Breathing Room (2/?)
Jan. 12th, 2005 09:57 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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vigorliTitle: Breathing Room (2/?)
Author: Rainweaver13
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando
Summary: Looking back for a while
Rating/Warnings: G for now/none yet. Somewhat AU in that I may run roughshod over established timelines, but since I'm making it all up anyway it shouldn't matter.
Disclaimer: Don't own them; wouldn't want to - they are their own. Wouldn't mind talking with Viggo, though. If I made any money from this, I could buy bigger canvases.
A/N: Feedback makes the newbie happy.
-----------------------------
October 1999 and onward
New Zealand was its own world, a place apart that became, in some ways, almost as magical as the Middle Earth they worked together to create. It was a world peopled with beauty and exoticism, and a shared devotion to artistic creation that made the atmosphere as heady as the finest New Zealand wines.
Viggo showed up late to the cast, nervous - close to terrified - and within a few short weeks felt the electric blanket of creativity close around him, feeding arc-lights of inspiration to his muses. Aragorn bloomed to life with a solid heft that was almost alarming if he let himself think about it. He couldn't get enough of taking photos, jotting notes in journals, on napkins, all over call sheets, around the margins of scripts, even painting sometimes late at night or on days off after an exhilarating or exhausting morning of riding.
He was in heaven.
-----
Working with the other actors was much less frustrating than it had been on other shoots. The makeup trailer he shared with Sean Bean and Orlando Bloom, eventually dubbed the Cuntebago, became a sort of central meeting place, the site of long conversations over glasses of the wine they kept stored there. Some, like Bean and Bernard, became good friends. He spent a lot of time with the Hobbits for the amusement factor, and even more with the cast's more-or-less complete newcomer, Orlando.
Viggo knew, within a few days of meeting Orlando, that he would be dealing with a case of hero worship. The boy was breath-taking. It wasn't so much that he was handsome, although he could easily have posed for a Renaissance angel. But the movie business was full of beautiful people; after a while you didn't really pay much attention to that. What was astounding about Orlando was his exuberance, his open joy in life, the way he flung himself and his emotions around like so much Mardi Gras confetti in the ongoing parade of his existence.
There was the hugging. And the kissing.
Viggo was not a Hollywood hugger or kisser. A handshake worked just fine in most cases. But Orlando was all over him within moments of their meeting, and Viggo was honestly at a loss as to what to do with it. Within a couple of weeks, Viggo knew he was much too attracted to the boy. Boy being the operational term: The kid was closer to Henry's age than his, and Viggo knew hero worship when he saw it. As he learned more about Orlando he wondered, too, if there wasn't more than a little need for a father figure at work in the way the kid tried to get him involved in everything, wanted to be involved in all Viggo's activities.
He was in hell.
-----
"You don't live in the same world the rest of us do, do you, Viggo?" Orlando asked one day as they ate craft services sandwiches on a rock overlooking a view you could charge money for in any other part of the world.
"Hmmm?" He wasn't really listening to the kid, he had to admit. The boy had a tendency to babble and sometimes Viggo just fell into the sound of his voice rather than the actual words.
"It's like you live in a separate world that's sort of like this one, but only touches it now and then. And the rest of the time you're off in your own world." Orlando grinned, picking a stray piece of lettuce off Legolas' tunic and tossing it onto the grass.
"Is that what you think?" Viggo chuckled, polishing off his sandwich and reaching for a water bottle.
"Yeah, it's Viggo World. So you're living in Viggo World inside Middle Earth inside New Zealand inside the real world. No wonder you're such a nutter." And he impulsively leaned over to wrap Viggo in a warm hug, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth that suddenly slid to become lips to lips.
Viggo closed his eyes, took a deep breath and kept his mouth still, even though every fiber of his being wanted to give this exuberant pup the kiss of a lifetime and the hell with where it led. After a moment, Orlando leaned away, an awkward blush coloring his face.
"This isn't going to happen, Orlando," Viggo said as gently as he could, grateful for once for the snug layers of Aragorn's clothing.
"I didn't- I mean- I- I-" Orlando stuttered miserably.
"Listen..." Viggo touched one of his long-fingered hands, a tender stroke. "I just don't do on-set relationships, okay? Did it once. Ended up married and a father." He aimed a wry smile at the grass, never regretting Henry, but sometimes wondering how he and Exene would have been without the ten years they spent negotiating an endless series of truces. He looked back up at Orlando. "I fully expect to fall at least a little bit in love with Liv, and Miranda, and you. That's Aragorn." He studied the boy's chocolate eyes. "But I won't act on it. Because this isn't real." He twirled a finger in the air to take in all of the surroundings. "None of this is real. It will end, and you'll become somebody else, and so will I. So I don't do this, understand?"
"No," Orlando said honestly, sounding miserable.
"I guess you'll just have to trust me, then," Viggo said, standing and scooping up his sword. "Or ignore me."
Orlando stood slowly, brushing Legolas' clothing into place. He pressed a hand to Viggo's chest, ran it up to his shoulder and around to the back of his neck, then leaned forward to press another kiss to Viggo's lips. It grew more forceful, as the boy tried to heat the kiss and Viggo cursed his own body, which had been alone too damn long.
"I want you so bad it hurts," Orlando whispered roughly, his breath hot against Viggo's ear.
"I want you, too," Viggo said between clenched teeth. "But we're actors. I'd say it's time we give ourselves a hand."
And with that he managed to pull himself away from the tempting elf and stalk off into the forest for a little single-handed relief.
New Zealand became a mecca and a misery.
---
Viggo is a shy man. He has a hard time meeting new people; they leave him awkward and hesitant. Many people don't believe that, seeing him perform in movies, read and sing to large groups, even occasionally speak to crowds. How could a shy person do those things, they wonder. He must be lying.
But it's no lie. A surprisingly large number of performers - of all sorts - are legitimately shy people. For any number of reasons, they've learned through the years to cope with their shyness by playing a role. Putting on a mask. Being whoever they need to be to satisfy any occasion. Some are so good at it that it's hard to ever get a look at their real faces, but Viggo is unusual in that he's kept his real face. It's the one people see when he becomes lost in thought and sits staring into apparent nothingness for long minutes. It's the one people see when he sits on the sidelines and studies his fellow humans with the rapt attention of a natural scientist. It's the one people see when he's honestly amused and his face breaks out into a giddy, toothy, most unattractive laugh. His publicist hates that laughs, says it makes him look like a loon.
He doesn't care.
One odd side-effect of Viggo's shyness is that it's made him uninterested in being a star. He acts because it's interesting creatively, because sometimes he can do some legitimately good work, and because it pays the bills better than poetry, photography or painting. But he's never been interested in fame, so he can afford to be himself, solitary and shy as that is.
And not give a rat's ass what anybody thinks about it.
Author: Rainweaver13
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando
Summary: Looking back for a while
Rating/Warnings: G for now/none yet. Somewhat AU in that I may run roughshod over established timelines, but since I'm making it all up anyway it shouldn't matter.
Disclaimer: Don't own them; wouldn't want to - they are their own. Wouldn't mind talking with Viggo, though. If I made any money from this, I could buy bigger canvases.
A/N: Feedback makes the newbie happy.
-----------------------------
October 1999 and onward
New Zealand was its own world, a place apart that became, in some ways, almost as magical as the Middle Earth they worked together to create. It was a world peopled with beauty and exoticism, and a shared devotion to artistic creation that made the atmosphere as heady as the finest New Zealand wines.
Viggo showed up late to the cast, nervous - close to terrified - and within a few short weeks felt the electric blanket of creativity close around him, feeding arc-lights of inspiration to his muses. Aragorn bloomed to life with a solid heft that was almost alarming if he let himself think about it. He couldn't get enough of taking photos, jotting notes in journals, on napkins, all over call sheets, around the margins of scripts, even painting sometimes late at night or on days off after an exhilarating or exhausting morning of riding.
He was in heaven.
-----
Working with the other actors was much less frustrating than it had been on other shoots. The makeup trailer he shared with Sean Bean and Orlando Bloom, eventually dubbed the Cuntebago, became a sort of central meeting place, the site of long conversations over glasses of the wine they kept stored there. Some, like Bean and Bernard, became good friends. He spent a lot of time with the Hobbits for the amusement factor, and even more with the cast's more-or-less complete newcomer, Orlando.
Viggo knew, within a few days of meeting Orlando, that he would be dealing with a case of hero worship. The boy was breath-taking. It wasn't so much that he was handsome, although he could easily have posed for a Renaissance angel. But the movie business was full of beautiful people; after a while you didn't really pay much attention to that. What was astounding about Orlando was his exuberance, his open joy in life, the way he flung himself and his emotions around like so much Mardi Gras confetti in the ongoing parade of his existence.
There was the hugging. And the kissing.
Viggo was not a Hollywood hugger or kisser. A handshake worked just fine in most cases. But Orlando was all over him within moments of their meeting, and Viggo was honestly at a loss as to what to do with it. Within a couple of weeks, Viggo knew he was much too attracted to the boy. Boy being the operational term: The kid was closer to Henry's age than his, and Viggo knew hero worship when he saw it. As he learned more about Orlando he wondered, too, if there wasn't more than a little need for a father figure at work in the way the kid tried to get him involved in everything, wanted to be involved in all Viggo's activities.
He was in hell.
-----
"You don't live in the same world the rest of us do, do you, Viggo?" Orlando asked one day as they ate craft services sandwiches on a rock overlooking a view you could charge money for in any other part of the world.
"Hmmm?" He wasn't really listening to the kid, he had to admit. The boy had a tendency to babble and sometimes Viggo just fell into the sound of his voice rather than the actual words.
"It's like you live in a separate world that's sort of like this one, but only touches it now and then. And the rest of the time you're off in your own world." Orlando grinned, picking a stray piece of lettuce off Legolas' tunic and tossing it onto the grass.
"Is that what you think?" Viggo chuckled, polishing off his sandwich and reaching for a water bottle.
"Yeah, it's Viggo World. So you're living in Viggo World inside Middle Earth inside New Zealand inside the real world. No wonder you're such a nutter." And he impulsively leaned over to wrap Viggo in a warm hug, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth that suddenly slid to become lips to lips.
Viggo closed his eyes, took a deep breath and kept his mouth still, even though every fiber of his being wanted to give this exuberant pup the kiss of a lifetime and the hell with where it led. After a moment, Orlando leaned away, an awkward blush coloring his face.
"This isn't going to happen, Orlando," Viggo said as gently as he could, grateful for once for the snug layers of Aragorn's clothing.
"I didn't- I mean- I- I-" Orlando stuttered miserably.
"Listen..." Viggo touched one of his long-fingered hands, a tender stroke. "I just don't do on-set relationships, okay? Did it once. Ended up married and a father." He aimed a wry smile at the grass, never regretting Henry, but sometimes wondering how he and Exene would have been without the ten years they spent negotiating an endless series of truces. He looked back up at Orlando. "I fully expect to fall at least a little bit in love with Liv, and Miranda, and you. That's Aragorn." He studied the boy's chocolate eyes. "But I won't act on it. Because this isn't real." He twirled a finger in the air to take in all of the surroundings. "None of this is real. It will end, and you'll become somebody else, and so will I. So I don't do this, understand?"
"No," Orlando said honestly, sounding miserable.
"I guess you'll just have to trust me, then," Viggo said, standing and scooping up his sword. "Or ignore me."
Orlando stood slowly, brushing Legolas' clothing into place. He pressed a hand to Viggo's chest, ran it up to his shoulder and around to the back of his neck, then leaned forward to press another kiss to Viggo's lips. It grew more forceful, as the boy tried to heat the kiss and Viggo cursed his own body, which had been alone too damn long.
"I want you so bad it hurts," Orlando whispered roughly, his breath hot against Viggo's ear.
"I want you, too," Viggo said between clenched teeth. "But we're actors. I'd say it's time we give ourselves a hand."
And with that he managed to pull himself away from the tempting elf and stalk off into the forest for a little single-handed relief.
New Zealand became a mecca and a misery.
---
Viggo is a shy man. He has a hard time meeting new people; they leave him awkward and hesitant. Many people don't believe that, seeing him perform in movies, read and sing to large groups, even occasionally speak to crowds. How could a shy person do those things, they wonder. He must be lying.
But it's no lie. A surprisingly large number of performers - of all sorts - are legitimately shy people. For any number of reasons, they've learned through the years to cope with their shyness by playing a role. Putting on a mask. Being whoever they need to be to satisfy any occasion. Some are so good at it that it's hard to ever get a look at their real faces, but Viggo is unusual in that he's kept his real face. It's the one people see when he becomes lost in thought and sits staring into apparent nothingness for long minutes. It's the one people see when he sits on the sidelines and studies his fellow humans with the rapt attention of a natural scientist. It's the one people see when he's honestly amused and his face breaks out into a giddy, toothy, most unattractive laugh. His publicist hates that laughs, says it makes him look like a loon.
He doesn't care.
One odd side-effect of Viggo's shyness is that it's made him uninterested in being a star. He acts because it's interesting creatively, because sometimes he can do some legitimately good work, and because it pays the bills better than poetry, photography or painting. But he's never been interested in fame, so he can afford to be himself, solitary and shy as that is.
And not give a rat's ass what anybody thinks about it.
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Date: 2005-01-13 02:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-13 05:16 pm (UTC)Rain
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