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akashaelfwitch: A Summer Place, chapter 6, Vig
Sep. 21st, 2006 05:02 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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vigorliTitle: A Summer Place
Author: Ariel Tachna
Type: RPS
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Just sex
Disclaimer: I don’t know the actors. I just make up stories when I get bored. Any real places or historical figures are represented to the best of my knowledge and with nothing but the most profound respect.
Feedback: Please.
Beta: the irreplaceable namárië120
Summary: In protecting a local blacksmith from a murderer, overseer Viggo Mortensen meets the love of his life. Does he dare to claim that love for his own?
Banner bymesnica
Chapter 6
Orlando chafed under the attention from every quarter. He really was a private man by nature, despite his public falling out with Jude. Being the center of attention, as he had been far too often since that day, was repugnant to him. He wanted only to be left alone to work and love as he pleased. He wondered, honestly, if that would ever happen now on the island. Given enough time, he could probably work again in peace, but he feared his every action would be viewed through the lens of his homosexuality, so that even something as innocent as his friendship with the sheriff or Sean Astin would be viewed askance. This was his home and had been for nearly twenty years. He did not want to leave it, but he questioned if he would be able to stay and still live his life.
When Sean was finally done investigating – fussing, Orlando thought privately – he broke up the crowd, leaving the five men standing beside the wagon once again. He had learned nothing concrete from his attempts at investigation. More men than not carried a gun at their waists and Sean could hardly go around seeing if any of them were hot from a recent shot. Even if they were, it did not necessarily mean anything, and if the killer was as smart as Sean feared, he would not be carrying his weapon now. What bothered him most, though, was the surety that the killer had joined the gathering around them after firing the shot, hidden amidst the crowd of well-wishers and curious onlookers.
“Life sure is interesting with you around,” Karl commented blandly when all but the sheriff had returned to whatever business occupied them before the shooting.
“I warned you someone was trying to kill him,” Sean interjected from his place by the wagon. “You should really get back to the job site where there aren’t so many people around.”
“We’ll head that way just as soon as we go by Bloom’s forge to get his tools,” Viggo replied coolly. He understood the sheriff’s concern, but he did not appreciate the meddling in his affairs.
“I can’t work with inferior tools,” Orlando agreed in support of the overseer’s statement. He knew how Sean could be and did not want Mr. Mortensen to change his mind. “And no, you don’t need to come with us. We’ll be on our guard.”
“Fine,” Sean snapped. “Watch yourself, though. I didn’t go to all that trouble just to see you get yourself killed.”
Orlando’s attitude softened at Sean’s obvious concern. The sheriff had been an older brother to the young orphan and that relationship still held sway at odd moments like this. “I’ll be careful,” he promised. “I’m not ready to die.”
Sean nodded and waved them on, stepping back as the wagon rolled forward and whispering a quick prayer for his friend’s safety.
Eric drove the wagon slowly out of town in the opposite direction from when they came in, following the curve of the harbor toward Eden. They were nearing the outskirts of town when another group of men hailed them. “Hey, Bloom!” one of them called.
“Keep driving,” Orlando told Eric. “I don’t have anything to say to them.”
Eric was surprised at Orlando’s comment, but he clucked to the mules to urge them forward.
“Bloom!” the man called again, louder this time.
“What’s going on, Mr. Bloom?” Viggo asked.
“They’re the town bullies,” Orlando explained. “They’ve never liked me and they never will. They’ve limited it to words since I got old enough and strong enough to beat the shit out of them if they tried anything physical. It doesn’t stop them from being inconsiderate pigs, though.”
Viggo knew the type. He had dealt with such bullies more than once on his crew. His solution was to fire them, but that would not help Orlando deal with the townspeople.
“One not enough for you anymore?” one of the four men sneered.
“Shut the fuck up, Craig,” Orlando retorted. “At least I can get a lover when I want one.”
“Sodomite!” Craig shot back. “Unnatural freak.” He started closer to the wagon, as if to reach for the mules’ heads.
Karl’s gun was in his hand and pointed. “Take a step closer and it’ll be your last,” he warned, as incensed by the ignorant words as Orlando was, though they were not directed at him.
“Stay out of this, outlander,” another of the men replied, beginning to circle the wagon.
“There are five of us and only four of you,” Viggo pointed out, not wanting this to degenerate. “Those odds aren’t in your favor.”
“Leave off, Brad,” Orlando added. “You know I’m not going to lose my temper from your barbs. I’m not fifteen anymore.”
“No, you’re not,” the third man, Mark Ferguson, agreed. “At fifteen, you were just a wimp. Now you’re a sick pervert.”
“That’s enough,” Karl declared, aiming his gun between the man’s feet. He fired, the bullet raising dust at the tip of the man’s boots. “Next time, I won’t miss.”
The four men backed off, knowing the shot would bring the sheriff, this close to town and so soon on the heels of the attempt on Orlando’s life. They continued to heap insults on Orlando’s head as they left.
“Let’s go,” Orlando repeated. “Sean knows where we’re going if he decides to investigate the shot.”
Eric glanced at Viggo who nodded his approval. The entire confrontation left a bitter taste in his mouth, an all too vivid reminder of why he continued to hide what he was.
“Stupid shits,” Orlando muttered under his breath. “They wouldn’t know an original insult if it bit them on the ass.”
“Could one of them be the killer?” Johnny asked. “Sean seemed to suggest the killer was targeting you because of your lover.”
“Craig, Brad and Mark?” Orlando scoffed. “They wouldn’t dare try anything with me. Jude, maybe. He wasn’t the strongest of men, but they haven’t gotten any closer to me than they were today, even in a group, since we were fifteen. They tried it then and I beat all of them. They still saw me as a skinny kid. They didn’t know how hard I worked in the forge.”
“What about the fourth one, the one who didn’t say anything?” Johnny wanted to know.
“Marton,” Orlando replied. “He’s the ringleader in a lot of respects, but I don’t think he has it in him to kill someone. I’ll tell Sean about them the next time I see him. He can do what he wants with the information.”
The wagon passed the end of the town’s buildings when two more men called Orlando’s name. The difference in the blacksmith’s reaction was marked. The smile that wreathed his face was as open as any the other men had seen on the younger man’s face in the time they had known him. “Elijah! Billy!” Orlando replied lightly. “How are you?” He turned to Eric. “Stop a moment, please.”
The two men assured their friend they were well. “But what about you?”
“I’m doing all right,” Orlando promised. “I’ve got a job for the summer, though, so I don’t know that I’ll make it to play poker on Thursdays for a while. I might be busy at the forge.”
“We can come to your place to play if you want,” Elijah offered. “We’ll really miss you if you don’t join us.”
“I’m not staying at home,” Orlando told them quietly. “I’ve moved to the job site for the summer.”
The two men’s surprise was clear on their faces. “But why? After you worked so hard on your house, I was sure you’d never leave it. Lots of guys ride in to work there.”
“It was Sean’s idea,” Orlando explained.
“Astin? Why would he want you to leave your house?”
“No, the sheriff,” Orlando contradicted.
Now the two friends were even more confused. “Why would the sheriff want you out of your house?”
“He thinks whoever killed Jude will come after me next.”
Horrified, Elijah and Billy stared at their friend. “But… but… why would anyone want to hurt you?”
Viggo listened to the exchange uncomfortably. They had avoided saying in town that Orlando was actually living on the job site, though he knew some people would assume it. Orlando obviously felt comfortable with these two, but he was not sure it was safe to trust anyone on the island, at least not until the sheriff had said they were not suspects.
“He thinks Jude was killed, well, because of me, because of him and me,” Orlando replied awkwardly. “I don’t know if it’s true or not, but it’s not a chance I can afford to take.”
Elijah’s and Billy’s faces fell. “Then I guess we won’t be seeing you for a while.”
“Maybe,” Orlando began, turning to Viggo, “Mr. Mortensen, would it be all right if we had our weekly poker games on the site? It’s just the three of us and two others, assuming Sean’s wife will let him come now. After the scene in town, she might not, and then it would just be four.”
Put on the spot, Viggo did not know how to respond. His first inclination was to refuse because of the security issue, but he knew how important morale was and having Bloom sullen and resentful would do nothing for the atmosphere on the job site. “Let me speak to the sheriff,” he temporized. “If he thinks it’s safe, I’ll give my approval.”
Orlando frowned. These were his best friends. They would never do anything to hurt him! He reminded himself that Viggo was not from the island and did not know them. Sean would surely vouch for Elijah, Billy, and Dom, and then it would be settled. “Fair enough,” he agreed. Turning back to his friends, he added, “We’ve got to get stuff from my house that I didn’t think to take with me yesterday. I’ll send word to let you know about poker.”
The two men nodded and stepped back, saying good-bye to Orlando and the others.
“Poker?” Eric asked. “Now that sounds interesting. Would you be willing to have another player?”
“I don’t see why not,” Orlando replied as they started off again. “It’s just a friendly game anyway, an excuse for childhood friends to relax for an evening away from our other responsibilities. I think I won a quarter once. That tells you what the stakes are like.”
Eric chuckled. “Sounds like exactly what I can afford.”
“I might join you, too,” Johnny chimed in. “For the companionship, if nothing else.”
“Johnny’s good company if you don’t let him drink,” Eric joked.
Viggo opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Karl jumped in. “Now, boys, you know we don’t drink at camp. That’s only allowed in town. And don’t come back until you’re sober.”
“You know why that’s the rule,” Viggo insisted. “There’s too much dangerous or expensive material on the site to have people at less than their best.”
“I didn’t say I disagreed,” Karl protested. “We’ve helped you enforce that rule for as long as we’ve been crew bosses for you. I just wanted to make sure Bloom knew.”
Orlando shook his head at the interplay. The interdiction on alcohol was not a problem. He and his friends rarely drank as they played. They did not need alcohol to liven up the mood. All it took was Dom’s and Billy’s antics. Five minutes after they arrived, everyone was in stitches. “Thanks for telling me,” he laughed. “I’ll be sure to tell my friends. Turn left here,” he directed, seeing they had reached the lane to his house.
As they drew near the house, Orlando caught a whiff of smoke. He knew he had not left a fire burning in either the house or the forge. Hackles rising, he tensed, praying wordlessly that he had a home to return to. They wagon pulled into the yard and Orlando let out a pained shout. The house was standing, but two of the walls were singed. He jumped down even before the wagon rolled to a halt, running toward the building.
“Shit!” Viggo cursed under his breath, vaulting out of the wagon and taking off after the blacksmith. He understood the impulse, but they had no idea if whoever did this was still around.
Orlando reached the door, relieved to see it mostly intact. The wooden planks would have to be replaced since they had been hacked at with an ax, but the iron plates and the metal bar that locked the door had held. The glass in the windows was knocked out, though. With trembling fingers, Orlando fitted the key to the lock, afraid of what he would find inside.
“Wait, damn it,” Viggo ordered, grabbing Orlando’s hand before he could open the door. “You have no idea who might be inside.”
“This is my home,” Orlando protested. “I built it myself. I have to see what damage was done.”
“Let me go first,” Viggo suggested.
“If the killer did this and he’s still inside, he’ll be trapped and he won’t care who comes in first. He’ll hurt whoever’s in his way.”
“Fine, but I’m going in with you.”
Orlando relented with poor grace. “Fine.” He opened the door and stepped over the threshold. To his relief, there was no indication the vandal had gotten inside.
“Is there anything from here you want to take with you?” Viggo asked. “In case they come back.”
Orlando nodded and went to his bedroom, getting the necklace that had been his mother’s. He had nothing else left from his life before he arrived on the island. He had enough problems smuggling himself aboard the ship. He could not afford to smuggle anything else. Slipping that into his pocket, he picked up the volume of poetry he kept by his bed, another indirect legacy from his mother. The volume itself had not come from her, but the love of the art had. Coming back out of the room, he mustered a smile. “Everything else I need is in the forge.”
“Lead the way,” Viggo replied.
Orlando left the house, securing the lock when they were both outside. It had kept the vandal out once. It would serve again if the bastard came back. He could do nothing about the broken windows, but they were small. Only a child would be able to squeeze through them. He walked toward the forge, letting out a shout of dismay when he saw the state of his workplace. His tools were scattered all over the ground, the handle of his best hammer shattered. The anvil was overturned, its base showing the same signs as the door. The bellows had been slashed and would have to be replaced completely. Only the brick forge itself seemed to have escaped damage. Orlando grabbed his tools, checking the metal. While all the wood was broken, the metal itself was intact. “Stupid fucker,” he swore under his breath.
Viggo surveyed the destruction with a dispassionate air. He could only imagine what the blacksmith was feeling, seeing his space thus invaded. He tamped down the instinctive inclination to comfort the other man, unsure how his actions would be interpreted. He could still feel the echo of the other man’s body against his from the night before and he feared that renewed contact between them, even of so innocent a nature, would cause his body to react in tell-tale fashion. While the result of such an action might be pleasant in the short term, he had to consider the rest of the summer and his career as well, and he doubted the blacksmith was looking for a new relationship so soon after the end of the last one. “What do you need from here?” he asked instead of offering the words of comfort that rose to his lips.
Orlando handed the overseer the hammer in his hand. “I’ll have to replace the handle.” He grabbed the rest of what he needed and they rejoined the others there by the wagon.
Orlando could read sympathy on the faces of the other three men, an emotion he did not know how to accept from these relative strangers. “If you want some help fixing things up around here, w could come out here a few Sundays and do some repairs,” Karl offered. “It’ll take less time with four sets of hands than with just one.”
“Five sets,” Viggo corrected. He had not been able to take the first step on his own, but he likewise could not let this moment pass without saying something.
“Thanks,” Orlando said, his voice tight with emotion. These men who hardly knew him had accepted him in a way only his closest friends did, and not even all of them now that the truth was out about him.
Viggo looked around the forest-encircled farmyard. “Let’s get back to camp. I’ll feel better when we’re back on my territory.”
The others agreed, loading Orlando’s tools into the wagon along with the supplies from town. When they were all settled again, on the buckboard or the seat, Eric slapped the reins on the mules’ backs and headed back to the road.
As they drove back to camp, Viggo’s eyes continually scanned the roadside, alert for any threat. He told himself it was self-preservation and concern for his employees, but his reaction to the shot in town belied those thoughts. He had seen crew members injured before, even had one die on site when he was still a crew boss for a different architect, one who did not hesitate to cut corners. The fear he felt in town earlier had overshadowed even the grief he had known at the loss of his employee so many years ago. He could not pinpoint the moment when the blacksmith had gone from being another employee to someone special, but it had happened, time not withstanding. Now he had to figure out how to live with that while still doing his job and maintaining his professionalism.
Author: Ariel Tachna
Type: RPS
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Just sex
Disclaimer: I don’t know the actors. I just make up stories when I get bored. Any real places or historical figures are represented to the best of my knowledge and with nothing but the most profound respect.
Feedback: Please.
Beta: the irreplaceable namárië120
Summary: In protecting a local blacksmith from a murderer, overseer Viggo Mortensen meets the love of his life. Does he dare to claim that love for his own?
Banner by
mesnicaChapter 6
Orlando chafed under the attention from every quarter. He really was a private man by nature, despite his public falling out with Jude. Being the center of attention, as he had been far too often since that day, was repugnant to him. He wanted only to be left alone to work and love as he pleased. He wondered, honestly, if that would ever happen now on the island. Given enough time, he could probably work again in peace, but he feared his every action would be viewed through the lens of his homosexuality, so that even something as innocent as his friendship with the sheriff or Sean Astin would be viewed askance. This was his home and had been for nearly twenty years. He did not want to leave it, but he questioned if he would be able to stay and still live his life.
When Sean was finally done investigating – fussing, Orlando thought privately – he broke up the crowd, leaving the five men standing beside the wagon once again. He had learned nothing concrete from his attempts at investigation. More men than not carried a gun at their waists and Sean could hardly go around seeing if any of them were hot from a recent shot. Even if they were, it did not necessarily mean anything, and if the killer was as smart as Sean feared, he would not be carrying his weapon now. What bothered him most, though, was the surety that the killer had joined the gathering around them after firing the shot, hidden amidst the crowd of well-wishers and curious onlookers.
“Life sure is interesting with you around,” Karl commented blandly when all but the sheriff had returned to whatever business occupied them before the shooting.
“I warned you someone was trying to kill him,” Sean interjected from his place by the wagon. “You should really get back to the job site where there aren’t so many people around.”
“We’ll head that way just as soon as we go by Bloom’s forge to get his tools,” Viggo replied coolly. He understood the sheriff’s concern, but he did not appreciate the meddling in his affairs.
“I can’t work with inferior tools,” Orlando agreed in support of the overseer’s statement. He knew how Sean could be and did not want Mr. Mortensen to change his mind. “And no, you don’t need to come with us. We’ll be on our guard.”
“Fine,” Sean snapped. “Watch yourself, though. I didn’t go to all that trouble just to see you get yourself killed.”
Orlando’s attitude softened at Sean’s obvious concern. The sheriff had been an older brother to the young orphan and that relationship still held sway at odd moments like this. “I’ll be careful,” he promised. “I’m not ready to die.”
Sean nodded and waved them on, stepping back as the wagon rolled forward and whispering a quick prayer for his friend’s safety.
Eric drove the wagon slowly out of town in the opposite direction from when they came in, following the curve of the harbor toward Eden. They were nearing the outskirts of town when another group of men hailed them. “Hey, Bloom!” one of them called.
“Keep driving,” Orlando told Eric. “I don’t have anything to say to them.”
Eric was surprised at Orlando’s comment, but he clucked to the mules to urge them forward.
“Bloom!” the man called again, louder this time.
“What’s going on, Mr. Bloom?” Viggo asked.
“They’re the town bullies,” Orlando explained. “They’ve never liked me and they never will. They’ve limited it to words since I got old enough and strong enough to beat the shit out of them if they tried anything physical. It doesn’t stop them from being inconsiderate pigs, though.”
Viggo knew the type. He had dealt with such bullies more than once on his crew. His solution was to fire them, but that would not help Orlando deal with the townspeople.
“One not enough for you anymore?” one of the four men sneered.
“Shut the fuck up, Craig,” Orlando retorted. “At least I can get a lover when I want one.”
“Sodomite!” Craig shot back. “Unnatural freak.” He started closer to the wagon, as if to reach for the mules’ heads.
Karl’s gun was in his hand and pointed. “Take a step closer and it’ll be your last,” he warned, as incensed by the ignorant words as Orlando was, though they were not directed at him.
“Stay out of this, outlander,” another of the men replied, beginning to circle the wagon.
“There are five of us and only four of you,” Viggo pointed out, not wanting this to degenerate. “Those odds aren’t in your favor.”
“Leave off, Brad,” Orlando added. “You know I’m not going to lose my temper from your barbs. I’m not fifteen anymore.”
“No, you’re not,” the third man, Mark Ferguson, agreed. “At fifteen, you were just a wimp. Now you’re a sick pervert.”
“That’s enough,” Karl declared, aiming his gun between the man’s feet. He fired, the bullet raising dust at the tip of the man’s boots. “Next time, I won’t miss.”
The four men backed off, knowing the shot would bring the sheriff, this close to town and so soon on the heels of the attempt on Orlando’s life. They continued to heap insults on Orlando’s head as they left.
“Let’s go,” Orlando repeated. “Sean knows where we’re going if he decides to investigate the shot.”
Eric glanced at Viggo who nodded his approval. The entire confrontation left a bitter taste in his mouth, an all too vivid reminder of why he continued to hide what he was.
“Stupid shits,” Orlando muttered under his breath. “They wouldn’t know an original insult if it bit them on the ass.”
“Could one of them be the killer?” Johnny asked. “Sean seemed to suggest the killer was targeting you because of your lover.”
“Craig, Brad and Mark?” Orlando scoffed. “They wouldn’t dare try anything with me. Jude, maybe. He wasn’t the strongest of men, but they haven’t gotten any closer to me than they were today, even in a group, since we were fifteen. They tried it then and I beat all of them. They still saw me as a skinny kid. They didn’t know how hard I worked in the forge.”
“What about the fourth one, the one who didn’t say anything?” Johnny wanted to know.
“Marton,” Orlando replied. “He’s the ringleader in a lot of respects, but I don’t think he has it in him to kill someone. I’ll tell Sean about them the next time I see him. He can do what he wants with the information.”
The wagon passed the end of the town’s buildings when two more men called Orlando’s name. The difference in the blacksmith’s reaction was marked. The smile that wreathed his face was as open as any the other men had seen on the younger man’s face in the time they had known him. “Elijah! Billy!” Orlando replied lightly. “How are you?” He turned to Eric. “Stop a moment, please.”
The two men assured their friend they were well. “But what about you?”
“I’m doing all right,” Orlando promised. “I’ve got a job for the summer, though, so I don’t know that I’ll make it to play poker on Thursdays for a while. I might be busy at the forge.”
“We can come to your place to play if you want,” Elijah offered. “We’ll really miss you if you don’t join us.”
“I’m not staying at home,” Orlando told them quietly. “I’ve moved to the job site for the summer.”
The two men’s surprise was clear on their faces. “But why? After you worked so hard on your house, I was sure you’d never leave it. Lots of guys ride in to work there.”
“It was Sean’s idea,” Orlando explained.
“Astin? Why would he want you to leave your house?”
“No, the sheriff,” Orlando contradicted.
Now the two friends were even more confused. “Why would the sheriff want you out of your house?”
“He thinks whoever killed Jude will come after me next.”
Horrified, Elijah and Billy stared at their friend. “But… but… why would anyone want to hurt you?”
Viggo listened to the exchange uncomfortably. They had avoided saying in town that Orlando was actually living on the job site, though he knew some people would assume it. Orlando obviously felt comfortable with these two, but he was not sure it was safe to trust anyone on the island, at least not until the sheriff had said they were not suspects.
“He thinks Jude was killed, well, because of me, because of him and me,” Orlando replied awkwardly. “I don’t know if it’s true or not, but it’s not a chance I can afford to take.”
Elijah’s and Billy’s faces fell. “Then I guess we won’t be seeing you for a while.”
“Maybe,” Orlando began, turning to Viggo, “Mr. Mortensen, would it be all right if we had our weekly poker games on the site? It’s just the three of us and two others, assuming Sean’s wife will let him come now. After the scene in town, she might not, and then it would just be four.”
Put on the spot, Viggo did not know how to respond. His first inclination was to refuse because of the security issue, but he knew how important morale was and having Bloom sullen and resentful would do nothing for the atmosphere on the job site. “Let me speak to the sheriff,” he temporized. “If he thinks it’s safe, I’ll give my approval.”
Orlando frowned. These were his best friends. They would never do anything to hurt him! He reminded himself that Viggo was not from the island and did not know them. Sean would surely vouch for Elijah, Billy, and Dom, and then it would be settled. “Fair enough,” he agreed. Turning back to his friends, he added, “We’ve got to get stuff from my house that I didn’t think to take with me yesterday. I’ll send word to let you know about poker.”
The two men nodded and stepped back, saying good-bye to Orlando and the others.
“Poker?” Eric asked. “Now that sounds interesting. Would you be willing to have another player?”
“I don’t see why not,” Orlando replied as they started off again. “It’s just a friendly game anyway, an excuse for childhood friends to relax for an evening away from our other responsibilities. I think I won a quarter once. That tells you what the stakes are like.”
Eric chuckled. “Sounds like exactly what I can afford.”
“I might join you, too,” Johnny chimed in. “For the companionship, if nothing else.”
“Johnny’s good company if you don’t let him drink,” Eric joked.
Viggo opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Karl jumped in. “Now, boys, you know we don’t drink at camp. That’s only allowed in town. And don’t come back until you’re sober.”
“You know why that’s the rule,” Viggo insisted. “There’s too much dangerous or expensive material on the site to have people at less than their best.”
“I didn’t say I disagreed,” Karl protested. “We’ve helped you enforce that rule for as long as we’ve been crew bosses for you. I just wanted to make sure Bloom knew.”
Orlando shook his head at the interplay. The interdiction on alcohol was not a problem. He and his friends rarely drank as they played. They did not need alcohol to liven up the mood. All it took was Dom’s and Billy’s antics. Five minutes after they arrived, everyone was in stitches. “Thanks for telling me,” he laughed. “I’ll be sure to tell my friends. Turn left here,” he directed, seeing they had reached the lane to his house.
As they drew near the house, Orlando caught a whiff of smoke. He knew he had not left a fire burning in either the house or the forge. Hackles rising, he tensed, praying wordlessly that he had a home to return to. They wagon pulled into the yard and Orlando let out a pained shout. The house was standing, but two of the walls were singed. He jumped down even before the wagon rolled to a halt, running toward the building.
“Shit!” Viggo cursed under his breath, vaulting out of the wagon and taking off after the blacksmith. He understood the impulse, but they had no idea if whoever did this was still around.
Orlando reached the door, relieved to see it mostly intact. The wooden planks would have to be replaced since they had been hacked at with an ax, but the iron plates and the metal bar that locked the door had held. The glass in the windows was knocked out, though. With trembling fingers, Orlando fitted the key to the lock, afraid of what he would find inside.
“Wait, damn it,” Viggo ordered, grabbing Orlando’s hand before he could open the door. “You have no idea who might be inside.”
“This is my home,” Orlando protested. “I built it myself. I have to see what damage was done.”
“Let me go first,” Viggo suggested.
“If the killer did this and he’s still inside, he’ll be trapped and he won’t care who comes in first. He’ll hurt whoever’s in his way.”
“Fine, but I’m going in with you.”
Orlando relented with poor grace. “Fine.” He opened the door and stepped over the threshold. To his relief, there was no indication the vandal had gotten inside.
“Is there anything from here you want to take with you?” Viggo asked. “In case they come back.”
Orlando nodded and went to his bedroom, getting the necklace that had been his mother’s. He had nothing else left from his life before he arrived on the island. He had enough problems smuggling himself aboard the ship. He could not afford to smuggle anything else. Slipping that into his pocket, he picked up the volume of poetry he kept by his bed, another indirect legacy from his mother. The volume itself had not come from her, but the love of the art had. Coming back out of the room, he mustered a smile. “Everything else I need is in the forge.”
“Lead the way,” Viggo replied.
Orlando left the house, securing the lock when they were both outside. It had kept the vandal out once. It would serve again if the bastard came back. He could do nothing about the broken windows, but they were small. Only a child would be able to squeeze through them. He walked toward the forge, letting out a shout of dismay when he saw the state of his workplace. His tools were scattered all over the ground, the handle of his best hammer shattered. The anvil was overturned, its base showing the same signs as the door. The bellows had been slashed and would have to be replaced completely. Only the brick forge itself seemed to have escaped damage. Orlando grabbed his tools, checking the metal. While all the wood was broken, the metal itself was intact. “Stupid fucker,” he swore under his breath.
Viggo surveyed the destruction with a dispassionate air. He could only imagine what the blacksmith was feeling, seeing his space thus invaded. He tamped down the instinctive inclination to comfort the other man, unsure how his actions would be interpreted. He could still feel the echo of the other man’s body against his from the night before and he feared that renewed contact between them, even of so innocent a nature, would cause his body to react in tell-tale fashion. While the result of such an action might be pleasant in the short term, he had to consider the rest of the summer and his career as well, and he doubted the blacksmith was looking for a new relationship so soon after the end of the last one. “What do you need from here?” he asked instead of offering the words of comfort that rose to his lips.
Orlando handed the overseer the hammer in his hand. “I’ll have to replace the handle.” He grabbed the rest of what he needed and they rejoined the others there by the wagon.
Orlando could read sympathy on the faces of the other three men, an emotion he did not know how to accept from these relative strangers. “If you want some help fixing things up around here, w could come out here a few Sundays and do some repairs,” Karl offered. “It’ll take less time with four sets of hands than with just one.”
“Five sets,” Viggo corrected. He had not been able to take the first step on his own, but he likewise could not let this moment pass without saying something.
“Thanks,” Orlando said, his voice tight with emotion. These men who hardly knew him had accepted him in a way only his closest friends did, and not even all of them now that the truth was out about him.
Viggo looked around the forest-encircled farmyard. “Let’s get back to camp. I’ll feel better when we’re back on my territory.”
The others agreed, loading Orlando’s tools into the wagon along with the supplies from town. When they were all settled again, on the buckboard or the seat, Eric slapped the reins on the mules’ backs and headed back to the road.
As they drove back to camp, Viggo’s eyes continually scanned the roadside, alert for any threat. He told himself it was self-preservation and concern for his employees, but his reaction to the shot in town belied those thoughts. He had seen crew members injured before, even had one die on site when he was still a crew boss for a different architect, one who did not hesitate to cut corners. The fear he felt in town earlier had overshadowed even the grief he had known at the loss of his employee so many years ago. He could not pinpoint the moment when the blacksmith had gone from being another employee to someone special, but it had happened, time not withstanding. Now he had to figure out how to live with that while still doing his job and maintaining his professionalism.
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Date: 2006-09-21 11:16 pm (UTC)Anyway, A Summer Place was really missed last Friday.
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Date: 2006-09-22 10:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-22 08:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-22 10:37 pm (UTC)