curse, I fight back, struggling and shoving at your greater weight. I do not have Miranda's qualms over harming Lawrence. I know this is a battle and one I have to win.*

Witch King:<\/b> Hah! There you are. *I weather your blows, enduring a taloned swipe that barely missed my eye and wincing as your knuckles knock hard across my chin. No quarter for the woman with a warrior's spirit, then -- I reply with a backhanded blow that cracks your skull against the floor, taking advantage of your momentary disorientation to roll you onto your stomach with your knees pinned wide*

Dernhelm:<\/b> *The blow sends an explosion of light across my senses, followed by a moment of numbness before the pain sets in. The rush of adrenaline keeps part of it in check as I slide my hands under my chest and gather my strength.* As she said...fuck you. *pushing up with everything in me, my own strength as well endorphin fed reactions, I manage to dislodge you enough to pull my legs together again, but not get you off* No quarter. *Shoving my hand behind me, sucking a breath as a nail tears free, I find your crotch and squeeze as hard as I can manage with the odd angle*

Witch King:<\/b> *yelp\/hiss of pain that verges momentarily into a growl with deep, disturbing, gut-quivering harmonics -- I jerk back and grab your wrist* Do that again and I'll let the orc out to play. Would you like that? *wrenching your arm up until your broken nail almost scratches your shoulderblade* Lawrence remembers what the orc does. Is that what you want?

Dernhelm:<\/b> *The orc? What? Then Miranda's memory comes into play and I freeze. I can feel her fear beating against my own, but it sharpens as he mentions Lawrence remembering. As much as I feel he is a threat...I would never wish him to have a memory of this. Panting softly, I try not to jar my arm more.* Does he remember what you do?

Witch King:<\/b> No. My control is absolute. *You've frozen, there's something in your voice -- I have struck a nerve, but with whom? The remains of your shift have fallen awry in our struggle, and all that remains are your underwear. Deliberately, I hook my other fingers under the thin cloth, letting my voice drop back towards that bestial growl* Much as I dislike the orc myself, perhaps you would prefer his company...

Dernhelm:<\/b> *swallowing a surge of stomach acid, I keep myself still as your fingers slide over my skin and under the thin elastic band. The restless shifting as I fight to breathe beneath your bulk I can't stop. Bema help me, if it will keep Miranda and Lawrence safe and well I will cease my struggles, but I cannot rein my mouth* Is he at least warmer? *Now I can't stop shaking, the chill of your skin invading me, fear...both maybe.*

Witch King:<\/b> *low soft laugh, stooping to kiss your trapped hand and then the small of your back -- my hand tightens and with a small sad tearing sound your last defense is gone* I'm certain he is. And also more likely to snap your neck when he's through with you. *shift and scrape of cloth against your thigh -- Lawrence was only wearing boxers to bed -- and now my weight against you is completely bare* He hates me, you know. More than you do.

Dernhelm:<\/b> *Twisting away, strangely embarassed by the feeling of your erection bare against my rear. I always kept carefully away from these parts of Miranda's memories* Do you think taking his lover against her will is going to help that?

Witch King:<\/b> *I am taken briefly aback before realizing that you mean Lawrence* I was speaking of the orc. *shoving my knees between yours again, suddenly impatient with a deep pounding NEED that I have not felt since the desire for my master's ring overrode all else* But of your Lawrence...I shall soon have his life. Why should I not-- *releasing your wrist to grip your hips* --also claim-- *thumbs digging hard into your flesh, the head of my cock bumping bluntly against you* --his lover? *and with one thrust I drive in hard, pulling your body back to meet mine*

Dernhelm:<\/b> *I was not prepared for the pain...this isn't her first time, but it shoots through me, clawing at my spine and settling low in my gut. Closing my eyes, I do my best to shield Miranda and remove myself from my surroundings. It's happened before, during battle or sparring, separating myself from my body. I'll pay for it later. We all will. Soon, I'm not even aware of the tears sliding slowly over my cheeks. I only feel the rough carpet scraping at my cheek* Lawrence will defeat you, spawn of darkness, he is stronger then you could ever be.

Witch King:<\/b> He cannot...defeat...what he cannot touch. *but I have little interest in bantering words with you -- if that first breath was the beginning of rediscovering life, the heat and wet friction of mounting you is the completion. This is what was taken from me. This is what I will fight for. When you are no longer thwarting me, I stop to roll you onto your back, claiming you more slowly this time, savoring your angry tears as I move within you, the way your nails dig into your palms as your fists clench, but also the way your hips rock beneath my weight* Your body knows this...

Dernhelm:<\/b> *I try to resist being turned, I don't want to see your face. I can hear Miranda, her voice a small litany. not Lawrence not Lawrence<\/i>. Shaking my head, eyes shut so tight I can see color searing across the inside of my eyelids. Please...please if the Valar have any power here you will find your release soon. * No...hers does. *This is not mine. I will go home and I won't feel this. Not my body. Not mine. I bite my lip and taste the hot, salty tang of copper flood over my tongue*

Witch King:<\/b> *I pause for a moment, eyebrow rising* Then in a way you are... Mmm. Perfect. *my hands are braced on the ground to either side of you but now they slide beneath you, and I glory in this body's strength as I settle back on my haunches and lift you to straddle my lap, shifting to throw your resisting arms over my shoulders -- I kiss you and taste blood* I suggest you hold on. *and then I wrap my own arms around your waist and buck up into you, so hard your teeth click and your breasts bounce, taking you in earnest now, breathing hard into your ear*

Dernhelm:<\/b> *The kiss rocks me more then you shoving into me. It's too close...too intimate and almost familiar. But what gets to me the most is having to stifle my desire to fight. To give in like this. I cannot entirely. You want me to hold on? Fine then. My nails dig into your back, hard, and I know I will leave marks as I feel them break the skin and your blood welling under my nails. As you lift hard, I cry out, then stifle it before gagging once and managing to cut that off as well.*

Witch King:<\/b> *I gasp at the gouge of your nails, the way your body snaps tight in my arms, your back arching as if to avoid whatever contact you can. No matter -- you cannot escape my hands splayed around your hips. My fingers indent the soft pale flesh at the small of your back, your knees barely brushing the carpet to either side of my thighs. I bend to savage the hollow of your throat with my mouth, bruisingly, marking you, before I let the hot rush of animal desire override centuries of empty servitude to plunge up into you once -- twice -- thrice -- before losing myself in taking you, crying out something you cannot understand*

Dernhelm:<\/b> *I feel your release emptying hot and searing inside me. My ability to accept is at an end as I push you away, clawing down your chest as I shove myself off your receding erection and off your lap. Scrambling for the bathroom, I don't even get the door closed before I'm on the floor before the toilet. My mind is blank, almost as empty as my stomach is about to be*

Witch King:<\/b> *I can't say I'm surprised, and I'm too sated to bother pursuit. I rise and negligently clean myself off with the torn remains of your shirt, and I return to the nightstand to eye my notes before closing the book and setting it aside. I would study longer, but time is ticking away back in my world. I will be missed. Reluctantly (and feeling oddly warmer than I have in a long time) I let go--*


Continued directly in Part Two<\/a><\/small>","comments":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/15444.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/15167.html","pubDate":"Sun, 16 Nov 2003 21:50:51 GMT","title":"Ewww...","author":"halbarad","link":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/15167.html","description":"Prechat<\/a>.

wraith!Gorlim:<\/b> *haunts*

Halby!Mun::<\/b> O.O

wraith!Gorlim:<\/b> *disinterestedly knocks things over like a good little poltergeist*

Halby!Mun::<\/b> *catches*

wraith!Gorlim:<\/b> *plays with a candlestick* *eats the candle*

Halby!Mun::<\/b> o.o

wraith!Gorlim:<\/b> *hovers on the mantle looking dejected and more than usually transparent*

Halby!Mun::<\/b> *approaches cautiously* *pets*

wraith!Gorlim:<\/b> *eyes dolefully*

Halby!Mun::<\/b> There there love

wraith!Gorlim:<\/b> *goes blueish*

Halby!Mun::<\/b> Um ...

wraith!Gorlim:<\/b> *hovers over your head, hands tucked neatly behind his back, bent slightly at the waist as he looks down to you*

Halby!Mun::<\/b> *stares at Gorlim*

wraith!Gorlim:<\/b> *echoy voice* It's rude to stare.

Halby!Mun::<\/b> I'm a rude person

wraith!Gorlim:<\/b> *stares hollowly*

Halby!Mun::<\/b> *stares back*

wraith!Gorlim:<\/b> *knocks a candleholder over*

Halby!Mun::<\/b> *knocks over a bookshelf*

wraith!Gorlim:<\/b> *observes calmly*

Halby!Mun::<\/b> :)

wraith!Gorlim:<\/b> *floats down into the bookshelf up to his waist*

Halby!Mun::<\/b> Nice trick

wraith!Gorlim:<\/b> *hands still behind his back* I can do better ones.

Halby!Mun::<\/b> oh?

wraith!Gorlim:<\/b> *unbuttons the lower half of his shirt, reaches in, and pulls out various organs*

Halby!Mun::<\/b> o.o

ghost!Halby::<\/b> Hey! I can do that too! *pulls out bits of cut apart intestine*

wraith!Gorlim:<\/b> *juggles them, his face devoid of any emotion, even bordering on depressed* You see? *echoy*

Halby!Mun::<\/b> *yaaawn*

wraith!Gorlim:<\/b> *watches, replaces his organs*

ghost!Halby::<\/b> *takes out a liver, stomach, etc.* Ooh, so that's where that went. *pulls a smallish piece of intestine out* Sorry. Don't have it all. An orc took it.

wraith!Gorlim:<\/b> At least they took the trouble.

ghost!Halby::<\/b> Not like it was any trouble. It was practically hanging out for all the world to see.

wraith!Gorlim:<\/b> That must have been invigorating.

ghost!Halby::<\/b> Not that. Ew.

wraith!Gorlim:<\/b> *ghosty twisted smile*

ghost!Halby::<\/b> Hey ... I just had a thought. Wait. I think it's the mun's thought.

wraith!Gorlim:<\/b> Be gentle with it. It's in a strange place.

ghost!Halby::<\/b> I'm getting that we should ... OH! That a semi IC post-me-dying chat would be interesting. Like me entering the afterlife and you being there. Huh.

ghost!Halby::<\/b> We could angst.

wraith!Gorlim:<\/b> Let's do.

ghost!Halby::<\/b> Right. I'll die, and you can meet me on the other side.

wraith!Gorlim:<\/b> Aren't you already dead?

ghost!Halby::<\/b> Well I am, but for the purposes of this chat, I have to die again and we have to not know each other.

wraith!Gorlim:<\/b> I don't know you.

ghost!Halby::<\/b> Oh just shut up and play along before I throw my colon at you.

wraith!Gorlim:<\/b> All right.<\/a>

~*~*~*~

Postchat.

Halby!Mun::<\/b> [awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww *patches Gorlim up with duct tape* fixes everything]

Gorlim!Mun::<\/b> [Gorlim: *sniffle*]

Halby!Mun::<\/b> [*gives tissue*]

Halby!Mun::<\/b> [Halby: Dude. Other you is messed.]

Gorlim!Mun::<\/b> [Gorlim: *blows his nose messily* Other me?]

Halby!Mun::<\/b> [Halby: *points at scary wraithy you*]

Gorlim!Mun::<\/b> [Gorlim: Oh. Yes. That is very, very true.]

Halby!Mun::<\/b> [Halby: *clings* Promise me you will never be that scary]

Gorlim!Mun::<\/b> [Gorlim: *counterclings* Sorry you had to see that. I promise I will never be that scary.]

Halby!Mun::<\/b> [Halby: Thank Eru.]<\/a>","comments":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/15167.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/15091.html","pubDate":"Sun, 16 Nov 2003 07:05:22 GMT","title":"The afterlife ain't all it's cut out to be.","author":"gorlim","link":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/15091.html","description":"Starring: <\/a>halbarad<\/b><\/a><\/span> from <\/a>whitecity<\/b><\/a><\/span> and <\/a>mespt<\/b><\/a><\/span> and <\/a>gorlim<\/b><\/a><\/span> from <\/a>mespt<\/b><\/a><\/span>. These are not QUITE the characters as you know them. These are their canon counterparts, in a meeting directly following Halbarad's death on the Pellenor Fields. This chat is rated R<\/b> for violence, gore, slight language, and general creepiness, mostly stemming from a very, very twisted Gorlim.

****************


Halbarad: <\/b> *The knife slices my throat. There is a brief moment of fresh, sharp pain, but what little blood I have left drains quickly. The world fades, and I am ... elsewhere.*

*A world of fog and wind and the smell of blood... for some, only part of a longer journey... for others, the final step. Tall, thin shadows make dark spots in the fog. Gnarled trees, their limbs dead, twisted, broken, swaying in the warm wind. Nearly skeletal birds cry out in the distance. There is a feeling of motion in the shadows that seems to be more than wind...*<\/i>

Halbarad: <\/b> *I shudder once, looking around me at the barren landscape. This isn't much of an improvement. Upon glancing down, I realize that the wounds remain though the pain is gone. Is this what awaits the Secondborn, then? Is this Eru's gift?*

*A shadow of the shadows... a second thin shape, no more than a blur in the fog, but obviously not a tree, steps from behind them, darting and weaving in erratic circles through the dead forest*<\/i>

Halbarad: <\/b> *He doesn't escape my notice. I raise a hand and call out.* Ai! Who are you? What is this place? *Perhaps death did not come to me after all. Perhaps I am dreaming.*

Gorlim: <\/b> *He stops when the mood strikes him, he comes closer only at his own pleasure, drifting nearer to the newcomer, his feet dragging through the muck. He stops just close enough for Halbarad to be able to make out his features -- a gaunt face and hollow eyes, shadowed and pained, long hair tangled, black, falling onto ragged cloth stained and torn* This is death. *His voice is an echoing whisper, wavering as if drowned by tears and unused to regulating tone after ages of disuse*

Halbarad: <\/b> *The figure is startling, and I wonder if this is a man's soul appearing as he was when he died.* Then I am not still waiting. I do not dream this.

Gorlim: <\/b> No. *He tilts his head forward, heedless of the hair falling into his face* This is a nightmare, but you will not wake. You will walk away. And maybe you will find the end.

Halbarad: <\/b> The end?

Gorlim: <\/b> A somewhere that is not-here. They all must find it, for in the end, only I remain.

Halbarad: <\/b> *curious* Who are you?

Gorlim: <\/b> *swaying a bit, turning his head one way, then another, as if hearing something significant and searching for its source, then looks back at Halbarad and seems almost surprised to see him standing there still* I am? Gorlim. Son of Angrim. My name.

Halbarad: <\/b> *shocked* You ... are Gorlim?

Gorlim: <\/b> My name. *runs his tongue back and forth over his front teeth* Gorlim.

Halbarad: <\/b> But you ... It was ages ago ... You've been here all this time?

Gorlim: <\/b> Time. *scratches his head, tugs at a knot, looking agitated* I have been here since I left there.

Halbarad: <\/b> You mean life. *uncertain what I should do, if I should be doing anything, and forestalled from thinking of my own needs by my pity for this lost shadow of a man.*

Gorlim: <\/b> If you could have called it that. I mean that. I died before I left. But I mean breathing, walking, day, night, piss and shit and seasons that change and things that you can FEEL... yes. That I left. Been here ever since.

Halbarad: <\/b> Why do you not leave here?

Gorlim: <\/b> *He laughs then, a harsh, barking sound like the call of a crow* Do you think that I can leave?!

Halbarad: <\/b> *quietly* Do you think that you cannot?

Gorlim: <\/b> I know that I cannot!

Halbarad: <\/b> How?

Gorlim: <\/b> I am still here. *He begins to circle Halbarad, backing away into the fog enough to obscure his features once more*

Halbarad: <\/b> *stands quietly, not bothering to track you with my gaze*

Gorlim: <\/b> I am STILL HERE! *His voice echoes in the quiet swamp. A flutter of wings announces that a nearby flock has been disturbed by his sound. He stops at Halbarad's shoulder, leaning painfully close. The absence of a breath when he speaks into the other man's ear is eerie* I am still looking.

Halbarad: <\/b> Looking for what?

Gorlim: <\/b> Her.

Halbarad: <\/b> Eilinel?

Gorlim: <\/b> How do you know of her? Have you seen her?? *Demanding, desperate, he grabs Halbarad and turns him, nearly knocking him down*

Halbarad: <\/b> *dripping blood in this place where it doesn't matter* I know because I have heard the tales.

Gorlim: <\/b> Tales. Tales. *lets go and walks a tight circle around him* TALES. What tales?

Halbarad: <\/b> Tales of my ancestors and their kin. Tales of Beren Erchamion.

Gorlim: <\/b> You know me, then. You are his kin. He lived. *recoiling in shame from the man* You know.

Halbarad: <\/b> I know only what the stories tell after thousands of years of retelling.

Gorlim: <\/b> What is that? Tales, tales... never have to change no matter how many tongues.

Halbarad: <\/b> But they do. They are not remembered word for word, and as they pass from one generation to the next, the subtle changes become more pronounced, the truth twisted.

Gorlim: <\/b> Does it matter though... what's done is done and who's to say why? *paces, tugging at his hair*

Halbarad: <\/b> I don't suppose it does. *watching you, almost horrified at what this place has done to you, though I suspect you've done some of it to yourself*

Gorlim: <\/b> Stands to reason. See. *He puts his hands to his throat, stopping with his feet together* I have not spoken... for a very long time.

Halbarad: <\/b> There must be many who come to this place. You have not spoken to them? Why bother speaking to me?

Gorlim: <\/b> There are many. Why you... why you? Why anybody. Why anything. I watch. You looked familiar. They come and they go. I don't often need to speak. Not long. A name, a place, hisssss of welcome to this.... this.... all of this. *twists around awkwardly, crossing his feet and sitting on the ground*

Halbarad: <\/b> *sitting with you, a bit surprised that it doesn't hurt, wondering how I look to you* Familiar? How so? *Perhaps I should move on, but I am curious. Can he possibly be so terrible that eternity in this place is his fate?*

Gorlim: <\/b> Orcs killed. You look like one of them. One of us. Who was it... I can barely remember their faces anymore. One of them. They blur together but you look like one of them.

Halbarad: <\/b> I am descended from Beren.

Gorlim: <\/b> God. Why have you come here? Laugh. He lived. I'm almost glad.

Halbarad: <\/b> You are the reason he survived.

Gorlim: <\/b> I know. I almost know. It's something of an irony, isn't? It? Eh? *giggles, inspects his fingernails*

Halbarad: <\/b> Have you ever tried leaving this place?

Gorlim: <\/b> I've been trying to leave since I got here.

Halbarad: <\/b> I'm sorry.

Gorlim: <\/b> Why?

Halbarad: <\/b> Because I don't think you should be trapped here. I don't like the idea of it.

Gorlim: <\/b> Neither do I but that doesn't seem to matter much. *stands suddenly, wanders over to a tree, stands near it as if inspecting it*

Halbarad: <\/b> *follows* Do you know why you cannot leave?

Gorlim: <\/b> *He pulls his arm back and tears at the tree with fist and nail until his hands are bloodied and barely recognizable as hands.* No. *His voice is calm.* And yes. *staring at his hands* And no.

Halbarad: <\/b> *reaches out and carefully takes Gorlim's hands, stilling them* Why?

Gorlim: <\/b> I stopped asking too long ago to remember. *looking at his hands* Once more to wait.

Halbarad: <\/b> For her?

Gorlim: <\/b> No. For this. *nods to his hands* It will change. This is how to count time, but not to count. Sometime they'll go back the way they were. I don't know how long. I've never had talking to take time, count time. Why are you holding me still?

Halbarad: <\/b> Because I don't want you to hurt yourself.

Gorlim: <\/b> After all this time. Someone doesn't want. Why.

Halbarad: <\/b> Because I don't like to see people hurting themselves. There's enough pain already without that.

Gorlim: <\/b> Why? *trying to gauge his tone* Why -- well. Not here. Not enough. Let me go.

Halbarad: <\/b> *does so, but doesn't back away* Maybe because a stranger showed me great kindness, and I am moved to do the same.

Gorlim: <\/b> For the murderer of your kin?

Halbarad: <\/b> I was a murderer of her kin.

Gorlim: <\/b> What did she do?

Halbarad: <\/b> Offered comfort. *touching a hand to my torn abdomen* Released me from this.

Gorlim: <\/b> *cranes his neck to see, peering, inspecting, tilting this way and that, a bit owlish with his wide eyes* Why.

Halbarad: <\/b> Why what?

Gorlim: <\/b> *points* That.

Halbarad: <\/b> War.

Gorlim: <\/b> More of it. Did it ever end? How long? Whose war?

Halbarad: <\/b> Your war ended. New ones began. This is Sauron's war against the whole of Middle-Earth, for his strength returns and the Men and Elves who have always stood against him are diminished. I rode to war with my kinsman, bore his banner.

Gorlim: <\/b> It will never end. *sitting once more, his back to the tree* How long is it since Ladros?

Halbarad: <\/b> Many ages. Thousands of years. A dim memory, even for the elves.

Gorlim: <\/b> It never. Ends. *He bows his head, hugging himself tightly. His hands are nearly back to normal now, only the knuckles remain red and shredded.*

Halbarad: <\/b> No. It will not. Arda is marred.

Gorlim: <\/b> And I. And we. For nothing. Never was. *chokes*

Halbarad: <\/b> *watches you for a moment, then, softly* There is the promise of peace, at the end.

Gorlim: <\/b> Who gets it?? Who believes in it?? After all this time... might as well all DIE and be DONE with it! *leaps up and goes at the tree again*

Halbarad: <\/b> *stands and quickly pulls you back* We are dead, but death is not the ending. You cling to hopelessness, and so you cannot move beyond this place.

Gorlim: <\/b> I'M DEAD. What is there to hope for?!

Halbarad: <\/b> Something better. Beyond this. *recalling the tales, and the one thing you longed for above all else* A place where you will find your wife.

Gorlim: <\/b> Don't. DON'T.

Halbarad: <\/b> *persisting* If she waits for you, then it is beyond this place. *releases you and steps back, but before I can speak, I feel the pull of something else, something familiar ... dreams*

Gorlim: <\/b> She is HERE. She must be here! I can go no other place!

Halbarad: <\/b> And what if she is not? Our loved ones have their own paths to trod. *The pull is stronger, and I feel myself leaving this place.*

Gorlim: <\/b> I cannot think that! *grabs his head in his hands* Don't say it! DON'T. *tugging his hair* It cannot be. CANNOT.

Halbarad: <\/b> *There is nothing I can do for him. I am called to my kinsman's dreams. Perhaps I will return, or perhaps I will find myself in elsewhere.* It can be. *I tell him before I go.* It can.

Gorlim: <\/b> *He barely seems to notice that the other is leaving, but bends at the waist, tangling his hair in his fingers and weeping as one who has forgotten that there was ever a reason not to...*","comments":"https:\/\/intershards.livejournal.com\/15091.html?view=comments#comments"}]}}