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eric_daltonEric: I thought Karl would be thrilled to see that reggae band, one of his favorites, playing at a local club. Great band, intimate venue, what more could you ask for? But he begged off, saying he had something else to do. I have a hard time buying that story about a lightning trip to Auckland. It just doesn't sound right.
Our relationship has deepened over the past few weeks, and while I do trust him, I know he’s lied about things, or . . . maybe it’s more that he doesn’t tell me everything. I’m not really sure why I have the urge to drive out to his place, I suppose the secrets are just becoming too much.
The sun has set by the time I pull into his yard and see with a sinking heart that his new truck is parked outside the garage. And there’s a motorcycle beside it that isn’t his. One last chance for this to be all right, as I carefully open the barn door, hoping the Harley isn’t there.
But it is and the feeling in my stomach becomes outright nausea.
I tell myself desperately to just leave, that I don’t want to know any more, but my feet won’t listen. The lights are on in the house and I walk around quietly to the deck in the back. There aren’t any occupants in the living area, but I’m determined now, keeping to the edge of the railing, until I stand outside his bedroom.
His bed is occupied and the sight there takes my breath away. Gold . . . everywhere. Golden hair and golden skin. Two of them. Beautiful.
No dark hair, so it’s not Karl. One of them looks like him a little in the eyes, but there’s no way that hair is a wig. No way any wig could stand up to having the head wrenched back like that. He’s large, bulky muscles. The other is leaner, sleeker, pounding away as he pulls his lover into an arch.
I’ve never seen anything like them, like animals mating almost, fierce and free. My body is responding to the show in front of me and when the bigger man rears back, his face contorted in a rictus of ecstasy, his organ huge and purple and shooting streams of creamy fluid across the bed, I can’t resist palming my own erection. The other one slams into him a few more times and then his body convulses too and I moan without realizing what I’m doing.
Théo: Even deep in the throes of orgasm, the soft moan from outside on the deck reaches me. I act as if I heard nothing, pushing you flat to the bed as we land in a heap, a smile on my face as I nuzzle your hair, kissing your shoulder before whispering in your ear. "Someone watches us. Outside." Even if they can hear me, all they will hear are soft words that they cannot possibly understand. You tense a little as I slip from you, and I roll us so your back is to the window, smiling, and kissing you, whispering as I caress your skin. "Lie here and give them something to watch."
You nod in understanding, and kiss me back. I know it was a moan I heard, so I think this will keep them occupied. I roll you onto your back, and make an art out of cleaning us both up with a cloth, and then slip from the bed, kissing you and stroking your face. At the door, I turn with a loving smile. "I will sneak up on them as they watch." As soon as I am out of sight of the window, my face hardens, and I pull on the jeans left discarded earlier before moving silently towards the door, wondering who it is that dares spy on us.
Éomer: I lie back on the pillows and spread my legs, drawing one knee up and running my fingers down my torso, stopping to flick the ring in my nipple. The sensation shoots to my groin and I am no longer acting. Our session that we just completed was our first that day, and it had been hard and fast as we released our pent up tension from our separation that had been longer than we were used to. We had not had time yet for slower explorations, for testing each other’s responses, for driving each other to the very edge over and over again.
So I close my eyes and I imagine that your fingers replace mine, trailing over my body. I take my renewed hardness in hand, tugging on it, my other hand drifting down to slowly squeeze my balls. My hips arch up into my stroking hand and I hope that we can deal with this distraction quickly.
Eric: The slimmer man disappears and the man remaining begins to touch himself and I cannot tear my gaze away. His long blonde hair falls over his sturdy shoulders as his body twists. I cannot believe that he is hard again after what he just did, but his recovery time must be phenomenal because he is slowly fisting his erection.
I know I should leave, Karl isn’t here and whatever secrets he is keeping will remain hidden until he trusts me enough to tell me what’s going on. My conscience is telling me that I am no more than a peeping Tom now, but I cannot force myself away from the sight on Karl’s bed.
And then it’s too late. A hand grasps my wrist, pulling it behind my back and up between my shoulder blades, while another arm encircles my throat. I panic as a voice growls in my ear in a language I don’t understand.
Théo: “Dón ná gán.” It is no wonder I was able to come up behind him so easily, when I see the distraction you are providing. For once though, I do not let the sight of you so openly pleasuring yourself distract me, only allowing myself to gaze at you over his shoulder for a second before attracting your attention. “Ic habben hine.” He squirms a little, but I can feel his fear, and have easily gauged his strength. He will not escape me.
At the sound of my voice, you walk to the glass door, still naked, and pull it open. Your brow furrows as I pull him into the room, and his heart beat increases even more. “Is hē cýðig tó þū?” I ask as I push him down to sit on the edge of the bed as you close the door behind us.
Éomer: I look at him closely, his mouth is gaping like a fish until I see your smirk and realize that I am still naked. I hurriedly pull on my pants while I examine the stranger. He is a few inches shorter than you are, older than either of us. His hair is brown shot with red and silver and is caught in a clasp at the base of his neck. His eyes are pale green and very startled.
“Næfre sceawian hine.” I tell you. I turn back to the stranger. “Hwa þū?”
He looks at me blankly and I realize I am still speaking the Rohirric that you and I commonly use when we are alone together.
“Who are you?”
Eric: There is such a feeling of danger rolling off of these two, that I am more frightened than I have ever been, though they have not made any overt threats to me. I can’t blame them for being angry that I was spying on them. I have to wonder if one of them is Karl’s ‘cousin’ who causes him so much trouble.
But this language they are speaking has me completely puzzled. It sounds vaguely like German, which I learned from a friend when I was at Stanford, but it is not that. I feel as if I can almost understand them, but comprehension is frustratingly elusive.
The bigger one finally switches to oddly accented English and I reply to his query. “My name is Eric Dalton. Where’s Karl?”
Théo: "He is not here." Which is a truthful statement, but probably not the answer he was looking for. I let out a long sigh. So he is a friend of Karl's, and one who could not have picked a worse time to arrive looking for him. But something strikes me. He did not knock on the door, or make his presence known openly.
“If you are indeed a friend of Karl’s, what were you doing creeping around his house?” As I speak I look over at you, and can see recognition dawning in your eyes. Perhaps this man is known to you after all.
Éomer: The name he speaks sets off a memory in my mind and I sit down heavily on the bed, finally realizing who he is and what he’s doing here and why.
“Hē is Karl’s lufiend.”
I wonder glumly how angry Karl is going to be over this. But Karl introduced me to his aunt, and he told me about this one, so perhaps it will be all right. At the very least, I can make him feel more comfortable and apologize for our forceful handling.
Standing up again, I bow slightly. “I am Éomer, son of Éomund. Karl has told me about you and I am pleased to make your acquaintance. You surprised us or we would not have been so rough with you. I am sorry for that.”
Eric: The big one seems to recognize my name, but it doesn’t make him happy. Suddenly the level of danger I’m feeling seems to diminish and he doesn’t look threatening anymore. As he speaks to the other one, I realize that they are speaking some extremely corrupted version of English and I wonder where on Earth they came from that their dialect would be so bizarre.
But the next words out of his mouth are so insane that I wonder at what point during this night did I stumble through a looking glass, because that’s just about the only explanation for this.
I vaguely register that he is trying to apologize, but I’m frightened again, because surely he should be locked in a mental institution for his delusions.
“Éomer doesn’t exist. Let me go!” I just want to leave this madhouse and get away to someplace safe. And what business does Karl have telling lunatics about me? And why would Karl hang around with some Tolkien freak who thinks he’s a fictional character? I’m starting to really wonder how well I know the man who shares my bed.
Théo: His lover? Standing with my arms folded, I consider the implications of this meeting, knowing that Karl will not be pleased about it. You look so unhappy, and I know that the thought of upsetting Karl must be weighing on your mind too. Eric is clearly having a hard time with accepting who you are, and is on the verge of bolting, which I think is the worst thing that could happen. Perhaps honesty would be the best way to handle this, or at least honesty to a certain degree.
“Please accept my apologies also. I am Théodred, son of Théoden, and I can assure you, we exist.” Eric’s eyes widen, and as he looks from you to me and back again. Maybe he would be more accepting if he did not feel so ill at ease.
“I think perhaps we could all do with a drink.” He gets warily to his feet and I take his arm, not wanting him to run before we have had a chance to talk. At the doorway, I turn and give you a regretful smile. The carefree mood of the evening has been well and truly shattered, but at least we can try and salvage the situation. As I lead Eric through to sit on the couch, I hope with all my heart that Karl will not hold us responsible for this.
Éomer: Leaving you to get the man settled on the couch, I grab a shirt and then go to the kitchen and retrieve three bottles of ale. I open them and give them out before taking a seat as well. Eric takes his and sips it without seeming to know what he is doing. I take a long swig of mine, trying to decide what to say. Karl clearly has not told this man the truth, so I am not sure how much of it I should reveal. I consider calling Karl back to deal with the situation himself, for his lover must be suspicious of him about something, if he felt the need to sneak around and spy.
I do not want to lose my time with you and I am not sure whether the knowledge that Karl and I share bodies would make things better or worse. I sigh and look over at you. You shrug and shake your head, at loss as to what to do also.
I try to think of myself in Karl’s position, but I have never lied to a lover, so I do not know why he would. But he must have his reasons, and I will have to respect that. I try for an edited version of the truth.
“We are here, through some odd concentration of power, we can move between our world and yours. How can I help you understand this?”
Eric: The shock of the second introduction hardly registers, until I realize that they are claiming to be cousins and then I really want that drink. I gulp the beer offered and try to think about this logically.
Where the hell is Karl? Surely he could get these two to admit to their lunacy. But then I remember . . . And what is his name?” “Uh . . . Elmer”. I roll the sound of the two names around in my head, Elmer . . . Éomer. Phonetically similar. Karl, under pressure, comes up with a name I might believe, but he can’t think fast enough to come up with a completely different name.
And that means . . . that Karl believes this insanity too.
All right, I’ve read Lord of the Rings, I’ll try to trip them up. No, that won’t work, if they’re Tolkien freaks, they’ll have read it too, and probably the supplementary works also.
So I seize on the apparent discrepancy in their story. “Théodred was older than Éomer, closer to my age. And Tolkien never mentioned them having an affair, that’s sort of gross, don’t you think? Sleeping with your cousin?”
Théo: “We come from different times. Éomer is from my future, I am from his past.” I hope that my explanation on that point will suffice. This is indeed an awkward situation, but I do not think that revealing that we share bodies with our shifts is going to help.
“Our relationship is none of your business, but since you seem to think clarification on this point would help, Tolkien would have never known about our “affair” as it is only in this world that we can be together, something that would be impossible back in Rohan.”
Paris’ brother’s library back at the warehouse is quite extensive, and I have sat and read several volumes of history during odd nights when I have slipped in for a few hours, initially to see where our worlds mesh, how they join, a fruitless search so far, but there are no books by this Tolkien, this historian of our world. Paris has informed me that they are very rare, and neither Dave nor Karl have copies either, so I have no reason to doubt him. I take a long swig of much needed beer.
“Gross?” I laugh at the term, and get up walking to your side, and squeezing your shoulder as we look at him. “Are there not places in your world where cousins marry and have children? How is this any different?” Eric’s face is almost unreadable, and I sigh, again. I do not think even my father would be able to sort out this mess, and he is by far and away a better diplomat than I.
Éomer: He is never going to believe us, but he seems calmer now. I am not sure what else to do, but I want to know what he intends.
“Eric, we did not mean to harm you. But you must admit that you were spying, and we have spent most of our lives in danger from one source or another, so we reacted instinctively.”
He has the grace to look embarrassed by that, and I decide that Karl cannot blame me for this, although I am sure that he will try. It is not our fault that his lover does not trust him, and we did not expect to have any visitors.
“Karl allows us to use his house on occasion, but he is not here. If there are untruths that lie between the two of you, you must ask Karl about them. We have done nothing wrong.”
Eric: They have both made good points. I am in no position to judge other people’s sex lives, considering that my own is thought perverted in much of the world. I look at them there together, equally matched in beauty, and remembering the scene I stumbled across, I know that the bond between them must be deep that they can give each other so much passion.
It seems to be quite a lot of work, this delusion they suffer from, what with speaking the language and maintaining that aura of danger. I don’t think I’ve ever met any other homosexuals who seem so tough, and I thought Karl was butch till now. They don’t seem the type who revel in the angst, so I wonder why they decided to be this particular pair, seeing that their story can’t have a happy ending.
But Éomer’s words about the lack of trust between Karl and me remind me of why I was here in the first place.
“I won’t say anything to anyone about this, just let me leave, please?” I really need to find somewhere quiet and think about all of this.
Théo: “We did not intend to hold you here against your will, simply did not want you running out in a panic.” I am concerned that Eric knows part of this secret, this shifting, but that cannot be helped. What is done is done, and it is Karl that must deal with Eric’s mistrust in him. Although if Karl truly trusted him, he would have told him, but I have to push that aside, and let him go if he chooses, remembering that this is not my world, and the rules are different here.
I remember the last time I saw Karl, and how he turned down my advances. As he gets hesitatingly to his feet, I catch his gaze. “He cares for you. Talk to him.”
Eric: Great, now I have lunatics who think they can give me advice on my love life. I say goodbye hurriedly and nearly run back to my car. I’m not in a panic, but I need to get away from here before anything else can happen.
I drive to one of the restaurants down by the harbor and sit outside on the deck, nursing a Scotch and ignoring the cold. Why is it that these extracurricular issues with Karl always drive me to stronger drinks?
The language bothers me. I’ve heard of fans taking things to extremes before, but to learn that language, some form of Old English or Anglo Saxon, I guess. That’s extreme. But I get several requests each month for English/Elvish dictionaries so the really rabid fans can learn Elvish, so that doesn't prove anything.
What is clear is that the two of them thoroughly believed their own stories and somehow sucked Karl into it as well. I have to admit they both fit the part perfectly. They aren’t like anyone I’ve ever met, they spoke formally but their actions were primitive.
No! It can’t possibly be true.
Do not move – Dón ná gán
I have him – Ic habben hine
Is he known to you? – Is hē cýðig tó þū
Næfre sceawian hine – Never seen him
Hwa þū? – Who are you?
Hē is Karl's lufiend – He is Karl’s lover
Our relationship has deepened over the past few weeks, and while I do trust him, I know he’s lied about things, or . . . maybe it’s more that he doesn’t tell me everything. I’m not really sure why I have the urge to drive out to his place, I suppose the secrets are just becoming too much.
The sun has set by the time I pull into his yard and see with a sinking heart that his new truck is parked outside the garage. And there’s a motorcycle beside it that isn’t his. One last chance for this to be all right, as I carefully open the barn door, hoping the Harley isn’t there.
But it is and the feeling in my stomach becomes outright nausea.
I tell myself desperately to just leave, that I don’t want to know any more, but my feet won’t listen. The lights are on in the house and I walk around quietly to the deck in the back. There aren’t any occupants in the living area, but I’m determined now, keeping to the edge of the railing, until I stand outside his bedroom.
His bed is occupied and the sight there takes my breath away. Gold . . . everywhere. Golden hair and golden skin. Two of them. Beautiful.
No dark hair, so it’s not Karl. One of them looks like him a little in the eyes, but there’s no way that hair is a wig. No way any wig could stand up to having the head wrenched back like that. He’s large, bulky muscles. The other is leaner, sleeker, pounding away as he pulls his lover into an arch.
I’ve never seen anything like them, like animals mating almost, fierce and free. My body is responding to the show in front of me and when the bigger man rears back, his face contorted in a rictus of ecstasy, his organ huge and purple and shooting streams of creamy fluid across the bed, I can’t resist palming my own erection. The other one slams into him a few more times and then his body convulses too and I moan without realizing what I’m doing.
Théo: Even deep in the throes of orgasm, the soft moan from outside on the deck reaches me. I act as if I heard nothing, pushing you flat to the bed as we land in a heap, a smile on my face as I nuzzle your hair, kissing your shoulder before whispering in your ear. "Someone watches us. Outside." Even if they can hear me, all they will hear are soft words that they cannot possibly understand. You tense a little as I slip from you, and I roll us so your back is to the window, smiling, and kissing you, whispering as I caress your skin. "Lie here and give them something to watch."
You nod in understanding, and kiss me back. I know it was a moan I heard, so I think this will keep them occupied. I roll you onto your back, and make an art out of cleaning us both up with a cloth, and then slip from the bed, kissing you and stroking your face. At the door, I turn with a loving smile. "I will sneak up on them as they watch." As soon as I am out of sight of the window, my face hardens, and I pull on the jeans left discarded earlier before moving silently towards the door, wondering who it is that dares spy on us.
Éomer: I lie back on the pillows and spread my legs, drawing one knee up and running my fingers down my torso, stopping to flick the ring in my nipple. The sensation shoots to my groin and I am no longer acting. Our session that we just completed was our first that day, and it had been hard and fast as we released our pent up tension from our separation that had been longer than we were used to. We had not had time yet for slower explorations, for testing each other’s responses, for driving each other to the very edge over and over again.
So I close my eyes and I imagine that your fingers replace mine, trailing over my body. I take my renewed hardness in hand, tugging on it, my other hand drifting down to slowly squeeze my balls. My hips arch up into my stroking hand and I hope that we can deal with this distraction quickly.
Eric: The slimmer man disappears and the man remaining begins to touch himself and I cannot tear my gaze away. His long blonde hair falls over his sturdy shoulders as his body twists. I cannot believe that he is hard again after what he just did, but his recovery time must be phenomenal because he is slowly fisting his erection.
I know I should leave, Karl isn’t here and whatever secrets he is keeping will remain hidden until he trusts me enough to tell me what’s going on. My conscience is telling me that I am no more than a peeping Tom now, but I cannot force myself away from the sight on Karl’s bed.
And then it’s too late. A hand grasps my wrist, pulling it behind my back and up between my shoulder blades, while another arm encircles my throat. I panic as a voice growls in my ear in a language I don’t understand.
Théo: “Dón ná gán.” It is no wonder I was able to come up behind him so easily, when I see the distraction you are providing. For once though, I do not let the sight of you so openly pleasuring yourself distract me, only allowing myself to gaze at you over his shoulder for a second before attracting your attention. “Ic habben hine.” He squirms a little, but I can feel his fear, and have easily gauged his strength. He will not escape me.
At the sound of my voice, you walk to the glass door, still naked, and pull it open. Your brow furrows as I pull him into the room, and his heart beat increases even more. “Is hē cýðig tó þū?” I ask as I push him down to sit on the edge of the bed as you close the door behind us.
Éomer: I look at him closely, his mouth is gaping like a fish until I see your smirk and realize that I am still naked. I hurriedly pull on my pants while I examine the stranger. He is a few inches shorter than you are, older than either of us. His hair is brown shot with red and silver and is caught in a clasp at the base of his neck. His eyes are pale green and very startled.
“Næfre sceawian hine.” I tell you. I turn back to the stranger. “Hwa þū?”
He looks at me blankly and I realize I am still speaking the Rohirric that you and I commonly use when we are alone together.
“Who are you?”
Eric: There is such a feeling of danger rolling off of these two, that I am more frightened than I have ever been, though they have not made any overt threats to me. I can’t blame them for being angry that I was spying on them. I have to wonder if one of them is Karl’s ‘cousin’ who causes him so much trouble.
But this language they are speaking has me completely puzzled. It sounds vaguely like German, which I learned from a friend when I was at Stanford, but it is not that. I feel as if I can almost understand them, but comprehension is frustratingly elusive.
The bigger one finally switches to oddly accented English and I reply to his query. “My name is Eric Dalton. Where’s Karl?”
Théo: "He is not here." Which is a truthful statement, but probably not the answer he was looking for. I let out a long sigh. So he is a friend of Karl's, and one who could not have picked a worse time to arrive looking for him. But something strikes me. He did not knock on the door, or make his presence known openly.
“If you are indeed a friend of Karl’s, what were you doing creeping around his house?” As I speak I look over at you, and can see recognition dawning in your eyes. Perhaps this man is known to you after all.
Éomer: The name he speaks sets off a memory in my mind and I sit down heavily on the bed, finally realizing who he is and what he’s doing here and why.
“Hē is Karl’s lufiend.”
I wonder glumly how angry Karl is going to be over this. But Karl introduced me to his aunt, and he told me about this one, so perhaps it will be all right. At the very least, I can make him feel more comfortable and apologize for our forceful handling.
Standing up again, I bow slightly. “I am Éomer, son of Éomund. Karl has told me about you and I am pleased to make your acquaintance. You surprised us or we would not have been so rough with you. I am sorry for that.”
Eric: The big one seems to recognize my name, but it doesn’t make him happy. Suddenly the level of danger I’m feeling seems to diminish and he doesn’t look threatening anymore. As he speaks to the other one, I realize that they are speaking some extremely corrupted version of English and I wonder where on Earth they came from that their dialect would be so bizarre.
But the next words out of his mouth are so insane that I wonder at what point during this night did I stumble through a looking glass, because that’s just about the only explanation for this.
I vaguely register that he is trying to apologize, but I’m frightened again, because surely he should be locked in a mental institution for his delusions.
“Éomer doesn’t exist. Let me go!” I just want to leave this madhouse and get away to someplace safe. And what business does Karl have telling lunatics about me? And why would Karl hang around with some Tolkien freak who thinks he’s a fictional character? I’m starting to really wonder how well I know the man who shares my bed.
Théo: His lover? Standing with my arms folded, I consider the implications of this meeting, knowing that Karl will not be pleased about it. You look so unhappy, and I know that the thought of upsetting Karl must be weighing on your mind too. Eric is clearly having a hard time with accepting who you are, and is on the verge of bolting, which I think is the worst thing that could happen. Perhaps honesty would be the best way to handle this, or at least honesty to a certain degree.
“Please accept my apologies also. I am Théodred, son of Théoden, and I can assure you, we exist.” Eric’s eyes widen, and as he looks from you to me and back again. Maybe he would be more accepting if he did not feel so ill at ease.
“I think perhaps we could all do with a drink.” He gets warily to his feet and I take his arm, not wanting him to run before we have had a chance to talk. At the doorway, I turn and give you a regretful smile. The carefree mood of the evening has been well and truly shattered, but at least we can try and salvage the situation. As I lead Eric through to sit on the couch, I hope with all my heart that Karl will not hold us responsible for this.
Éomer: Leaving you to get the man settled on the couch, I grab a shirt and then go to the kitchen and retrieve three bottles of ale. I open them and give them out before taking a seat as well. Eric takes his and sips it without seeming to know what he is doing. I take a long swig of mine, trying to decide what to say. Karl clearly has not told this man the truth, so I am not sure how much of it I should reveal. I consider calling Karl back to deal with the situation himself, for his lover must be suspicious of him about something, if he felt the need to sneak around and spy.
I do not want to lose my time with you and I am not sure whether the knowledge that Karl and I share bodies would make things better or worse. I sigh and look over at you. You shrug and shake your head, at loss as to what to do also.
I try to think of myself in Karl’s position, but I have never lied to a lover, so I do not know why he would. But he must have his reasons, and I will have to respect that. I try for an edited version of the truth.
“We are here, through some odd concentration of power, we can move between our world and yours. How can I help you understand this?”
Eric: The shock of the second introduction hardly registers, until I realize that they are claiming to be cousins and then I really want that drink. I gulp the beer offered and try to think about this logically.
Where the hell is Karl? Surely he could get these two to admit to their lunacy. But then I remember . . . And what is his name?” “Uh . . . Elmer”. I roll the sound of the two names around in my head, Elmer . . . Éomer. Phonetically similar. Karl, under pressure, comes up with a name I might believe, but he can’t think fast enough to come up with a completely different name.
And that means . . . that Karl believes this insanity too.
All right, I’ve read Lord of the Rings, I’ll try to trip them up. No, that won’t work, if they’re Tolkien freaks, they’ll have read it too, and probably the supplementary works also.
So I seize on the apparent discrepancy in their story. “Théodred was older than Éomer, closer to my age. And Tolkien never mentioned them having an affair, that’s sort of gross, don’t you think? Sleeping with your cousin?”
Théo: “We come from different times. Éomer is from my future, I am from his past.” I hope that my explanation on that point will suffice. This is indeed an awkward situation, but I do not think that revealing that we share bodies with our shifts is going to help.
“Our relationship is none of your business, but since you seem to think clarification on this point would help, Tolkien would have never known about our “affair” as it is only in this world that we can be together, something that would be impossible back in Rohan.”
Paris’ brother’s library back at the warehouse is quite extensive, and I have sat and read several volumes of history during odd nights when I have slipped in for a few hours, initially to see where our worlds mesh, how they join, a fruitless search so far, but there are no books by this Tolkien, this historian of our world. Paris has informed me that they are very rare, and neither Dave nor Karl have copies either, so I have no reason to doubt him. I take a long swig of much needed beer.
“Gross?” I laugh at the term, and get up walking to your side, and squeezing your shoulder as we look at him. “Are there not places in your world where cousins marry and have children? How is this any different?” Eric’s face is almost unreadable, and I sigh, again. I do not think even my father would be able to sort out this mess, and he is by far and away a better diplomat than I.
Éomer: He is never going to believe us, but he seems calmer now. I am not sure what else to do, but I want to know what he intends.
“Eric, we did not mean to harm you. But you must admit that you were spying, and we have spent most of our lives in danger from one source or another, so we reacted instinctively.”
He has the grace to look embarrassed by that, and I decide that Karl cannot blame me for this, although I am sure that he will try. It is not our fault that his lover does not trust him, and we did not expect to have any visitors.
“Karl allows us to use his house on occasion, but he is not here. If there are untruths that lie between the two of you, you must ask Karl about them. We have done nothing wrong.”
Eric: They have both made good points. I am in no position to judge other people’s sex lives, considering that my own is thought perverted in much of the world. I look at them there together, equally matched in beauty, and remembering the scene I stumbled across, I know that the bond between them must be deep that they can give each other so much passion.
It seems to be quite a lot of work, this delusion they suffer from, what with speaking the language and maintaining that aura of danger. I don’t think I’ve ever met any other homosexuals who seem so tough, and I thought Karl was butch till now. They don’t seem the type who revel in the angst, so I wonder why they decided to be this particular pair, seeing that their story can’t have a happy ending.
But Éomer’s words about the lack of trust between Karl and me remind me of why I was here in the first place.
“I won’t say anything to anyone about this, just let me leave, please?” I really need to find somewhere quiet and think about all of this.
Théo: “We did not intend to hold you here against your will, simply did not want you running out in a panic.” I am concerned that Eric knows part of this secret, this shifting, but that cannot be helped. What is done is done, and it is Karl that must deal with Eric’s mistrust in him. Although if Karl truly trusted him, he would have told him, but I have to push that aside, and let him go if he chooses, remembering that this is not my world, and the rules are different here.
I remember the last time I saw Karl, and how he turned down my advances. As he gets hesitatingly to his feet, I catch his gaze. “He cares for you. Talk to him.”
Eric: Great, now I have lunatics who think they can give me advice on my love life. I say goodbye hurriedly and nearly run back to my car. I’m not in a panic, but I need to get away from here before anything else can happen.
I drive to one of the restaurants down by the harbor and sit outside on the deck, nursing a Scotch and ignoring the cold. Why is it that these extracurricular issues with Karl always drive me to stronger drinks?
The language bothers me. I’ve heard of fans taking things to extremes before, but to learn that language, some form of Old English or Anglo Saxon, I guess. That’s extreme. But I get several requests each month for English/Elvish dictionaries so the really rabid fans can learn Elvish, so that doesn't prove anything.
What is clear is that the two of them thoroughly believed their own stories and somehow sucked Karl into it as well. I have to admit they both fit the part perfectly. They aren’t like anyone I’ve ever met, they spoke formally but their actions were primitive.
No! It can’t possibly be true.
Do not move – Dón ná gán
I have him – Ic habben hine
Is he known to you? – Is hē cýðig tó þū
Næfre sceawian hine – Never seen him
Hwa þū? – Who are you?
Hē is Karl's lufiend – He is Karl’s lover
