A-Hunting We Will Go (Faramir/Éomer)

[horseboykarl]

Great, fucking great. How do I get talked into this shit? And by my so-called best friend, no less. Who knows how much I fucking hate shifting, but yet twists my arm and plays on my guilt trips. We can’t let the innocents suffer. Davey-boy, I may have to take you off that list, or else you’d better make sure dinner is absolutely spectacular. So I dress in my loosest clothes, and start calling the lunatic that shares my head.

Éomer! Come here! Now I feel absolutely ridiculous. Maybe horseboy is too busy to answer.

Karl? Shit, not my day, I guess.

Listen, I just got word from Dave that Faramir is worried about the loose wargs running around here. He wants to hunt them down and he wants you to help him.

Of course I will help. Now?

Unless you have something else to do.

My éored is not on patrol at the moment, I can come there. Thank you for your faith in me.

It was Faramir’s idea. Then I reflect how ungracious I sounded. Thank you for helping, I don’t want anyone else in Wellie suffering because of the fucking bowl.

We meet and I tell him how to reach Dave’s place, which he has been to but never driven himself there. I could have done it, I suppose, but I know he likes the bike and I’m still trying to be more understanding of him. We say goodbye and I fade away.

Éomer This is unexpected. Karl letting me come out at a time other than a pre-arranged meeting with Théo. I hope this means that he is starting to like me.

He has given me permission to take the bike, so I get his spare helmet, hoping that Faramir will agree to ride with me. He knows where the wargs are roaming. I follow Karl’s directions to the place where Faramir is staying and I shudder as I go past the elf man’s house, remembering what took place there.

I pull up at the house in the woods and knock on the door.

Dave: I've tried to take all the spider sightings in stride, knowing that those little beasties can be gotten under control eventually by the locals. But when I heard about wild dogs being sighted at the Wellington Botanic Garden, I knew it was time to get more aggressive. Faramir's wanted to help - he's been ready to do just that for months, but his patrols seem to have just added to his frustrations, as night after night he found no enemies to deal with. But now we've got something pretty damned clear, and it's something I'm not trained to handle - but he is.

It's not out of pity that I hand this duty over to Faramir. We really do need those stray beasts taken care of. I'm grateful and relieved that Karl's agreed to let Éomer through to go hunting with Faramir.

I hear a knock on the door, and even though I'm expecting him, it's still a shock to see the tall blond holding a motorcycle helmet. "Glad you could come, Éomer. Before Faramir comes through, I just wanted to wish you good luck tonight, and thank you for helping out. The sooner we get rid of these creatures, the better." I give you a smile, and reach for your hand. As I'm shaking it, Faramir slips in and I step back to the dark.

Faramir: I turn the handshake into a tight grasp of your wrist, and pull you in for a hug and a clap on the back. "So, we are to hunt tonight! It has been far too long since my arrows have sunk into the hides of those vile creatures. Let me change into my cloak and leathers and I will be ready to go."

Éomer: You look much better than you did last time I saw you, still . . . Théo had been concerned about what you endured during the time we could not shift, so I will watch you and try to ease your burdens.

But, I frown. "I do not know if your cloak will be such a good idea. I have Karl's bike, it goes much faster than a horse, and you will have to prevent the cloak from getting caught on things. Besides, the night is warm."

"Were are these wargs hunting?"

Faramir: It had not occurred to me that you would be using Karl's motorcycle, I myself have grown accustomed to driving Dave's car. But, this makes good sense. "The bike is a good idea, Éomer, we will be able to hide it more easily than a car. Let me find Dave's leather coat instead." I rummage in the closet where we keep our coats, cloaks and weapons, and decide to add another knife to my boot while I'm in there. I don the coat, and grab my quiver and bow, frowning at them for a moment, before remembering the plastic bags Dave saves from his groceries. With one pulled over each end and secured in the middle, it looks as if I could be carrying any manner
of harmless items.

"Wild dogs have been seen near a park that has never had a problem before. Dave feels certain that stray wargs have taken to roaming the area, and it is only a matter of time before they attack the innocents who visit this place. I know the way, and will guide you there."

Éomer: I admire the stock of weapons you keep here and with your permission, take an extra knife for myself. The only weapon Karl keeps is my sword and that is not the most efficient way of killing a warg.

"It is unfortunate that you do not have any spears. They are really the best thing for wargs when we do not have horses." I decide that I will have to convince Karl to get more weapons, but he is incredibly stubborn.

We get the weapons and ourselves arranged on the bike. "Hold tightly!"

I guide the bike to our goal according to your directions and we reach the entrance to the park, but the gate is shut and locked. We roll the bike into the thick underbrush that surrounds the park and then I follow you into the hills.

Faramir: The sun has nearly set when we set off on foot into the underbrush, heading for the thick stand of trees ahead. I agree with you that spears would have been a welcome weapon to hold in hand now, but we will make do with what we have. You follow closely, making a little more noise than I would wish, but with luck we will soon find a good place to wait and watch.

I make my way slowly, attentively. I am watching for signs of passage, broken branches, clawed dirt, bits of fur. My eyes slowly adjust to the darkening sky, and that is when I see it. I reach for the branch, snapped loose from a sapling and hanging by a bit of thin bark. "This branch is too far off the ground to have been disturbed by small creatures, and see down there? The grasses are trampled. This may be a path they travel often. Let us take a place in the trees over there, and wait."

Éomer: This type of hunting is foreign to me. On the open plains of my home, enemies can be seen for many miles and it is merely a matter of riding fast enough to catch them.

"Why must we wait? If there is a trail, let us follow it." Wargs make enough noise and they smell vile, we should be able to know they are there long before they sense us, but you glare at me.

"Do you have wargs in Minas Tirith? We have them in the Riddermark and we chase them."

Faramir: I search for a good vantage point, and settle for a large rock we can sit upon with a clear view of the trail. I get my quiver loosened from it's coverings and loosely notch an arrow. I feel in better control with it ready in my hands. "Minas Tirith would be most difficult for even a warg to broach. But we did find them on occasion in the forests of Ithilien, and they are difficult foes, indeed. I wish we had spears. To take chase in these unfamiliar woods, at night, would put us at the disadvantage. At the least, we can learn for certain that there are wargs here, and if their numbers are large, we can return another night better prepared. If it is but one or two, I believe we could take them, you and I."

I settle back, slipping into my Ranger frame of mind, ready to patiently wait. But I am afraid patience will not be your forte tonight. "It may be a while. We can talk, quietly. What would you wish to speak of to while away the time?"

Éomer: Talking to while away the time? I have never heard of doing that. I can think of much better ways to pass the time and I look over at you . . . but you are very serious. I sigh, perhaps not. I suppose it might prove too much of a distraction and we do need to stay alert.

"It has been awhile since you and I have had a chance to tell tales. With Karl being gone for so long and then when he kept me out, my only goal was to gain the freedom to come here."

I decide that I will not mention what Théo told me in the morning after our reunion. You have your pride and if you wish me to know it, you will tell me.

"Karl has been many unusual places in the past year and I have seen sights that are beyond my imagination." I tell you about the fantastic buildings in the place called "Moscow" and the strange animals in the place called "India."

"And they looked like the Mûmakil out of southern legends, but not as big and not fierce. They used them as beasts of burden." You look more at ease.

"I know it has been long since we have been close and many things must have happened to you in these months I have been gone. You seem changed, not the man I remember. You are sad. Why?"

Faramir: Your stories intrigue me - I have read much of the history of this world, but words on pages cannot compare to gazing upon such wonders with your own two eyes. I have traveled a little, though, and tell you briefly about my trip to England. Dave has expressed his concerns to me about saying too much. It is not his wish that either of us be the ones to inform you of your fates in Middle Earth. I speak of the sights of Cambridge, and what it is like to fly in an airplane, but I do not mention the writer of our tales, Mister Tolkien. That is a topic for another time and place, or perhaps never. I know well the dangers of knowing too much of what lies ahead.

And perhaps in that is a bit of the sadness you sense. "Am I so sad that you would notice, my old friend? I am sorry, I would wish you to spend your time here in good cheer. But I will admit much has happened since we spent time together months ago. My brother has found his way here, yet rarely is seen in Wellington. My father grows ever more erratic, and has also learned his way to this place that once gave me escape from him. I have taken a lover here and watched him leave on an airplane never to return." I sigh, and smile thinly at you. "What was once my land of freedom has now become yet another place of memories and responsibilities. Do not let it become such for you, Éomer."

Éomer: I stare at you surprised. "Do not apologize to me for how you feel. Am I so insensitive that I would not notice that your eyes are lightless and your shoulders bowed?"

I know you had been in this mood when I saw you on the night of my piercing, but I did not expect you to still be feeling this way. I have never seen you so melancholy. Studious, yes, serious, occasionally. But you have always had a sly humor under everything, a humor that I did not always understand perhaps, but I always knew it was there.

"When we have killed these wargs, I am taking you and getting you drunk. This is not your world. You are not responsible for what happens here, it is up to our shifts, it is their world. We are privileged to help when we are called, but we can do nothing else. I would see this sadness lift from you."

I may have to take more forceful action if drinking does not lighten your mood.

Faramir: I open my mouth to protest, to try to explain to you... when the plain logic of your words strikes me. It is not often that I am spoken to in clear, simple speech these days. I do not fully agree with you, I think that as long as we choose to come here for our own purposes, we should take on the responsibilities as well. But have I really grown so somber? I must have, or you would not take me to task. "We do help when we are called, this is truth, and it is why I sit in the dark with a dear friend this moment and watch for wargs in a world they do not belong in."

You look fiercely serious, but I cannot help it, I start to smile as you prescribe a dose of drunkenness for my moods. "Éomer, if you strike the killing blow to one of these beasts, it is I who shall get you very, very drunk. Shall we call it a contest, then?"

As if on cue we hear a distant sound, which grows louder as we freeze in place and watch intently. I grip your arm as we watch two warg lope up the trail. As they near, I lift my bow and take steady aim at the lead animals throat.

Éomer: I feel better when I see the smile on your face. "When we have killed these beasts, I think we both will deserve a great deal of drunkenness."

But our prey comes within view, two of them. You draw on the leader and I quietly move away in a flanking motion. Your arrow flies with deadly accuracy into the throat of the first warg. He lets out a chilling howl, shaking his head, perhaps not realizing that he is dead yet, as his life blood flows over the soil.

I continue to move carefully to the side. His companion has seen you as you nock another arrow, but the dumb brute cannot decide whether to feast on his friend or attack you. While his attention is thus captured, I dart in and sink my blade into the back of his skull where his spine joins it. The scent grows more rank as his bowels release their contents. I do not want to imagine what they have been eating in this peaceful park.

You use your knife to finish off the first one, so that he lies twitching on the forest floor. Now we have two large dead wargs to deal with.

"What do we do with the carcasses?"

Faramir: I sigh heavily. My preference would be to simply walk away from the beasts, find a tavern, and cheer us both with drink and talk. In Ithilien, we did just that - with the somber knowledge that there was always another foul creature soon to encroach upon our woods. The evil took care of itself there, feeding upon it's own slain allies.

But this beautiful, wild land is still a far sight more civilized than that. At the very least, the warg's stripped bones would later cause local authorities some consternation and reason to speculate on strange happenings, something we would wish to prevent, as much as can be done.

"Rocks, Éomer. We will slice into their sides, and we will fill them with rocks, then bind them tightly. There is a pond just down that hill. Karl's bike should be able to tow them down, both at once. A quick cut to the ropes, the beasts will sink quickly, and we can be gone and seeking our tavern before any guards can respond."

Éomer: I grimace. Their outsides smell disgusting enough, and now you are proposing that we become acquainted with their insides.

“Hold your nose,” I order shortly, swinging Gúthwinë. The cut is clean and I hop out of the way, dodging warg guts that are suddenly spilling over the ground. I treat the other warg in the same fashion.

“Just remember, this was your idea.” I glare at your revolted face. I stare at the slightly steaming pile of viscera blankly. “Ropes? Did you bring rope, I did not notice.”

You look around the forest as if you expect ropes to materialize. “I see. And rocks? You expect me to spend my night digging rocks?” I roll my eyes. “Just pick up a leg, we will have to drag them back to the bike, then find the rocks.” I wipe my sword on the ratty fur and seize a leg, cursing under my breath the entire time about the unholy cleverness of certain Gondorians.

Faramir: Elbereth. I have no ropes. I grab the haunch of the other beast and trudge after you, scowling and muttering oaths. Finally, we find that place through the hedges where we slipped into the park earlier this evening, some paces away from the main gate.
The gate is fashioned of slats of wood, fastened by bolts to sturdy posts that are topped with none too cheery, dim yellow lamps. A small booth sits to the side, a shelter for guards perhaps, or guides for visitors. And then I smile, and nearly burst out laughing. The booth is surrounded by a small fence. Not really a fence, as such, but a series of small metal posts, looped together at the top by a festive yellow rope.

"I will dig the rocks, my friend. Perhaps I will use my own head, which is rather thick at times and should make short work of the task. But it would seem opportunity is smiling upon us tonight, and I most assuredly owe you quite a few ales, and perhaps something more for your patience." I wink, and kneel to clear the earth from a good size rock at my feet.

Éomer: I snort, but I am happy to see your mood has lifted. If slaughtering and gutting wargs is what it takes to make you feel better, then . . . I sigh. I will kill wargs for you. I snicker when I imagine telling Théo what I had to do to make you smile. He told me to get you drunk, but I am sure that he never envisioned this.

“My old nurse always said that the Valar offer special protection to children and fools. I suppose you qualify.” I smirk as you aim a cuff at me. I continue with mock seriousness. “After all, this exceedingly bright rope that you have found can only be a gift from the Lords of the West to one of their blessed Númenóreans.”

You take another swing at me. “Mind your rocks, Faramir. I would not want the Valar to think that you lacked. They might send them falling from the sky and crush my skull. And I would hate to die while you still owed me many ales.” I grin as I poke your chest.

I take off Karl’s leather jacket and hang it carefully from the handlebars. I roll up my sleeves and make a face. I pick up the rocks you have been finding and stuff them into the larger warg. “You are truly the worst host. You should have gotten me drunk before you force me to slosh around in warg guts.”

Faramir: "The worst host? My good horselord, I believe I have shown you an evening beyond compare. Tales will be told round the fireside of the day Éomer and Faramir sunk two disgustingly foul wargs..." I wrinkle my nose as I shove in one last rock into that foul gut "...into a quaint garden's duckpond." I stand and stretch and grab an end of the bright rope to bind the beast with.

Apparently I am having the time of my life, judging by my lifting mood and our mutual terrible senses of humor. When the animals are secured to the bike, I turn to you and wink. "This blessed Númenórean is ready to ride to victory, and then buy you the largest drink I can carry."

Éomer: "Ride to victory? Oh, no, my friend, I am riding, you are walking behind making certain that the brutes go in the water properly and you are also cutting the ropes." I get on the bike and ease the clutch gently, getting the bike moving slowly. You trot along behind and when we reach the pond, our disgusting chore is done finally. We both rinse off in the pond water and then climb on the bike.

"All right, Ranger. Where are you taking me? I am feeling remarkably thirsty after that escapade."

Faramir: I briefly entertain a mental image of us strolling into the Firkin, triumphant, wet and fragrant, full of stories of our kill, but I know this is but a fantasy. I have no real wish to anger or worry Dave's friends. "Anywhere close. Perhaps a less than reputable bar might make allowances for our appearance? I would think you might know where one of those might be located." I laugh as you poke me in the ribs for that remark, and tighten my hold on your waist as we head for the park's edge and our freedom. As you pause at the end of the narrow road that merges back onto the city streets, I lean forward, close to your ear. "I am having a wonderful evening. Thank you, my friend. Your company was more needed than I realized!"

Éomer: I consider our choices of taverns, there are many that are quite rough that I know of, but only one is close. "There is a place called The Cellar. It is nearby and our appearance will not be remarked." I turn the bike in that direction.

I squeeze your hands around my waist briefly when you tell me that you are having fun. "I am glad to hear that. Your sadness has distressed me and I am happy that you are enjoying yourself."

We arrive at The Cellar and I park the bike, giving a fierce stare to the youths who were admiring it. They shuffle away and I am satisfied that they will not bother Karl's bike. We go down the stairs and find a table in the back. I send you off to procure our drinks while I relax.

Faramir: I return with a pitcher of dark ale and two glasses, and slide contentedly into the booth. I pour us each a frothy glass, and raise mine in a toast. "To my good friend Éomer, who apparently knew just what was missing in my life. I've dwelt too long on what I've lost, and not enough on what I have. I'm glad you are here, and I am grateful for your friendship."

Éomer: I grin at you and raise my glass in reply. "To friendship . . . and to appreciating what we have." I tilt the glass up and drain it in a few swallows.

"Excellent choice of beverage, my friend." I pour another glass, taking this one more slowly. I wonder what else I could do to keep your mood lively.

I eye your hair, wondering if you would appreciate the treatment offered by the french that Hugo introduced me to. Perhaps not.

Perhaps you would like to talk some more. I stretch my legs out under the table and finish my glass. "If you would you like to talk, I would be happy to hear you."

Faramir: I cannot help but chuckle as I refill your glass. "Do you know how long it has been since I was encouraged to talk freely? I have a reputation, perhaps rightly so, for indulging in words as wantonly as most men indulge in vice." Speaking of vice, I decide to refill my own glass, and sip thoughtfully. "I think it is a wonderful thing that you and Théo have this world to be together in. Ironic that you must come so far, but life is sometimes strange. For a time, I had a love I would come here to visit, too. I had to share his love with another, but I accepted that. He has left New Zealand now, and I do not expect him to return. It has been many months since he said farewell." I give you a meaningful look. "The.. attentions you and Théo gave me were more welcome than I think you were made aware of."

Éomer: "I am glad to hear that, I will tell you truthfully that I was worried about you that night. I know it had been many months since you and I had shared that type of pleasure together, and I had thought that my touch had become repellant to you and that you tolerated me because of Théodred."

I finish my glass again. "But then I worried that you were so overwhelmingly sad and I wondered what had happened to make you thus. Théo and I both care about you . . . you are a dear friend to us."

Faramir: I reach across and grip your hand tightly before reaching for our... empty pitcher. We will need another one. Before I rise to fetch it, I must ease your mind, though. "Ah, Éomer, your touch could never be repellant! I was the one who thought I was being tolerated. I know there is love between the two of you, and well... apparently, as they say in this world, I have 'issues' with sharing, or being shared. It was not easy for me to share when Martin lived in Wellington, either." I swear I am blushing now, and I am grateful for a chance to get us more ale, and I duck away with our empty pitcher.

Éomer: You have relieved my mind in many ways and I understand that it must have been painful for you to say goodbye to your lover. A common problem in both worlds that we exist in and one that I know you will recover from eventually. My problem is not all that different, for all that I could see Théo in Rohan. But in Rohan, we might well live in different worlds, for we cannot express our feelings in our own land.

You return with the pitcher and we drink again. I smile at you affectionately. "I will offer you a chance to indulge your vice. You may talk as much as you want, I will listen gladly."

Faramir: "Then let us talk of good things, since you have lifted my spirits tonight with our adventure, and I do not wish to ignore the gift of a lighter heart you've given me." I hope that some day Dave is able to see this side of you, the Éomer I've always admired, and when I take the time to simply relax, I know you to be one of my most enjoyable companions. "Besides taking your trysts with Théo, tell me of things that appeal to you in Wellington. There is much to marvel at! Have you discovered 'hot dogs'? Hugo has tried to convince me that they are a lesser food, but perhaps he does not have the palate of a gourmet, or has damaged his senses with too much coffee."

Éomer: I puzzle over your statement for a moment. Dogs? Surely they do not eat dogs here . . . I think of Ire and shudder. He is a friend, and I could never eat a friend. And I cannot imagine Karl doing that either.

“You must understand what Karl has been like. He is violently opposed to me shifting in here and I could only do it when he was weak. And then . . . “ I decide that I will not try to untangle the complicated situation with Paris and Théo for you. “He became extremely angry about something thoughtless that I did and he blocked me completely. Until Théo convinced him to let me out on a very strict basis. But our relationship has improved since then.”

But this talk of food has me thinking . . . “So I never took the time to explore the eating opportunities here. But now I find that I have quite recovered from our earlier exploits and I am hungry. And I think a few ales are not enough to even our score. Feed me!”

Faramir: Your command reminds me of a baby bird squawking for a worm from it's mother. I laugh, and consider our options. Our clothes have dried from our makeshift bath in the duckpond, but we're far from presentable to a proper Wellington restaurant.

Ah. This might be interesting. "Fast food. No, it's not a measurement of how quickly your food can fly, it's what people here call certain types of food, which can be served quickly and taken in bags where ever you like. We can drive right up to a window on the bike, give them our order, and they will give us food we can take with us." A thought occurs to me, and you might like it. "I know where we can have our meal and a fine view, too. Trust me." I grin and finish my drink before sliding from the booth.

We mount Karl's bike, and take off down the street. After a few blocks, I point towards a driveway leading to a brightly light building with a large set of golden arches gracing it. "That lane, there. It will lead us to the drive-through."

Éomer: The place you take me is brightly lit and full of cars even at this hour of the night. We stop in front of a large board illustrated with the offerings of this establishment. I look at the garish pictures, but they do not show any food that resembles anything I am familiar with. I spend many minutes staring, trying to imagine how the items will taste, but then another car pulls up behind us. After a few minutes, it honks at us.

I turn back to you. “Karl’s food has always puzzled me, as does this. You choose for me, but get many things.”

Faramir: I recall a visit to this place a long time ago, with my brother when he first came to Wellington. I smile remembering how he was more intrigued by the action figures in his 'happy meal' than the food itself. However, I have a feeling you are more interested in filling your belly than playing with toys. I grip your waist and lean over to talk to the serving wench in the funny hat at the window. "We will have four Big Macs, four large orders of french fries, four apple pies, two Filet of Fish sandwiches, two chocolate milkshakes, four cheeseburgers.... and one Happy Meal with a small hamburger in it." She gawks at us, but then jumps to her task when she sees the intent look on both of our faces.

I wonder what our Happy Meal toy might prove to be. I am, after all, my brother's brother.

Éomer: “A happy meal? Does food make one happy?” You shrug, looking amused.

The is a brief moment of confusion when the wench hands us several bags. I hold up my hands, “I must drive and I need both hands for the bike.” You spend several minutes convincing her to put everything into two big bags, while the cars behind us honk ever more urgently. Finally, you balance our food in your hands and we pull away from this place with the arches and back into the night.

I stop at the joining of two roads. “Where is this fine view?”

Faramir: I have a hard time hanging on to you and the bags both, but somehow I manage. "Turn left. We are going back to Paris's warehouse, but we are not going inside." I let you mull that over while you drive, and quickly shift the bag when I see a chocolate shake in danger of taking a tumble. You start to park near the front of the building, but I nudge you to keep going, and turn into the alleyway. "Park back here, it's closer to our destination." You seem puzzled, but you do as I ask. We dismount, and again there is some re-juggling of our banquet. "Hold these bags for now." I shove them into your arms... and bend my knees and jump as high as I can.

When I land back on the ground, I'm grinning in triumph as I hold the end of a rusty metal ladder that I've pulled down. "Can you climb up holding one bag? Go all the way to the top."

About halfway up, one order of large french fries cannot take the stress, and leaps to it's doom from my bag. Ah, well. The rats and the pigeons will find their feast too, with us as their unknown benefactors. We still have plenty.

Éomer: We reach the roof of Paris’ warehouse and I stand up to look around. You are right, the view is very nice. The lights of Wellington lie around us like stars fallen to the ground. Not far from this place is an empty blackness with but a few small lights bobbing on its surface and I know it must be the ocean that I have never seen, though travelers and minstrels have described it to me as a sea like the grass of the Mark, but with water instead. The air here smells different too, metallic almost . . . but I cannot describe it. “I must see this ocean one day.”

You are laying out the items that you have purchased. I watch you carefully to see how one eats these things. There is a sauce the color of blood, but much thicker and you dip a golden stick into it. I try it and a happy grin spreads over my face. “This is delicious! Faramir, you have provided amazing food!” I settle in to enjoy the rest of this new experience.

Faramir: I happily stuff fries into my face, and unwrap a Big Mac, folding the paper back just so, so that you do not drip sauce on your ... well, already haggard clothing. But, no matter. The view is perfect tonight, the air is warm, and the metal vents that bring air in and out of the building quietly hum a tune of their own behind us.

You accept the burger, and take a big bite. I laugh at the look on your face, and nudge your shoulder with mine. "Those of this world say this food is unhealthy and should be avoided. I suppose the car behind us that was honking frantically did not agree, though!" I never cease to be amused by a population that shouts one theory aloud to be in fashion, then scurries off to break their own rules. "It is meat and it is bread, with other mysterious items to add intrigue. Enjoy, my friend." I set aside the Happy Meal for last, and peel back the paper on a straw just a little bit. I stick it in my mouth, and blow. The wrapper wafts gracefully over the edge of the roof to the alleyway below.

Éomer: I follow your lead and this meal seems to involve as much giggling and playing as it does eating. I taste different foods in different colored wrappings. I am glad that this meal involves eating with the fingers for some of the things are quite messy, but all of the sauces are tasty and I lick my fingers, getting every drop.

I ask you to identify the things that I am eating and I particularly like the catch up which goes very well with the golden sticks which you tell me are french fried potatoes. I wonder if the french that fixed my hair had a hand in this invention. But it is truly the best food I have ever tasted. The pickle is interesting and there are those same roots that Théo fixed, which I think I like the way he did them better. I will accept that there is meat in this, since you have said there is and I have not known you to lie, but I cannot recognize anything that resembles meat. It still tastes good however.

At last I sit back, replete. “I think your debt is well and truly paid, Ranger. I shall consider us even.”

Faramir: I fumble with the plastic wrapping of the small toy in the Happy Meal, and hold up in triumph... a small animal that I do not recognize. It is vaguely doglike though, so I hold it high in the air, and cry out... "A warg! We must kill it!" A stray french fry is found, and dipped liberally in sauce to be my sword. I slay the beast with stabbing motions, leaving saucy blood as proof of its death. "We triumph again!" I fling the beastie over the edge of the roof, and lean back next to you, my battle cry a satisfied belch.

I turn to look at you, happy, and content, for the first time in many weeks. "We are not even, by far. I owe you a debt of gratitude for helping me lift out of my wallowing. Life is to be lived, not regretted. I have sad memories, but I have friends like you, here and now. And this moment, I am quite content with who I am." On impulse, I roll sideways, and plant a very, very sincere kiss on your lips.

Éomer: I howl with laughter at your playacting. It does my heart good to see you so joyful.

I return your kiss but I go no further. You have unburdened your heart to me this night, have told me of your lost love and your conflicts. I do not want you to feel that you owe me this in payment for my company. I would enjoy taking pleasure with you, if I was sure that you did not feel some sort of obligation to me.

So I smile at you and brush the hair out of your eyes. “No, Ranger, the debt is paid. Seeing you happy is payment enough for me.”

Faramir: "Then let us think no further of debts, if all are paid. Let us be on even ground with each other.... even if it is on a slightly crooked roof." I reach for your fingers in my hair, and grasp them tightly. "And if we were to find a bit more happiness tonight, here under the stars with the smell of the ocean and the city ours with every breath... it would simply be that. Neither of us owing the other. Or has the food alone sated you enough for one night, my old friend?"

Éomer: I wonder with amusement why Gondorians feel the need to be so indirect when they want things. And I decide to tease you further.

“More happiness? What more happiness could a man ask for than a full belly and good companionship?”

You look slightly disappointed, so I squeeze your fingers which are still twined with mine. “Faramir . . . if you want something, you have only to ask.”

Faramir: I seek your eyes, and find there both merriment, and desire. I might think you would see the same in mine, and you are right. I do talk, that vice you gave me freedom to indulge in tonight seems to have run it's course. "Then I ask. You've given me much tonight, but I desire more. I would have you, if you agreed. Loose your damned breeches and let me have my dessert, those trite apple pies were certainly not enough for me. As you asked of me earlier tonight... I now ask of you." I slide down your body, slowly, murmuring. "Feed me!"

Éomer: I laugh at your peremptory tone, while at the same time a spike of desire slices through me. “Then come here,” I growl playfully. I pull you up to me and feast on your mouth, our tongues tangling

“You must get out of your clothes also.” We help each other remove our clothes, laughing, our hands moving from tickling to caressing and exploring, and then back again. We pile our garments on the roof and I slowly press you back against them, my mouth on yours demanding now. I pause for a moment, resting between your thighs, looking down at you, meeting your eyes and letting you see how glad I am to be with you and how much I want you.

Faramir: I have to admit I have never considered indulging like this on a rooftop, but tonight it seems fitting. I did not expect anything more than an evening's hunt. You've given me that, and much more. I grin up at you, feeling lighter than I have in a long time. I reach to pull you down for another kiss, and happily lose myself in our shared lust. It has been a good evening, and though there are two less wargs in this world, Wellington will still hear howls in the night, if I have my way.