fellowshippers | Tied to Their Past Selves

Title: Tied to Their Past Selves

Author: HMC

Rating: PG at the very worst.

Pairing: No real pairing to speak of. Sean/Christine, contained within though.

Notes: For the lotrpschallenge #10, Color Study. I’ve kept the sections tied together with a theme, but I’ll leave it up to the judges to decide whether or not it meets the exact regulations of the challenge. Either way, it was really fun to write, ^-^

****grey****

Dom heard the song “Shades of Grey” by the Monkees for the first time on his way to New Zealand.

Having never heard any song of theirs besides “Daydream Beleiver” he was quite surprised to hear a song from them with actual depth. Apparantly, they were the O-Town of their day; put together by a label for the purpose of making money. They didn’t write their own songs, weren’t hired to play instruments, they were just the cheeky, good-looking guys the studio would use to push merchandise.

But cooped up in the flight with the cheap headphones stuck in his ears, on his way to a place halfway round the world from everything he found familiar and comforting, he found the song to be especially poingant. Having just broken up with his girlfriend, and agreeing to commit himself to a movie that could make or break his chances of ever making it as an actor, the world was suddenly a very scary place.

When the world and I were young,
Just yesterday.
Live was such a simple game,
A child could play.
It was easy then to tell right from wrong.
Easy then to tell weak from strong.
When a man should stand and fight,
Or just go along.

But today there is no day or night
Today there is no dark or light.
Today there is no black or white,
Only shades of gray.

I remember when the answers seemed so clear
We had never lived with doubt or tasted fear.
It was easy then to tell truth from lies
Selling out from compromise
Who to love and who to hate,
The foolish from the wise.

But today there is no day or night
Today there is no dark or light.
Today there is no black or white,
Only shades of gray.

****purple****

‘Holy Christ’ Billy thought as he looked a few seats over from where they were sitting. ‘It’s Prince!’

If he wasn’t close to pissing himself before, he definitely had to be careful now. How many times had he had his radio up in his room turned up to 10 while Prince blasted from the speakers until his Grandmother screamed at him in Gaelic? Too many times. Hundreds of times.

‘Snap out of it, Bill,’ he told himself. ‘Pay attention to where you are. You’re famous now. One of the most recognized people in the world. You’re at the Oscars. Currently sweeping away all the awards. People cry when they meet you. Girls throw themselves at you. You’ve gotten naked pictures from some of those girls. People are hurling movie scripts at you faster than you’re capable of reading them. For Christ’s sake, you’re PIPPIN, and all you can think about is ogling over a guy you worshipped close to twenty years ago?’ His ego was now furious with him. ‘C’mon Bills, stop this foolishness, you’re just as famous as he is.’

But for some part of Billy, it wasn’t true. Some part of him would always remain that sixteen year old kid, in his room after his Grandmother was asleep, listening to the radio, dreaming of the day he would be famous, so he’d be able to meet his favorite singer in the world. Until that day came, he always found solace in his favorite song.

Purple Rain.

Honey I know, I know, I know times are changing
It's time we all reach out for something new
That means you to
You say you want a leader
But you can't seem to make up your mind
I think you better close it
And let me guide you through the purple rain

****blue****

How was it that some songwriters could write lyrics that fit perfectly with your life when you’d never even met them?

Elijah was in full-out Hobbit garb, curled up in his trailer on his tiny bed. His make-up was all fucked up from crying, he’d have to go back to make-up before they needed him again.

He wasn’t really sobbing. He didn’t really know what to classify it as. Maybe just your standard teenage angst. All he knew was that he held himself in a tight fetal position while tears rolled down his face. He made no noise. The walls of his trailer were paper-thin, and with all the tech people and actors walking around, it would have taken no time at all for any sound of distress to send them scrambling to his door. He would rather not speak to anyone right now.

He didn’t want to be away from home anymore. Away from his mother, whom he loved with all his heart. Away from his sister, his friends, anything with some semblance of familiarity.

And all anyone cared about were his FUCKING eyes. “Lijah, you have great eyes.” “I bet you hear this all the time, but your eyes are really beautiful.” “Wow, look at the emotion in his eyes in that shot.” “C’mon Elijah, I want to see it in your eyes, I know you can do that.”

All his life, that was his defining quality. His mask, his excuse, his alibi. His eyes lied for him. He was the same scared little boy he’d always been. The only thing that changed was the message his eyes put across.

No one knows what it's like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man

Behind blue eyes

And no one knows
What it's like to be hated
To be faded to telling only lies
But my dreams they aren't as empty
As my conscious seems to be
I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free
No one knows what its like
To feel these feelings
Like i do, and i blame you!
No one bites back as hard
On their anger
None of my pain and woe
Can show through

****gold****

Orlando had the distinct impression that everything was moving too fast for him to handle. Rings, Pirates, Troy, The Calcium Kid, countless other movies lined up for the near future. Photo shoots, publicity, interviews, promotional work, tabloids, the paparazzi, the fans, the crazy fans, scary letters, scarier phone calls, fashion consultants, hairstylists....

If someone had told him when he was in school that someday he’d be in movies with Ian Holm, Johnny Depp, and Brad Pitt, he would have laughed. It was funny, just before he’d gotten the call from producers that wanted him to be in Troy, he’d been watching Snatch. When they said he’d be working with Brad Pitt, The Pikey himself, said Pikey beat the crap out of a guy twice his size onscreen, and Orlando felt pretty much like the poor bloke on the ground.

Only he wasn’t missing any teeth.

He knew then that he had become something much bigger than just himself. He was now an icon.

Later, in the desert, when everything was sun, sand and sweat, he remembered where he was and what scene he’d been watching when he was swept away from everything he used to be.

Golden brown texture like sun
Lays me down with my mind she runs
Throughout the night
No need to fight
Never a frown with golden brown

Every time just like the last
On her ship tied to the mast
To distant lands
Takes both my hands
Never a frown with golden brown

Golden brown finer temptress
Through the ages she's heading West
From far away
Stays for a day
Never a frown with golden brown

****white****

She had said that since he was so famous now, she didn’t feel as important to him as she once did. She actually felt that she was not the woman he’d fallen in love with anymore. He was soaring so high lately, all the fame he’d acquired; the young women fans, his political crusades.... she felt that she was getting in the way. Holding him back.

He’d wanted to scream that it was bullshit. That she was crazy to think that over ten years and two children meant nothing in the face of a few movies and the ramifications of fame. He’d wanted to say that, but it was what she felt.

And what made him feel like more of an asshole what that she didn’t blame him. He was responsible for the wonderful house and the money that would put his children through college. He was a wonderful father and a gorgeous human being, a steadfast friend and a brilliant mind.

She felt that although there was no competition being held, she could not compete.

“Are you saying you want to leave me?” He asked softly, his face doing nothing to hide the dread and abject terror he felt at the concept.

“I want you to be happy, Sean. Whether or not that means being with me.”

He took her in his arms and kissed her; deeply, passionately. When they parted, they were both crying.

“I could never, ever.... be happy.... without you.” He held her face gently in his hands. “Do you hear me?”

She bit her lip and nodded, collapsing into his arms.

I know you think that I shouldn't still love you,
Or tell you that.
But if I didn't say it, well I'd still have felt it
where's the sense in that?

I promise I'm not trying to make your life harder
Or return to where we were

I will go down with this ship
And I won't put my hands up and surrender
There will be no white flag above my door
I'm in love and always will be

Fin.....

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

O.o Wicked cool take on that challenge! Especially liked the Snatch bit...

Very neat, concise, very clever *applauds, loves*

Psst... you'll have to label each of the parts with the Colours. ;)

Meep! ::scurries::

yeh yeh yeh... quickly now! :P

Fixed!! :::hip-thrust::: Hoo-ah!!

yay! Nice one!

*waves pom-poms*

Tied to Their Past Selves

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