Theodred: Bonding?
Jun. 30th, 2004 01:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rohansonThere have to be better ways of getting around in this world than this "Lincoln". To be trapped in this box and driven at high speed along highways is not my idea of travel! I have seen no horses on these roads, and wonder why anyone would give up the pleasure of riding to sit in these things.
We drive in silence. Jay thinks Paris has betrayed him in some way, but I felt him against me as we left the hospital, felt him let down his guard, and take strength from me, and that is good, it is a start. We need to find a way to work together. I know what has happened to his father, and must find a way to tell him that he will believe. I wish to restore his father to him, as I need to restore my father back to full health.
Jay took me to eat by the ocean. I have never seen the ocean, and could not take my eyes away from it as we drove down towards the tavern on the shore. I wandered out onto the beach as Jay arranged for food to eat, staring at the waves crashing on the sand. I walked to the water's edge and stood for a while, feeling small against the vastness before me.
We ate in silence, and after I finished two of the most delicious egg dishes I have ever tasted, a plate of what Jay called "fries", and a glass of ale that was not what I was used to, but sufficed, we are once again "hitting the road", and on our way back to Dave's home. I must persuade Jay to stay with me until we have come to an agreement on how to release our fathers.
Jay: After everything that's happened so far this morning, I really don't know what to say to Paris. My mind is spinning faster than the tires of the car, and I know if I open my mouth before I've had a chance to really cool off I'm just gonna start a fight again. Breakfast first, questions later. Omelets make everything better.
I watch Paris out by the ocean while I wait for our food, and as I drag on my smoke I wonder what the hell is goin' on in this place. Dad fallin' off his rocker and thinkin' he's a character he played in a movie, that's one thing. But Paris, who seemed like a pretty down-to-earth kinda fella when I first met him, now playin' the same "I am the prince of Rohan" game like he means it, well, that's another. I know sometimes actors can get really into their roles (fuck, Dad was a case after his Boys from the Black Stuff days) , but this was takin' it to a whole new level.
All I know is that I've gotta get to the bottom of this, and I know I can't do it without Paris' help.
By the time we finish our beer and breakfast, I'm almost feeling human again, though I'm still not sure how to start this talk. We've still said only about five words to each other by the time we're back on the road again, back to Paris' house, before I remember that today's the day the groom's coming to the stable to take care of Dad's horse, Yosser.
"Shit, you mind if we make a stopover at my place before I take you home?" I ask Paris, who looks a lot more relaxed himself, "It'll only take an hour, but someone's coming by to check on Dad's horse in like, 15 minutes."
Theodred: Jay has been quiet I am unsure how to start convincing him that I am not Paris. There is no point in now trying to pretend that I am, as he needs honesty now, not deception, and would surely question my motives. And I simply do not know how to be Paris. I must be who I am, and hope he comes to know me and trust me. I am lost in thought when I realise what he just said.
“Your Father has a horse?” What I wouldn’t give to be able to ride free over grass again, my hair loose in the wind, but if it is unhealthy … “Why is someone checking on it? If it is ill, I would be happy to look it over for you, Jay, see if there is anything I can do to help?”
Mention of Bernard’s horse reminds me of our earlier conversation. “Is it stabled with Paris’ mare, Leelu?” There is no stable at Daves, and I do not know where he keeps her. “I believe you mentioned she was also having difficulties, perhaps they are suffering from the same ailment?”
Being able to ride again would be a great comfort to me. I miss Brego as much as I miss Eomer and it has occurred to me that perhaps he did not survive the Ford. I heard his scream as I was dragged away, but cannot know his ultimate fate until I return home.
Jay: OK, now I know there's somethin' really, really weird here with Paris if he's callin' his Zorx a mare! This guy knows how to handle a bike, and considerin' that Leelu is the only reason we met makes me start to realize just how bad this is. He's got the exact same thing as my Dad. He's not playing around.
Well, guess I know how to treat him, then. But I'm sure as fuck not callin' him 'my Lord.'
I look at him hard once more, just to check and see if he's yankin' my chain, but he's got such an honestly hopeful look on his face that I really can't tell. Sure, what the hell. I'll bite.
"Naw, nothing's wrong with Yosser. I just don't know shit from saddles when it comes to the horses. Since Dad's been in the hospital there's one guy who comes out every day to feed her and muck out the stall, and another guy who comes out to ride her about once a week. I haven't met the actual trainer guy yet, so I don't wanna be too late meeting him. As for Leelu," I can't help but chuckle, "she's not a horse, man. She's your motorcycle."
Paris gives me such a puzzled look I know he's not faking. I sigh. "It's like a car, but it's got two wheels instead of four. It's your fucking pride and joy, Paris."
I light up another cigarette as we get nearer to the house. Man, I'm gonna have to get Dad's car fumigated to get the smell out once he's back from the hospital.
"So, tell me somethin', Paris. What the hell happened to you? When I met you the other day you seemed like a pretty normal guy. Now you're sayin' you're the prince of Rohan, and whatnot, and I dunno how to make heads or tails of it. Dad's been askin' for you since he woke up, and now, boom! You start actin' like this Theodred guy. Can you please just gimme a little fucking idea of what's goin' on here? Or is everyone in Wellington smokin' some really good crack?"
Theodred: “She is only ridden once a week?” I cannot understand this. Who would keep a horse and rarely ride it? I’m looking forward to getting to the stables, being in familiar surroundings in this strange world. Jay lights another of his cigarettes. The smoke in such a small space annoys me, but I open the window and breathe fresh air instead of taking it from him and throwing it away
“Jay, listen to me. We must work together if we are to help our fathers, and you must know me for who I am.” The glance you throw my way speaks of your exasperation, but I press on. “Paris is in my world, in Rohan. We are linked, and when I was badly hurt in battle and left for dead, he changed places with me to ensure my survival.”
“Until I saw ...” tact has never been one of my strong points, but I will try “… the man in the bed, I had no memory of who I was, and only scattered remembrances of my homeland. Now I have my memories back, I should let Paris return, but I can’t, not until I know our fathers are safe. I believe my father and Bernard are linked, much as Paris and I are, and that your father is currently in Edoras.” I don’t tell him that he is under the spell of Wormtongue, first he must believe who I am.
Then it strikes me. Faramir and Dave. Their shift is a physical one and perhaps if Jay sees it, he will understand what is happening. “It is not only Paris and your father who are affected. Others, like Dave, the man I stay with, suffer the same fate, but they have come to an uneasy peace with it. When you take me back to Dave’s later, we will talk to him.” The reassuring smile I flash at you is wiped from my face as the Lincoln comes to a sudden dead stop and I am thrown forwards. I hope it is because we’ve reached our destination, and not that you wish to start another fight, as this time, I promise, you won’t land the first blow.
Jay: "You're fucking crazy!" I stare at him as if he'd grown a second head, and brake harder than I had intended when I came to the stop sign. "So you're tellin' me that you're this Theodred guy in Paris' body, and Paris is actually in Tolkien-land right now? And not only is my Dad there too, but other people? What kinda fucked-up hobbit-cult are you? Did you actors all cling to these roles so badly you started to go insane? Middle Earth is not real! It was just a movie!"
I'm fucking fuming as I hit the gas and jet the car forward. I just want to get to Dad's place and get this horse business over with so I can get Paris out of my sight. This is really, really too much. I can't fucking believe this. Real people switching places with fictional characters into their made-up worlds? I don't fucking buy it. It's just too crazy.
But then I take a deep drag off my smoke, trying my damnedest to calm down. I shouldn't be screaming at him. I still need his help, even if he is crazy. He looks angry at me again, and I sigh, blowing the smoke out through my nostrils. Keep your cool, Jaybird. It'll do you no fucking good to get the one person who wants to help you pissed off.
I try a different approach. "OK, I'm sorry. I don't mean to yell at you Paris. You've just gotta see this from where I'm sittin'. I'm not a big fan of those movies. Personally, I hated them from the moment I found out they cast that Elijah Wood kid as Frodo. I knew they'd fuck up the books, and I grew up readin' em. Hell, first book I ever remember Dad reading to me was The Hobbit. And half these people who are goin' apeshit over the movies have never even read the books. It drives me fucking crazy. And now, this," I wave my hand helplessly in Paris' general direction, unable to put my frustration into words.
Paris still looks mad as hell as I flick the cigarette butt out my window, and I sigh again as I drive the Lincoln up the last stretch of windy road to Dad's house on the hill. "Besides, Paris," I say softly, suddenly feeling more exhausted than I have been in days, "why are you getting' so attached to such a small role? You said yourself you were just an extra they brought in to die. I saw The Two Towers, you were on screen maybe three minutes before your big death scene. I heard they even cut your funeral from the theater version. It's a tiny role. Why can’t you just let it go?"
Theodred: Jay rages, and I can feel fury building within me. He still doesn’t believe me, but I don’t care any more. His voice softens, and he talks of books, which I know of, and movies which I don’t, but … death scene? Brought into die? Funeral? Suddenly, Faramir’s words come back to me “The hopes of so many …” The way he looked at me with sorrow in his eyes …
“Stop this thing.” Jay glances at me, and we keep going. My heart is tight in my chest, and I need to be free of this confinement. “Stop the car, Jay.” Still we approach the house on the hill, and I can’t breathe. “Jay, stop the fucking car!!” I yell at him, my use of his language finally getting his attention, and the Lincoln comes to an abrupt halt. I fumble with the handle, and almost fall from the thing.
I gulp air into my lungs. Dead? Am I really dead? Is all this some trick of the Valar for their amusement. No, I know I’m not dead. This is not the halls of my fathers. I’m holding onto the fence post so tight, my knuckles whiten and I let my eyes close for a moment. I need to go back, I can’t be here any more, it is not my world, not my home. I can hear Jay’s raised voice from inside the car behind me, but don’t listen. Am I sick? Yes, fucking sick of all this.
Jay: As soon as I see Paris' face, I know I've said the wrong thing. He's pale as a fucking sheet and trembling, and almost looks like he's gonna puke in the Lincoln. He yells at me to stop the car, but we're only 20 yards away from the driveway, and I figure if I can just get him there he'll be OK. But when I hear him swear, I know he means business, and I stop the car. I watch helplessly as he lurches out onto the dirt road, and I feel like the biggest asshole on the planet. I never know when to keep my fucking mouth
shut.
"Hey Paris, you sick?" I call out from the passenger seat, but he completely ignores me, grabbing the fence and gasping for breath. I don't understand, and he's actin' like I told him his mother just died or somethin'. Doubt start to knot in my chest again. Paris knows his character dies, why is this
comin' as such a shock to him?
Theodred: A soft whicker pulls me back, and a muzzle nudging my hand feels more reassuring than anything else has over these past days. My hand moves up the mare’s face, and I take a good look at her. She is a fine specimen, even though she carries a little more weight than is good for her. That could be put right with more exercise.
I’m over the fence in a heartbeat, and let Paris’ leather jacket drop to the grass as I approach Yosser. Jay yells at me, but I’m past listening to him, past being thought of as a liar. Tangling my fingers in her mane, I pull myself up, running my hands down her neck, speaking to her with words she has not heard before, but she knows the tone, knows I mean her no harm. I urge her to move, and she does so willingly. Soon the wind is flying through my hair, as I learn how she moves. I put her through her paces, as I would with any horse I was riding for the first time, and she is happy to be guided. It’s easy to lose myself in her rhythms, and I lose track of how long we ride together round the field. As we slow, I push all thoughts of death from my mind, and guide her back to the stable, where I see Jay is watching me, leaning on the fence, his face unreadable. We come to a halt in front of him.
“We cannot waste anymore time. You do not believe me? So be it. Arguing in circles is not going to solve our problems.” Slipping from Yosser’s back, I tie her halter rope to the gatepost, give her a scratch behind the ears, and join Jay. My father asked me to guide him, and even though I know he cannot be my brother, I will honour my father’s wishes. I can also see how close to the edge he is, and I can’t afford to lose him now. “I ask that you call me Theodred, and that when we have finished here, we return to Dave’s home. If he cannot help us in out quest to free our father, we will assemble a force, and take him out of that place.” My arm slips around Jay’s shoulder, and I pull him into a hug, hoping that, as before, he can allow himself to take comfort when it is offered. I need his help, and I need him to be strong.
Jay: I can't believe it. Yosser is such a cranky horse she won't let anyone who isn't an old pal of hers get within 10 feet without makin' a fuss.
Shit, I can't even set foot in the stable when she's havin' a real bad day. And here's Paris, a complete stranger, ridin' her bareback through the field as easy as if he had trained her himself, lookin' like such a natural that I start to really wonder.
Yeah, I know actors need a diverse skill set to get jobs, but I remember talkin' with Dad over the phone when he was makin' The Two Towers, about the hours and hours he put in to get really flash in the saddle.
But this is different. Paris moves like he was born on the back of a horse.
I bring the car the rest of the way up the driveway, relieved to see the trainer's not here yet. I watch Paris ride in silence, lettin' him have this moment. He looks more at peace than I've ever seen him, and I feel a pang of guilt realizing just how much grief I've brought this kid in such a short span of time. Yeah, I owe him a hell of a lot more than a ride on Yosser. I owe him a little fucking respect.
Paris stays out in the field for a good twenty minutes with Yosser before bringing her back in. There's somethin' in his face, a sharp sorta peace that comes through true strength, and the way he sits so tall and proud astride the horse that I get this weird impulse to bow to him suddenly.
He looks like a prince.
His voice is clipped when he speaks to me again, and it reminds me so much of Dad's Theoden voice that I really, really start to wonder about the truth of his words in the car. But actor or prince, what he says is true, we've gotta stop arguing if we're gonna work together. I've gotta keep my fucking temper and well, maybe, just maybe start taking what Paris is saying a little more seriously.
When he asks me to call him Theodred, I repress a cringe and I nod instead. It's a small gestures of peace. "A'ight, Theodred. I'll come with ya to Dave's after we're done here." He hugs me again, and this time I return it fully; though I know he did this as his own gesture of peace and solidarity, I know he needs my strength as much as I do his. I get the feeling that he's as lost as I am, and needs a friend just as badly. I can be such a fucking bastard sometimes.
"Hell man, if you wanna storm the hospital, I'm game," I laugh into his neck, and wonder suddenly if I should be encouraging him. I pull away a bit, still holding him around the waist, and study his face. I let my guard down for just a second.
"I've been through a lot of bad shit in my life, but nothin' as weird as this. I know I'm a big pain in the ass, but tell you true, Theo," I lean into his ear,
unable to believe what I'm about to admit, "I'm scared shitless."
Theodred: I sigh with relief when Jay agrees to come with me to see Dave, and he calls me by my given name, and when his arms slip round my waist, I take as much comfort from this closeness as he does. I miss my family, my friends; miss the camaraderie I share with Eomer, the warmth I share with Eowyn.
He laughs against me at the thought of breaking into the hospital, and I smile with him, but when he looks at me, and his guard slips away, I can see the hurt and vulnerability behind the show he puts on for the world. I understand why he does it, and I understand what it takes for him to admit he is scared. Years of fighting the darkness that threatens our people is made easier if your heart is hardened against the atrocity that is war, and letting your guard down, letting someone see behind the mask, see your fear, is not an easy thing to do.
So when he leans closer, and tells me how scared he is, my hand comes up, and fingers thread through his hair, holding him against me for a moment longer. Then I pull away to look in his eyes. “It takes a brave man to admit he is scared, Jay. I promise we will get through this, my friend.”
Paris’ jacket is hanging on a fence post, and I grab it as we start off in the direction of the house, passing the horse trainer who has just arrived. I hang back and talk to him, telling him what she needs, what he should concentrate on. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Jay grinning at me, then I bid the trainer farewell, and we walk up to the house.
Jay has things to do, so I wander round the main room, which has an incredible view, and am drawn to a set of very realistic portraits set out on a table. Most of them are of Jay, on his own, with Bernard, and with others. There are ones of him as a child, and his eyes haven’t changed, not when he lets his guard down and lets you in. There are others of him as a younger man, and one in particular catches my eye. He and Bernard are standing on the shore somewhere, quite like the place where we ate this morning. They are standing close together, laughing at something, looking out from the portrait. The wind has caught Jay’s hair, and it has blown around his face. He looks so happy, doesn’t carry with him the cares he does today. And Bernard looks happy too. Happy to be with his son.
And that is where he should be now. With Jay. Not stuck inside the decaying husk that once was my father. I don’t realise how tightly I’m holding onto the portrait until I hear Jay return, and he walks over and takes it from my hand. Our eyes meet for a moment. “I can see your father loves you.” I walk off, and stare out of the window, thoughts forming in my mind that I don’t want to acknowledge. A way to get Bernard back, but at what cost to my own father? There has to be another way.
Jay: I left Par–Theodred in the living room while I bandaged up my hand in the bathroom, hoping that maybe it would help stop the throbbing. It had stopped bleeding on the drive to breakfast, but every time I so much as flicked ash from my cigarette I would tear open the wound again. Eh, but it's really no big deal. I'd busted up my knuckles worse before.
I find Theodred engrossed in Dad's family pictures when I come out of the bathroom, and I'm surprised to see just how sad he looks. I realize just how much the kid must miss his own Dad; knowing he's so close, but so fucking untouchable, must be as hard on him as it is on me. We've got a lot in common, Theo and me.
I glance over Theo's shoulder at the picture he's got in his hand, and I feel my heart squeeze. That was the shot Claudia took of me and Dad on my first (heh, and only) summer break back from NYU, when we had all gone down to Cape Cod for a week. She had snuck up on us with the camera, when I was telling Dad about this prank Bug and I had pulled on our third roommate in the dorms.
I look at my face in the picture, and I don't even fucking recognize myself. I was a different person then: back before Jen had waltzed into my life like a hurricane and left me like a fucking pile of road kill; back before I dropped out of school; back before I spent three years behind bars. Back before I was Jaybird.
I don’t even know who the fuck that kid in the picture is anymore.
I take the picture from Theodred's hand and put it back on the table, trying to shake the memories from my head. Dad had been so fucking proud of me back then, and then I went and shot my life to hell. And you know what? He was still proud of me. Even when Claudia told him to disown me – that if word got out of Bernard Hill's fuck-wad son, his career would be over – he still stuck by me. Always.
When I hear Theo say softly that he can see how much Dad loves me, I swallow a lump in my throat I didn't even know was there. "I know he does," I choke before clearing my throat. I look up at Theo at the window, and he looks so small against the mountains in the background, so lost, I go over to him and put my hand on his shoulder. Time for a moment of truth, strange as it may be. "I, I can see your Dad loves you, too. I hadn't seen his eyes light up like that since he woke up."
Theodred looks at me with silent gratitude, and he clasps his hand over mine briefly. "Come on, let's go to Dave's," I say quietly, "The sooner we talk to him, the sooner we figure out how to get both our Dads back."
We drive in silence. Jay thinks Paris has betrayed him in some way, but I felt him against me as we left the hospital, felt him let down his guard, and take strength from me, and that is good, it is a start. We need to find a way to work together. I know what has happened to his father, and must find a way to tell him that he will believe. I wish to restore his father to him, as I need to restore my father back to full health.
Jay took me to eat by the ocean. I have never seen the ocean, and could not take my eyes away from it as we drove down towards the tavern on the shore. I wandered out onto the beach as Jay arranged for food to eat, staring at the waves crashing on the sand. I walked to the water's edge and stood for a while, feeling small against the vastness before me.
We ate in silence, and after I finished two of the most delicious egg dishes I have ever tasted, a plate of what Jay called "fries", and a glass of ale that was not what I was used to, but sufficed, we are once again "hitting the road", and on our way back to Dave's home. I must persuade Jay to stay with me until we have come to an agreement on how to release our fathers.
Jay: After everything that's happened so far this morning, I really don't know what to say to Paris. My mind is spinning faster than the tires of the car, and I know if I open my mouth before I've had a chance to really cool off I'm just gonna start a fight again. Breakfast first, questions later. Omelets make everything better.
I watch Paris out by the ocean while I wait for our food, and as I drag on my smoke I wonder what the hell is goin' on in this place. Dad fallin' off his rocker and thinkin' he's a character he played in a movie, that's one thing. But Paris, who seemed like a pretty down-to-earth kinda fella when I first met him, now playin' the same "I am the prince of Rohan" game like he means it, well, that's another. I know sometimes actors can get really into their roles (fuck, Dad was a case after his Boys from the Black Stuff days) , but this was takin' it to a whole new level.
All I know is that I've gotta get to the bottom of this, and I know I can't do it without Paris' help.
By the time we finish our beer and breakfast, I'm almost feeling human again, though I'm still not sure how to start this talk. We've still said only about five words to each other by the time we're back on the road again, back to Paris' house, before I remember that today's the day the groom's coming to the stable to take care of Dad's horse, Yosser.
"Shit, you mind if we make a stopover at my place before I take you home?" I ask Paris, who looks a lot more relaxed himself, "It'll only take an hour, but someone's coming by to check on Dad's horse in like, 15 minutes."
Theodred: Jay has been quiet I am unsure how to start convincing him that I am not Paris. There is no point in now trying to pretend that I am, as he needs honesty now, not deception, and would surely question my motives. And I simply do not know how to be Paris. I must be who I am, and hope he comes to know me and trust me. I am lost in thought when I realise what he just said.
“Your Father has a horse?” What I wouldn’t give to be able to ride free over grass again, my hair loose in the wind, but if it is unhealthy … “Why is someone checking on it? If it is ill, I would be happy to look it over for you, Jay, see if there is anything I can do to help?”
Mention of Bernard’s horse reminds me of our earlier conversation. “Is it stabled with Paris’ mare, Leelu?” There is no stable at Daves, and I do not know where he keeps her. “I believe you mentioned she was also having difficulties, perhaps they are suffering from the same ailment?”
Being able to ride again would be a great comfort to me. I miss Brego as much as I miss Eomer and it has occurred to me that perhaps he did not survive the Ford. I heard his scream as I was dragged away, but cannot know his ultimate fate until I return home.
Jay: OK, now I know there's somethin' really, really weird here with Paris if he's callin' his Zorx a mare! This guy knows how to handle a bike, and considerin' that Leelu is the only reason we met makes me start to realize just how bad this is. He's got the exact same thing as my Dad. He's not playing around.
Well, guess I know how to treat him, then. But I'm sure as fuck not callin' him 'my Lord.'
I look at him hard once more, just to check and see if he's yankin' my chain, but he's got such an honestly hopeful look on his face that I really can't tell. Sure, what the hell. I'll bite.
"Naw, nothing's wrong with Yosser. I just don't know shit from saddles when it comes to the horses. Since Dad's been in the hospital there's one guy who comes out every day to feed her and muck out the stall, and another guy who comes out to ride her about once a week. I haven't met the actual trainer guy yet, so I don't wanna be too late meeting him. As for Leelu," I can't help but chuckle, "she's not a horse, man. She's your motorcycle."
Paris gives me such a puzzled look I know he's not faking. I sigh. "It's like a car, but it's got two wheels instead of four. It's your fucking pride and joy, Paris."
I light up another cigarette as we get nearer to the house. Man, I'm gonna have to get Dad's car fumigated to get the smell out once he's back from the hospital.
"So, tell me somethin', Paris. What the hell happened to you? When I met you the other day you seemed like a pretty normal guy. Now you're sayin' you're the prince of Rohan, and whatnot, and I dunno how to make heads or tails of it. Dad's been askin' for you since he woke up, and now, boom! You start actin' like this Theodred guy. Can you please just gimme a little fucking idea of what's goin' on here? Or is everyone in Wellington smokin' some really good crack?"
Theodred: “She is only ridden once a week?” I cannot understand this. Who would keep a horse and rarely ride it? I’m looking forward to getting to the stables, being in familiar surroundings in this strange world. Jay lights another of his cigarettes. The smoke in such a small space annoys me, but I open the window and breathe fresh air instead of taking it from him and throwing it away
“Jay, listen to me. We must work together if we are to help our fathers, and you must know me for who I am.” The glance you throw my way speaks of your exasperation, but I press on. “Paris is in my world, in Rohan. We are linked, and when I was badly hurt in battle and left for dead, he changed places with me to ensure my survival.”
“Until I saw ...” tact has never been one of my strong points, but I will try “… the man in the bed, I had no memory of who I was, and only scattered remembrances of my homeland. Now I have my memories back, I should let Paris return, but I can’t, not until I know our fathers are safe. I believe my father and Bernard are linked, much as Paris and I are, and that your father is currently in Edoras.” I don’t tell him that he is under the spell of Wormtongue, first he must believe who I am.
Then it strikes me. Faramir and Dave. Their shift is a physical one and perhaps if Jay sees it, he will understand what is happening. “It is not only Paris and your father who are affected. Others, like Dave, the man I stay with, suffer the same fate, but they have come to an uneasy peace with it. When you take me back to Dave’s later, we will talk to him.” The reassuring smile I flash at you is wiped from my face as the Lincoln comes to a sudden dead stop and I am thrown forwards. I hope it is because we’ve reached our destination, and not that you wish to start another fight, as this time, I promise, you won’t land the first blow.
Jay: "You're fucking crazy!" I stare at him as if he'd grown a second head, and brake harder than I had intended when I came to the stop sign. "So you're tellin' me that you're this Theodred guy in Paris' body, and Paris is actually in Tolkien-land right now? And not only is my Dad there too, but other people? What kinda fucked-up hobbit-cult are you? Did you actors all cling to these roles so badly you started to go insane? Middle Earth is not real! It was just a movie!"
I'm fucking fuming as I hit the gas and jet the car forward. I just want to get to Dad's place and get this horse business over with so I can get Paris out of my sight. This is really, really too much. I can't fucking believe this. Real people switching places with fictional characters into their made-up worlds? I don't fucking buy it. It's just too crazy.
But then I take a deep drag off my smoke, trying my damnedest to calm down. I shouldn't be screaming at him. I still need his help, even if he is crazy. He looks angry at me again, and I sigh, blowing the smoke out through my nostrils. Keep your cool, Jaybird. It'll do you no fucking good to get the one person who wants to help you pissed off.
I try a different approach. "OK, I'm sorry. I don't mean to yell at you Paris. You've just gotta see this from where I'm sittin'. I'm not a big fan of those movies. Personally, I hated them from the moment I found out they cast that Elijah Wood kid as Frodo. I knew they'd fuck up the books, and I grew up readin' em. Hell, first book I ever remember Dad reading to me was The Hobbit. And half these people who are goin' apeshit over the movies have never even read the books. It drives me fucking crazy. And now, this," I wave my hand helplessly in Paris' general direction, unable to put my frustration into words.
Paris still looks mad as hell as I flick the cigarette butt out my window, and I sigh again as I drive the Lincoln up the last stretch of windy road to Dad's house on the hill. "Besides, Paris," I say softly, suddenly feeling more exhausted than I have been in days, "why are you getting' so attached to such a small role? You said yourself you were just an extra they brought in to die. I saw The Two Towers, you were on screen maybe three minutes before your big death scene. I heard they even cut your funeral from the theater version. It's a tiny role. Why can’t you just let it go?"
Theodred: Jay rages, and I can feel fury building within me. He still doesn’t believe me, but I don’t care any more. His voice softens, and he talks of books, which I know of, and movies which I don’t, but … death scene? Brought into die? Funeral? Suddenly, Faramir’s words come back to me “The hopes of so many …” The way he looked at me with sorrow in his eyes …
“Stop this thing.” Jay glances at me, and we keep going. My heart is tight in my chest, and I need to be free of this confinement. “Stop the car, Jay.” Still we approach the house on the hill, and I can’t breathe. “Jay, stop the fucking car!!” I yell at him, my use of his language finally getting his attention, and the Lincoln comes to an abrupt halt. I fumble with the handle, and almost fall from the thing.
I gulp air into my lungs. Dead? Am I really dead? Is all this some trick of the Valar for their amusement. No, I know I’m not dead. This is not the halls of my fathers. I’m holding onto the fence post so tight, my knuckles whiten and I let my eyes close for a moment. I need to go back, I can’t be here any more, it is not my world, not my home. I can hear Jay’s raised voice from inside the car behind me, but don’t listen. Am I sick? Yes, fucking sick of all this.
Jay: As soon as I see Paris' face, I know I've said the wrong thing. He's pale as a fucking sheet and trembling, and almost looks like he's gonna puke in the Lincoln. He yells at me to stop the car, but we're only 20 yards away from the driveway, and I figure if I can just get him there he'll be OK. But when I hear him swear, I know he means business, and I stop the car. I watch helplessly as he lurches out onto the dirt road, and I feel like the biggest asshole on the planet. I never know when to keep my fucking mouth
shut.
"Hey Paris, you sick?" I call out from the passenger seat, but he completely ignores me, grabbing the fence and gasping for breath. I don't understand, and he's actin' like I told him his mother just died or somethin'. Doubt start to knot in my chest again. Paris knows his character dies, why is this
comin' as such a shock to him?
Theodred: A soft whicker pulls me back, and a muzzle nudging my hand feels more reassuring than anything else has over these past days. My hand moves up the mare’s face, and I take a good look at her. She is a fine specimen, even though she carries a little more weight than is good for her. That could be put right with more exercise.
I’m over the fence in a heartbeat, and let Paris’ leather jacket drop to the grass as I approach Yosser. Jay yells at me, but I’m past listening to him, past being thought of as a liar. Tangling my fingers in her mane, I pull myself up, running my hands down her neck, speaking to her with words she has not heard before, but she knows the tone, knows I mean her no harm. I urge her to move, and she does so willingly. Soon the wind is flying through my hair, as I learn how she moves. I put her through her paces, as I would with any horse I was riding for the first time, and she is happy to be guided. It’s easy to lose myself in her rhythms, and I lose track of how long we ride together round the field. As we slow, I push all thoughts of death from my mind, and guide her back to the stable, where I see Jay is watching me, leaning on the fence, his face unreadable. We come to a halt in front of him.
“We cannot waste anymore time. You do not believe me? So be it. Arguing in circles is not going to solve our problems.” Slipping from Yosser’s back, I tie her halter rope to the gatepost, give her a scratch behind the ears, and join Jay. My father asked me to guide him, and even though I know he cannot be my brother, I will honour my father’s wishes. I can also see how close to the edge he is, and I can’t afford to lose him now. “I ask that you call me Theodred, and that when we have finished here, we return to Dave’s home. If he cannot help us in out quest to free our father, we will assemble a force, and take him out of that place.” My arm slips around Jay’s shoulder, and I pull him into a hug, hoping that, as before, he can allow himself to take comfort when it is offered. I need his help, and I need him to be strong.
Jay: I can't believe it. Yosser is such a cranky horse she won't let anyone who isn't an old pal of hers get within 10 feet without makin' a fuss.
Shit, I can't even set foot in the stable when she's havin' a real bad day. And here's Paris, a complete stranger, ridin' her bareback through the field as easy as if he had trained her himself, lookin' like such a natural that I start to really wonder.
Yeah, I know actors need a diverse skill set to get jobs, but I remember talkin' with Dad over the phone when he was makin' The Two Towers, about the hours and hours he put in to get really flash in the saddle.
But this is different. Paris moves like he was born on the back of a horse.
I bring the car the rest of the way up the driveway, relieved to see the trainer's not here yet. I watch Paris ride in silence, lettin' him have this moment. He looks more at peace than I've ever seen him, and I feel a pang of guilt realizing just how much grief I've brought this kid in such a short span of time. Yeah, I owe him a hell of a lot more than a ride on Yosser. I owe him a little fucking respect.
Paris stays out in the field for a good twenty minutes with Yosser before bringing her back in. There's somethin' in his face, a sharp sorta peace that comes through true strength, and the way he sits so tall and proud astride the horse that I get this weird impulse to bow to him suddenly.
He looks like a prince.
His voice is clipped when he speaks to me again, and it reminds me so much of Dad's Theoden voice that I really, really start to wonder about the truth of his words in the car. But actor or prince, what he says is true, we've gotta stop arguing if we're gonna work together. I've gotta keep my fucking temper and well, maybe, just maybe start taking what Paris is saying a little more seriously.
When he asks me to call him Theodred, I repress a cringe and I nod instead. It's a small gestures of peace. "A'ight, Theodred. I'll come with ya to Dave's after we're done here." He hugs me again, and this time I return it fully; though I know he did this as his own gesture of peace and solidarity, I know he needs my strength as much as I do his. I get the feeling that he's as lost as I am, and needs a friend just as badly. I can be such a fucking bastard sometimes.
"Hell man, if you wanna storm the hospital, I'm game," I laugh into his neck, and wonder suddenly if I should be encouraging him. I pull away a bit, still holding him around the waist, and study his face. I let my guard down for just a second.
"I've been through a lot of bad shit in my life, but nothin' as weird as this. I know I'm a big pain in the ass, but tell you true, Theo," I lean into his ear,
unable to believe what I'm about to admit, "I'm scared shitless."
Theodred: I sigh with relief when Jay agrees to come with me to see Dave, and he calls me by my given name, and when his arms slip round my waist, I take as much comfort from this closeness as he does. I miss my family, my friends; miss the camaraderie I share with Eomer, the warmth I share with Eowyn.
He laughs against me at the thought of breaking into the hospital, and I smile with him, but when he looks at me, and his guard slips away, I can see the hurt and vulnerability behind the show he puts on for the world. I understand why he does it, and I understand what it takes for him to admit he is scared. Years of fighting the darkness that threatens our people is made easier if your heart is hardened against the atrocity that is war, and letting your guard down, letting someone see behind the mask, see your fear, is not an easy thing to do.
So when he leans closer, and tells me how scared he is, my hand comes up, and fingers thread through his hair, holding him against me for a moment longer. Then I pull away to look in his eyes. “It takes a brave man to admit he is scared, Jay. I promise we will get through this, my friend.”
Paris’ jacket is hanging on a fence post, and I grab it as we start off in the direction of the house, passing the horse trainer who has just arrived. I hang back and talk to him, telling him what she needs, what he should concentrate on. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Jay grinning at me, then I bid the trainer farewell, and we walk up to the house.
Jay has things to do, so I wander round the main room, which has an incredible view, and am drawn to a set of very realistic portraits set out on a table. Most of them are of Jay, on his own, with Bernard, and with others. There are ones of him as a child, and his eyes haven’t changed, not when he lets his guard down and lets you in. There are others of him as a younger man, and one in particular catches my eye. He and Bernard are standing on the shore somewhere, quite like the place where we ate this morning. They are standing close together, laughing at something, looking out from the portrait. The wind has caught Jay’s hair, and it has blown around his face. He looks so happy, doesn’t carry with him the cares he does today. And Bernard looks happy too. Happy to be with his son.
And that is where he should be now. With Jay. Not stuck inside the decaying husk that once was my father. I don’t realise how tightly I’m holding onto the portrait until I hear Jay return, and he walks over and takes it from my hand. Our eyes meet for a moment. “I can see your father loves you.” I walk off, and stare out of the window, thoughts forming in my mind that I don’t want to acknowledge. A way to get Bernard back, but at what cost to my own father? There has to be another way.
Jay: I left Par–Theodred in the living room while I bandaged up my hand in the bathroom, hoping that maybe it would help stop the throbbing. It had stopped bleeding on the drive to breakfast, but every time I so much as flicked ash from my cigarette I would tear open the wound again. Eh, but it's really no big deal. I'd busted up my knuckles worse before.
I find Theodred engrossed in Dad's family pictures when I come out of the bathroom, and I'm surprised to see just how sad he looks. I realize just how much the kid must miss his own Dad; knowing he's so close, but so fucking untouchable, must be as hard on him as it is on me. We've got a lot in common, Theo and me.
I glance over Theo's shoulder at the picture he's got in his hand, and I feel my heart squeeze. That was the shot Claudia took of me and Dad on my first (heh, and only) summer break back from NYU, when we had all gone down to Cape Cod for a week. She had snuck up on us with the camera, when I was telling Dad about this prank Bug and I had pulled on our third roommate in the dorms.
I look at my face in the picture, and I don't even fucking recognize myself. I was a different person then: back before Jen had waltzed into my life like a hurricane and left me like a fucking pile of road kill; back before I dropped out of school; back before I spent three years behind bars. Back before I was Jaybird.
I don’t even know who the fuck that kid in the picture is anymore.
I take the picture from Theodred's hand and put it back on the table, trying to shake the memories from my head. Dad had been so fucking proud of me back then, and then I went and shot my life to hell. And you know what? He was still proud of me. Even when Claudia told him to disown me – that if word got out of Bernard Hill's fuck-wad son, his career would be over – he still stuck by me. Always.
When I hear Theo say softly that he can see how much Dad loves me, I swallow a lump in my throat I didn't even know was there. "I know he does," I choke before clearing my throat. I look up at Theo at the window, and he looks so small against the mountains in the background, so lost, I go over to him and put my hand on his shoulder. Time for a moment of truth, strange as it may be. "I, I can see your Dad loves you, too. I hadn't seen his eyes light up like that since he woke up."
Theodred looks at me with silent gratitude, and he clasps his hand over mine briefly. "Come on, let's go to Dave's," I say quietly, "The sooner we talk to him, the sooner we figure out how to get both our Dads back."
