The Truth At Last

[eric_dalton]

I’ve been here for days now and they say I can go home tomorrow. My strength has gradually been coming back, I’ve started getting out of bed for longer and longer. Made it all the way down the corridor yesterday, dragging my IV stand along with me, hoping my knees didn’t give out. The nurses have been overwhelmingly concerned about the state of my farts, but evidently I satisfied them with the amount of gas I can pass and was allowed to actually eat a few days ago.

Drew has been staying at my place, since Mum and Da went back to Auckland yesterday. Still hurts like a bitch to move around much, but I just want to be home, in my own bed. They’ve tapered off the drugs but I have enough pills that I’ll be fine at home.

Karl has gone back to his house for one of his infrequent trips to shower and change clothes. The man has been here almost as much as I have. It is hard to see him here, so worried about me.

Drew comes back into the room, followed by a police constable. I knew this was coming eventually, but they’ve been good about leaving me alone till now.

“Eric, this is PC Hulme, wants to talk to you. Doctor said he could.” Drew’s way of warning me, but I don’t need it.

The constable nods to me. “Nice to see you looking so well. We were all quite worried about you.” He looks at Drew. “If you don’t mind, sir, I’d like to talk to your brother alone.”

I make a shooing motion to Drew and he leaves, but the set of his shoulders tells me he doesn’t like it.

PC Hulme pulls out a PDA and a stylus. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Parts of it, some of it is foggy.”

“Not too unusual with the amount of trauma you suffered, most people shut off the really bad parts. What do you remember?”

“I was locking up, there were still a couple of customers, and I was herding them to the door. One was a young guy . . . he let the others in.”

“Did you recognize him? Would you know him again?”

“I don’t think I’d ever seen him before and I really wasn’t looking at his face, so I don’t know. He had a weird tattoo around his neck, that’s what got my attention. I’d never seen anything like it.”

“Hmm.” The constable tapped the stylus against his teeth. “What happened next?”

“This is where I lose the plot. He let his mates in, I’m not sure how many and they started destroying my window and hitting me.”

“Did you know any of them?”

“No, but they all had tattoos as well, weird symbols and things. Oh! And brands of the same type of thing.”


“None of them related to Mr. Urban in any way?”

“Karl? You’ve got to be joking! No, he wasn’t involved . . . he wouldn’t.” He wouldn’t hurt me, not like this. “They were young, lot younger than him. You can’t seriously think he’s had anything to do with this!”

The constable shrugged. “Lot of times when people get hurt like this, it’s someone they know. He said he was your business partner . . . money makes people do strange things.”

I suppress the urge to scream at him. “I gave him some shares of my business for his birthday. Not enough to give him controlling interest.” I raise my hand to hold off his interjection. “And killing me wouldn’t get him the rest, my will says they go to my parents and brother. Besides that’s ludicrous, he’s a successful actor, he doesn’t need it.”

“All right. We’ll leave that for now. Did they say anything that you remember?”

I concentrate. “No . . . nothing that made any sense. Something about picking sides or the wrong side. I don’t know what they meant.”

That startles him. “The wrong side of what?”

“They didn’t say.”

He taps again. “Would you be able to recognize pictures of them, do you think?” At my negative head shake, he continues, “What about the tattoos? Would you know them again?”

“Yeah, those I remember. I’m not very good at sketching, but I could try to draw them.”

“We may have some pictures for you. What were they using for the damage?”

I sigh. This part really hurts to recall. “Chains . . . and bats . . . and a weapon like the other one.”

“What other one?”

“From the first time my store was attacked. Karl found it after you lot left.” I try to remember. “He said it looked like WETA Workshop make, he was going to ask them about it and then turn it over.” I can tell from his expression that Karl did no such thing.

“Seems we may have to talk to Mr. Urban after all. Vigilantism is as much of a crime as the original offense. I hope you’ll impress upon him that he should confide in us and keep himself out of trouble.”

I nod, not at all confident that Karl will cooperate. He shuts his PDA and gathers up his hat, and hands me his business card.

“If you remember anything at all, please call me.” He departs and Drew comes back in almost instantly.

“Were you listening at the door? Eavesdropping is a nasty trait.”

“I just wanted to make sure he didn’t upset you. Are you sure that Karl’s not involved?”

I glare at him and he holds up his hands. “Fine, you’re right. He’s been dedicated, and I’ve got no doubt about how he feels about you. Sometimes I just get this sense from him . . . . I don’t know exactly.” He trails off.

But I know what he means, and it just reminds me that Karl and I really have to talk about some things and it won’t wait much longer.

The nurse’s aide is clearing away my lunch things when Karl comes back. I motion to Drew with my head and he mumbles something about shopping, and nods at my glare. I don’t want him lurking this time.

Comments

[horseboykarl.livejournal.com]

Karl: You look so lively, so active, to see that after all these days lifts a weight from me. I settle onto the bed beside you and take your hand, twining our fingers together, before lifting them to my mouth to kiss.

“You look so much better today. They tell me you’ll go home soon.”

I want to lean forward and kiss you, but you look so serious and I don’t want to damage you.

[eric-dalton.livejournal.com]

Eric: “The police just left.” You protest against my fingers.

“No, they didn’t upset me . . . but Karl, we need to talk.”

I need to know what’s going on, why two men who think they’re out of a story were romping around in your bed. Why those punks think they answer to someone named “Lord Morgoth.” I didn’t tell PC Hulme about that one, but I remembered that while he was questioning me. And I remembered where that name comes from. I don’t think you had anything to do with the attack on me, but there are too many Tolkien connections for this to be a coincidence.

[horseboykarl.livejournal.com]

I can see by the look on your face, that this is the talk about what Éomer told me about. Part of me is relieved that you feel well enough to take on this subject, while the other part of me that is used to keeping secrets winces a little. But I’ve been trying to work out how to have this conversation for weeks now, so I’m glad at least to have it over with.

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know, Eric. Just ask.”

I take a deep breath and decide to make this easy for you. “Éomer told me that you had seen him with Théodred.”

[eric-dalton.livejournal.com]

I’m surprised and I let it show on my face. Usually wrestling personal information out of you is much more difficult, but maybe for once I can get some answers out of you and some that aren’t evasions and half truths. I’m also shocked at how easily that name comes to you, as though that man is someone you know well . . . and you accept his insanity without question.

“Éomer? Let’s start there. I went out there wondering if you were cheating on me and instead I find him. Who the bloody hell is he? I assume he’s that friend of yours, the one who causes the trouble. Elmer?”

[horseboykarl.livejournal.com]

That lie coming back to haunt me is more embarrassing than most and I flush. I know I can derail this conversation if I were to get defensive about the cheating accusation, but I manage to resist ducking the issue yet again.

“Yes, he’s the one. He comes here to see Théodred . . . they can’t be together where they’re from. He’s the Third Marshal of the Mark and the future King of Rohan if nothing happens to change his fate.”

I look at you steadily, giving you the truth as I know it, wondering if you are going to scream at me or have me arrested or committed. I hope you’re strong enough for this conversation. I would have put it off longer, until you’re completely well, but I owe you the truth.

[eric-dalton.livejournal.com]

You clearly believe the nonsense you just spouted to me and once again, I have serious doubts about your sanity. But crazy people don’t know they are, right?”

“Karl . . . “ I try to speak to you as gently as possible. “Surely you know how ridiculous that sounds. Éomer’s a fictional character, he doesn’t walk around Wellie. What you are saying is impossible.”

[horseboykarl.livejournal.com]

I don’t know how to convince you . . . fuck, I live with it and it took a lot more than this to get me to believe this. I don’t want to call him, not here, not in this hospital with doctors and police officers hanging about. And I don’t fucking understand all of it myself. The only one who does is Hugo, and he’s likely to just confuse the issue further.

“I know how it sounds. Look . . . I’m not exactly sure how it happened myself. The thing that I can’t argue anymore, even though I tried for months . . . is the fact that Middle Earth is real. Somehow. Tolkien either tapped into something that already existed . . . or just by writing about it, he brought that world into being.”

[eric-dalton.livejournal.com]

Something you say triggers a memory in me . . . other writers have postulated that the act of writing creates other universes. Something by Heinlein perhaps. I’ve skimmed physics treatises on the subject of parallel universes, never understanding the science behind them, but still fascinated by the theory.

“If that is so . . . it still doesn’t explain what Éomer of Rohan was doing in your bed.”

[horseboykarl.livejournal.com]

“Now we’re getting to the part that I don’t understand so well. Tolkien’s world existed, exactly as he wrote it. But then Peter Jackson came along and he was, I don’t know . . . powerful enough to affect Middle Earth. He changed things . . . swapped Arwen for Glorfindel, put Haldir at Helm’s Deep, sent Éomer into exile instead of into prison. Somehow he meddled in what should have happened and made the boundaries between our universe and theirs become thin.”

I’m never going to understand how it helps Morgoth. I know that Hugo says it will help him break free of the prison that the Valar put him into, but it still doesn’t make any bloody sense to me.

[eric-dalton.livejournal.com]

How can a geeky, jolly filmmaker from Zid affect what happens in Middle Earth? Even if I buy that Tolkien’s world exists, Peter Jackson seems an unlikely agent of such world-altering powers.

“Peter Jackson? You must be joking! And besides, that Bakshi fellow made a Lord of the Rings movie years ago and nothing like this happened.”

[horseboykarl.livejournal.com]

That part of your skepticism is completely understandable, unless you’ve met Pete.

“He put all of his passion into those movies. He said all along that we weren’t making a movie, we were making a documentary. It was to get us all in the right mind frame, but I think that’s what was the difference in these movies and the others. Between the note-perfect details on the sets and the weapons and things to the way we all really became our characters . . . we all did it, from Pete and the actors to the people at WETA. We all believed. Look at Viggo . . . I’ve never seen anything like him. Sometimes I wasn’t sure who I was talking to and I would have been ready to swear that Aragorn walked around on this earth. And with all that, with all of us . . . somehow, it was enough.”

[eric-dalton.livejournal.com]

I’ve seen all the effort that went into those movies, it’d be impossible to live in Wellie and miss it. I don’t doubt that all of you believed in what you were doing . . . and I have to wonder if that’s the explanation for this . . . that you’ve gotten lost in a role and can’t find your way out again. But no, that man in your bed was not you. I’d stake my life on that.

“But how does that get Éomer here? And I would think you’d want to hang around to see that he stays out of trouble.”

[horseboykarl.livejournal.com]

I grimace, thinking that I’d like nothing better than to supervise horseboy’s visits. Then I reconsider . . . all he does is fuck Théodred, so I’d rather not hang around and witness that.

“I wish I could keep him out of trouble, but that’s the problem. When he’s here, I’m not. I’m his gateway to this world. He comes here and I go into limbo, it’s like falling deeply asleep. I used to fight him, try to prevent him from coming here, but it wore us both out and I think it would have permanently damaged me eventually. He’s very strong-willed.”

[eric-dalton.livejournal.com]

I know I must look absurd with my mouth hanging open. Unfortunately, much as I’d like to deny it, that explains a lot of things . . . why you disappear sometimes, the slight resemblance that man had to you, even why you were looking into multiple personalities the first time I met you.

I draw a deep breath, hoping that the blood pressure monitor on my finger isn’t picking up what this conversation is doing to me, because I don’t want to be interrupted by a well-meaning nurse, not when I’m finally getting some answers out of you.

“If . . . If I accept this is true, are you saying that Jackson somehow cast you, Karl Urban, as Éomer and you are so close to him in spirit that he can cross from his world to yours? Did this happen to the rest of the cast, too?”

[horseboykarl.livejournal.com]

Don’t know how much I like being compared to the horseboy in spirit, but I suppose that I have to admit that we do have a some similarities. Théodred seemed to find us alike in some ways. There’s one thing we share that I’d like to have removed from my brain . . . .

“It’s not that we’re alike.” I’ll just keep denying it for now, I’m good at that. “It’s just the fact that I was cast as him, that was enough to allow him to take me over.”

I debate how to answer your second question. Some secrets aren’t mine to keep or to tell and my friends’ lives aren’t your business. Then there’s the shifts that make no sense, like Viggo’s other one or Gareth’s, and I know those would just confuse the issue.

You’ve already met Théodred, so I decide to give up Paris, hoping he’ll forgive me for it. “I don’t know about the rest of the cast. The man who played Théodred does it too, he was with Éomer the other night.”

[eric-dalton.livejournal.com]

Yes, the other one, the scary one. I hadn’t forgotten about him, smaller than Éomer, but with more of a sense of menace about him. I got the feeling that he wouldn’t hesitate to slip a knife in your back if he thought it was for the greater good.

“But he was barely in the movie, how can Théodred come here? I don’t remember who played him.” You look defensive, but I point out that it would hardly take any effort to find out who it was.

This story would be easier to accept if there weren’t so many inconsistencies.

[horseboykarl.livejournal.com]

“He’s a Kiwi named Paris Howe Strewe. He spent a few days being lugged around on my horse and then dying very prettily, and decided that acting wasn’t for him. But it was enough.”

I push my hair out of my eyes. “I don’t know if it’s because his role was so small or what, but Théodred just takes over his mind. The man you saw looks exactly like Paris, which sometimes causes Paris some difficulties. But Éomer takes over my whole body . . . you saw how different we look. The only thing we share is wounds, if he gets hurt here, he leaves the injury with me when he goes back to Rohan.”

Much as I want to keep you ignorant and safe, I know that’s not an option anymore. Somehow, this nightmare has touched you and I don’t know if was pure chance or because of your involvement with me. But I’m not going to tell you about the bowl, because I don’t want to risk you going to look for it and ending up with a shift the way Gareth did.

“Éomer and Théodred are the good guys, but . . . there’s a balance, there always is. Morgoth . . . “ I look to see if you know who I’m talking about and you nod shakily. “This thinning between worlds is helping Morgoth, and this is where I get really bloody confused, but he’s using it . . . and his creatures come here. The scar on my arm is from a battle that Éomer fought here against one of Morgoth’s beasts.” Hopefully I can avoid a full accounting of what exactly happened that day.

[eric-dalton.livejournal.com]

I whisper, “Morgoth . . . they said their lord was Morgoth . . . the punks who attacked me.” The look on your face is grim and frightening.

“You are saying that evil walks the streets of Wellie, too, then. Not just good. And you’re involved in fighting it, aren’t you? You did something after my store was hit the first time, that’s when you turned up with that burn.”

I’m more frightened now than when I was getting attacked. This isn’t over yet, and I can’t see when it will ever be over. And because of your bad luck to be cast in that movie, you will never be able to put this burden down.

[horseboykarl.livejournal.com]

I twine my fingers with yours. “Can you tell me what happened? I know your memories must be sketchy. What was in the window display?”

I have a pretty good idea of what I’m going to hear. I know it must be the fucking fanboys again, just from what you’ve already said. I just hope you can give me something to go on, some way I can find them, because there’s a coldness in my gut, and it’s not going to go away until I’ve stopped them for good.

[eric-dalton.livejournal.com]

“After I ran across your friends, I had Tolkien on the brain. I’d been planning to do Elrond’s library for a while, so I decided the time was right. I dressed some of the manikins like Elves and put up a painted backdrop.”

I’m angry briefly, angry that they destroyed something I’d worked so hard on. That almost hurts more than my physical injuries. But the fear comes back quickly.

“They had tattoos of Tolkien runes. I’m not exactly sure how many there were, but they talked about Morgoth and smashing the Elves and picking sides. They had a weapon like what you found before.”

The look on your face is truly terrifying now and I’m afraid you’ll do something stupid.

“The police constable said to warn you about taking justice into your own hands. Karl . . . please don’t put yourself in danger.”

[horseboykarl.livejournal.com]

The ice locks itself around me and when I speak my voice is cold and level. “They don’t get to do whatever the fuck they want around here and not face consequences. The fucking police have no fucking clue what they’re up against. But I do. And I’ll deal with it.”

I can’t promise you that I won’t get hurt, but I try to reassure you. “Don’t worry about me, I’m too stubborn to get hurt, and besides . . . if things get too rough, I can always call Éomer. He’s helped before.” I smile at you, hoping you’ll buy it.

[eric-dalton.livejournal.com]

I know you’re tough and a good fighter and pretty sensible most of the time, but . . . “Shared injuries . . . if Éomer were to be killed here, while he’s using your body . . . “

I can’t finish it. All the strength I’ve regained these few days deserts me abruptly. I feel like I’ve fallen in love with a soldier who’s about to be shipped off to the front lines.

[horseboykarl.livejournal.com]

“I don’t know exactly what would happen, but I suspect that he would get pulled back into Middle Earth, and I’d . . . and the link would be severed.”

Tears are leaking out of your eyes and I reach across with my thumb to brush them away. “I’ll be all right.”

I don’t want to worry you any more about what might be. I can’t think that way myself either, I just have to do what needs to be done, and trust that there is some good in the world that will see me through.

We fall quiet and I lay my head down on the bed, stroking your arm softly. Your breathing has evened out and deepened by the time Drew comes back with a sack of junk food. We exchange glances as he sits down in the chair. I know he doesn’t want me to upset you.

My phone goes off and I silence it quickly before it can wake you. I frown as I look at the number. It’s Gareth and he doesn’t call just to talk. I motion to the hallway with my head and whisper to Drew, “I need to take this.”