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All Colours are Born of Grey (R) Print

Written by December

22 July 2017 | 13644 words | Work in Progress

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His king’s kiss, in all its strangeness, in all its differentness, is oddly, hypnotically familiar, like a recurring dream. Like a dance he had once known, an ancient tongue he had once spoken and forgot. It is coming back upon him now, swimming up to him from the depth of the memories that are both his and not quite, rising up from somewhere beyond him.

It is bold, and deep, yet with such a candid, trusting quality to it. Aragorn takes this kiss to Faramir like a hopeful gift, a humble offering. And somehow this moment, his king’s lips on his lips, his king’s hands in his tousled locks, is more profound, more intimate than anything that came before.

Everything makes sense now.

To feel Aragorn sigh with pleasure floods Faramir’s heart with a sweet ache – and so his manhood also. He feels heavy, laden, over-running with the desire to please.

Everything comes easily now.

Aragorn turns further towards him, eager to do deeper on his mouth. Eager to let his palm slip around Faramir’s waist, down and back, lower, to grasp the pert roundness of his arse. There is unashamed, flamboyant hunger in his grasp, coming into his own at last. With this the sweetness of Faramir’s pain hitches to a sharpness, a throbbing urgency, and he too turns, and feels his need press eagerly, rigidly against his lord’s body.

Aragorn’s breath catches. The high lord falls out of rhythm with their kiss and leans his face against his steward’s as though otherwise the disoriented world will not stop spinning around them. But ever eager to continue, he is swift to recover, and already his lips are grazing against the stubble of Faramir’s cheek, looking for his mouth again as with his hips he shifts to align them, to bring the rigid weight of his desire against Faramir’s.

His healer, his liege, his commander in battle, his dearest friend – to know him like this… The unbelievable, impossible softness of his lips, the formidable power of his embrace, the heat of his lean frame. The push and glide of his tongue, the dizzying hardness, the hot-steel-in-satin feel of his erection.

Faramir’s mind is fuzzy, blurry with want. Only distantly can he wonder at this newfound capacity to desire so consummately that he can no longer feel any border between their bodies, between their very entities. To the point where they are one bizarrely, illogically split into two, where they are made up of nothing but a want to be reunited.

Aragorn’s hand knows no restraint as he reaches in between them, to grip and rub, to learn, again and again, every detail of Faramir’s make. And the steward’s hand comes down to cover the king’s, to make him squeeze ever harder, grind ever faster.

He heaves, hauls, drags Aragorn on top of himself, spreads his legs to make room for Aragorn’s hips, arches up to be ever closer.

He recalls, vaguely, the necessity to make things slide, wetness, he needs wetness. She had used to need it, too, and the provisions they had used for help must still be around here somewhere. But he will not touch those things, they are from a different time, they were for another – and even were they not, he has no patience to search in the dark now.

“Aragorn,” he pants into the king’s ear. “Aragorn, I… please…”

“Yes… what is it?”

“I need to take you in my mouth.”

Aragorn jerks as a man blindsided.

“What… are you saying?”

“I… I would…” Trying to rephrase without exchanging ambiguity for vulgarity feels like too much work, too much delay. “Give me your hand,” he murmurs instead.

He slips Aragorn’s index and middle fingers in between his parted lips, wraps them into the underwater warmth of his mouth. They take up a surprising amount of space and feel so hard against his tongue. Faramir already knows how much the sensation will be amplified when they are replaced as he wants, and it is so beautifully indecent, so erotically uncomfortable he can hardly inhale. In demonstration of precisely what he asks be done to his face, he guides Aragorn to push in to the knuckle, back then again, until his lord must have gotten the idea.

“This,” he whispers against his king’s face. “But not with your hand.”

Aragorn goes very still.

“Faramir, what – no… We can’t, no.” The strands of his hair sway against Faramir’s face as he shakes his head in confusion.

“Please, I just…” Faramir cannot quite bring himself to mention the practical aspect of his request. Besides, in all honesty, would he not want it even were it no necessity at all? “Would you not like it?”

“I… would like it. And I would… want it. What fool wouldn’t! But no, we shouldn’t. It’s not…” Aragorn’s breathing is heavy, the weight of his body strained above Faramir’s. “Forgive me, Faramir, but this is too much. I am not ready perhaps, it’s…” He almost shudders with the effort. “I… if only…”

“You don’t believe I would truly enjoy,” Faramir finishes for him gently.

“No, no I don’t.” Aragorn admits somberly. “I am so sorry, I am making this so difficult.”

“Not at all,” Faramir is swift to object. “Please…” He holds Aragorn’s face in his hands, brings their foreheads together, shuts his eyes. The sadness cuts through him, oh how many more bridges to cross. But his heart is adept at converting sadness into tenderness, into longing, into a bright sweet flame, and instead of being sobered he desires all the deeper, all the stronger. “It matters not, great heights are only reached by winding roads.”

He holds his palm to his mouth, spits generously, and with a tight glide spreads it down his lord’s manhood. Aragorn sucks his teeth at the sharpness of the sudden pleasure of a wet touch, and his hips jerk down into Faramir’s hand. So Faramir repeats the sequence, and soon has enough glide to have Aragorn’s length swim, sail easily through his hold.

But it is no longer enough to merely have him on top. It is so important, so absolutely imperative, that their bodies align just right. That the choreography of this dance fit the melody of their story. He has to, he must show Aragorn his love, his confidence, from the most trusting, the most defenceless angle possible in the anatomy of Man. To show he fears nothing, doubts nothing, holds back nothing.

He rolls over, scrambles up, bends down again. His chest is heaving, but he stands still, awaiting.

Aragorn, behind him, above him, reaches forth to feel his form in the dark.

Slowly, the king traces with his fingertips up the verticality of Faramir’s arm, over the bend of his shoulder and along the horizontality of his back. Then down another bend, this one at the hip. Faramir bows his face, hair cascading on either side into an invisible curtain, as he feels himself arch up, open up the private space between his legs. There is a surreal flavour to this position, it tastes like an invitation, like surrender. Yet in the same breath it makes him feel vastly, infinitely strong, filled with the power and fearlessness of his desire, and he stands undiminished bowing naked to the hardness of another man’s cock.

Aragorn’s touch drops down the round curve of his buttock, then pauses.

Faramir plants his knees wider on the bed.

“Do what you will with me,” he calls to his king.

Aragorn leans over him, not too close yet, only a promise of closeness. Then without warning, like a mountain lion pouncing, he gathers a fistful of Faramir’s hair at the nape of his neck – and pulls, hard and slow. Faramir gasps aloud as his body bends and cranes, as a strange thrill blossoms through his veins.

“How about this?” Aragorn’s voice is low and gritty. His cock is jabbing into Faramir’s right buttock, hard enough to leave a bruise.

“Yes, my lord,” Faramir breathes out in great haste.

Aragorn leans closer still, licks up along the side of his neck, then into his ear. Faramir exclaims and thrashes under him, but Aragorn’s grip in his hair holds him firmly in place. Suddenly their bodies align perfectly as Aragorn’s cock comes to rest snug along the cleft of Faramir’s backside, and Faramir freezes, only trembling.

“And even this?” The king’s tone betrays a smug grin.

Faramir is hazy, half-conscious as though with lack of air, but it feels so good, so safe.

“Oh. Yes.”

Aragorn leans on him fully for support, to free up his other hand.

Faramir feels him probe, ever so gently, a dreamy touch, barely the pad of a fingertip. But it is as though a colossal harp string inside him is plucked, struck – and a wild, entreating noise flies forth from his throat. He strains to turn his face towards his king, further than the design of his neck would allow. Graciously, Aragorn helps him, twists Faramir around as though by a rein, and bites into his mouth with a kiss. He pushes in with his tongue just as his finger pushes too, and this is more than Faramir can take.

Brightly he sees Aragorn on the day the silver crown of all Gondor was placed upon his dark head, on one knee before Mithrandir in the green Pelennor grass. About his shoulders a cape white as mountain snow, how stern and pure he had looked, how noble and grave. How breathlessly in awe of him Faramir had stood, how humbled and filled with joy. Such honour, such majesty lay in this man, such untouchable grace.

To now, from this very man… this savage, sweltering hunger. And his commanding hand seeking, savouring… such… Unspeakable. Places.

And yet, how easy, still, it is to cause him pain, how vulnerable his raw heart.

Faramir reaches behind himself, grips hard. Valar, how thick…

“I will hurt you,” Aragorn protests into the back of his head. But only half-convinced. For Faramir can hear in his hoarse voice the pounding excitement of this most forbidden of pleasures, of this communion like no other.

A first, for them both.

“There is no hurt,” Faramir declares, and with a firm hand he shoves his king in.


To be continued…

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The following people read the story, enjoyed it, and would like to thank the author: alecia , ebbingnight

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26 Comment(s)


NB: Comments span all chapters and may contain spoilers!

A very interesting beginning of story! Especially the comment Aragorn made about Arwen (smirks).

But take your time, moving to another country can be a bit overwhelming sometimes from my very own experience. Judging from the note I truly hope you are in Australia at the moment (or would it be somewhere in S. America?), because that’s where I am!! :P

Good luck with everything and thanks for the story!

— Sherry    17 August 2011, 05:58    #

Thank you, Sherry, for your kind comment! An update will be here soon :)

I am, in fact, in New Zealand – but not too far from you, I suppose, at least in relative terms ;)

December    21 August 2011, 02:13    #

I loved, loved, loved the image of Aragorn’s hand sneaking up beneath Faramir’s nightshirt; on purpose? Unconsciously? And the whole scenario itself is so lovely- the quiet, almost unacknowledged acceptance of this coping mechanism. Both are going through emotionally trying times and that Faramir just so blithely accepts the this temporary solution, this show of support and offer of comfort in the form of the King sleeping beside him I thought was so romantic in a gentle, unobtrusive way. I’m dying to read the conclusion, though I know I will have to be patient (not a huge talent of mine, sadly.) Your prose is always so thoughtfully crafted, and I do love how your focus on the inner thoughts and feelings, imagined possibilities and personal difficulties never wavers in its ability to draw the reader right into the mind of the character; I feel as if I were Faramir, and I feel the things he does as I read. As ever, I am in great awe of your beautiful writing and seemingly endlessly original ideas. More, more!

(How’s New Zealand? Fantastic, I hope!)

Eora    1 September 2011, 01:13    #

Beautiful and very subtle! The long talk in the third part about things that could easily come across blunt or embarrassing if only you would turn the screw a bit more – you make it sound absolutely realistic and decent. More: to me it points out what is mostly neglected in mainstream stories because they generally end with “happily ever after”. How must it be to live with an elf? An immortal being, wise, perfect, literally untouchable. Probably you couldn´t even crack a dirty joke because a) she´d be way too pure and b) what is left to laugh about after 3.000 years? And you even managed to describe their dilemma without making her the bad guy which might have been the cheaper and easier way.

And I think you did a fine trick by revealing Éowyn´s early death not until the second chapter (I´ve read it all at once). Knowing there is a secret but not knowing what it is, that builds the tension until your reader goes “Damn, I MUST know what´s going on!”

Oh, and I like Faramir getting a tiny, just a tiny bit vulgar out of justified rage. Not only it breaks the tensed atmosphere, it is also one of the scenes I would love to see played in a movie!

Summary: You are a wonderful writer and I´m looking forward for the chapters to come (which is not meant as a push, perish the thought!).

Plus: New Zealand? Aaaaw, you are in Middle-Earth! Hope you have fun! :)

— raven22372    16 November 2011, 07:24    #

Eora, here’s my overdue reply and thanks. Also,the story’s becoming longer thanI initially intended, tee-hee. Not plotwise, I’m still keeping to the original concept, but details and nuances add themselves here and there, and I feel that for the sake of readability and a more or less regular update schedule, there should be a couple more parts. Anyways, I’m glad you appreciate the particular mood :) Much as I love spark-spitting fires of lust, sometimes I’m drawn to more thoughtful and complex moods, even not without sadness in places… I hope you like the latest developmetns ;)

Raven, thank you so much for that thoughtful comment! It made me happy in so many ways, for you address specifically the points I was worried about when writing this. Hence, you must forgive my enthusiastic ranting :)

As you say, ‘happily ever afters’ can pose a lot of questions. Personally, I think there’s no such thing as an inherently perfect marriage where everybody is happy all the time simply by virtue of default. There’s always some kind of issue in place – and, well, I always felt that in the case of Ar and Ar, there could be any number of things.

He may have grown up among Elves, but I don’t think it would necessarily mean he would know all the specifics of an Elven marriage, given some things are likely to be kept private in the Elven culture. Furthermore, I can easily allow the possibility that Arwen would focus on the platonic aspects of love, since a) for 3000 years she had managed to not rashly jump into a marriage with one of the abounding Elven hotties around her (she had the whole of Rivendell and Lothlorien to choose from, and take Glorfindel as just one humble example…) and instead waited for a fateful love b) when her husband passed, none of the earthier bonds held her to life, not even her love for their children. Much as his death must have grieved her, there were still plenty of other dear people to live for, many other good things she could have done in life, but all that mattered to her was apparently her feelings.

Much as I in no way state that it was thus and thus only, I strongly feel that it is a viable possibility that she would not be very developed in the corporal/sensual department. Aragorn, on the other hand, I feel might be a very passionate man – there are subtle hints all over the text ;) Plus, given he fell for her so early in his life and stayed so devoted he even told Gandalf he would remain celibate if she did not marry him, it’s possible to assume he had gained no experience in how to help a woman open up the sexual being in herself. Hence, I hoped that a situation as that in this story would not come accross as a stretch implemented for the sake of the boys ending up in need of comfort and lurve :) Thank you for supporting my hopes!

And indeed, I wouldn’t want anyone to appear a villain or a victim here. Not having this need herself and living among people who fare similarly, why would Arwen foresee any possible trouble arising from this matter in the future? If anything, it appeared to me that Aragorn’s being a Man rather than one of her own kind did not get too much thought from her, given how little time it had taken her to vow to stay with him. It may be a love of the lifetime, but still, there are all the practical aspects connected to swapping to your husband’s culture, one she probably did not know too much about, but it took her what, an hour tops? Not to mention that during that fateful meeting in Lorien when she fell for him, it was said he appeared more an Elven prince or lord or something like that rather than a Man, so it was not his otherness she was attracted to or intrigued by, but specifically that he seemed to her like one of her people.

At the same time, it said in the Book that she lived in great glory and bliss while his term lasted, so I figured that even if there was a mis-match in their temperaments, she would not be the one to be afflicted by it ;D Because as far as I remember, Aragorn’s bliss was not explicitly mentioned in the description on their post-war marital life…

And, yes, New Zealand is something something, and something else too. It’s been a few months now, but I still can’t help being overwhelmed. I’m venturing out from the city now and again – the majesty of the land is epic… Everything’s as though made at a different scale, and landscapes as though have meaning, I don’t know how to explain… You must come see!

December    18 November 2011, 10:36    #

Heheh, there is nothing to forgive at all! On the contrary, your rich and deep thoughts fuel my own rambling and you will surely rue that. ;)

When you said: “…it’s possible to assume he had gained no experience in how to help a woman open up the sexual being in herself.” it was what Sam Gamgee might have called an eye-opener. Like the missing link in a chain of conclusions, something I hadn´t realized yet. The way Aragorn is introduced, he way he is depicted all the time makes it easy to think of him as someone who just knows everything. But as you stated: How should he? If he spent his life among Elves and given this is a topic not very popular in Elven society – who should have taught him? Who should have given him any measures?
(I guess this is a good example for what the ideal of chastity can lead to. Finally you have a lot of insecure and unexperienced people who cannot help but wreck the entire ship, no matter howhard they try. ;) )

You know, it was great fun to me when Faramir freaks a bit about Arwen´s lack of knowledge. Yet I think you´re right, she probably hadn´t much reason to find out. I think this is the side effect of immortality; once you have all the time in the world there is no motivation to get anything started. Given I got Tolkien right this is also the reason why the Elven realms are finally doomed to fade. They are the keepers of the past yet they are obviously not able to go with the times and adapt to changes.

And I totally support what you said about the “perfect” marriage. Truer words were never spoken! And here we have two people who have been waited for each other for years and years. All the time they must have spent fancying how it would be once they would be together, all the endless nights. Until… well, until they were carrying around a huge bag of expectations. Expectations of something flawless and bigger than life because oh the love so pure. It takes some experiences to realize that no, love is not enough. Things don´t´t just wondrously slip into the right places by itself. It is work to build a relationship and there is an everyday´s life with it´s rather non-glamorous issues. Just that an everyday´s life is exactly what these two never had (I think Arwen´s life in Rivendell can´t be measured by human timescale) so how could the know?

I´m afraid it´s my turn now to ask your forgiveness. For this is surely a brickwall long enough to build a mural around all Mordor. However, it is not my intention to cause you any stress so please feel free to just skip this cascade of incoherent words. :)

One day I will surely come and see New Zealand! :D I´ve already made it to Australia last year and even though this is a completely different country with different landscapes and not Tolkien-related in any way (except some certain actors…) I think I know what you mean. The land, it does something to you… It sneaks beneath your skin and when you leave you take something with you… And gosh, I want to see the mountain ranges! And the windswept plains. And… oh, just everything. Have fun over there! :D

— raven22372    19 November 2011, 22:04    #

Ah, the apologies are getting the fancier with every turn :) But you know what, I don’t WANT apologies from you :D I want awesome, long, ranting comments about many things at once :))))))) Because discussing things with readers is one of the main reasons I actually publish my texts instead of letting them just sit there clogging up the hard-drive :)

Aragorn as a man who just knows everything? I must say that’s a sentiment I strongly share :) And yet I’ve also always felt he was a man who wasn’t overeager to get himself directly involved into others’ personal business. Like he put no pressure on Frodo when it was time to decide Gondor/Mordor, which arguably led to some unpleasant consequences for certain party members. Likewise he never bugged Boromir about the latter’s apparent unease during their boat journey, nor even seemed to keep a particularly close eye on him – and maybe if he had done something about it… Also, Eowyn. Instead of just going no, lady, no, you can’t come with us, no – he could’ve tried actually approaching her to explain why he could not return her evident interest. Anything along the lines of it’s-not-you-it’s-me might’ve spared her a lot of angst. I mean, pretty much anything: I’m engaged/impotent/gay/actually a woman in disguise/mortally allergic to cooties – would’ve been better than letting her think the problem lay with her lousy self.

So, hm, following that line, I think he would not be particularly proactive about gaining skill-points in sexual expertise until the day he actually had where to apply it. Which canon-wise I think was supposed to be his wedding night. Elrond had told him not to get betrothed to anyone until the whole thing with Arwen was settled, and I feel that by Tolkien-rules, that sort of meant that ‘not screwing anyone while you wait’ kinda goes without saying :) Now, I’m quite lenient towards the idea he might’ve gotten some smex education before he met Arwen, since he was already 20 by that time, not exactly a child… Also, I can quite willingly entertain the idea he might’ve had same-sex relationships of one sort of another while he waited – because, well, that’s quite different, in my opinion, from having an affair with another lady and possibly siring her a kid or two. But either way, I think his practical knowledge of the female body would be limited at best.

Which is in no way to say that their wedding night or their sex life as a whole would necessarily be miserable. After all, it’s quite possible even for two entirely clueless virgins to have a first time that’s far from terrible. After all, all it takes is patience, willingness to explore, and careful attention to the other’s and your own reactions. However, there may arise some serious issues if in the process it turns out the people have fundamentally different expectations about the act or even absence thereof. Among other things, Aragorn’s use of the words ‘heirs of my body’, much as it is a common official phrase, kind of hinted to me he was looking forward to doing the deed, marryng Arwen not only out of romantic/platonic motivation, but also to have children through all the traditional steps – whereas Arwen… Well, we’ve discussed that above.

In today’s world they might’ve gone to counselling or something, but in their settings… Much as I love those fanfics where a third somebody is called to join ua unbalanced couple in bed and set things aright, somehow in this particular case it doesn’t seem like a solution that would be popular with either of the parties involved even if it did actually occur to somebody as a concept…

In that sense, it seemed to me that Faramir’s and Eowyn’s union was under far less stress and had good chances to actually fare better, even if with a sad finale like in this particular story. Because they both had just escaped death and were hardly counting on much good to happen to them when they met each other. For them it was sort of up from the dumps, because there was hardly anywhere further down to go.

Oh man, I actually feel so bad for Aragorn now (:,,-O
ROFL

December    20 November 2011, 07:17    #

I just want to say that I keep returning to this story over and over and am always so delighted when I see an update because it’s just so wonderfully paced, so measured and almost languid, but not so much that it becomes boring or too drawn-out. I love when a story is given it’s proper time to develop, and here the emotions flourish so slowly, sadness lingers, expectation, worry, shock too, they all unfurl slowly like a flower and come together quite beautifully. I also want to just take a moment to compliment you again on your wonderful phrasing and wording, it’s absolutely spot-on in theme and style, the dialogue especially. I had a little shiver run down my spine at Faramir’s “I believe we have lived side by side long enough, my king, for you to have seen proof I am not in the habit of speaking without meaning what I say.” – it was just so perfectly worded and in-character, and purely from a poetic point-of-view quite lovely.
Your writing is one of my biggest inspirations when it comes to style and wording and the exploration of feeling and emotion, which you do most excellently and so deeply without boring the reader in any way at all- I have to pace myself while reading so that I don’t speed through the story too fast, I’m so eager to find out what happens next but I don’t want to miss the next delightful turn of phrase or exquisitely sketched metaphor. More, please! This tale is far too tantalising :)

Eora    22 December 2011, 19:51    #

Most likely I have said that before (and therefore a repetition will rather bore you) but your ability to keep up the measured rhythm of the master´s language over various chapters is incredible! It perfectly fits your calm way of storytelling and the positive undertone that characterizes your works. :)

I must say I have a huge liking for the way Faramir insists on keeping his dignity no matter who it is he´s dealing with. It fascinates me even more since generally he is not way too fixated on his state. I like the idea that even though he would not mind to make way for everyone he is blessed with a self-esteem healthy enough to pull the brakes before it gets beyond a certain point.

One thing that occurred to me while reading through our former conversation… given that Aragorn is probably not particularly experienced in the art of physical love it might become a very interesting night. I wonder who will turn out to be the captain of that ship. Not that I intend to push you into a certain direction ;) – but when he says „Undress and lie down“ (which I guess can be read as a command even if it is not uttered as one) and urges on turning off the lights – well, I felt reminded of a patriarchic society in which this is how women are expected to act (God forbid they might develop their own ideas about love-making!) and men confine to fulfill their God-given „duty“. Unfortunately the longtime result of this practice is that neither men nor women are able to learn anything about technique, not to speak of their own desires. Which leads to a constant insecurity on both sides and furthermore to an unhealthy climate of restriction. I am far away from accusing Aragorn to be a chauvinistic ignorant ;) but I could see him covering his own lack of experience with a behaviour more domineering than usual. The hint that he reveals a resemblance to Boromir when it comes down to deal with his own weaknesses underlines that theory. I think he is more scared of what to come than Faramir is – and a lot more scared that he might fail/make himself look like an idiot/give away what an innocent little flower he is. Though I would not completely rule out the possibility that I am just over-interpreting either… ;)

— raven22372    27 December 2011, 15:10    #

Oh my lovelies, thank you for your kindest comments!

Eora, please don’t be settling for a very long read though, this story is more than half-told, or at least that part of it which will be typed out ;) One problem with these slowly-unfolding tales is that I never conceive them as such, always somehow underestimating the time and length it is going to take for the story to ripen. Oh well, heh. Anyway, though you’ve said this a while back already, it still fascinates me that you name me among your inspirations… I do indeed feel a strong sense of kinship to your writing, so we must be riding a similar kind of wave, but nevertheless.. Very humbling. In a good way :)

And yes, writing their dialogue is a most interesting affair. I always feel Faramir would be very respectful with Aragorn, keeping clear of teetering on either rudeness or servility in tone. And personally, I think that would be one of the things that would specifically fuel Aragorn’s trust and love for him, seeing as thanks to such conduct Aragorn would feel that Faramir perceives in him not only the lord but also the man, and respects him as both lord and man, if you get my meaning…

Raven, buckle up for the endless reply!! First of all, thank you for saying there is a positive undertone! It’s nice to know that it does come through despite all the general morbidness.

Speaking of dignity, I agree that Faramir would not be fixated on his state, aka he would not be pampering his dignity just for the sake of it. He doesn’t have an inflated ego or an excess of pride, so he’s not over-sensitive to situations that might damage his ‘resume’. For example, he repeatedly offered his love to Eowyn although there was an obvious likelihood she would turn him down, which would have kept more touchy men clear off for fear of humiliation. So I think his unwavering dignity is more of a permanent inner trait that just manifests itself in his behaviour, be it with equals, those below or above him.

Re your other point, no, you are not over-analysing :) And definitely there is a big issue of restriction within the society. I’m not in any way arguing for a complete lack of boundaries, but it seems that there may be just a bit too many at the moment. What I’ve noticed in Tolkien’s works on middle-Earth is that the word ‘desire’ is typically used in negative context – except for when it is ‘desire of the heart’ which effectively means ‘love’. If we look at examples of desire in his stories, it is what Grima harbours for Eowyn, and Maeglin for his cousin Idril, and if I remember right, also Eol the Elf for Aredhel, which union does not end happily… It seems to suggest that desire is not a healthy and inherent part of love, but rather a somewhat separate and highly perilous thing… So in that line I think Aragorn would indeed be deeply contradicted about their situation with Arwen, on the one hand resenting his inability to consummate his passion, on the other feeling ashamed for being so grieved by it… This brings me to your point about him being somewhat domineering with Faramir. I would agree, I see it as mostly a defense reaction: he is troubled re his nonconventional feelings for Faramir, likely not altogether certain whether Arwen’s denying him intimacy justifies him seeking it elsewhere, embarrassed of asking it of Faramir so early on, and of course he is afraid that Faramir, too, would reject him. And right you are, he is not at all versed in the arts of physical love. He does plainly admit it, saying that while Faramir has been with many, he himself has been with no one. Also, he admits he has not even explored his own body until it began a reproductive necessity, which I think strongly suggests he has not explored anyone else’s body either… Such a degree of modesty may seem a bit unusual, I guess, but then Aragorn hasn’t had a very usual life. Besides, if we are to rely on canon, I have a feeling Tolkien’s saying he waited for her for so long was meant to imply Aragorn waited in all senses, including that he did not go wanking every now and again to ease the burden, heh. Seeing what a high chivalric love they were painted to have, even some harmless masturbation would likely spoil the atmosphere of romance and purity.

So I would say that being physically innocent is not something Aragorn is trying to make a secret of, for, given his story, him not being innocent would imply he had been unfaithful to Arwen at some point… If anything, he openly warns Faramir of his standing, even if he does not describe it as bluntly as ‘I’ve never gotten laid’, lol.

As for it being an interesting night – most certainly, I assure you! :) Funnily enough, it wasn’t until after I’ve begun publishing this story that I’d myself stumbled upon somebody who knows next to nothing of these things. A novel experience for me, it was intensely endearing, and naturally it’s quite gratifying to be told, no one’s done this to me before – but at the same time, it wasn’t until then that I began to appreciate the full amount of patience, care and tact it might in some cases require to help the other person learn what to do – without putting them on the defensive by making them feel inadequate or incompetent. I should expect that Aragorn especially, given what pain the situation with Arwen has caused him, would indeed be in need of tremendous support and encouragement, and it make take him a very long time to reach certain mile-stones.

Though a man of formidable character and willpower, I think he still has the natural human points of fragility. We have seen in the book that although he is not given to showing or talking about his feelings much, he can indeed be overcome with grief, and anger, as well as shame and annoyance, etc. So I try not to idealise him in my writing, and this story is definitely working to that end, rofl.

Oh my, I really must finish now, this is the longest reply ever…

December    28 December 2011, 10:07    #

I have just read through your reply again and it contains so many deep thoughts and refreshingly new aspects I just could not keep myself from boarding that ship again. :)

That´s an interesting topic… the way you point out Aragorn´s voluntary (more or less) celibacy being rather considered as a special act of virtue makes sense to me. What I had in mind was the societal expectations men have to face: being experienced, confident and always master of the situation (or at least pretending to be).

Poor Aragorn, not even a chance to get some temporary relief by helping himself. Quite a predicament Elrond put him into. I wonder whether that was not the purpose of this deal from the very start… X)
Or maybe not. Actually Aragon is consumed by so many tasks those things may rather play a subordinate role in his – allowedly not quite usual – life. And then I tend to agree, as you said due to Tolkien´s worldview masturbation is something virtuous people do not even think of (though I would like to find out what the good professor figured when he wrote about Gollum sitting in his gloomy cave and talking to his “precious”).

Oh, and that special event you mentioned… is it not amazing how art and RL mirror each other? I had a few of those experiences myself and meanwhile I am convinced there must be such thing as a greater plan. ;)
However, although you describe it as a very intense and entirely positive experience I must say I would run for the hills if somebody would offer me that responsibility. ;) Actually I was always wondering why people (and male people in particular) are so drawn to the “virginity” issue. As you said it demands a huge amount of empathy and patience to hold the key for somebody´s future (sexual) experiences.

One aspect I had not realized until now is that being rejected must give Aragorn a hard time not only because his desires are not to be fulfilled. As far as I got it Arwen´s declination does not refer to that business; no, she´s straightaway appalled by her husband´s personal physique. Even though the story is set in a society that generally judges only women by “beauty” – whereas men go rather unaffected by this measure – it must be a disturbing experience for him to be seen as unattractive or worse, repulsive. I don´t think Aragorn is somebody who spends any redundant thoughts on his physical appearance – a) he´s mostly concerned with issues more important, b) since a man´s looks is less questioned than a woman´s and there were no explicit complaints by now he simply might have assumed to be okay the way he is and c) since people used to judge him by his weather-worn ranger outfit he´s probably accustomed enough to their wry looks to not pay the topic any attention. Yet this time it is not about mud-stained breeches or a shirt so sweaty it would be able to walk away on its own. His lady feels repelled by the most private parts of his body, parts he did not even considered to be repellant. It must be an entirely new situation for him and and probably a source of uncertainty. If she feels that way, how would other people feel? How would Faramir feel? After all, nobody has ever prepared him for this situation!

Oops, now where does this brickwall come from? I did not call for a mason, did I?
Anyway, apparently I am still in the clutches of a persistent New Year hangover and my brain feels like something you might find on the bottom of mossy stones (the fact that I wrote this at work is one of minor interest). Please take my apology in case it comes across as the bunch of incoherent chaos it feels like!

— raven22372    3 January 2012, 12:36    #

Dear Raven,

thanks so much for your unwavering interest and inspiring commentary!

Indeed, Aragorn is pretty much ‘caught between two flames’, as a Russian expression would put it. I agree that in their society, just like it used to be and to a large extent still is in ours, it would be the man who would be expected to bring sexual experience and knowledge into the couple. I am quite certain a woman was supposed to go into marriage a virgin. Nowadays, of course, even a virgin can acquire considerable knowledge, even if only theoretical, since educational materials are widely available. (Of course, not all sources are qually good, and the majority of porn movies out there would ‘teach’ you that all it takes ot make everyone happy is to put a penis or penis-like object into any human orifice and bang away. But still, there are plenty of serious books and tapes that do contain a plenty of useful tips) Besides, with public attitudes towards masturbation steadily softening, one may at least come to learn the reactions of one’s own body before trying to understand another’s. But in middle-Earth… While they did not have the Church or any other celibacy-promoting institution that would say that basically sex = sin and thinking about sex = sin, I have a feeling that their societies would be far from the sensuality-embracing pagan cultures or druidic societies of the pre-Christian Europe. And Aragorn, having given his heart to another at such a young age, would likely be under a very strong pressure to not ‘stray’, and being Aragorn he most probably wouldn’t stray indeed – and this would leave him with what on the wedding night? While in other stories I like to play with the idea of Arwen possessing some of her own experience, not necessarily acquired through unlawful encounters with a male, it feels to me that canon-wise she did not know that much about the workings of a human male’s body – because where could she possibly have learnt on this topic? It could well be that the Elven culture, in all their millenia of existense, did produce some analogue of the Kamasutra, hehe, but surely it would not be meant for the eyes of unwed maidens, hehe again.

Speaking of Aragorn’s ‘self-esteem’ problems, though I don’t normally use that phrase in LOTR context given its strongly modern ring – you know, facing rejection, and specifically sexual rejection, from a loved one can mess up one’s brain in any number of ways. We don’t know whether Aragorn is the textbook male from “Men are from Mars…” for whom acceptance and admiration are the best gifts his woman could give, but it stands to reason that for any living person to be explicitly unaccepted and unadmired by their other half, even if only in one aspect, would still be very, very painful. If she accepts him only in part, does is it even count? Does selective acceptance qualify as acceptance at all? Certainly he cannot demand it of her, because acceptance given under pressure doesn’t really qualify either, heh – but what is he to do then?

Speaking of the allure of virginity, yes, that’s a complicated subject. I suppose there are a number of reasons. First of all, given our culture’s history, a virgin bride meant a good bride, a woman who lived according to society’s guidelines and would make a good wife. Secondly, it’s more ocmfortable for a man in the sense that if she hadn’t had any men before him, she wouldn’t be able to judge him in comparison to them, she wouldn’t be able to think that his ‘thing’ is smaller than of that other guy she’d been with, or that he’s not at good with his technique, etc. Thirdly, it would rid him of the rather unpleasant mental images of his beloved enjoying herself with someone else. I think this moment of jealousy is exceptionally strong, after all, are we not often torn by conflicting desires that our lover be experienced and know what to do and yet at the same not have been with that many partners before meeting us?

And no, I wouldn’t say that being with someone ‘fresh’ and ‘unspoilt’ is all roses. I mean, there are many good sides to it, and it helps to focus one’s attention on these sides, because naturally there are a lot of points of frustration as well. It is indeed quite a popular fantasy, of being the older woman/older man to a beautiful youth/beautiful lass, who are full of desire but also endearingly timid, etc. What this fantasy forgets to include is that often this would put the older or at least the more experienced person into the leading role all the time, and not all of us enjoy that. As for responsibility, well, really good teachers are hard to come by, we all know that, heh, so I reckon it might as well be me as the next person ;)

And yes, how would Faramir feel? For Aragorn this question must be answered before anything else. After all, one rejection can be written off on chance or an unfortunate coincidence of circumstances, but if it comes again from nother person, then that would mean that it is Aragorn that soemthign is wrong with, right? And of course he wouldn’t have questioned the normality of his make before this whole situation. Men, I agree with you, would not be judged so demandingly re their beauty, although all of Tolkien’s positive characters are at elast nice-looking, most of them actually ‘fair’ and ‘beautiful’. But most of all men would probably be judged on those aspects of their physique relating to performance, such as strength, for men were mostly warriors or workers or peasants, making their life with physical work. So yes, I would expect it had been quite a shock for him. And when it comes to it, I expect it is indeed possible for a man, after such an incident, to wonder if he’s okay. I’ve had men explicitly tell me that only the female body can be beautiful and the male body is inherently ugly… And well, as the super-talented creator of Oglaf joked, the penis does look like it’s been designed by H. R. Geiger (remember the backscratcher?) so certainly one could come to have self-doubts…

And omg, they made you work on Jan 2? Serves them right to have you write fiction reviews in work-time, hahaha.

December    4 January 2012, 01:40    #

I must say I´m incredibly grateful you put a few stones in their way… because everything else would have probably betrayed the characters. I´m not even so much waiting for them doing it – it´s s much more important that you have managed to let them act in a realistic way. Due to the conditions it could have hardly been a smooth and simple lay with everything being guns and roses, like: put a penis into an orifice and – YAY! – everything´s fine (just that unfortunately things refuse to work that way). I bow to your infallible instinct for story telling!

And I apologise for this unaccustomedly short drop-in. I´m more than just a little drunk and unable to produce anything more useful than a “smoking harms you” poster in Gandalf´s bedroom.

Plus: Also allow me to congratulate you on your sense for cliffhangers. According to my calculation your readers must be now at the point when biting into the edge of a table seems like a pretty tempting idea! XD

— raven22372    15 January 2012, 22:51    #

Dear friend, is it a custom with you to apologise for your comments, whether it be for their length or their shortness? ;) Seriously, all comments I treasure, all comments spur me on, be it through encouraging or challenging me, so have no worries :) And I hope you haven’t gnawed any holes in your table ;)

Hm, yes, to think of it, I haven’t yet, in any of my stories, written a single sex scene, especially a first-time-sex scene, that would be devoid of stones and various other obstacles. Ah, poor poor characters, hehe, and evil evil me, gnehehe. But indeed, I must say that depictions of technically and emotionally perfect and flawless sex seldom touch me, be it in fanfiction, other works of writing or film. I may certainly appreciate the artistic skill put into creating such scenes, but it never really goes to my gut, if you know what I mean. And for me as an author, the main reason I give such prominense to the erotic themes in my wriitng is not the arousing aspects of writing and reading such fiction, but the fact that I find human intimacy, in and of itself, a remarkably fascinating subject. Just like no two snowflakes are ever exactly alike, I feel that every person has their unique sexual individuality, and given what extraordinary characters we meet in Tolkien’s world, I feel there must be a tale to tell about the more intimate sides of them, too. I also feel that romance, and the sexual side of it especially so (not that those two always go hand in hand, gnehehe again), is an extremely controversial ground, and to me controversial=intriguing=enthralling. Hence I prefer above all pairings where conflict of one form or another is inherent, such as Faramir/Boromir or Faramir/Aragorn or Faramir/Pippin ;p While I do appreciate the beauty of arrangements like Faramir/Legolas as well, I sense much less ground for complexity and difficulty in them, and therefore they touch me less.

I also feel quite strongly that in our popular culture descriptions of intimacy either focus too much on how physically pleasurable/not pleasurable an encounter was and how hot everyone looked, or on how much love-love-love everybody feels for each other. I make a conscious effort to steer away from that in my own works. The way I see it, sex (and by sex here I mean not only intercourse as such but all forms of intimate intercation with oneself and another) – is like music. There is hardly a human emotion that you could not convey through music, hardly a state of mind, hardly a sentiment, hardly a thought that you could not make into a melody. Talented composers can even describe landsapes and tell stories the way an artist would do in a painting. And I feel that the same level of emotinal and even intellectual expression is, ultimately, possible through narrations of the intimate experience. And just like it’s perfectly possible for a piece of music to be at once very candid and beautiful, I feel that descriptions of sex, even very detailed descriptions of sex, need not necessarily be profane. Even rough and loveless sex can be depicted in a beautiful, heart-stopping and poignant manner. You can write sex like a tragedy, like a comedy, an action-adventure, a trash-horror too, ha-ha – you can turn it into a farce or tell a person’s life-story with it.

So what I’m (ineffectively) trying to say here, is that “them doing it” is exactly what I’m trying not to make into the central point of any of my stories, even though most of those stories do indeed consist for more than 50% of descriptions of somebody doing something blithely indecent to somebody else.

See, I’ve more than made up for the relative compactness of your comment!

P.S. So long as I’ve started talking of music, this story is written to ‘Sanctuary’ by Secret Garden if you are interested :)

December    16 January 2012, 01:40    #

Indeed, it´obvious there´s an apologize kink playing its wicked game inside my head! XD And the tables are not what they´ve been before either. All chipboards instead of proper honest wood. BEH. XP

The comparison between sexual interactions and music seems quite fitting to me. After all more fitting than a picture or a verbal description that could only point out one aspect at once. Though, as you said, society (and I´m sure it´s not ours alone) tends to break the idea of sex and erotic down into a rather one-dimensional notion. Which might not only lead to disappointment – worse, there´s a good chance you will end up wondering what the hell is wrong with you (instead of questioning the system) when things won´t work for you that way.

Speaking of music, it seems we have just reached the point of an entre´acte. ;) I´m waiting eagerly for how they get ouf this… or if they get out of it at all. Poor characters, happy readers! ;)

No time for building brickwalls today (yes, I´m guilty of writing out of subject texts at work again).) But then, you´ve pointed it all out even better than THE MASTER himself could have done (though I doubt he ever referred to this aspect of character development) – so what else is there to say? :)

— raven22372    16 January 2012, 12:17    #

And that´s what happens when I´m writing comments at work… >.<

Regarding music: Hah, definitely the right score for a slow burning coming of age story! (Considering Aragorn´s state I think this is not so far from hitting the mark). Unfortunately the link didn´t work for me because GEMA (the German authority for copyright infringements – yes, that means you, buggers!) blocked the youtube vid, but I listened to one or two other songs to get an idea. Which leads me to a market niche: Fanfiction that comes with a “soundtrack” button! :D

— raven22372    16 January 2012, 17:31    #

This is absolutely gorgeous. I love your wordcraft and characterizations and I have to say when I read Aragorn’s explanation of his relationship with Arwen, I think my heart broke. I’ve also read your discussions in your review replies and they have given me much food for thought.

I look forward to the next installment of the story and its eventual conclusion. In the meantime I’m going to set the link to this as a favourite page and make sure I re-read it periodically.

Bravissimi!

— Dancingkatz    9 July 2012, 21:21    #

Oh, I cannot believe I seriously have left your words without reply, Raven. Little chance you will come across my response now, but anyway.

Indeed, fusion fan-work seems like such a sweet idea. If I were a more multidimensinally talented person than I am, and had a decent command of visual art, singing, playing an istrument and clipmaking, I would probably switch to making videos where text would go alongside with imagery, accompanied by music and nature-sounds, and the screen exuding heavenly fragrances all the while… I’d put together collages of assorted imagery and call them “What Faramir is to me”. I’d even do some cosplay if I could! But you get what you get, which is my stories ;p Speaking of music though, here’s my latest inspiratin for Tolkien fan-work, Selig by Helium Vola. This story already has its soundtrack, but this and their other songs go very well with all my Eowyn-related fiction. I know Tolkien is said to have fashioned Rohan after a celtic culture, but to me the Rohirrim had always been very strongly associated with the Germanic, and to some extent Scandinavian, heroic mythology. To think of it, the whole Silmarillion is to me very Germanic-like in feel – and also goes hand-in-hand with the pre-Rafaelite imagery the like of in the link. If I could, I would’ve painted something like that to illustrate this story.

Dancinkatz, you just literally made my day with your comment! It’s always a pleasure to welcome a new reader, especially to a story that’s been a while since updated. I honestly don’t understand where you get the faith to read something that’s been on hiatus for almost 3 months, but thank you so much! AND you read the replies, wow. Well, in that case, I’ll make a personalised rant dedicated to you :)

You mention food for thought – and I guess this is one of the fundamental reasons why I’m so drawn to the Tolkien legendarium in the first place. I mean, of course there’s also this sensation of purity, and ancience, and honour and nobility, of a truer and clearer life – but all that aside, his work is never failing to provide food for thought people-wise and relationship-wise. I feel the relationships he portrays, that of a master and dedicated servant, of two brothers, of battle friends, of fathers and sons, of a man and a woman – they all resonate with simple human truth.

Fair enough, myself and many other authors often re-write these relationships, or at least re-interpret them in ways different from that most readily implied by canon. But it is precisely this sensation of universal truth that drives me to do this reinterpretation, that promises that there is something inherent in these characters and their world that will give true life to these other, derivative stories. Funnily enough, we are not told too much about many of these relationships in the book, large parts of the lives of the involved people being described by a couple of paragraphs in the appendices – but nevertheless… When a story begins to take on life in my mind, there’s this clear certainty that Aragorn, or Faramir, or whoever, would respond to such and such in this particular way… It has always been a pity to me that Faramir and Boromir had been given so little space in the book, both on their own and especially together. Even though each of them plays a fundamental part in the fate of the Ring, and with it the world, they still come across to me as secondary characters, which sucks >:E But nevertheless they have such rich personalities, such clear personalities – endless resource for food for thought :)
Thanks for reading!

December    10 July 2012, 05:46    #

“…and there is something wondrously heathen about this, something full of the deepest, most sacral of meanings.”

Dear me. O.o Never. Do. That. Again. At least not without cabling me a warning. My poor poor neighbours..!

Joking aside and completely serious: This and the following ones are probably the most sensual sentences that caught me unprepared on a train ride ever. Okay, I might have not quite SQUEEEEEEEEed my fellow passengers away, but it was close… ;) As you said, there is a wonderful liberating power in this action, something archaic one would bring in line with bonfires and Beltane nights (too bad my ex-boyfriend didn´t see it like that – but that does not belong in here… X) ).

Please take my humble compliments for your writing again: I do not know how you did it, but you managed to deal seriously with a scenery that could have easily brought down to an ´American Pie´ level. Limbs at the wrong place, sperm and no idea what to do with it – it had been so easy to expose your characters to ridiculousness here, yet since you stayed so cloes to them (especially Faramir) and their own perception, their actions get an intense seriousness and dignity. Thank you so much for continuing that story! :)

— raven22372    8 August 2012, 23:16    #

Raven, love, thanks for the comment! Wow, you’re cheeky and bold, aren’t you – for my part I don’t think I’ve read anything much sensual in a remotely public place at all, hehe.

I’m sorry your boyfriend wasn’t into fire festivals, I always thought bonfires are quite fun ;P Seriously though, I do commiserate.

Well, sex is often like American Pie, isn’t it? Or sometimes even, what was that movie called, where she got plastered to the ceiling, Scary Movie? The more I live, the less I’m surprised by anything, hehehe. But you know what, I think that what fundamentally determines whether a potentially hilarious sexual situation is ridiculous or serious, is a combination of two factors: first and foremost, your attitude towards the other person, and then their attitude towards the situation.

Here’s a personal example (nothing NC-17, no worries). Once I was with this boy, and he couldn’t get it up. Don’t know why, doesn’t matter. I wasn’t in love with him, was in love with someone else actually, again, doesn’t matter. At first I did feel sorry for him, for what guy would want to be in a situation like that? I tried to reassure him, to help – but you know, I very soon got plain bored. As I lay there, pulling, in vain, on that overcooked carrot, all I could think was, what the hell am I doing here? I could’ve been at home now, watching TV, taking a bath, or chatting to my friends. I just fell out of touch with the situation. It was awkward, absurd, uninteresting.

Whereas some time later the exact same thing happened with someone that I did in fact have feelings for. And that’s one of my most anguished memories to date. His shame was my physical pain, and I felt so powerless as if I was caught in an earthquake – when you realise something terrible is happening, and you also realise that whatever you do, you can’t change anything. The degree of frustration and despair is something unspeakable.

With that first boy, it seemed ridiculous to me either way, regardless of what he felt. I did not laugh or tell him anything of the sort, but I felt that way anyway. Whereas with the second one, it could’ve been ridiculous only if he had taken it lightly and found it genuinely funny. You know, it’s like the famous fart in Sex and the City. She took it seriously, but he laughed, and that hurt her feelings.

So yeah, in our case, Faramir does care, and so, hopefully, it doesn’t turn into an American Pie :)

December    9 August 2012, 03:37    #

Last night I sat for a good hour writing out an essay of a comment (one that, in hindsight, was probably incomprehensible gibberish due to the late hour- it began around 1am and got worse from then on) and of course when I, ready for bed, hit ‘submit’ …the internet ate it D: Pages, reams, gone! Half of which was the apology for how long it’s been since I last commented on this story…22nd December?! And it’s shameful because I HAVE been reading avidly every time you update, but I really have let my procrastination spiral out of control and I feel terrible for enjoying your updates and not letting you know. So, please accept my apologies (and yes, I’ve seen your reply on Luck and I will get around to replying to that too…I don’t know where the time goes really and I have no excuse.)

The best thing about this story is actually a combination of things; the build-up is tender, careful, the scene and backstory are set, we don’t rush into anything at all and proceed with a measured though curious pace. Like we’ve begun discussing in the comments to Luck about straying a little away from outright NC-17 to something perhaps a little tamer (okay, R! That said…I did just write a positively filthy paragraph or two (or three) in the story I’m currently working on :P) but with the focus shifting to characterisation, emotional groundwork, so that the reader becomes invested in the characters and therefore when the scenes do become heated, the pay-off is so much greater, and this story is such a perfect example of exactly that. I think I mentioned it before (too lazy to scroll upwards) in one of my earlier comments but I think one of my very favourite vignettes in this piece, and in fact in any piece, was that gentle moment where Faramir surfaces to find Aragorn’s arm is not only embracing him, but has slid beneath his shift to do so. It was a subtle, brief moment that was so steeped in romanticism, and going back and reading from the start (I do this whenever a new chapter is posted because I love to see that build-up!) something that was sweet to begin with becomes so bittersweet also. Aragorn gives comfort, but seeks it also, and we find out just how fragile he really is later on. It’s so sad how someone so beautiful (Aragorn!) would go without, and I love how as a reader we see through Faramir just how beautiful Aragorn is in that detailed and poetic description of his body, warts and all. Your delicate prose is absolutely breathtaking, an absolute love-letter to these two men and the turmoil that surrounds them, turmoil that is unseen but not unfelt.

Faramir here is not unburdened, he deals with loss, but I like how in this situation, he takes control, guiding Aragorn into this deserved new realm of sensation. I like the theme of the fragile king very much but without going so far as to make him seem weak. He’s so tentative, there is fear there, fear of the unknown, fear of his own desires, perhaps a fear of himself- is he so terrible that no-one might look on him with answering need? No! (And I already mentioned but we see here through Faramir’s eyes just how comely the king really is.) And Faramir shows him, patiently, kindly, but not without his own inquisitive foray into the unexplored- his curious thoughts at the end of the last chapter are so very sweet and so very real, who hasn’t pondered new experiences? The realism in this story as well I loved very much (the trapped hand!)…because sex is never quite as elegant as it is in the romance novels or films. The aftermath too…Aragorn has just shown the most private and untouched (literally) part of himself to another for the first time, and it is with Faramir…what emotions now thrum within the king’s heart? Aaah, it’s getting close to my bedtime once again and I’m not nearly finished with all the thins I want to say about this story, but I do want to spare you my rambling so I’ll just say that I love this so much, the inspiration it gives me not only with your perfect word choice but also in the mood and themes is boundless. Thank you!! :D I hope you are well; how is New Zealand doing? :)

Eora    16 August 2012, 02:09    #

Oh, man, I feel your pain. I’d been there, the comment eaters had preyed on a comment of mine as well. Henceforth, whenever I’m making a big one, I back it up incessantly or altogether write it in a word-processor. Cause that’s terribly frustrating, that is. So doubly thanks for going over it again!

Please don’t feel obliged to comment on every update, which is not to say I enjoy it endlessly when you do <3 And you re-read it from the start every time? Whoah. As in, WHOAH. I just. Yeah. You know.

This is my biggest comment yet, but I feel you kind of asked for it :)))

Re characterisation – I guess that’s the reason we do it in the first place, isn’t it? I mean, writing fanfiction erotica/porn. Because otherwise we may call our characters Bob and Bill (or Susie), or altogether label them X and Y, and who cares. I don’t think I’d read any original-character heavy erotica on the Web for… I don’t even know how many years. I had read a handful of short stories back in the day, back when I had just discovered this genre, and was fascinated more than anything by the simple fact that somebody came up with such stories and more than that, published them for others to read. But as such, I’m not interested. I mean, if you want proper porn, then just buy a watch quality DVD, right? Whereas what I’m looking for here… I guess it’s a lived human experience, from the perspective of characters I love or at least am intrigued by in some way. And seeing as our own human experience is by default explicit, I don’t see why not have this fictional experience in similar detail. Because as soon as there is good characterisation, the act itself automatically acquires other meanings. Because in turn, even if we describe the encounter as purely recreational no strings attached kind of stuff, that in itself has certain psychological implications, right?

I like your point about the distinction between Aragorn’s vulnerability/weakness. I must admit I’m particularly drawn to vulnerability myself, or rather a person’s ability to evoke a certain type of pity in me. I even read somewhere that it’s a characteristic national trait of my people, to love through pity, or, more precisely, to love the suffering, especially so those unjustly suffering. I don’t think though that it’s any less common for any other culture – I mean, the universally popular hurt/comfort genre is predicated solely upon this premise, isn’t it? But there’s a line, at least for me: to love this way, I simultaneously need to be able to respect the object of my pity. And I… well, I can’t quite respect the weak. A person may currently suffer from some particular human weakness, but generally have fortitude of character, and a strong will, and healthy ambition, courage and the ability to recover from a fall, willingness to take on responsibility, that kind of thing. You know, like Boromir. Vulnerable? Yes. Weak? Hmm… Maybe not as clever as Faramir, but not really quite weak, I think not. Because he believed in the rightness of his own opinions, and he stuck to them. So stubborn rather than weak, I would say. In the grand scheme of things, it does maybe paint him as morally weak, you know, in Christian interpretation, as in easily tempted. But character-wise, he was quite strong. Not as strong as some, maybe, but even so. He carried a great burden, after all.

I guess if I were to select one criterion only, for not being weak, it would be that the person be trying to pull themselves together after a lapse. And in that sense, I don’t think any of Tolkien’s characters could be described as weak. Some never had a lapse to begin with, like Aragorn, he just does what he does. Even Grima has some self-respect left to finally rebel against Saruman’s oppression. Even Saruman himself, though it shows him as beyond salvation, has enough stubbornness in him to stick to his ways, lead him as they may to his demise. This pulling together may not always go in a healthy direction, yes, but they all of them are strong minds and strong wills.

So I have a very hard conviction that this strength must be communicated in fanfiction. That even when depicting a moment of weakness, we need to show that it is not meant to imply a greater weakness of character. And I’m so glad that’s how it came across to you!

New Zealand… I could of course talk about how amazing it is, but I reckon you already know that and it’s not exactly what you’re asking. So, it’s been a tough year. It’s going to get ugly form here, but since you asked ;p I haven’t really talked of it much, I think not, maybe only to one person before, relatively unanimously as well. Some observations are mostly curious, of course.

For instance. Like a person from a Northern land, you might appreciate this one. See, I come from a land with stereotypical, picture-book seasons. Spring. Summer. Autumn. Winter. And for half a year at a time, everything lies in a comatose deathly slumber, even half the wildlife. Everything is dead and white. Or, in the big cities, everything is dead and dirty. You know, the poesy of winter, haha. And I’ve grown so used to this cycle, where this temporary suspension of all living activity is a normal part of the cycle. But here. But here, or at least the part of the island I live in, the land is… I’ve realised recently that I’ve slipped into a certain state of timelessness – as in it feels to me that I’ve been here for much less than I actually know by calendar. And I blame it in great part on the nature which is abundant here, because it’s… creepily enough, it feels as though deathless. It is always green. As in, St Patrick’s, photo-filter green. I’ve learnt not so long ago that it’s about a 2-hour drive from where I live to the set of Hobbiton. I think it’s something like $200 to have a tour. So it’s that kind of green. And any time of the year, something is always blooming. Always. Any big tree, it always has this flock of teeny itsy flowers in the grass around its roots, some yellow some white, ashamed not to know their names. It feels like, Spring, Summer, Autumn, Spring again. It makes you feel disoriented and a little… inconsequential, you know – not that I’ve ever entertained illusions as to otherwise, but even so. Thing is, the size of things here… I don’t know whether there’s something in the air, or the soil, or if it’s the solar radiation, but things on the continent don’t grow as they do here, I’m telling you. Some trees have flowers the size of melons, as in, you hold it in your hands, and it’s effing heavy. There’s this forest nearby where apparently the trees are over a thousand years old, and their girth is such you can literally carve a house in their trunk. It sounds cool but it’s kind of scary actually. It’s like, this whole ancient majesty, it doesn’t give a damn about your little petty human goings-on. It’s going to outlive you by another couple thousand years, and it just can’t be bothered.

I realise it might sound like I’m bragging in disguise, but it’s been pretty rough in fact, the transition. I’d say this to anyone who ever considers immigration to a better place – don’t be wary of the tough bits, be wary of the good bits. Because the tough bits, you brace yourself for them in advance, you anticipate uncertainty, and weariness, and fear, and loneliness at times. What you don’t anticipate is that it’s going to fucking enrage you to see that this kind of beauty and peacefulness is possible. It’s not something that you would talk of to anyone in person, because it’s a very embarrassing feeling, and you seem to yourself kind of crazy for entertaining it. Because when your surroundings are shabby, dirty streets and miserable-looking people, your anger seems easily justified. But when you stand amid all this greenness, and bloom, and birdsong, and the air is sweet, and you look upon it, and all of a sudden your vision goes black with anger – that’s the scariest shit, I’m telling you. At least I wasn’t prepared for it. The first time around, I went home, locked myself in the shower and wept hysterically, naked with the water hosing down on me. Because when on the outside it’s so peaceful, you are forced to acknowledge that it’s not the outside that’s causing this, it’s the inside. Like you’re carrying this glop of black slime in you that starts thrashing around whenever you are confronted with this injustice, with your own po-wer-less-ness — that where you come from, things are shitty and likely to get shittier, whereas here, you know, all daisies, and there is nothing, absolutely nothing you can do about anything. Of course it’s not all daisies and people got their own problems, but it takes a while before you can relate. And until then, psychologically you are still elsewhere – but at the same time a little removed, enough to see how that previous environment had left its mark on you. And that only makes you angrier, because you start wondering why your people have to live in a place that leaves a mark. Mind you, I had never been involved in politics, never held a position of power, don’t consider myself a fervent patriot, certainly not a person given to violence or even particularly aggressive. But man… I’m glad it’s passed now, it’s been insightful though, hehehe.

Not a happy account of NZ, eh? Speaking of turmoil unseen, snort. Again, not NZ’s fault, NZ’s awesome for all I can say. I do hope now that my national-identity issues are settling down, I’ll have more emotional strength to spend on more creative bethinking.

Ok, that’s more than enough about me, beh. How are you? What is up? Do tell.

And thank you again for all the kind words. I wonder how I can ever live up to such praise, and form a native speaker, too… I would also be more than happy to know any of those other thoughts you had on this story if you ever feel like writing them down :) And do reply on Luck.

December    16 August 2012, 11:31    #

I hope you don’t mind that I quickly start by talking about your experiences in New Zealand and emigration and so forth first of all; I’m so sorry that it’s been tumultuous for you but I’m really glad you’ve spent the time to illustrate how it felt to you to be so far removed from the familiarity of home and the things that you don’t notice when you are home but when you’re away they creep in, like the lack of a real winter, something that I personally would say right now I might happily do without for the rest of my life and be better off emotionally for it. I do hate winter. But…I’m moving to Australia at the beginning of next year so there’s a possibility I won’t be seeing snow for a while, and I think there’ll be a time when I’ll eat those words.

Coming from reasonably northern climes as I do I do have a bit of sentimentality for winter (reminds me of childhood Christmases and so forth) but in recent years, because we’ve had such unusually bad winters it’s just been a huge difficulty even walking to work and so I dread the first of the long nights (sun sets at about 4pm maybe? It’s so depressing walking to and from work in the dark. At -15 degrees. Which is probably nothing compared to the winters of your homeland but it’s pretty chilly when you’re not used to it being quite so cold and have no winter-appropriate clothing, i.e. me.) For me, on my last trip Down Under last December, I seemed to experience a similar out-of-placeness but on a much smaller scale (I was only there for three weeks.) I was in beautiful cities and having a wonderful time on holiday but I just felt a bit…odd under the surface all of the time, partly due to jet-lag and also because it was hot in December, and something that is relatively easy to wrap my mind enough (seasons are opposite!) was really hard for my subconscious mind I suppose, having been on one day in a cold country and then suddenly, after a mind-bending plane ride during which I had no perception of time passing whatsoever, I was here somewhere hot and it was summer! I think as well though, adjusting to living somewhere completely new and different to where you’ve been used to can take any length of time. I felt very homesick on one day on my holiday, and pretty much spent the day in the hostel feeling very low (though I made myself walk along the beach later so that at least I was doing something new.) When I came home (it was a rather sudden adjustment…sunshine and summer and outgoing happy people, and bang, 24 hours on a plane to freezing late December, exhaustion and work the very next day and then it was Christmas day and then New Year and it was so cold and I just felt a bit lost really. Sad to be home, angry that the attitude of people here is so insular and miserable! Everyone moans, no-one seems to enjoy life! So I made a promise to myself this year that I would do my best to enjoy life as much as possible and try not to bemoan the rubbish weather (okay, it’s literally rained every single day this summer, argh) too much. Wouldn’t really be home otherwise.

Everything I’ve seen or heard about New Zealand (the LotR films non-withstanding) just exudes this ancient majesty, a millennia old landscape, otherworldly and potent with myth and the slow passage of time where civilisation is just a blip. I wouldn’t think you were the first to feel the immensity of the place in such a way, but I really do hope you are feeling more adjusted, at peace and not missing the passing of ‘normal’ seasons too much!

So yes, I’m pretty much about 99% (98%?) sure I will be off to Australia for a year (or two, or less if I don’t like it. Who knows? Nothing ventured!) I need change in my life, I’m really stagnating here in this job (I despise my job now, 7 years of monotony) and I think that as I near the cut-off age for an adventure such as this (I can’t apply for this visa after 30) I think I need to just take a leap into the unknown and see a bit more of the world. Also, the more I talk to people about it the more it seems real and the more scared I get! I hope I manage to see it through! There will be tears, I know that. Otherwise, I am well (well, have just gotten over a rotten dose of the flu, writers’ block too!) and have just been enjoying all the comedy shows and things in town this month!

And so, onto the story…I do pity Aragorn here, but it’s like you said, I find him still noble, of kind and strong and good character, and so I respect him, but he still has my sympathy. He is at possibly his most vulnerable here, but not weak, no, not at all. He seeks Faramir out. I’m not suggesting he has an ulterior motive for the initial comfort he offers Faramir but when the circumstance presents itself between them, he is wary, he almost falters but in the end he follows through, stays the course, sticks to what he knows is right for him, whether that be right or wrong in the grand scheme of things. He is strong, and all the more human for revealing that fragile side of his being to Faramir in this way, and so I respect him. I think because he is the king, he is meant to be strong, wise, infallible, that to see him so humanised as it were just draws me to him even more. That’s why I like Aragorn in particular when he is portrayed in such a way, one would think that with all that he carries on his shoulders (his birthright, the longest of long betrothals to Arwen, his part in the fate of Middle Earth and as part of the Fellowship and then after all is over and one with, he now must rule as king of men) he would falter in some, internal, private way, for he is after all human in the end, with the same emotional and physical and psychological needs as any. And there is that other sort of ‘weakness’ that just popped in my head, that of lack of self-restraint, which in itself is not necessarily a bad thing. There’s a moment where Faramir feels that no, the king should not ‘unravel’ so soon or so easily…perhaps they should wait, but he carries on, from his own want and from wanting to give this to Aragorn, who he himself pities but not in a patronising way; and Aragorn, whose self-restraint is fuelled by uncertainty, still gives way and allows the unravelling. I think also that ultimately, as you say, the human experience is nothing less than explicit and so the explicit is not out of place here at all, in fact, it only heightens and is heightened by everything else, a slow, lust-laden study of human experience that I found darkly magical.

Whenever I see the phase hurt/comfort my mind immediately (and possibly incorrectly) brings up sort of mushier scenes and the dreaded weak character (and I also used to think it really only referred to a situation when a character is physically hurt, like they broke a leg or something!) but now obviously I know that that hurt can be emotional, a hidden injury that either festers in silence or is picked at and eventually must be dealt with. This story is pretty much the perfect example of that done well. The comfort given and sought after and received is so touchingly and realistically envisioned. And as a native speaker let me take my hat off to you, I only wish I could write so beautifully. The language is so evocative, laden with emotion and delicacy, I fall deeper in love with every word! I really am so envious :) I’m also eagerly awaiting the next chapter (no rush!) because I’m desperate to see how Aragorn reacts to this turns of events.

Egads, the hour grows so late once again, I don’t know why time seems to just run away with me but I’m always running out of it in any case. I hope I didn’t just bore you to death! Much love!

Eora    17 August 2012, 02:57    #

Hey hun, nope, I don’t mind at all. If anything, when I read you’d be coming to Australia for a while, I nearly fell off my chair. We must meet! Seriously, when else would there be less geographical distance? Don’t tell me you want be coming over to explore the Zealand while you’re there ;p

In fact, your description of winters is exactly what I used to have. It didn’t really go below -15 very often, maybe for a week or two in the whole course of winter, and then of course the dark days, and the festive season… I must say it looks a bit preposterous to me, the whole holly wreath and Santa in a fur-coat thin when the crowd on the street is hardly dressed and not always shod, hehehe. But you might just miss it. We miss not the good things, just the familiar things, don’t we? I still prefer the taste of pasteurised milk to fresh one, for instance, as that’s what was around when I was little, even though in my brain I obviously know better…

But Down Under largely has a more continental climate, with more distinct seasons, even if “reversed”. But that you get used to. It is funny though. My own penname, for instance, has acquired a neat little double-meaning, and the summer holidays are all around Christmas, not bad, eh?

I really do hope it works out for you! With your passport, you can altogether relocate to pretty much anywhere in the Commonwealth, can’t you? NZ and AU for sure.

Do it! Do it! It can be difficult to get it off the ground, I know. From personal experience, the easiest way to go on an adventure is either when you’re running from something – that’s by far the easiest of all, at least in terms of getting your butt off the couch – or if it’s completely spontaneous and instigated by someone else. I had a combination of both, luckily. The instigator dropped off midway through, as they often do, but it was too late for me then. But do it. Whichever way.

Do you know, immediately after posting that adjustment rant I had felt quite embarrassed. For the ranting, and even more so for the subject of it. So many people would love to live where I live, and yet I dare complain. Well, I may have provided a rather one-sided picture I’m afraid. And since you say you found it insightful (hopefully not out of being polite, because here comes part 2), I feel compelled to explain. The negative always tends to attract more attention to itself, so I had left out all the positive things that more than makeup for my “hardships” hehe. Though it is a scientific truth that transition between cultures is often trickier than we expect. While I wouldn’t say that I had a culture shock as such, seeing as the culture is precisely one of the things I love, reassuringly familiar in its underlying Britishness add a more egalitarian twist and general serenity of mind. But the thing is that the very of fact the transition makes you reevaluate yourself. It’s like being a teenager all over again, so much philosophy, doh. Haha. You know, it’s like in those perceptual illusions, if you take a square of grey and set it next to a black block, and it looks light – put it next to white, and it’s dark. Same with you, prolonged exposure to a significantly different social context not only can and does bring out in you things that were up to now only dormant, but also puts different features of yourself into the spotlight. In a country like this, it’s all largely positive, but nevertheless, much of it is accompanied with anxiety.

I can’t quite remember the last time that I’d go through a week without having sleeping difficulties. Damn the anxiety, haha. I guess in part it comes from the fact that I’d lived for so long in a place with this constant sense of impending doom, that just like with winter, it’s become part of my system. And now I kind of am trying to recreate that feeling for myself, weirdly enough. But part of it is objective, too – when you feel the whole system is heading towards a collapse, there are so many issues it’s easier to just go into denial about. But here, interestingly enough, I find that so many social problems are receiving so much more public exposure than back in Russia where the problem is actually much more severe. You know, poverty, women’s rights, domestic abuse, all those. It’s not really an appropriate thing to discuss where I’m from.

But more than that, here I’ve actually found myself more at risk. Stupid, eh, obviously here the risk is actually lower. That is, objectively, but I don’t think objectively. The way it works for me, I always used to judge myself as a low-risk group for any assault kind of thing. Simply for the reason that I’ve always had this belief that predators choose the most vulnerable pray, and in my society I didn’t belong to the most vulnerable group. Of course I’d had my share of people trying to coerce me into unpleasant things I didn’t want to do, and even a partner (now long an ex-partner) explaining that he would beat me if I disobeyed – but through a combination of vigilance and sheer luck I’ve come through unscathed. As in, nothing was ever actually done to me – as opposed to a friend who was always the one to get attacked by deranged maniacs, and targeted by calculating predators, that sort of thing. I always assumed there was something in me that did not appeal to that sort of folk. Of course, this is all rubbish: anyone, regardless of gender, age or physical constitution can become a target of assault, including a sexual one. And it’s not always a serial criminal who’s doing these things, sometimes a generally good citizen may simply have their judgement clouded by alcohol/drugs, or entertain one of those caveman ideas like “women enjoy being raped” or “I’ve spent money on her, hence she owes me sex”. So no one’s, of course, off the list. But nevertheless, back there I didn’t feel like I stood out, and it gave me a sense of security. Just a foolish cognitive bias, really, but there it was.

Think of the most exaggerated horse-riding chick stereotype out there. That was me, direct, opinionated, confident in my right to want what I want and not want what I don’t, passionate and stubborn, not willing to take shit from anyone. If I didn’t take shit form a horse, who’s like ten times my weight and has four feet to kick me with, then certainly I didn’t have to take shit from another human person. And if I’d learnt one thing from horses, it’s that the more in charge you are, the less danger you are in. If anything, being this way, I naturally attracted the gentler sort of men who (while generally annoying me, for of course I wanted the rough and tough world-weary guy who in turn of course always went after the sweet compliant girl who was willing to tie all of her existence around him, ah, the injustices of life) nevertheless didn’t make me feel like they posed any danger. There was something in me that communicated strength, of character and body, more so than of the average girl. That sort of thing is disapproved of where I’m from, and it did weigh on me, but I simply wrote it off on my Cossack ancestry, telling myself and jokingly telling others that coming from a kick-ass cavalry culture where each and every man hauled himself up in the saddle and went to war when the metropole called, I’m entitled to indulging my own belligerent, freedom-loving genes, hehe. For that matter, the unpleasant incidents I referred to above all had taken place when for whatever reason I was acting out of character, putting forth the more traditionally feminine, fragile front.

The thing is, here I no longer fall into the “stronger than the average” group. There’s a greater ethnic diversity here, and most women are bigger than me. Most people are also darker than me. And you’d really surprise no one around here by confidence or “unfeminine” attitudes. All of a sudden I am the small, blonde, and delicate one. I’d never had enough of any of those things living in Russia, for who in Russia isn’t blond and delicate – but here… And it freaks me out. I feel like I’ve lost my familiar defence of knowing how others see me. My compatriot men always used to define me, from day one and to my face, as strong and/or clever and/or independent, which hardly ever comes out quite like a compliment where I’m from. No one ever defined me as a pretty one. But here the pattern is different. They still do come to the same conclusions character-wise, but only after a while and with some highly amusing wonder, because they start off by being sold on the looks, which to them are beautiful and “exotic” (snort). I literally thought people were mocking me the first times I was being referred to as beautiful, but now that I’ve come to accept that it must be their true perception, it makes me uneasy more than anything else.

For a couple months now I’ve had an obsession with assaults, especially violent sexual assaults by men upon women. I would research the topic, read about the psychology of it, reasons, consequences, the legal response, even how to help victims – virtually anything I can get my hands on. I couldn’t understand why the interest – I’m not a victim nor any close person that I know of. That friend from Russia, yes, but that was years ago, why this reaction now?

And now I understood suddenly. Because to me, the realisation that I’m seen as attractive, or at least more attractive than I’m used to, makes me feel vulnerable. I know, I know, anyone can find themselves in an unsafe situation. But now, for the first time in my life, I feel the need to protect myself. You know, as in, get the practical skills. Learn some karate, read books on the detection of underlying harmful intentions (e.g. The Gift of Fear), remember to carry something sharp in my bag late at night. An Australian friend back in the day had once taught me how to hold a kitchen knife properly, so as to be more likely to stab the other person rather than myself, haha. I remember experiencing a sensation of strange pleasure in that moment as he closed my hold over the handle, showed me the trajectory of the motion. It felt like an extension to my very body, and there was a sensation of power, not an aggressive power, but a steady, calm power, of self-control, of opportunity. I realise now that I want to experience it again. I want to feel like I can do what’s in my power avoid danger, and if not, then ward it off. There is no such thing as being perfectly foolproof, but at least I want to feel like I’ve done all I could.

This whole realisation is causing me a whole load of anxiety. I haven’t learnt any karate yet, you see. Haha. And talking of assimilation, and seasons, and natural majesty – I think it’s just another form of denial, focusing on those issues which are actually minor and cannot cause any real harm.

So much for a comment not centered on self-centered moaning. Well, I excuse myself by the assumption that since you soon might move countries for the first time, you might be interested in some things that might come up in the process. After all, there is a certain universality to human experience.

I am sure all of this anxiety is coming into my writing. I don’t exactly produce happy run-in-the-glen pieces, do I? Maybe in 10 years’ time we’ll see Faramir and Aragorn making a grand appearance eating strawberries in a field, or better, being hand-fed peeled grapes – and that would be the whole story. No angst.

I love your phrase, “non-patronising pity”, that’s exactly what I meant! I could fully love only a child or a pet with a patronising pity. Okay, maybe also a friend or an adult family member, though that would be far from an enjoyable love for me. But an adult in a romantic way – no way. And yes, I definitely don’t see Aragorn as being aware of his ulterior motives when going to Faramir, or at least not seeing them as such in the sense he is not exactly intending to act on them until it kind of just goes and happens, heh. I generally have difficulty imagining Aragorn acting on an ulterior motive as such.

“Humanised king” – love that phrase too. I love such humanisation of characters who have some stereotypical obligation to be strong and “manly”. As Oliver Mellors in Lady Chatterley or Vronsky in Anna Karenina (a complete coincidence that Sean Bean has played them both, that is). To me, it’s just magical. Maybe it’s one of the reasons I prefer to write male characters – that same humanisation is much harder to achieve with female characters who as a rule have less of that obligation placed upon them to begin with.

That even Faramir is under sway of this assumption – you know, I haven’t given much explicit thought to this. It just seemed like a natural thing. I mean, on the one hand, he like no one would be likely to see the human core of any person, no matter how lofty in their social standing. But at the same time, he like no one would believe, until the very end, in Aragorn’s inner strength, just because of the history of their relationship.

”a slow, lust-laden study of human experience that I found darkly magical.” Man, I can only hope that we’re not turning into a society for mutual admiration ;p Because I love so much these things you say, they bring me so much inspiration.

Hm, interesting perspective on hurt/comfort. I instantly saw a broken-legged Pikachoo form your description xD To be honest, I always associated it primarily with psychological hurt, and saw good emotional potential in it. You can go pretty deep here, actually. Some people have this savior-complex, which I find incredibly interesting. I’d met a man like that once, he had a disturbing family background, something like that. And he was only ever drawn to damsels in distress. Especially when the distress was romantic. I was dealing with a very painful rejection at the time, and he gladly… er, helped, all the time knowing I wanted someone else – and half a year later I meet him again, and here he is tenderly shagging some other poor soul to salvation. It was fascinating to me, the way their/my hurt triggered this need to give comfort in him.

My hour’s growing late too, and I’ve just beaten my own record on comment length, so I’ll let you go now. Just let me thank you again for putting all this thought here. Hope you haven’t drowned in the letters. O_o

December    17 August 2012, 12:52    #

Perhaps I’ve beaten my own record here, whatever that was. This is well over 2000 words, haha. A comment-fic, if you will :P

I will absolutely be coming to New Zealand for at least a holiday while I’m in Oz…I think it’d be foolish not to, seeing as I’d be in the neighbourhood. Oh, to step upon the soil of Middle Earth! :P As of yet I’ve no concrete itineraries about my stay…it’s all very vaguely something like fly to Melbourne (where I spent the majority of my stay last time and I must say I fell quite in love with it, and it’ll be a good idea to be somewhere somewhat familiar during the first days.) And then…I don’t know? Get a job? :P I have to fit in three months of farm-work to qualify for a second year visa, and I want to travel around the whole country, see all the cities and the gorgeous landscape and just go crazy, with a bit of incidental work here and there. And once my travelling is over I think I’d probably try and get a flat in Melbourne and just live the good life until my visa expires. I have a few friends there, and contacts and friends-of-friends in Sydney, Cairns and Brisbane, so I won’t be totally lost (I.e. I‘d have somewhere to stay if it all went wrong), but it’ll still be a huge change, leaving all my friends and family (seem to be the only person in the world who hasn’t got any blood-relatives who handily live in Australia!) And while I’m there I would definitely be planning a hop across the water to lovely NZ. I would love to meet! And discuss writing over a coffee or wine! :D Nearer the time we should talk about this! (Sometime next year?!?)

Moving permanently to AU and NZ IS possible (and easier with my particular passport? I‘d never actually looked into it properly but I know there are different working visas for say, Europe and then another for US citizens)…but unfortunately the requirements are pretty high. University degrees in agricultural science or you need to be a trained nurse or a teacher or all sorts of things that I am decidedly…not. So, at the moment the only thing I can do is the working holiday, and I think it’s a good taster anyway…I might hate being there! But it’s going to give me a great idea of what to expect if I ever did want to relocate…after extensive university courses, naturally. (Unless I find a lovely Aussie husband! :P) But I’ve felt lately over the past few years that I’m just at a loose-end, a brick wall in terms of what I want to do or be…no idea where to go next, I think that because I’m dead set on this adventure it’ll bring me so much more experience, wisdom and ideas about where my life should go next. Maybe I’ll go to university when I return (I went straight into employment after high school) It’s an extremely odd feeling having a goal to work towards, something I’m passionate about. I’ve drifted for a long time, stuck in a job I hate (but at least working, and I know I have it okay here, full-time job, a rented flat with a good friend, and I live in a wonderful city ) but I feel I’ve achieved nothing and seen almost nothing of the world. Travelling, right now, is my new passion. Can you believe that before Australia I had never been abroad? And I just took myself off there alone, complete with my terror of flying? And it was SO liberating. (And I was SO sick of flying by the end of the trip…let’s see…8 plane trips and one helicopter. Booooring :P) The world was my oyster, I couldn’t WAIT to see more of it. I went to Spain a couple of weeks ago and adored it. I think I’ve stayed at home for too long. Time to live a bit more!

It certainly feels like -15 most of the winter here, but I think it only gets that low either very late at night or on extremely bad days, though I remember a group of us were walking home form work and I thought, hey, it’s really cold this evening…and someone checked on their phone and it was indeed -15. And us all in normal coats and no gloves etc. I tell you, getting sunburn in Sydney while there were Christmas trees everywhere was extremely strange. I went on a walking tour of the city and the guide said he thought it was really weird to see Santa in a winter landscape, and snowy scenes at Christmas, so I think it’s the same all over the world. You find comfort in what you’re used to, and everything else is odd!

I’ve asked my friends if they think I’m just running from my ‘boring’ life here, my listlessness, that maybe I sould just pull my soskc up and try and make a go of it here and they’ve all said, no! GO GO GO! Live your dreams etc, so that’s reassuring. I’m not saying I won’t come back here, it IS my home and I will miss it, but I think if I at least come back a changed person I’ll know what it is in life I want to do. I have a fear of commitment, like a career I think I’ll be stuck in or whatever, so I never commit to anything. So I think this will be very good for me. And if I last the year (or even two) I can at least say I achieved that if nothing else.

I found the sort-of Britishness of Australia anyway quite reassuring, (they drive on the left! Aaah) but I think it’s the little differences that slowly can creep into your subconscious and make you feel very isolated in a new place. Things like going to the supermarket and not seeing any of the familiar brands. Or the tv shows being different (actually that wasn’t so bad, watching tv I discovered just how much UK tv is shown in AU!) Honestly though I suffer from terrible anxiety all the time, and often go three or four nights in a row sleepless, waking up in the grips of panic in the morning, worried about…what? I don’t know! I think it’s the feeling of ‘stop wasting your life! Get up and do something!’ that’s plaguing me. I am fortunate never to have been the victim of any attacks or anything of the sort, and I’m not sure what it is about me that deters any would be assailants but I think it’s possibly down to luck as much as anything else. Here, in my home city I know the streets very well, I know where I am and any number of alternate routes to get where I need to be and so therefore I walk with confidence and feel safe (the city is generally actually quite safe, but of course not 100%.) In Australia I felt much the same, weirdly enough. I think it was the inherent good nature of the locals, the willingness and eagerness to help out a clueless tourist that set my mind at ease. I never felt threatened or lost, help was only ever a question away. Perhaps I just find the Aussie accent extremely trustworthy :P I think though that if you are feeling ‘unsafe’ where you are, or in yourself, then no harm can come from say, taking those karate classes or something similar. The important thing is that you yourself are content, happy, satisfied with your situation, free from anxiety (as much as possible) and living life to the full. I think culture-shock happens probably in all cases, no matter where you’re from or where you move to. Sounds funny, but whenever I stay down south somewhere in England, which the culture is essentially completely identical, just things like the accents or the different banknotes (I won’t get started on this haha, same currency but the notes are different) not so much make me feel uncomfortable, but just serve as tiny little reminders that this isn’t ‘home’. I think too, that such odd feelings of homesickness really only show that you come from somewhere that you love, which is no bad thing. I can see where your anger comes from too, though, in the case of such social issues that are generally not to be spoken of in general conversation in Russia like you say, but in NZ they are at the forefront of various political agendas and getting much more attention. It would be hard not to feel angry I think about something like that, because things like domestic abuse and poverty and sexism and all of these things need to be addressed everywhere, and it’s sad that a lot of the time such tings are just swept under the carpet because they are taboo, or maybe ‘embarrassing’ for a political body to admit to (speaking in the most general terms here.)

Hand-fed grapes you say? There you go again with your inspiring challenges-I might just write this! :P

I think it’s just that fascination with the ‘strong becoming weak’ (but of course I don’t mean ‘weak’ if you know what I mean.) And I especially enjoy when a male character shows their vulnerability, and when it is written well (as it is here!) it’s something quite magical. Above all I like characters to be human. Aragorn is king, and a man, masculine, defiantly male I might point out actually, and his handsomeness comes into that too- he must know on some level his own attractiveness, and I think that in this case specifically the juxtaposition that comes from having that knowledge, and loving his wife and knowing she loves him…but then why won’t she love him in that way too? Surely then his preconceptions of self-image all these years must have been totally wrong? How disabling must that be! To suddenly think quite seriously that you are not worthy at all, not valid, judged, however gently, by the one that you love. And then, and I won’t call it an ulterior motive but I think like you say it must have been buried somewhere deep down as the vaguest of vague possibilities, even faced with this rejection and questioning himself he seeks out someone who will ultimately give him that validation, and when the situation presents itself he goes with it, terrified, maybe, doubting, but willing, and that makes him human and one of strong, admirable character at that.

I think I said before (or somewhere) that Faramir and Aragorn are so similar which makes them very compatible, and though I don’t see Aragorn as unkind or ungentle, or unwise or anything other than good I somehow see Faramir as being more of those things than the king, somehow. Like, he is a softer version (and there only seem to be weak or feminine connotations of ‘soft’ that spring to my mind but that’s not what I mean at all.) I think as well Faramir is another version of his brother, cleverer, like you said (not that I think Boromir was stupid!) but perhaps able to stand back and analyse things either differently or more thoroughly before making a contribution. Faramir is truly a good soul, but such goodness and gentle-nature don’t preclude the human desires either. Both characters are very human in this piece, but from different viewpoints. They swap roles, almost, it’s Faramir’s chance to show his ‘quality’ in regards to his kindness and his desire to aid, and under it all, beneath fear and wariness (Aragorn) and tentative self-restraint-becomes-the giving of a gift, shall we say (Faramir) there is that base lust that underpins their actions.

Oh dear, the briefest notion of there being a LotR/Pokemon crossover fic drifted into my mind there and I must say I stamped that out quite quickly! Although I’m fairly sure somewhere on the internet such a thing exists D: I’ve never really thought ‘I’m writing a hurt/comfort fic’ whenever I’m writing any of my fics, though probably going through them I’ll be able to point out which are and which aren’t. (They’re probably just all mush :P) But yes, the possibilities are almost endless when it comes to just how deep one can go into the ‘hurt’ aspect. I do draw from experience some of the time when writing, though nothing so specific, most of the time I dislike recalling the relationships that went sour so I counter that with a lovely romantic bedroom scene :P

Is that the time again? I should probably start writing these earlier! Hope it wasn’t too boring! :)

Eora    18 August 2012, 01:38    #

Ooookay, I’ll address the whole relocation/life-change topic by mail, in a proper letter as it well deserves. I was quite strongly under the impression that there should be more flexibility for you re the immigration policies, but anyway, by mail.

Now, hurt-comfort. You know, I’m generally opposed to classifying stories by this criterion, or by any other, for that matter. As in, this is a hurt/comfort fic, or this is a darkfic. Because to me, it serves to denigrate the story, as if there is nothing else to it other than this label, as if it was written with the sole purpose of fitting into this format and appealing to those readers who have a fetish for this kind of thing. I mean, certainly, stories can and often are classified by genre, but that’s much broader than the format, and is in a way an altogether separate dimension. A story tied around the hurt-comfort theme can as easily be a comedy/farce as a full-blown drama. And the fact that there is such a theme in the text doesn’t automatically allocate this story into an according “folder”, I hope not, provided it’s deep enough. Because just like you say, it’s so enjoyable to see the characters as human, whereas if a story is all about following a format, this requires fitting their behaviour into a certain template which in part robs them of the human quality, does it not?

If we think of it, Aragorn and Faramir’s relationship is initiated as a sort of hurt-comfort to begin with, in the sense that Aragorn starts Faramir’s recovery from all his previous trouble, physical and even more so psychological. So I feel it’s a very natural direction to explore with these two, while of course they might appreciate being depicted in a way that doesn’t imply any sissyness on their behalf. And I do like to play around with things, to see the “weak” King. I understand the way you use that word, and use it the same way here :) I’ve always liked the hurt-comfort element to be double-bottomed, in the sense that the party currently engaged with the comforting side of the deal would be in need of comfort themselves. The wounded healer trope, I guess. As said before, I like it when I can sort of pity a character, respectfully, and in such an arrangement I can feel this way towards both of them, which give me double the joy, hehe.

Not to mention the obvious truth that often it’s precisely someone who’s hurt themselves, or been hurt themselves, who’s in best position to give help, and if not, then at least understanding. I think the Book itself perfectly illustrates this with the Gollum-Frodo situation. Who could’ve related to Gollum better? Who else could’ve related to Gollum at all, except Bilbo perhaps, which is much in the same direction anyway.

What you said in your latest post made me think on the question of validation. I haven’t explicitly analysed this before, but now I see why it felt imperative to have Aragorn as completely inexperienced in this story. Initially I had thought it was just an attempt to stick to canon at least in some way, hehe, as it had always felt to me that Tolkien implied a lot of celibacy to be going on in the story, and not just re Aragorn. And of course it would explain why he didn’t know how to deal with the Arwen situation. But now I come to think that the greatest reason was the question of validation. We so often need our close ones to validate us, don’t we, especially the romantically close ones. Although a lack of parental validation, especially a chronic one, can be extremely painful, at least we can tell ourselves that we don’t get to choose our parents, or they their children, and so it happens sometimes that people in a family simply have very different views on things. Whereas with a beloved, this is a person we chose, or at least our heart chose, someone we bet our money on, so to say, someone who has explicitly said that they do love us back, implying they approve of our ways, too. So when here suddenly the validation goes missing, that leaves a lot of questions unanswered.

My point here is, I think it usually requires some experience, and preferably with different people at that, to properly internalize the self-evident notion that a person’s reactions are always their own. Yes, the way we go about things can change a person’s reaction (imagine suddenly coming to your love-bed in a spiderman costume, bound to get a new reaction, eh?) – but it is still their reaction. Just as all our reactions are ours. And when we meet that one lover who makes us reel with bliss like none before, how often we grieve then afterwards if that lover exits our life, for it seems that only they possessed the gift to do that to us. Whereas if we think on it, yes, that person for whatever reason had found the buttons to push that others hadn’t – but those buttons are ours, not theirs, they did not take them with them when they left. It was us who experienced that joy, it is our nervous system that is capable of the sensation.

But when your first and only intimate experience results in rejection, especially a loving rejection, and your stakes were so high, how are you to reason yourself into the above? It is very difficult to believe then that the fact that one particular person does not want to do a particular thing with you means only that – that this person doesn’t want to do this with you, that’s it. It’s much easier instead to start making these statistical generalisations along the lines of, therefore no one can ever be expected to ever want to do anything with me. Which in turn means I am unattractive.

Which is bullshit. There’s really no such thing as unattractive, in an intransitive sense.

You know, the eye of the beholder, blahblah. But it’s true. I could never understand the point of those lists in the popular magazines, like the top 100 sexiest men/women on Earth. Sexiest to whom? OMG, who decides that this is the most desirable man alive? If another 1000 readers think he’s a complete douche, does that unsexify him? This is such crap. Even if 10,000 are dying to take you to bed, that doesn’t make you attractive, it only means that these 10,000 men want you. Of course, some people are found to be attractive by a greater percentage of the population than some other people. There’s such a thing as type, and there is a certain cultural fashion as to which traits are seen as desirable. But it’s still utterly subjective. And it’s never you, really.

I’ve seen firsthand how this works. A few years back I’d come across this number who for whatever reason couldn’t bear to touch me, you know, there, with any other part of their body than the one meant for it by mum nature. Hence no handjobs, no oral sex, zilch. Whereas right before that there was another character who was so fond of that region of myself that they requested, repeatedly, to take pictures of it to keep on their phone. I’m not even kidding you. That was perhaps the weirdest compliment I’d ever received, and I was like, thanks, but that’s so not gonna happen. But even so, thankfully by then I knew enough to not take either of those cases to heart. For all I know, each would treat any other specimen of my gender in exactly the same fashion, one being freaked out, the other setting up photo-ambushes. I had not had any genital surgery in between them I was exactly the same, and yet such a spectrum of reaction. Obviously, it had extremely little to do with me.

But now I feel real bad for Aragorn, you know, for he has seen none of this. On the plus side, he’s less cynical about sex, I would imagine, than most people of today – but that’s hardly a help at the moment. He hasn’t even heard about the “inelegant” nature of sex, as you mentioned it.

No, I really should do that one with the grapes. To restore social justice.

And I know what you mean by Faramir being softer, I think. Less calcified, one could say. I would imagine Aragorn is just as sensitive to others’ feelings and hurts, but he’s more likely to give people the respect of privacy, whereas Faramir is more openly and actively helpful. Like Pippin saw Faramir as being as noble, but less remote. I really can’t imagine, if Faramir were a leader of the remaining Eight Walkers, that he wouldn’t have pursued the apparently troubled Boromir until they had a sincere talk (assuming here Boromir were not his brother), or that he would have rejected Eowyn without explaining his personal circumstances to her, or at least giving her some outlandish Mel-Gibson consolation re I’m sorry I’m gay.

Thanks again for all the attention, love!

December    19 August 2012, 04:24    #

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About the Author


December

Greetings! A short forenote on what to expect to find here. All the stories are based exclusively on Book-verse for looks and personalities, although I often allow myself to bend the canon in terms of events. Please prepare for an unhurried, highly erotic, mostly dramatic and at times philosophical read.

P.S. Don’t forget to have a look at the challenges – perhaps there is one waiting just for you!

And there’s also a bit of fanart for you to see.