multiversallogs | OPEN | Woodland Song

Entry tags:

OPEN | Woodland Song

Who: Faramir and OPEN
What: Rangers Gonna Range
Where: The woods of Sobek Croix
When: the first days after his arrival
Notes: none so far
Warnings: He's out hunting, so, uh. Try not to look like a rabbit? :D

It is not that he is mistrustful because that is not his nature and if Boromir decided to pledge loyalty to Hellsing his heart would never allow him to doubt their integrity. Still, it is not in him to stay within the organization's walls for long, not until he has a better understanding of this place and not until he has sorted through all his thoughts and doubts and confusion. Until he can be at peace with the idea that there might be a reason for him to be here.

He mostly camps out, exploring and wandering the ranges of Sobek Croix' woods, hunting, thinking. Accepting to be here is hard. Coming to terms with the idea that he failed is hard. Not being with his Rangers any longer is hard, too, and should they not be here with him as they set out for Osgiliath together? Because that is what he assumes to be his fate. Faramir, too, must have fallen in battle. That it shall not be for him to know what is to be of Gondor and Middle Earth is probably the hardest of all. He can only try to imagine how that very feeling must have been like for his brother upon his arrival.

He is studying his CiD as well, still careful, respectful, watching the news and conversations unfold before his eyes while he sits by a small campfire in the evening, wondering how any of this is possible, getting edgier with each passing day, hungry for information. Clockwork and lightning. How does it all work? Once he is more accustomed, more at ease with his device he will set out and ask for libraries, schools, places of lore and knowledge.

For now he will keep roaming the district, collecting berries and mushrooms and testing out the new arrows made from Croix wood.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

At some point the sound of hoofbeats will be heard over the crackling of the fire, the sound of a horse approaching at a steady canter. Tadhg is out stretching his legs after neatly evading a man who thought to capture the friendly "animal". As if Tadhg couldn't smell the halter he concealed behind his back.

He can smell something else now, though, woodsmoke from a burning nearby. This place has few enough trees to risk any being lost to a careless blaze, so he detours to investigate. Before long he draws close enough to realize two things: that the fire is small and under control, and that he can pick out a familiar scent the smoke had covered.

He pauses among the trees, a deep grey shape among dappled shadow. A small, furry shape (http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y61/karihan/RP%20Whossits/4168405-8-week-old-chocolate-sable-ferret-kit.jpg), until now concealed by his mane, scrambles up to perch between his equine ears, chirping his own recognition of the man on the other side of the campfire. Why hello there.

Faramir takes a bite of roasted rabbit meat and raises his head at the familiar sound of a rider approaching. He heard people on the roads before but this one here actually approaches him. When the horse stops outside the fire's reach the dark shape is enough to make him aware of its presence and he gets to his feet.

"Who is it?" he asks into the darkness. Boromir would have greeted him by now or otherwise make his presence known.

After two careful steps into Tadhg's direction he stops, realizing that this horse comes without halter and saddle.

He does have a rider though, if one counts the ferret. With a soft nicker, Tadhg steps into the firelight, blinking large, liquid brown eyes. The impulse to once more tease and trick a human who thinks him to be an ordinary horse rises, but he restrains himself. That's no way to treat a man he's coming to think of as a friend.

But before he can answer Faramir properly, he needs to return to man-form, and before he can do that, he needs to give Dána somewhere else to perch. He steps to the side and lowers his nose to a low, flat boulder. Obeying his silent command, the ferret skitters down his nose and onto the rock. Obeying his own curiosity, Dána slides off the rock and bustles toward Faramir, chittering a greeting and licking his lips at the smell of roast rabbit.

Faramir looks surprised for a moment but recognizes Dána soon enough. "Greetings. I did not take you for a lone rider."

He offers his arm, should the ferret wish to climb it, without showing any intention of simply picking him up himself. He does however look up, eyeing Tadhg curiously - maybe a bit concerned.

"And you, where did you leave the man you carried? Is he in danger?"

Dána accepts the invitation, swarming up to Faramir's shoulder as he so often does to Tadhg's. He pokes his nose in the man's ear, though only for an instant.

As for the horse, well, he has only one way to answer Faramir's question. Angling himself so that his hooves no longer point in Faramir's direction, Tadhg rears ... and transforms. His stallion-form melts into a shimmer of white fire, before contracting into the body of a familiar, dark-haired man.

"No danger." Somehow Tadhg produces a smile that blends cheek with apology. "I was just out for a run."

Faramir's eyes widen and he takes a few steps back. He has come across wizardry but never of this kind. So what actually happens is that by the time the white fire disappears and Tadhg's features become visible, he has drawn his bow, aiming straight at him.

The muscles in his face relax when he recognizes the other man - just slightly though. The rest of his body remains still and tense. "That must have been quite the run."

"Passable." Though Tadhg's smile drops away at the sight of an arrow pointed in his direction, he shows no other reaction beyond a small sigh. Taking a step backward, he seats himself on the rock Dána so recently vacated. The ferret himself chirps softly, sensing the tension in the shoulder on which he sits, but remaining as calm as his master does.

"I have offered you no threat, Lord of Gondor." He gazes up at Faramir with the dark, animal eyes he didn't bother to hide after transforming. His voice carries clear, calm and quiet, holding no note of either fear or anger, but only the faintest trace of disappointment. "You will have no need--" a jerk of his chin in the bow's direction "--of that."

"No, you have not."

Faramir holds the gaze, uneasy with what he is facing, but the truth of these words make him relax a bit. He lowers his weapon. "But will you offer me an explanation?"

"Certainly." Tadhg's smile ghosts across his lips again as he watches Faramir consider, then ease back from his defensive stance. The man has courage enough to take his measure instead of giving in to blind fear of the unknown, good. As for that requested explanation, the púca takes his own few moments of consideration, trying to frame a description of himself that will enlighten rather than confuse.

"I'm only part human, you see," he offers at last. "To be more precise, only one of my grandparents was a mortal human. The other three are of the fairy-kindreds." He tilts his head, regarding the man before him thoughtfully. "Different kinds of fae have command of various kinds of magic, whether innate or learned."

Tadhg draws up his legs to sit tailor-fashion on the rock, his eyes never leaving Faramir's face. "Where I come from, very few humans truly believe that magic itself exists, much less beings like myself. So those few of us who still live in mortal realms keep our true natures secret for safety's sake." He spreads his hands in a gesture that seems to say so here we are. "I apologize for misleading you, but old habits take time to break, especially when one has been kidnapped by unknown beings with unknown powers for unknown purposes."

That actually does make sense to Faramir. He will now wonder if fae are similar to the elves of his world.

"From the moment of my arrival you have shown me nothing but kindness, Master Tadhg," he speaks after a moment of consideration. "There is no reason for me to doubt your words. And you have nothing to fear from me in return." With that he puts away his bow, the arrow going back into the quiver.

"In my world there is magic - many different kinds of magic and creatures both of the light and the dark. Though I have never seen more wonders than in this place and no forces stronger than the ones that must have brought me here. I understand now why you did what you did. Will you join my fire and speak more?"

Better and better. Tadhg doesn't relax precisely-- he never got to tense --but his smile returns to its usual levels of mellow affability. "Most certainly." Rising from the rock in one fluid motion, he offers his gracious host another of his little half-bows, one hand to his chest.

Dána circles Faramir's neck like a furry torc and dooks his approval when they turn back to the blaze. Closer to the fire, after all, is closer to the rabbit he still smells. Tadhg chuckles and rubs a finger across his four-legged friend's head and seats himself a comfortable distance from the flames. "What would you like to know?" he asks easily.

Edited 2011-12-30 06:59 (UTC)

Faramir sits down with him, looking more and more curious by the minute. "I never heard of beings called fae before. What are you? How do you live your life?"

Tadhg laughs softly; it looks as though he's met his match in inquisitiveness. "What are the fae? Now that's quite the question." Leaning back against a log behind him, he stretches his legs to one side of the fire. "My people take a myriad of forms, beings of the earth and air, of fire and water. Some say we came into the world before humans, while others believe that the mortals came first, and that the first fae took shape from their dreams and nightmares. Plenty of debate, but no certainty."

The flames' flicker reflects in the dark depths of Tadhg's eyes. "As for how we live, there are as many ways as there are fairies. Most left the mortal world a long age ago, but a handful remain, moving softly among humans who no longer know what we are or believe in what we can do."

With a ferret-sized huff, Dána scrambles down to the ground and starts casting about for discarded rabbit bones. The púca smiles at his little friend's single-mindedness and continues. "Me, I walk in both the daylight world and Faerie, making my living largely through my art. I craft in paint and canvas, metal and gems ... and magic."
For a moment, his expression turns somber. "At least that's how I lived back home."

Edited 2012-01-13 05:48 (UTC)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

OPEN | Woodland Song

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject