~~

There is no other place like it on earth. The Mississippi River is distinctive to all who come to know and ultimately be captivated by it. Most natives, when asked about their homeland, talk fondly about the river and its mystic enchantment. How humans could fall in love with a muddy, mile-wide river had been beyond Karl Urban, an actor from New Zealand, but as he spent his introductory days sitting on the rocky banks, he began to understand, and to dream of navigating this awesome body of water.

A few times, he sneaked out on the flat raft that had carried their lighting equipment and supplies to their site and poled up and down the stretch that ran parallel to their camp. He found it exhilarating, and wanted to explore further. He knew better than to go swimming. He had seen too many uninviting gar, water moccasins and other water snakes, but still, the muddy water called to him.

~~

"This is wonderful!" Orlando cried, throwing his arms round Karl's neck to hug him tightly. "It's lovely to be working with you again! What's your role?"

"Hansel, the lion tamer," Karl answered, making a face as he withdrew and picked up his script. "What about you?"

"Stephen, on the flying trapeze!"

Karl grinned at him. "You're perfect for it," he said, poking him playfully. "You've gained a couple of pounds, but you're still a feather. You can 'fly through the air with the greatest of ease'. Want some dinner?"

"I have to read the script," Orli declined regretfully. "I haven't had time to sit down long enough to get through it."

"Yeah, me, either. Want to read it together?"

"Sure," Orli said with a shrug. "Your place or mine?"

After a chuckle at the old line, Karl followed the other actor into his trailer.

~~

The script was a bit oddly written, hard to follow at times, but it promised lots of action and drama. The storyline contained a supernatural premise that surrounded its characters, and Stephen was an ambiguous young man who cared for nothing or no one outside his act. Karl's character was more compassionate, far more likable, but he would die at the hands of a lion near the end, leaving behind a sobbing, pregnant wife played by Ali Larter.

The filming was to take place in the backwoods of Louisiana, on the banks of the Mississippi River, so the Englishman and the New Zealander were far from home.

For two hours, the only sound in the room was the turning of pages, and when they had finished the script, Karl shrugged. "Wow, what a rush!" he said, for lack of anything wiser. "Lots of action! I'm certainly glad they've got stuntmen here!"

"I was told by the director that we will be doing most of our own stunts -- the lions, the trapeze, everything. They've been coaching our female co-stars on how to ride a horse standing up, and walk a tightrope. Bertram expects us to be training for our parts first thing tomorrow morning."

"He cannot be serious! He wants you up there on that trapeze?"

"Yeah, why not? I can do it." Orlando gave him a confident face.

Karl shook his head doubtfully.

Orlando scowled at him. "Have some faith in me, Karl!" he said, broodingly. "Contrary to popular belief, I'm not a screw-up."

"I would never call you names, and you know it, but faith in your talent isn't the entire issue, Orli. When you're a hundred feet in the air, just one 'screw-up' is all you get."

~~

In the scene being filmed, everyone was in motion. The trapeze artist leaped gracefully out to clasp hands with the man who hung upside down from the trapeze, and the two of them swung far out over the three rings. A sudden slip of the hands caused Orlando's heart to lurch into his throat as he plummeted to the net below.

He remembered to flip and land on his back, feeling the exhilaration of panic and humiliation as he bounced and rolled. Angry and ashamed, he crawled to the net's edge and flipped over to the floor where Bertram, the producer, and Jorge, the snarky director were waiting to chastise him for his ineptitude.

"Why can't you get this together, Bloom? We paid a lot of money for your pretty face, but your pretty ass can't act! This is not acceptable! Either do the job right or get the hell out! You're supposed to be Mr. Wonderful, but instead, we get Mr. Bumblefingers! You see your catcher -- the man up there on that swing? He's wasting his time waiting for you to do this stunt right! You just reach out, you grab his hands, do your flip, grab the other trapeze, and you're done! How hard is that? Now get your ass back up there and do it right!"

Head down, Orlando began the long climb back up the ladder. On the way up, he glanced over to see Karl watching from the sidelines. There was an unusual glimmer in the hazel eyes, and for a moment, Orli thought the Kiwi was laughing at him, but when he focused on him, he realized the glimmer was for Bertram, and that he was definitely not laughing. It would not surprise him to hear that Bertram had been found later, beaten to a bloody pulp, with bumps and bruises from Karl's knuckles all over his disagreeable face. Such brutality could be a grave mistake on Karl's part since Bertram employed no less than eight ruffians to protect his interests, thugs who watched every move and seemed to function at their master's command.

Orli grimaced and kept moving.

~~

Orlando fell more than twenty times that day. It was after dark when Bertram finally called a halt to filming and sent his actors to their trailers to sleep. Make-up was at 5 AM, but Karl was waiting in Orli's trailer when he wearily plodded in at 11 PM.

Orlando was startled at the man's presence. "What are you doing here, Urban? You come to fuss at me, too?"

"I came to see if you're all right, Orli. And I brought something to ease the pain," Karl answered, showing him a bottle of red wine chilling in a bucket of ice, and two glasses on the kitchen counter. "Go take a shower, and I'll give you a massage. Your muscles have to be sore as hell!"

Orlando nodded gratefully. "As long as I don't get another lecture," he said as he disappeared into the washroom.

When he came out, still drying his long locks with a towel, Karl was pouring the wine. The lights had been dimmed and there was soft music on the radio. "It almost looks as if you're trying to seduce me," he joked as he plopped down in the center of the settee.

Karl sat beside him, handing him a glass. "No designs, Orli," he said softly, glancing up and down the lean body. He wore only thin boxers that left nothing to the imagination. "I just want to make you feel better. If you decide to give me a 'little' in the process, I certainly won't fight you off, but that's not the reason I'm here."

Orli looked up sharply at him. "We've known each other a long time, and I…I didn't know you were gay," he said.

"You label things nicely." Karl reached for the tube of oil and took a giant step around his friend's back. He seated himself comfortably behind him on the settee, his legs wide around him. Lightly tugging on the waistband of the boxers, he said, "Take these off and I'll rub your back."

A bit unnerved, Orli laid down his towel, lifted his bottom and slipped the boxers down his legs, kicking them off as he resumed his seat. "What do you mean by that - that I label things?"

"Gay, straight, what's the difference? We're not the same every day, are we? Can't I be a little bit of everything?"

"You're bi?"

"More labels?"

Orli sighed. "No, no more labels. You're just Karl, and whatever you are is okay."

"Good," Karl said. "And what are you, Orli?"

"I'm…" Orlando paused before he went on. "Actually, I'm usually celibate. I don't have time for sex, unless it's all by myself."

Karl chuckled. "Then you're asexual, right?"

"I suppose you could put it that way." They laughed together.

"But you've got a million people lusting after this hot little body of yours. What are you doing being so anti-sexual?"

"I'm busy a lot. But mostly, I just haven't found a desire to become involved in a relationship."

"Relationship? So, you believe in a monogamy."

Orli faltered. "Don't you?"

"Well, yeah, but most people seem to think I'm weird for thinking that way."

"Not weird, not by my standards, you're not."

"I'm glad you have standards." Karl put his arms around him and squeezed. As discreetly as possible, he nuzzled aside Orlando's wet hair and nibbled at the top of his ear. "It makes you all the more desirable."

Orli scrunched his shoulder. "What are you doing to my ear?"

"Just tasting," Karl whispered. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Do you really think we should be doing this kind of thing?"

"Who's gonna know but us? If you want me to stop, I will."

"I thought you had standards."

Karl cleared his throat. "I do." He gazed at the younger man's lips as he turned his face to look at him.

"You're just horny, looking for a quick fix," Orlando surmised, and his pleasant face went gloomy. "Do me a great favor and leave me out of it. Go take care of it yourself. I'm not your whore."

Karl sighed, his pride deflated. "I should go," he said. "Shit, Orli, I didn't mean to make you feel that way." He drew himself up hesitantly to stand before him. "Honestly, that's not what I was here for. I'm sorry."

Orlando pulled the towel over himself, refusing to meet his eyes again. "Good night, Karl."

Karl nodded numbly and left by the front door.

~~

Bertram was ranting. Karl shook his head in annoyance as he entered the tent, angered to see that Orli was the target of his wrath again. Cameramen, hired thugs, and other actors twiddled their fingers and waited as the handsome young man stood subject to the verbal abuse until the irate producer finally wound down and allowed the actor to go back up the ladder again.

Karl watched his ascent, his upper lip twitching at the tyrannical demands that were being made. When Orlando paused to rub his eyes and nose on the back of his wrist, something came unhinged in Karl Urban. He closed his eyes and swallowed the wash of anger, but when he looked up again to see his friend standing on the elevated board, he shuddered in alarm.

Orlando was preparing to jump, but the angle was wrong. Karl's eyes went wide with fear. "No, Orli!" he cried loudly. Too far away, his voice did not carry to the other actor's ears.

Orlando, bending his knees, chanced to meet his eyes across the distance, and stood immobile for a moment, puzzling at Karl's fearful expression. When Karl held up a hand that told him to wait, the trapeze artist glanced nervously down at Bertram, considered, hesitated, and finally, surrounded by a black cloud of doom, descended back down the ladder.

Bertram was shouting at him, but Orlando paid him no heed. He met Karl at the foot of the soaring ladder, and looked anxiously into his face. "What's the matter?" he asked, pointedly ignoring the pissed producer.

Karl pulled him into an emotional hug. "Thank God you were perceptive enough to stop. I was afraid you wouldn't listen to me because of what happened last night."

"Nothing happened last night, Karl," Orlando mumbled against his shoulder. "Why didn't you want me to make the jump? You're getting me into terrible trouble, you know."

"If you had jumped the way you were standing, you would have missed the catcher, bounced off the edge of the net, and you would have died! This whole thing is ridiculous! I don't want you to do this, Orli. Come on. Let's get out of here. If this asshole can't afford a fall man to do this shit, he doesn't deserve to have Orlando Bloom's name on his label."

"Like that means any damn thing," the slender performer said meekly.

"It means a lot to me," Karl murmured. "And to him, so he can get someone else to do the stunt or forget it!"

Orlando's eyes rose to the trapeze. "But I can do this, Karl. I know I can. I want to prove I'm worthy."

"You're worthy, Babe. Who are you trying to prove it to? To Bertram? Fuck him! To me? Never, especially not after last night! To yourself? I hope you're more secure in your own abilities than that! You're young and beautiful, and I would like for you to stay that way a few more years." Tugging on his arm, he took a step toward the door flap. "Come on. Come with me. Let's go. I promise you, we can find something better."

Orlando would not budge.

Bertram approached them, already screaming before he reached them. "What the hell are you doing, Urban? Turn loose of him! Let him do his stunt! This is bullshit! Orlando, either you get your ass back up there and do this thing the way it's supposed to be done, or the both of you will deal with my boys."

Karl took Orlando firmly by the hand to prevent him from remounting the ladder, but was promptly shoved away by Bertram and shouldered farther back by two of the goons. "Get the hell out, Urban!" the producer demanded, and the unhinged part of Karl Urban snapped, which made him a dangerous man. So fast he never saw it coming, Bertram's thugs were thrown aside, and he found himself flat of his back on the hard ground, looking up at the tall, enraged Kiwi. Holding his jaw, he watched in shock as Karl dismissed the whole company, put a determined arm around Orlando, and walked him out of the tent.

~~

Orlando rolled onto his back in a fit of giggles, kicking the air in hilarity. "Pow!" he cried for the fourth time, punching to mimic Karl's jab. "That was the absolute coolest thing I ever saw! I will never forget the look on his face!"

His rage was dissipating, but Karl was still wobbly. He smiled at his friend. "I'll go to jail for that, no doubt," he said. "Either that, or the leg-breakers will come and kill me."

Orlando tumbled upright and stared at him. "We can't stay here," he said.

"They'll send the cops after me wherever we go, as long as we're still in the states."

"No one would put you in jail for popping Bertram!" he argued. "The man's an asshole!"

"The prisons are full of men who saw fit to 'pop' assholes," Karl said. "I should get going before the cops get here."

"I'm going with you," Orlando said, gathering his sweater and a carry bag. "There's no way I'll stay behind and face him and his hooligans alone after all this!"

"There's no way I would leave you, Love," Karl assured him. He peered both ways before darting out the trailer door. They ran across the front lot, down the rocks that led to the riverside and onto the wharf. Untying the raft Bertram's men had used to transport equipment across the water; Karl pulled it in close and hopped down onto it. He reached for Orlando's hand, but his friend had already dropped down beside him. Coiling the rope and hanging it on the corner-post hook, he shoved off, using the rowing pole to set them into motion.

"Just like Tom Sawyer, right, mate?" Orli said, grinning at him as he squinted into the midmorning sun.

"Yeah, that's right," Karl answered, letting the current take them along. "Just like Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn."

"Which one am I?"

"This trip," Karl drawled as he pushed a wayward strand of the Englishman's dark hair back from his forehead, "You can be my Huckleberry."

~~

The sun was hot, and the humidity soon made them uncomfortable. Orlando pointed out a long water snake making its way across the river, and Karl watched it with interest. Small points of silver surfaced from the muddy water, leaving ripples that widened to large circles. They sat side by side, watching the peaceful scenes, and were thrilled when a large fish arced up out of the water two feet from them, spraying them with its fanning tail.

"What kind of fish was it?" Orlando asked.

"No idea," Karl answered. "Big."

They nodded and continued to watch in fascination. The fish did not return.

"You know," Karl said finally, "I would never think of you as a whore, Orli. It wasn't so long ago that you were an innocent. I don't know when you got so cynical."

Orlando blew out a long sigh. "I know. I'm sorry, Karl. I've just been…tense."

"You want to tell me about it?"

"There's not much to tell. Sometimes no one seems to realize I'm a human being. I get a bit into self-pity, I suppose, but people are fucking insensitive! It's like everyone wants to have sex with me, and that's not a good thing. It gets mind-altering -- all this attention I've gotten in the past couple of years. It was fun at first, but it got old. I'm tired. I suppose I shouldn't complain. I've become very rich and famous."

"There are drawbacks to success," Karl said, understanding.

"Yeah, deadly ones," Orlando said, chewing a hangnail. "I don't have any free time any more. Too many obligations. Nearly everyone has ulterior motives for everything they do. I'm beginning to feel like I have no real friends. I miss having friends. The hobbits, you, and all the guys, we had fun back in New Zealand."

"Yeah, I miss the gang, too. We had a blast doing those films! But you know, I think the world has always been shitty. Could it be that you're the one who changed, Orli?"

"I'm sure I have, because I'm getting older, and evidently acutely 'cynical', but in the past few months, I've been sexually assaulted so many times I can't keep count. That never happened to me before! People are trying to rape me!"

Cautiously, Karl put an arm around him. "Has anyone actually forced sex on you, Orli?"

"Not exactly -- at least, no one was totally successful. When it's the fans, security pulls them off, but I can't trust anyone any more. I feel 'exposed' all the time. I feel completely vulnerable! I'm telling you, Karl, I'm terrified of the world!"

"I didn't know, Orli." Karl gave him a comforting squeeze. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be insensitive."

"You were just horny," Orlando tried to shrug off his contrition. "Which is normal. This is not your fault, Karl. Wanting to have sex is not wrong; it's just that I have become a bit soured on the whole concept. That's all."

"Well, yeah, but I care about you, Orli. I don't just nab a random partner for sex, you know! You're special!"

"Special? Really? How?"

Karl's eyes misted. "I care about you. A lot."

Orlando squinted curiously up at him, and then returned his gaze to the water.

~~

"Are you hungry?" Karl pointed to a riverside restaurant.

"Not much. How about you?"

"I'm fine for the moment, but who knows when we'll get another chance?"

"Where are we going, anyway? I didn't bring my sun block." Orlando rubbed the back of his neck.

"I hoped to find a motel."

"And do what? Hide out for a while?"

"Possibly. Then we'll call our agents and hopefully they'll provide us safe passage out of here."

"That would be nice."

Karl nodded. "So you don't trust anyone? Do you trust your agent?"

"I didn't really mean that, Karl. I do trust a few people."

"Who? Who would you trust enough to snuggle up with and take a nap?"

With a sigh, Orlando leaned over to rest his head on his friend's shoulder. "You, Karl. I trust you."

"You coulda fooled me." But Karl put an arm around him, tilting his cheek onto the top of the dark hair, and closed his eyes. "Forgive me for being an asshole. I won't come on to you again. I'll be civilized, all right? I won't even joke around."

"Do me a favor, Karl," Orli muttered, patting his hand.

"Anything, Sweetheart."

"Just shut up."

~~

They had hidden the raft beneath a wide pier, climbed out and entered a too-well-lit cafe. Altering his accent to fit in, Karl ordered two sodas that they drank in a booth. Fearful that they would be recognized and police would be summoned, they kept quiet.

Orlando snatched a paper from the tattered bulletin board that advertised lodging 'just around the corner' as they left the bar and stepped out into the afternoon sun. It was a hot, humid late-summer day in Plaquemine, Louisiana, which was vastly more populated than those remote outskirts across the river from Darrow, where Bertram's movie was being filmed. The motel around the corner was shabby but inviting. The clerk was friendly and the room was cozy. Figuring Orlando's face was more identifiable than his own, Karl rented the room alone, leaving his friend waiting between two tall soda machines. When the chatty clerk finally left, and the way was clear, Karl beckoned, and Orli dashed inside.

The younger man sighed in relief as the door closed behind them. He went to the window air conditioner, turned it on and coughed as it spewed out stale dust. "Shit!" he commented, rubbing his eyes.

Karl chuckled. "Go take a shower. We're both sunburnt. Cool water will help."

Orlando nodded as his eyes skipped over the double bed to the telephone. "You'll call someone?"

"Tomorrow -- unless you know someone who lives nearby who will help us in a pinch."

With a shrug, Orlando proceeded into the shower room and turned on the water.

~~

The music of a happily chirping bird woke Orlando from troubled dreams. Yawning, he looked up into the face of his bedmate, and was moved by his peaceful motionlessness. It had been a very long time since Orlando had watched someone sleep. His life had been insane, up every morning as soon as the alarm went off to rush into make-up or to an appointment, to bed as soon as possible when the long, tiresome days finally ended. Not enough hours were available to accomplish what needed to be done, and yet the hours stretched out forever. This moment watching Karl in tranquil repose was precious.

He had not been fair - he knew that. It wasn't Karl's fault that he had a healthy libido. Karl Urban was extremely good-looking, very talented, intelligent, witty, and considerate. Orlando had to quell the urge to touch his face. He did not want to wake him -- not yet. He wanted to reflect a bit longer.

It was nice being this close to Karl. Although he had shunned Karl's advances, Orli felt an intense closeness to him. Somehow, he needed him - needed him in a way that both frightened and excited him. They had been friends for some time, and the attraction had always been there, but neither of them had acknowledged it until Karl's come-on in Orli's trailer. The way he had said it, and Orli's frame of mind at the time had spurred denial. His heart was heavy with the fear that what was done was done. He wondered if amends were possible.

His companion was a gentleman. He greatly admired his unsinkable character, even envied him a bit. Orli realized that his own state of mind was a bit warped, but Karl tolerated his warpishness without resentment. Those hazel eyes looked upon him with caring - with true caring, not the boorish desire he had seen time after time in perverts who had broken through his barrier of protection. He was sure Karl had suffered a bit of fan worship, too, but the tall actor seemed to show no signs of distress about it. Either he was an absolute rock, or he was able to conceal his anguish.

Orlando needed the rock.

Not all the attacks had been from fans. There had been a few filmmakers who expected perks from him, too. Bertram had tried to obtain a blowjob from him when he had first hired on, and had lewdly insinuated that he would be more lavishly accommodated if there were 'favors' granted. He had adamantly refused because he could not imagine putting the creep's slimy dick in his mouth. The very thought was disgusting.

But Bertram had not been the first to ask. There had been others. He bore shameful memories of the times he had given into their demands and had allowed them things that now made his stomach roll. These were the memories that took away all that had once been pleasant and beautiful to him. He prayed that sex was not forever ruined to him, revoltingly dirty, sinful and degrading.

Orlando felt he still had the capacity to love, but the pursuit of fame had dealt him some disconcerting blows. To enjoy love and romance with a life-companion would be a fervent prayer answered. Gazing at Karl's face, he found himself daydreaming about kissing those huge lips, touching that broad chest, nuzzling that scruffy throat. Having him open those lovely eyes and meet his gaze with a gentle smile would be wonderful.

He wanted love, yet he was afraid of love. Even to him, it did not make sense.

He scooted to cuddle in the circle of Karl's strong arms, carefully so as not to wake him. Not yet. As close as he could get, he closed his eyes and boldly allowed his wicked daydreams to become erotic, the first time in a very long time he had entertained such thoughts.

~~

Orlando's face was less than an inch from his own when Karl opened his eyes. His smile was tender as he touched the long, dark hair and brushed it back from the chocolate brown eyes that gazed at him with expectation. "Good morning, beautiful elf," he murmured.

Orlando snickered. "As much as I loved that role, I'll never be rid of it!" he said. "To everyone who knew me, I'll always be 'the elf'!"

"You weren't the only elf there, you know!" Karl said sluggishly. "Remember Marton's role as the 'elf lord' -- and Hugo's? Liv was an elf, too, you know, Craig, Cate, Harry, and about a thousand others. You simply had more air time."

Orlando looked down. "John still doesn't call me anything else but 'the elf'."

"Of course. He was 'the dwarf'."

"Karl, I'm sorry."

Karl paused before he pulled away and sat up on the side of the bed. "Sorry?"

"Yes, sorry I'm so messed up. I was mean to you, and that wasn't right. You didn't do anything wrong. It's all because I'm so…"

Karl shook his head, unwilling to let him continue. "I understand, Orli. You have issues, and I would, too, if I had suffered all you've been through! Let's just forget it, okay? Life goes on."

"No, no, I don't want to forget it. I want you to know something…"

"You don't owe me anything, Orli. It's fine." Karl stood and took a step towards the washroom.

"No! Please, let me tell you this!" Orlando felt dangerously close to the breaking point. Lowering his voice, he went on, "Please don't walk away from me. Let me say it."

The tall man sighed and resumed his seat. "What do you want to say, Babe?"

"I want to tell you that…I care for you, too." Orlando couldn't meet his eyes. "A lot. And…I'm…um…I'm willing -- if you still…you know. If you still want me."

"Orli," Karl reached to take his trembling hand. "Look at you! You're scared to death! You're shaking like a leaf! What kind of monster would I be if I took you now, like this? I don't want you to associate me with fear! I don't want you to look back years from now and remember pain. This can't happen, Orli -- not this way. This is too important, do you understand?"

Orlando nodded miserably. "Yes, I understand."

~~

"You feeling better?" Karl touched Orlando's arm. His skin was hot, almost burning.

"I'm okay. A little ashamed of myself," Orli answered, nibbling on a callous on the heel of his hand.

"Why? You did nothing to be ashamed of."

"I threw myself at you like a common…" The brown eyes went wide when Karl grabbed his wrist and shook him.

"I don't want to hear any more of the self-destructive bullshit!" the taller man said. "I didn't reject you, Orli! None of this is necessary!"

Forcing away all anguish that had masked the validity of his own feelings, Orlando moved demandingly into his lap. "Do you want me, then?" he asked. "Or was that all just rubbish?"

Karl's arms closed hastily around his slight frame. "I have always wanted you," he confessed.

The embrace was cherished. Orlando's hands caressed the broad shoulders of the man who held him. "You're addictive," he said softly. "I think it's your scent. Is that possible?"

"Oh, yes, it's definitely possible!" Karl answered. His lips brushed the elf's cheek, and a split second later, Orlando's mouth was soft beneath his, fingers were tangled in his short hair, and he was moaning breathlessly. Karl had no control to stop. Passionate kisses went on for long minutes, increasing in magnitude.

When Karl drew away to look at him, the light of adoration shined brightly in his hazel eyes, and he saw the same light reflected back at him in Orli's brown gaze. "God, baby, I think I'm drowning here!" he groaned.

"Drowning?" Orli cooed, lifting his face for more kisses. "How could you drown? I'm not liquid."

"You're liquid fire, honey. Liquid heat, a bubbling inferno, melted lava, an ocean of passion…"

"Karl, you're crazy!" Orlando laughed. "I'm none of those things!"

"You're more than that. There are no more words to describe you, because my mind has been overwhelmed by your nearness."

"You're sweet," Orli said, very deeply affected as he kissed him again. For the first time in his life, he was absolutely certain of what he wanted, and for him, that was no small phenomenon. Impetuous, but confident, he deemed that this relationship with Karl was no longer an option. It was an imperative. "But you're still crazy."

"Guilty," Karl said, then rolled him onto the bed and smothered him with kisses. "Crazy over you."

~~

"I'm cured," Orlando acknowledged. "You cured my illness. You're the only one who could."

"I highly doubt that you're completely cured," Karl murmured as he kissed him again. "I haven't touched you intimately, yet, my love. We've shared hugs and kisses, no more, and for now, that's as far as I dare to go. I'm afraid if I venture further, you'll draw up into yourself and spend the next few days staring into space and sucking your thumb. I do not want to traumatize you."

Orli laughed. "I promise not to suck my thumb."

"Let's take it slowly. I would rather be safe than sorry, mate."

"I'm willing, Karl. Truly, I'm okay with this."

"Forgive me if I have doubts. Give it time. Don't rush it."

"You don't want me?"

"Do not do that to me. I am trying to do the right thing, Orli. Don't fuck us up." Karl looked injured. "I care too much. I have too many worries."

Orlando glanced away. "Why? Why do you care so much? What did I do to make you love me so much?"

"I don't know! I can't explain it."

"Is it the way I look? My face? My smile?"

"No, neither of those, although you're lovely. No, Orli - I didn't fall in love with your picture. I fell in love with you. Maybe it's the way you laugh at jokes, or that you're so kind-hearted."

"You're going way back if you remember me laughing."

"Yeah, way back," Karl said sadly. "It's time for you to laugh again, Sweetheart."

"Someone once told me that I bring out the 'protectiveness' in the macho-type men like you. I'm not weak, but nearly everyone perceives me as fragile. Several of the guys in New Zealand came to bat for me when they thought I was in trouble. Everyone made me feel pretty special - especially you, Karl."

"You're talking about that night out when everyone got plastered, and I ended up driving you all home?"

"You were the drunkest one of us!" Orli giggled.

"I was the only one still able to sit upright," Karl reminded him. "I can hold my liquor."

"You stopped no less than four times to piss along the highway," Orlando recalled with amusement. "I remember because I was leaning on you for support, and you kept getting out! There sure were a lot of bodies in that car that night. How many drunks can you fit into a Jeep, anyways?"

"Three hobbits, three elves and three men, including you and me."

"So there were nine?"

"Yeah," Karl grinned at him. "Nine, baby."

"What a messed up Fellowship we were," Orlando mused.

~~

"Where have you been?" Orlando met Karl at the door.

"Playing pool. Were you worried about me?" Karl hugged him and kissed his cheek. "I left you a note."

"Please don't leave me alone again! I was scared to death you wouldn't come back!"

"You have trust issues, don't you? I won't leave without you, Orli." Karl locked the door behind him. "No wonder everyone gets so protective of you. You're so insecure!"

"I'm not insecure!" Orlando's lips trembled. "You went to play pool? Why?"

"Because we needed some money no one could trace, and I needed to find out if Bertram set the law on us. Which he did."

"He did? On what charge?"

"Popping him in the damn jaw! I hit him, Babe. Remember?"

"Yes, but…he deserved it!"

"Yeah, he did. The clout isn't what it's about, though. What he's really pissed about is that I took his pretty star with me when I left. That's why he pressed charges."

"What are we going to do? Should I go back?"

Karl sighed and took him to the bed to sit down with him. "No way in hell, Orli. You will go back to that asshole over my cold, rotting corpse! We'll stay here a few days until things cool down, then we'll find a way to get out of the country."

"Don't you think they will be waiting for you at the airport?"

"I didn't murder him, Orli. I just popped him in the jaw. I don't think they'll send out the swat team."

"Well, you still don't need to be out playing pool!"

Karl pulled a wad of twenties from his pocket and handed it to him. "It's the only way I know to make fast cash!"

"You're good at pool - so good you win lots of money at it?" In amazement, Orlando flipped through the cash in his hand, which amounted to well over a thousand dollars.

"Yeah," Karl answered, giving him a gentle kiss. "I've got a natural eye for geometry."

Orli smiled at him. "That's why you knew where I would land when I was about to jump. Because you're good at angles."

"Yeah, I guess so." Karl shrugged and focused on the brown eyes.

"Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, earning their keep by hustling pool in a delightful, unsuspecting rivertown. Are we having adventures yet, Tom?"

"Damn straight, Huck," Karl said as he brushed his face with a soft kiss. "Adventures have just begun."

~~

They had slept spooned peacefully together. It was after dawn when the ringing phone woke them. Orlando sat up with bleary eyes and glanced around for the source of the irritating noise. Karl picked it up and demanded sluggishly into it, "What d'ya want this early in the morning, anyhow, goddammit?"

"Well, that's an excellent greeting for the cavalry, Urban." The caller chuckled into the phone. "How's it goin', mate?"

Karl laughed as he sat up in bed. "Csokas! Marton, it's good to hear your voice!" he said, stifling a yawn. Suddenly, he was wide-awake. "We're fine, actually. We're 'on the lam', as you know. I believe there's a warrant out for my arrest since I decked the infamous Bertram Castor. He pressed charges because I took Orli when I left."

"If you punched him, I'm sure he earned it," Marton said.

"I had enough of that asshole," Karl said. "He was pushing Orli to the brink."

"Wrong thing to do with you around," Marton commented. "Anyone with any brains would see that you're nuts for him."

"You saw that?" Karl asked, pondering. "When did you know, Marton?"

"Oh, back a few years," Marton answered softly. "A couple of days after you met him, actually. I saw the attraction right away. You looked at him, and I saw your knees buckle. You wear your heart on your sleeve, my friend."

"Really? You saw it then?"

"Don't try denying it. You were smitten as soon as you looked at him."

Karl sighed. "I deny nothing. I'm completely in love with him."

"And that's rare for you, so it has to be for real," Marton said. "Remember, I've known you a long, long time."

"Yeah, a long time," Karl smiled reminiscently. "Where are you, Marty?"

"New Orleans! If it were February, I would be dancing on Bourbon Street, but it's the middle of September, so nothing much is going on here. I can't come pick you up because I don't have a car or an American certificate to drive one, but if you tell me where to send it, I'll wire you the money for bus or plane tickets here."

Karl didn't trust public transportation to be unwatched by the police, but he didn't want to concern his friend with his paranoia. "We'll come to you," he said. "We've got money. Give me your phone number, and I'll call you when we're in New Orleans."

Marton paused. "Are you in a lot of trouble, Karl? Should I call for more back up? I know some guys who know some guys -- you know?"

"No, we'll be fine. It'll just take a day or two. You'll stay put 'til we get there, right?"

"Yeah, Babe, I'll be here," Marton said. "555-777-5577. Call me soon, all right? I want to hear from you. I want to know you're not bleeding to death in some backwater jail."

"I'll call you soon."

"Promise?"

Karl grinned. "Yeah, Mom. No problem."

"Don't mean to be a nag," Marton said. "I just want you safe."

"I know," Karl snickered. "Thanks for caring."

"Hey, you know I love ya," Marton said.

~~

"Hey, Huckleberry, what'cha doin'?" Karl asked.

Dressed in a pair of striped knickers and an oversized top he had purchased at the second-hand store, Orli had tied a bandana around his shoulder-length dark brown hair, set their knapsack on the ground and had stationed himself in a sexy pose beside the highway. He held up a cardboard sign that read 'New Orleans' to the oncoming traffic. "I'm getting us a ride," he answered matter-of-factly.

"The way you're dressed, someone will try to take advantage of you!" Karl objected.

"That's why I have you. You can protect me." Orlando smiled as a semi-truck slowed and stopped beside him. The driver beckoned him into the truck. "See? This guy's probably sixty years old! He won't take advantage of me."

"It's the old ones you have to watch out for!" Karl warned him, laughing.

Orlando grinned at the gray-haired driver as he climbed into the truck. "You mind giving my buddy and me a ride to New Orleans?" he asked.

"I'm headed in that direction," the old man answered good-naturedly. "Hop on in, boys."

Karl climbed into the seat beside Orlando, not bothered that they were crowded close. "Thanks, dude," he said, using his best American accent.

"Not a problem," said the driver, who looked years older than sixty. "Although your partner here ought to be aware that him wearin' shit like that could get him in trouble if some pervert picked him up. Some truckers cruise the highways looking for pussy, you know, and at a distance, you look like pussy. Not smart to try and fool a trucker, boy. Not smart at all."

"He's not trying to fool anyone, dude," Karl said, hoping the guy wasn't about to rant. "He's an actor."

"An actor? In what?"

"You're on the road a lot, aren't you?" Karl asked.

"Yeah, every day. Why?"

"Because this is Huckleberry Finn! You mean to tell me you've never heard of him?"

The geezer took off his hat and scratched his head. "The name does sound familiar, but I can't quite place it," he said. "Nope. I just don't follow the soaps, boys. Sorry."

~~

Orlando was drowsy when their ride ended in front of the New Orleans airport. Inside the enormous building, Karl made his phone call, and sighed relief when Marton answered immediately. Half an hour later, they got out of the cab in front of the hotel where he was staying.

Marton Csokas greeted them with bear hugs and quickly ushered them inside the room. As they sat, he took Karl's face in his hands to inspect him, then moved on to Orlando, anxiously scanning him.

Karl laughed softly. "We're fine, Mom, just a little sunburnt."

Marton smiled at them. "Sorry. I just need to know you're okay."

"We're exhausted. Orli's walking in his sleep. Would you mind if he took a nap?"

Indicating the king-sized bed, Marton pulled back the covers. "There's plenty of room for three," he said cordially. "Crawl in here, mate, and sleep as long as you like."

Orlando gave him a grateful smile as he rolled to the center of the large bed, curled on his side and closed his eyes. Marton tucked him in and sat on the bedside to gaze at Karl. "So," he said, obviously trying not to sound too much like a 'mother hen'. "Tell me what happened."

Karl shrugged. "We went to work for Bertram Castor. That's what happened."

"Yeah, I had a little experience with him, too, on a sweet little tropical island. He's a bloody cunt."

"That is a mild description," Karl agreed. "I could say much worse about him. He has no business being a film producer. I plan on passing the word."

"Black list him? I'll certainly help with that," Marton said. "If it hadn't been for Viggo, I might've starved to death because of him."

"Viggo?"

"Yeah," the other Kiwi gave him a secret grin. "He came to my rescue. He didn't hit Bertram, but he beat up one of his henchmen. I sort of went ape on two others. It's a thousand wonders he didn't press charges on us."

"Really?" Karl smiled at him, very interested. "You want to tell me the story, mate? Tell me about you and Vig."

"The story is Simply Wonderful,"said Marton. "He's a sweetheart. I love him, and he's mine."

"Where is he now?"

"He's on location at a film production, of course. I was there with him until I heard what was going on in Louisiana, and I had to come see if you were all right."

"Thank you." Karl reached out both arms and hugged him again. "I'm glad to hear about you and Viggo. You both definitely deserve to have a lot of love in your life."

"So do you. I'm happy for you," Marton said as he kissed his cheek. "Orlando is a beauty."

"Yes, he is," Karl agreed, glancing over to his sleeping companion. "And I plan to keep him forever."

"I see no reason why that can't happen," Marton said.

~~

"How do you black list a bad producer?" Karl asked. "How do I warn other actors?"

"I wish I had warned you," Marton lamented, rising from his seat to kneel at his friend's feet. He stretched up a hand to touch his face and smiled at him encouragingly. "I wish I could have prevented you and Orli from suffering through that nasty ordeal."

"Not your fault, Babe. We each take our own risks. I just wish that somewhere in this chaos we call life, we could find something that felt remotely like…fairness." He grinned sardonically, adding, "Of course, I realize that fairness only happens in fiction - never in reality."

"I don't know what choices you've made, Karl," Marton said softly, "But I refuse to spend much time in the real world. I stubbornly remain in the fantastical world, living the life I prefer. The only real difference in this semblance and 'reality' is that I have to deal with others who insist on living in that other plane. The similarities are too numerous to mention, except that here, no one treats me like shit."

Karl laughed and hugged him. "What does Viggo have to say about all this?" he asked.

"Viggo lives in my world. He says we're both insane, but we don't have a problem with that. Don't need any medication, no therapy, no need for any cures, because we're happy just the way we are."

"I should have known," Karl said, affectionately. "Do you think there's room for a couple more crazy people in your world? I think I'd like to bring Orli and come live with you and Viggo."

"Plenty of room," Marton answered, pressing his ear to his friend's stomach. "Welcome to my world."

Complacently cupping the back of his head, Karl leaned back to gaze up at the ceiling. "What can we do about Bertram from another world, though? How can we stop him?"

Marton sighed. "We'll have to stick our heads out for a few minutes, and call the press," he said. "But we have to be on a plane out of this area before the story hits the papers if you want to stay out of jail."

~~

"I wish we could go river rafting on the Mississippi once more before we leave the country," Karl said, gazing out at vast Lake Ponchetrain. With that, he followed Marton and Orlando onto the airport shuttle. "That was something I'll never forget."

"It was a hoot," Orlando agreed. "But I'm just as happy we're heading out of here."

"Not out of the country, though," Marton reminded them. "If the states keep in contact, they could still find you, Karl."

"After that story comes out, who cares?" Karl said. "I'll gladly spend an hour or two in the tank for the cause of black listing that jerk-off. Nobody will ever have to put up with him again."

"Well," Orlando said, scrunching next to him in the seat, "The only way to insure that would be to kill him, wouldn't it, now?"

"Don't think that thought hasn't occurred to me," Karl said darkly.

Marton and Orlando exchanged a troubled gaze, then shrugged. "Yeah, to me, too," Marton admitted.

"Do you think he has anyone who loves him?" Orlando asked. "Maybe he has a wife and kids."

"God help them if he does," Marton breathed.

"Maybe he has parents."

"Poor people," Karl intoned. "In his case, I doubt that even his mother loves him. If he has one."

"Doesn't that make you sad? Maybe he doesn't mean to be an asshole. Maybe he simply can't help himself."

"Maybe he 'simply' needs killin'!" Karl snarled in a perfect southern drawl.

Orlando shrank away from him for a moment, then saw the twinkle in his eye. "You turdstomper!" he said, playfully whacking at his friend's chest. "Needs killin'! How fucking redneck can you get?"

Marton chuckled and mumbled, "That's called truth in comedy, mates. Although Karl won't be killing anybody, he's very good at summing things up."

~~

California's weather was much less humid, but the temperature was warmer. Marton wandered the defunct set reminiscently. "I got a lot of smooches from Charlize over there," he said with a teasing grin. "She's adorable. I tripped on a cord on that riser and nearly toppled. Gerry nabbed me just in time."

"This is great, Marty," Karl said. "What are they doing next?"

"The rest of the crew went to Japan. I spent two weeks over there, but it was back here for the wrap-up. It was fun."

"So, what's next for you?"

"Back to San Francisco to see Viggo, then to England for a few scenes, to Prague for a photo shoot, and to North Dakota, where Vig bought a farm. He thinks he'll get a break by then and we can spend some time together."

"It sucks being us, doesn't it?" Orlando bemoaned.

"No!" Marton answered, turning jaded eyes upon him. "No, my beauty, it never sucks being us!" he declared fervently. "To be us is glorious and fantastic! We hold the key to the world!"

Karl leaned close to Orlando's ear to explain, "What he failed to mention is that the world that key belongs to is only the one we live in, and no one else knows even exists. He's crazy, you know."

Orlando stared in awe at Marton. "No crazier than you or I!" he said. "I think I like the optimism."

Karl laughed. "Optimism, pessimism, living in a state of delusion, whatever you want to call it. It's all good. I do want to go back to Louisiana for a visit because I am simply love-struck by that big river - which just happens to be a part of the real world, but after that, I'll just stick my head in my ass and travel on my merry way. That's the way it's done, mate."

Orlando lifted his face, smiling at him. "Bring your head out of your ass long enough to give me a kiss, at least."

Watching as they shared the sweet kiss, Marton drew in a long, resolute sigh. "You two need time alone," he said, when they had drawn back to share a loving gaze. "What about a few days at Camp Redbird?"

"Camp Redbird?" Orli echoed. "Where the hell is that?"

"Don't worry, it's equipped with electricity and running water," Marton said. "It's the cabin site where we all stayed while we were making this movie."

"Sounds good to me," Karl said. "What do you think, Orli?"

Orlando's brown eyes were soft. "I think it's a wonderful idea."

"Then take us to Camp Redbird," Karl said, kissing his soon-to-be lover again.

~~

When Marton had left them, they had been unable to keep their hands off each other. Their eyes had been gentle, their kisses passionate and their intentions were clear. Marton escaped before being made a witness to their first episode of intimacy.

He left a note that told them he would return soon beside a copy of the news story from the paper that had published it, the story they had imparted to the reporter about Bertram Castor. Somehow, the paper staff had come up with additional damning information and a photograph of the black-listed producer.

As Marton flew back to Louisiana, he passed the time reading the third book in the first chronological series of his new favorite author, R.A. Salvatore, 'Forgotten Realms - the Dark Elf Trilogy'. He thoroughly enjoyed reading about Drizzt Do'Urden and hoped to someday have a co-starring role in the movies that would be made about him.

As his taxi waited, he knocked on the trailer door, noting the smell and sounds of the Mississippi River thirty feet beyond. It was easy to understand how Karl had become so infatuated with a muddy river. It would have been difficult to put into words, but the whole setting was seductive to the senses. He drew in a deep, steadying breath just as Bertram Castor opened the door.

The film producer glared at him. "What the devil do you want?" he asked.

"What I want is for you to die and go to hell," Marton answered matter-of-factly. "But what I'll be satisfied with is to know you're gone from my business. It was bad enough what you did to me on the island, sending your goons after me the way you did; but after this last incident with Orlando and Karl, I'm not fooling around any more. I want you to drop the charges against Karl, and then, I want you and your leg-breakers gone!"

"Aren't you talking a bit too big for your britches?" Bertram leered at him, glancing back into the trailer at an unseen accomplice. "You had Viggo Mortensen come rescue you last time because you were too big a puss to stand up for yourself. Now, all of a sudden, you're brave enough to talk big talk!"

"And big enough to back it up, mate," Marton said evenly. "And, since you play the 'godfather' so well with all your hired boys, I'll clue you in. I can have our own 'goons' here so quick it'll make you piss your pants. If you fuck with us, I will declare war, and you will lose. Leave my friends and me alone, and never let me hear your name spoken in connection with the film industry again. Do I make myself clear?"

The threat had been made in a composed voice, and in conjunction with the formidable flash in the tall actor's eyes; Bertram's resolve was staggered. He took a step backwards and slammed the door in his face. "Go away, Csokas!" he screamed through the thin metal.

Marton turned and went back to his taxi. He did not start trembling until they were nearly back to the airport.

~~

The story was in USA Today, so it was nationwide -- 'Bertram Castor Black-Listed'. It went into detail, telling how Castor had given up on the film industry and had instead taken over his uncle's plumbing business. Karl shook his head as he laid the paper down. "Well, I pity the town where he works," he said. "I'm sure a lot of poor people with plumbing problems will want to kill him, now. The next story may be that he was found floating face-down in a sewer, stabbed through the throat with a jagged piece of pvc pipe!"

"You should be writing horror!" Marton said, grinning. "God, how graphic! Although I would not be a bit surprised to hear that's exactly how he meets his death."

"I'm surprised that news story we told, and the few extras from unknown sources made him quit," Orlando said. "I thought it would take more than that. I'm glad he dropped the charges on you, Karl, but I figured him to be a little tougher - a little more hard-core. Just because we told the world what an asshole he was didn't mean he should've just bowed out like that."

Marton cleared his throat and nodded. "You never know what makes people tick," he said, his eyes shadowed. "Sometimes, fairness happens, even in the real world."

~end~