First Viggorli fic...
Apr. 26th, 2005 11:22 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
selene-vidae.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
vigorliTitle: Kismet
Author: Sel![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
selene_vidae
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando
Summary: The moments in our lives that have been arranged by the Fates themselves.
Rating: PG.
Disclaimer: Viggo and Orlando are not mine, because you can't own people. But if you could...
Feedback: Help a fellow author out and pretty please comment on this fic...
Warnings: It's a bit AU because I don't think Viggo ever met Orlando prior to LotR.
A/N: This is my first viggorli fic and I wrote it in under an hour. What can I say? The bunnies attacked, the bugs bit me and the muses just kept shining down on me. I don't know why, but out of all the fics I've written in the past two day, which is a lot :D, this one's my baby. Should I permanently join the fandom's growing author list? *winks* Also, Seal's greatest hits CD only came out recently but I played with the timeline for that a tiny bit...
Dedication: To my fellow Countess, Tin. She reminded me of a bunny I had half-forgotten and seemed just perfect for this pairing.
You're in a records store, standing beside one of those CD players that let you listen to certain albums being featured. Your sis has asked you to get Lifehouse's latest CD and you grudgingly head out into the rain because you owe her a favor after she saved you from that horrid blind date your mates put you on.
You're about to walk away but you notice that Seal's Greatest Hits CD is in it. You pick up the CD, only to see right away that Walk on By is on it, so you put on the headphones and press Play.
You close your eyes and just listen to the music, forgetting that you're in the middle of a store with strangers all around you.
You know this song by heart. You can remember listening to your mum's records on rainy days similar to this. You first fell in love with this song when you were ten, not caring that your mates would probably tease you mercilessly if they ever found out.
You unconsciously begin to dance to the music, just like you did when you were ten and thought that this was what falling in love must have sounded like.
Even before the song ends, you've made up your mind to buy the CD. When the last strains of the song are indecipherable, you open your eyes – only to stare into a pair of blue-grey eyes intently gazing at you. You know that you should be embarrassed with this man's intense perusal, but for some reason it doesn't bother you.
Other people have found you beautiful and have stared as well. Their gazes have left your skin crawling, your face heating up, your hair standing on end. The look this stranger gives you is so much more than admiration or desire or want.
He looks at you as if he can see all the way into your soul. And on that wet, rainy September day, in that crowded, noisy records store, you've formed a connection that is seared forever into your memory.
The locking of your gazes is broken when a petite young woman bumps into you. You realize that you're still wearing the headphones so you take them off, graciously accepting the apology she offers you.
When you put the headphones back where they belong, you search for that stranger with the breathtaking blue-grey eyes, only to see that he's nowhere to be found. You sigh quietly, a little bit surprised at the unexpected sadness that wells up inside you.
You take Seal's CD and begin to look for Sam's CD, the CD that you came here for in the first place. You find it after a minimal amount of searching and you head to the counter to pay for it. You hand the CDs over to the bouncy girl behind it.
You turn away from her, only to see that the very same stranger standing beside you, holding the very same CD you were listening to when you both locked gazes.
He likewise hands the CD to the girls before turning to look at you. He smiles and you smile back.
You know you won't be able to recall anything other than his smile and the way his eyes twinkle were anyone to ask you about this moment.
You distractedly hand the cashier money and just as distractedly accept the change and your CDs. You give him – this handsome stranger with the blond hair and the cleft in his chin – one last smile before exiting the store.
The rain has stopped so you merely wrap your coat tighter around yourself and leave the umbrella closed in your hand. You've only gotten a few yards away when someone taps you on the shoulder.
You can't stop the smile that blossoms on your face when you realize that it's him – his hair mussed up, his cheeks flushed, his breath coming in pants because you can tell that he ran to catch up with you.
He hands you the CD he's purchased and you look at in confusion. He explains that the cashier switched the parcels so you look down to see the truth in what he's saying. You laugh in embarrassment as you exchange parcels.
He ends up gazing at you intently all over again. You don't mind the silence and the fact that you're standing in the middle of the sidewalk, blocking traffic.
After a few moments of quiet perusal, he asks if you would like a cup of coffee. You agree and you both walk in companionable silence to this cozy coffeeshop a few stores away.
You choose a table in front of the window and are pleasantly surprised when he pulls the chair out for you. You order raspberry tea and he asks for cafe au lait.
You end up talking about your respective lives.
He's an artist who's been traveling around Europe showcasing his work. He's originally from Denmark and intends to make that his last stop, but he's heading to Seville tomorrow since his show here has just finished.
You tell him that you're a drama student at Guildhall with plans to become a great actor some day. You explain why you feel the need to act – the total freedom in losing yourself in a role.
He knows what you mean and you admit that sometimes it's easier to be someone other than yourself.
He tells you about his love for his son and the immense joy he has in fatherhood, and you share anecdotes about growing up with only an older sis and your mum for company, who are your biggest heroes in the world, by the way.
He opens up to you about his failed marriage and the guilt he still carries because of it. You open up about the loneliness you feel even when you're not alone and the soul-deep yearning you have for true love.
You both don't realize that so much time has passed by and all the other patrons have left. The coffeeshop is closing so you both gather your things and leave. You stop in the sidewalk in front of the shop and so does he.
You don't know what to say to him next. This day has been completely unforgettable and completely surreal. If this were any other day and he were any other person, you would be back at your flat, sipping hot cocoa and watching reruns on the telly.
You open your mouth but he gently places an index finger on your lips to shush you. He then gives you a sheaf of paper from a sketchpad.
He says it's in memory of today.
He then steps forward and kisses you.
You let him because nothing has ever felt this right.
When he pulls away, your own fingertips trace where his lips have been.
He gives you one last smile before walking away.
When you finally gather your wits to look at the piece of paper in your hand, you see that it is a sketch of you.
Your back is against the window so the light is like a halo around your head as your chin is propped up in the palm of your hand. On your face is this expression of happy content with a smile on your lips and a half-hidden emotion in your eyes.
It's more than good.
He's captured the moment perfectly and you never even realized that he was drawing you.
Your hands trace the date and initials on the bottom right corner and you belatedly realize that he's never even given you his name.
You turn the sketch around and on the back page is one word.
You smile to yourself as you realize that it truly is.
***
Years later, you're in your trailer with the girls putting on your make-up.
The sketch of you from that coffeshop day is in a frame and it takes its place of honor in the center of your dressing table. Everyone has asked about it – from Sir Ian to Lij – but you just smile and shrug your shoulders in reply.
You have your CD player on, listening to the very same song that started it all, when Peter comes in with someone half-hidden behind him.
You can't see who it is clearly, but that very same feeling you got in the records store on that rainy September day years ago is back.
You take off the earphones and place the CD on the seat you've just abandoned.
You ignore Peter's explanations of how he's found the perfect man to replace Stuart and be the King of Gondor, focusing instead on the mussed-up blond hair you know is under that wig, the blue-grey eyes and the cleft in his chin – a face that has been haunting your dreams when you sleep and plaguing the fringes of your thoughts when you're awake.
You walk towards him slowly and he does the same. The smile on his lips and the twinkle in his eyes are just the same as you remember them.
Everyone has stopped existing – Peter, Fran, the Hobbits, Sean. It's just you and this stranger who hasn't been one in the years you've been dreaming, thinking and wondering about him.
You ignore everyone else's shocked gasps when your arms go around his neck and his go around your waist.
You tell him that he's never told you his name and you kiss him before he answers, because even if he's never said it out loud, you know that your heart already knows it.
You tune out the questions and comments of the people around you after you've stopped kissing.
As he whispers his name into your ear, you think: kismet indeed.
Author: Sel
selene_vidaePairing: Viggo/Orlando
Summary: The moments in our lives that have been arranged by the Fates themselves.
Rating: PG.
Disclaimer: Viggo and Orlando are not mine, because you can't own people. But if you could...
Feedback: Help a fellow author out and pretty please comment on this fic...
Warnings: It's a bit AU because I don't think Viggo ever met Orlando prior to LotR.
A/N: This is my first viggorli fic and I wrote it in under an hour. What can I say? The bunnies attacked, the bugs bit me and the muses just kept shining down on me. I don't know why, but out of all the fics I've written in the past two day, which is a lot :D, this one's my baby. Should I permanently join the fandom's growing author list? *winks* Also, Seal's greatest hits CD only came out recently but I played with the timeline for that a tiny bit...
Dedication: To my fellow Countess, Tin. She reminded me of a bunny I had half-forgotten and seemed just perfect for this pairing.
You're in a records store, standing beside one of those CD players that let you listen to certain albums being featured. Your sis has asked you to get Lifehouse's latest CD and you grudgingly head out into the rain because you owe her a favor after she saved you from that horrid blind date your mates put you on.
You're about to walk away but you notice that Seal's Greatest Hits CD is in it. You pick up the CD, only to see right away that Walk on By is on it, so you put on the headphones and press Play.
You close your eyes and just listen to the music, forgetting that you're in the middle of a store with strangers all around you.
You know this song by heart. You can remember listening to your mum's records on rainy days similar to this. You first fell in love with this song when you were ten, not caring that your mates would probably tease you mercilessly if they ever found out.
You unconsciously begin to dance to the music, just like you did when you were ten and thought that this was what falling in love must have sounded like.
Even before the song ends, you've made up your mind to buy the CD. When the last strains of the song are indecipherable, you open your eyes – only to stare into a pair of blue-grey eyes intently gazing at you. You know that you should be embarrassed with this man's intense perusal, but for some reason it doesn't bother you.
Other people have found you beautiful and have stared as well. Their gazes have left your skin crawling, your face heating up, your hair standing on end. The look this stranger gives you is so much more than admiration or desire or want.
He looks at you as if he can see all the way into your soul. And on that wet, rainy September day, in that crowded, noisy records store, you've formed a connection that is seared forever into your memory.
The locking of your gazes is broken when a petite young woman bumps into you. You realize that you're still wearing the headphones so you take them off, graciously accepting the apology she offers you.
When you put the headphones back where they belong, you search for that stranger with the breathtaking blue-grey eyes, only to see that he's nowhere to be found. You sigh quietly, a little bit surprised at the unexpected sadness that wells up inside you.
You take Seal's CD and begin to look for Sam's CD, the CD that you came here for in the first place. You find it after a minimal amount of searching and you head to the counter to pay for it. You hand the CDs over to the bouncy girl behind it.
You turn away from her, only to see that the very same stranger standing beside you, holding the very same CD you were listening to when you both locked gazes.
He likewise hands the CD to the girls before turning to look at you. He smiles and you smile back.
You know you won't be able to recall anything other than his smile and the way his eyes twinkle were anyone to ask you about this moment.
You distractedly hand the cashier money and just as distractedly accept the change and your CDs. You give him – this handsome stranger with the blond hair and the cleft in his chin – one last smile before exiting the store.
The rain has stopped so you merely wrap your coat tighter around yourself and leave the umbrella closed in your hand. You've only gotten a few yards away when someone taps you on the shoulder.
You can't stop the smile that blossoms on your face when you realize that it's him – his hair mussed up, his cheeks flushed, his breath coming in pants because you can tell that he ran to catch up with you.
He hands you the CD he's purchased and you look at in confusion. He explains that the cashier switched the parcels so you look down to see the truth in what he's saying. You laugh in embarrassment as you exchange parcels.
He ends up gazing at you intently all over again. You don't mind the silence and the fact that you're standing in the middle of the sidewalk, blocking traffic.
After a few moments of quiet perusal, he asks if you would like a cup of coffee. You agree and you both walk in companionable silence to this cozy coffeeshop a few stores away.
You choose a table in front of the window and are pleasantly surprised when he pulls the chair out for you. You order raspberry tea and he asks for cafe au lait.
You end up talking about your respective lives.
He's an artist who's been traveling around Europe showcasing his work. He's originally from Denmark and intends to make that his last stop, but he's heading to Seville tomorrow since his show here has just finished.
You tell him that you're a drama student at Guildhall with plans to become a great actor some day. You explain why you feel the need to act – the total freedom in losing yourself in a role.
He knows what you mean and you admit that sometimes it's easier to be someone other than yourself.
He tells you about his love for his son and the immense joy he has in fatherhood, and you share anecdotes about growing up with only an older sis and your mum for company, who are your biggest heroes in the world, by the way.
He opens up to you about his failed marriage and the guilt he still carries because of it. You open up about the loneliness you feel even when you're not alone and the soul-deep yearning you have for true love.
You both don't realize that so much time has passed by and all the other patrons have left. The coffeeshop is closing so you both gather your things and leave. You stop in the sidewalk in front of the shop and so does he.
You don't know what to say to him next. This day has been completely unforgettable and completely surreal. If this were any other day and he were any other person, you would be back at your flat, sipping hot cocoa and watching reruns on the telly.
You open your mouth but he gently places an index finger on your lips to shush you. He then gives you a sheaf of paper from a sketchpad.
He says it's in memory of today.
He then steps forward and kisses you.
You let him because nothing has ever felt this right.
When he pulls away, your own fingertips trace where his lips have been.
He gives you one last smile before walking away.
When you finally gather your wits to look at the piece of paper in your hand, you see that it is a sketch of you.
Your back is against the window so the light is like a halo around your head as your chin is propped up in the palm of your hand. On your face is this expression of happy content with a smile on your lips and a half-hidden emotion in your eyes.
It's more than good.
He's captured the moment perfectly and you never even realized that he was drawing you.
Your hands trace the date and initials on the bottom right corner and you belatedly realize that he's never even given you his name.
You turn the sketch around and on the back page is one word.
You smile to yourself as you realize that it truly is.
***
Years later, you're in your trailer with the girls putting on your make-up.
The sketch of you from that coffeshop day is in a frame and it takes its place of honor in the center of your dressing table. Everyone has asked about it – from Sir Ian to Lij – but you just smile and shrug your shoulders in reply.
You have your CD player on, listening to the very same song that started it all, when Peter comes in with someone half-hidden behind him.
You can't see who it is clearly, but that very same feeling you got in the records store on that rainy September day years ago is back.
You take off the earphones and place the CD on the seat you've just abandoned.
You ignore Peter's explanations of how he's found the perfect man to replace Stuart and be the King of Gondor, focusing instead on the mussed-up blond hair you know is under that wig, the blue-grey eyes and the cleft in his chin – a face that has been haunting your dreams when you sleep and plaguing the fringes of your thoughts when you're awake.
You walk towards him slowly and he does the same. The smile on his lips and the twinkle in his eyes are just the same as you remember them.
Everyone has stopped existing – Peter, Fran, the Hobbits, Sean. It's just you and this stranger who hasn't been one in the years you've been dreaming, thinking and wondering about him.
You ignore everyone else's shocked gasps when your arms go around his neck and his go around your waist.
You tell him that he's never told you his name and you kiss him before he answers, because even if he's never said it out loud, you know that your heart already knows it.
You tune out the questions and comments of the people around you after you've stopped kissing.
As he whispers his name into your ear, you think: kismet indeed.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-04-26 04:02 pm (UTC)I loved it!
no subject
Date: 2005-04-26 04:04 pm (UTC)I got goosebumps from the time it came to NZ...sigh
no subject
Date: 2005-04-26 04:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-26 04:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-26 04:50 pm (UTC)I know what you mean. I can hear it in my head and I end up thinking about the two of them.
...Alright, just read over what I wrote. I sounded like a total basketcase! *laughs again*
Anyway, thanks so much for reading and commenting. :)
no subject
Date: 2005-04-26 06:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-26 06:52 pm (UTC)There are no words. No words at all. I just read a fic that broke me and then I read this and bang Oh my.
What a coherent post, hope you get my meaning :)
Simply beautiful.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-26 07:54 pm (UTC)Kytti
no subject
Date: 2005-04-26 11:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-27 02:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-27 02:22 pm (UTC)Simply put, thanks.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-27 02:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-27 02:24 pm (UTC)Thanks, hun!
no subject
Date: 2005-04-29 03:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-29 04:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-08 05:27 am (UTC)I have the biggest, soppiest grin on my face now. Thank you! :)
no subject
Date: 2005-05-08 12:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-17 05:03 pm (UTC)Kismet it's a word that's haunted me for a long time.
now you use it in a viggorli fic...
*hugz*
(see, i told you i was going to stalk you!)
-e
no subject
Date: 2005-08-18 04:17 pm (UTC)I can you're stalking me! *laughs* Stalk away! Don't let me stop you. :P
no subject
Date: 2007-06-05 08:49 pm (UTC)