Cavalo (Dave/Éomer chat)

[horseboykarl]

Karl: I've got two weekends looming empty until Sean comes back. I don't know exactly what's going on there, because we didn't have much time in the morning to get me out the door and off to the studio. And then he left. I hate this feeling of not knowing and not being able to do anything about it. But I've got no choice but to wait.

At least I can find something to do. Dave wants help finding a horse for Paris, so I call him and ask if he wants to go this quickly because blondie is available. Turns out the timing is just perfect, because the horse is to be a Christmas present. For some reason, that just makes me grin. I'm glad my old friend has found so much happiness. And I offer to keep the horse in my barn until the time is right if necessary.

I call Éomer, and after some debate about whether he should take the truck or the bike to Dave's, in case they find a horse, I remember that Dave has his own trailer. So I shift out, leaving Éomer to get his leathers on for the ride to Dave's.

Éomer: I put on pants of the tough denim material, for the weather is too warm for leather, and I will not be seeing Théo today. I miss him, but I think that today has the possibility to be very enjoyable. I will be around horses, which I like no matter what world I am in. And Dave is Faramir's shift, but I have never met him but in passing. I wonder about him as the roar of the bike brings me closer to his house. I know that he is Paris' lover and that he is a good friend of Karl's. So he is connected to people that I care about.

Dave: After changing into jeans, a black t-shirt and a heavy denim jacket, I pour a big glass of orange juice and waited for Éomer to show up, wandering through the living room. Before I know it, I've set my drink down and start tucking loose bottles from the top of the bar into underside cupboards, and nudge the floor standing wine rack back behind the bar. A couple of hunting knives are whisked off the fireplace mantle and stuck on a shelf in the hall closet, and just as I'm entertaining the notion of unplugging the hot tub, I stop myself. What the hell am I doing? I'm actually childproofing - no, Éomer proofing the place. I don't even know the man and I'm making assumptions about his wild behavior again. Paris trusts him. Faramir trusts him. I sigh and go re-set the wine rack, stick a few bottles back on top of the bar, and grab my orange juice, just as I hear a sharp rap on the door.

"Hey, mate. Dave. Good to see you." I stick out my hand, and he shakes it, civilized as can be. "Come on in. I thought we could talk a bit, figure out what we're looking for, and then go see some horses. I've got a good list with what breeds are for sale, if we can narrow our choices. Can I get you a drink?"

Éomer: Greeting you seriously, I study you for a resemblance to Faramir, but I cannot see any. Then I wonder why I am trying, for only Théo and Paris share a face. Karl and I look nothing alike.

"I would like an ale, if you have some," I answer in reply to your query about getting me a drink. "My thanks."

You mention different types of horses and in this area I must confess to ignorance. I do not know which particular breeds of horses exist in this world, for all of our horses are descendents of those given to us by Béma and our breeding efforts have ever gone towards improving that line.

"I am unfamiliar with the names of the horse breeds in your world. But I believe I know what type of temperament Paris would like to have in his horse."

Dave: "Yeah, I've got some beer in the fridge." I get a couple of bottles out and hand you one. "Sounds like we should just go see some horses and you can check out their personalities, then. Cambridge is horse breeding country, but that's nearly at the other end of the island, and I know another breeder at the top of the south island, we'd need to book a flight for that one, though..." I trail off, I don't think I'm ready to introduce you to that kind of experience. "The kid that watches Laurelea when I'm traveling, though, his family raises horses, they're about an hour north of town. Why don't we go see them? We can hitch up the trailer in case we get lucky.

Éomer: "That is a wise suggestion. Now I must ask you how much time Paris will be able to spend with this horse, for I believe he would like one with spirit. However such horses require much time and patience, to work their energy out of them so they do not become wild and unmanageable."

I do not want Paris to be hurt by a horse and bring back his fear of them. But I am confident that we can find one for him who is eager to please, but yet has an interesting temperament. Surely there are other geldings to be found who are like Smokey Joe.

Dave: Éomer’s question's a good one. I head for the door, motioning him to follow, and we work together to get the trailer hitched as we talk. "Well, let's see. Paris works some long hours, but that means he's got even more of a need to relax and ride in his off-time." I give Éomer a pointed look, and add, "And then there's the times when Paris just simply... isn't. It's not just up to him to make time to ride, he's making time for other people too. What are you and Théodred willing to do to help?"

Éomer: Your words and your look leave me confused. Paris has always seemed far more willing than Karl to accommodate my meetings with my lover, so I wonder where this anger in your voice comes from. This world is truly baffling at times. Perhaps Paris has hidden his resentment of the situation from Théo, and I wonder if I should suggest to Théo that he talk to Paris to be sure of his feelings.

"I will enjoy riding together with my cousin, it is one of the greatest pleasures in my life. But we are not buying a horse for him, for him I would find the feistiest stallion in your land if that were so." I remember Commander with regret that we could not keep him, but he is far too much horse for Paris. "We need to find a horse that will allow Paris to form a partnership bond with him."

Dave: Don't be such an ass, Dave. Éomer’s here to help you find a present for your lover. He's spending time with you he'd probably rather be spending snogging on Théodred. Yeah, it does cut into Paris' time, but by those standards, you should be more pissed at Faramir too, right?

I give you an apologetic smile, and a friendly clap on the shoulder. "Sorry, mate. And you're absolutely right. This is all about Paris, and really - I do appreciate you spending time with me today." We've climbed into the car and I'm easing us out onto the main road. It's a good warm day, should make a pleasant drive. "I think Paris will do fine, bonding with his new horse. Doesn't matter if you walk on two legs or four, I swear everyone likes him. I've never known anyone as relaxed and accepting of Paris. Maybe that'll rub off on me one of these days, eh?"

Éomer: I am tempted to add more to the argument, but I remember the lessons my uncle tried to teach me about diplomacy, and I will not let my temper rule me. You have apoloised and I will try to be as amenable as Paris is, letting his example guide my behavior while I am in your presence.

I cast about for some safe subject to discuss, wondering if you know what is wrong with Karl. But perhaps shifting is not safe, nor do I know how deeply you are in Karl's confidence. Though you are his dear friend, I have no wish to betray him by the nature of the strange bond I share with him.

"I too could benefit from Paris's example. Where did you find your own horse?"

Dave: "It was lucky timing on my part - I found Laurelea through a private owner." I chuckle, remembering a rather insistent friend who pushed me to get her. "It was a couple of years ago. I didn't have the cabin yet, so Viggo let me board her at his place. I was living at Craig's and there wasn't room to keep her there... but a certain Gondorian son-of-a-Steward seemed very, very insistent that I needed a horse. He's hard to argue with when he's sure he's right."

Éomer: I decide that you must be referring to Faramir, for while I know that the Steward of Gondor has two sons, I have never heard that Boromir travels to this world. I wonder why Faramir wanted you to have a horse, for I have never ridden with him while we have been together. Perhaps he did not want the horse for himself, but it was indeed for you.

I smile reminiscently. “Faramir is indeed most determined when he makes a decision.” I would add stubborn, but I think that it is impossible for you to know him as I do, for when he is here, you are not. And I do not wish you to think that I insult your shift who is still my good friend.

“But that does seem to be the way of things, the horse and Rider find each other when the time is right.”

Dave: "I like that saying, Éomer. I think there's truth in it." I remember how hard it was for me to learn to ride, back when I was playing Faramir in the films. Christ, I got teased. Unmercifully. Seemed like everyone else already knew how to ride, and there I was, practically falling off the poor horse assigned to me. Eventually I got it, though. "When I got my horse, I didn't know I was just about to go through one of the worst times of my life, the relationship I was in was just about to break apart. Maybe Faramir knew that. For all I know, he dreamed about it. And when I saw Laurelea, there was something about the way she reacted to me that said 'I'm patient, you're only human, we'll figure this out', and I knew she was the horse for me."

I give you a sheepish smile and turn onto a long dirt road, well out of the city now. Didn't really mean to spill so much to someone I barely know.

Éomer: Your stories of learning to ride interest me, for I had not considered before how different it is for a child in your world compared to mine. In Rohan, children are put on old gentle horses as soon as they learn to walk. Horses are not a part of your life, though, and while I knew that, I had not considered what it meant.

But you turn away from the hard road and I lean forward eagerly, this is farm country, the like of which I have not seen before. It interests me, so different from the wide plains of the Mark. This place is green and full of trees, with meadowland and pastures interspersed between and small dwellings.

Dave: It's been a while since I've been to Ralph's house, but I know it won't be hard to find. And, another couple of miles down the road, there it is. The house is crooked and the roof sags, it looks to be a hundred years old if it's a day. That's all secondary to the wooden siding which is painted a rather startling shade of purple, offset insanely by the bright yellow window frames and front porch. I pull off to the side of the road out front and park.

"These are good, happy people, Éomer. Rawiri takes good care of Laurelea when Paris and I are gone. If anyone could instill a good disposition in a horse, it'll be his dad Tika and his mum Rewa. Be prepared. They'll hug you. There's no getting around it, just accept your fate and be ready."

Éomer: "I do not object to hugs, especially not from good people.” You park the truck in a wide area of packed dirt in front of a small house. Several people come out to greet us, but my attention is held by the pasture behind the house.

I wait impatiently for your introductions, wanting to see what kind of horses these people have and if any of them will be suitable for Paris. I am determined to find a horse that he will fall in love with, so he will be encouraged to ride as much as he can. I have a moment of doubt, wondering if Paris should have come with us. But I decide that you know him better than anyone else and I have also had time to spend with him.

Dave: I spend some time letting Tika and Rewa chatter happily. I can tell Éomer’s getting impatient, but I'm sure he can hang on just a little while more. It's pretty obvious that they don't get a lot of visitors, and are relishing having a new audience for their stories. Eventually, I manage to work in some words edgewise, including 'horse', 'gift', 'Paris', and 'purchase'. 'Purchase' seems to be the magic word.

We're whisked out the back door and led off to the stables. I ask Tika if we could spend some time quietly visiting with the horses, and he seems to understand that. I assure him that my friend 'Earl', is a master horse rider and we will treat his animals with full respect.

And then we're left alone in a stable with a few dozen stalls, each with a protruding large nose sniffing about over the stall's short door, all of them curious about who the new smells might belong to.

Éomer: I watch the faces peering at us, looking for one with intelligence, with a spark of something that will draw Paris. They are all curious, but one attracts my eye by the tossing of his head. It is hard to see him well in the dimness of the barn, but the white blaze on his face shines out to me. I unlatch the door and let him smell me before walking in, talking to him all the while.

He is calm, but stamps his foot with impatience and I chuckle. “Easy, lad. We will go outside and see you.”

I put a hand on his halter and lead him into the small paddock behind the barn. He is a gelding, the color of the melted sugar and butter treat that my mother used to make, and he prances a little, knowing that I am admiring him. I smile at his antics, smoothing his coat and talking to him, before sliding onto his back.

Dave: I lean against the fence and watch. And maybe I start to understand a little more about the Rohirrim. The moment you settle on the horse's back, it's as if the sun came out from behind a cloud, the way you practically light up. You look like you've come home. As you guide him around the paddock, I find myself grinning widely, watching with admiration as you ride.

I can picture Paris on this horse. I'll wait for your opinion, but I'm hoping it's a positive one.

Éomer: His gait is fairly smooth, with an odd little hop at times in his paces, but I think that it will not bother Paris, especially once he has been fitted with a proper saddle. I prefer to test a new horse without a saddle because the flaws are much easier to spot when there is nothing to interfere with the connection between horse and rider. He responds easily to the pressure of my legs around his barrel, and indeed, he seems a merry fellow.

I dismount, and talk to him while I look at his teeth. He appears to be about seven or eight years old, a good age for our purpose. I run my hands over him, picking up his feet and inspecting his hooves. They are well-tended and he stands calmly while I prod him.

“I think he will do well for Paris,” I call to you as I lead him over to the fence to meet you.

Dave: You look like you're checking all the right bits, and I'm grateful you're being so thorough. When you lead him up close, I get a better look at his face. The horse seems very well assured, but not aggressive, and there's a brightness about his eyes that I like. And I have to admit, he's really quite handsome.

"Well, then... I suppose we should find out what your name is, eh, fellah?" I stroke his neck, and smile at Éomer. "If you think he's a good choice, I'll go along with that. I trust you on this." I peer up at the house, and there's Tika and Rewa relaxing on their back porch. I give a wave, and make a 'come here' motion with my hand.

Tika laughs and jogs down to join us. "Can't resist this one, can you? Very very good choice!"

Éomer: I can tell from the man’s smug tone that he well knows the value of this horse, and if we were in the Mark I would not hesitate to bargain closely with him. I recognise the signs of a man who thinks he is dealing with innocents, and though I think this horse is worth quite a bit, I am still not comfortable with the money system in this world. Also, I do not know how much you have planned to spend, though it seems you do not lack and Paris is very dear to you.

Deciding to leave the rest of the transaction to you, and hoping you understand me, I say indifferently, “He is adequate for our needs.”

Dave: Tika manages to look both pleased and insulted all at once. He quickly counts off ten reasons on his fingers why this horse is a perfect investment, including the fact that he's a 'warmblood', which I guess is a good thing. I'd assume all horses had warm blood, but who knows where these terms come from? I stifle a grin, and catch the clue that you're leaving the pesky details of price and paperwork up to me. I ask to see his breeding papers and a sales contract. I leave you to get to know the horse better, and step into the house with Tika.

About ten minutes later, we're back, and I'm folding up a contact to slip into my jacket pocket. Tika's got three beers in hand. He hands you one, and I give you a quick wink. "It's not a binding contract till we all drink on it." We raise our beers, and I clink your bottle and Tika's. "Here's to a long and happy friendship between Paris and his new horse, Cavalo!" Tika's explained to me that Cavalo means 'horse' in Portuguese. I'm just relieved it doesn't mean 'chicken'.