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fellowshippers2005-01-07 05:16 pm
endofdec.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2005-01-07 05:16 pm
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Title: Murders in the Dark
Author: endofdec
Pairing: V/O
Rating: R
Disclaimer: not true. not mine.
++
Chapter One
Helm's Deep.
Early morning.
And fuck but did Orlando wish he really was an elf. Wet alternated with cold alternated with exhausted and hungry. He knew he was at his breaking point. And fucking cheerful, Kom-ba-ya Viggo was not helping one bit.
He glanced around, sure enough, there the man was, telling some sort of dirty joke to a group of Orc-actors. For a second Orli felt a small flicker of jealousy over how Viggo could make himself fit in anywhere. He quickly brushed the odd feeling aside – who was he kidding – it was precisely because of Viggo that he, Orli, had been accepted as well as he had been among the extras here. Besides, he reassured himself, an elf wasn’t suppose to feel welcome here, surrounded by humans.
Ignoring for the moment the uniform slate of the Helm’s Deep fortress surrounding him, he tried to remember which loose piece of rock he had hid his cigarettes under to keep them dry. One careless comment to Viggo about thinking of quitting smoking had generated an amount of nagging not seen since Macbeth. As a result, he had taken to sneaking furtively around the set, cigs tucked up his sleeves, lighter in his boot, and when that wasn’t feasible, even stashing them around the set.
He glanced around, no one seem to be looking in his general direction. He dropped fluidly into a crouch, fingers running along the wall. Ah... here. It looked different in the dark but this was definitely it.
Practiced fingers filched two from the pack, barely disturbing it as he replaced the cover. That part done, he now needed to find a suitably sheltered spot to smoke them. He ducked around to the back of some large ramparts. Perfect.
Focused as he was on his damp lighter and half frozen fingers, he almost missed the noise that came echoing softly from his right. A small rustling.
Bleeding hell, Orli thought, spies – not that he’d put it past Viggo. He heard the noise again, but he steadfast ignored it, flicking his lighter harder. In for a penny in for a pound- if he was going to get caught, he’d damn well get his smoke too.
He successfully lit the first cigarette, and the comforting glow grew as he inhaled deeply. That was what he needed. The rustling stopped.
“Alright – you caught me” His voice rang out, louder than expected. No response. Fine with me, Orlando thought, sucking in another lungful. “Don’t tell Viggo and I’ll share,” he offered mischievously, holding the lit cigarette in his hand as he stood up, taking a step. Another step and he could see a shape, sitting against the wall. It suddenly occurred to him that it just might be someone else trying to find a bit of peace.
“Sorry mate.”
But the shape didn’t respond. Orli hesitated, then took another step forward. Squinting.
“Hey, uhm ... like - are you ok?” The shadows were deep, and Orli suddenly felt silly, wondering if the shape in the dark was a human at all, probably just some random formation of rocks tricking his decidedly non-elfish eyesight.
But wasn’t that a head, sort of slumped, and one of the many elven props discarded next to the extended arm lying on the ground? Orli took another step, then bent down to gently touch the man’s shoulder, intending to make some comment to his fellow elf. But when he touched the man’s shoulder, shaking it a little, the only result was that the head lulled forward, and Orli instinctively knew that something was terribly wrong.
+++
“And then the old man pulled of the oxygen mask and asked the nurse, “Are my test results back?””
Silence. Viggo glanced around nervously and wondered if he had misjudged the humour – but then the Orc actors and extras who had been following since the beginning, went off into roars of laughter. He felt large gloves thudding his shoulder and back.
“Excellent! Excellent!”
Viggo just grinned in relief, and then started looking around for Peter to save him just in case they demanded an encore. Three weeks of filming here had drastically reduced his supply of dirty jokes. He needed to spend some time on the phone with Henry and get refurbished. Or some time on the internet. Keeping up with the Hobbits required resources.
Luckily, Peter was indeed glancing around, face lighting up as he caught Viggo’s gaze.
“Almost ready.” Their ever-patient director called in his general direction. “Can you grab Orli and the others?”
Viggo glanced around. The doubles were all in place, just Orli was no where to be seen. Probably smoking. With a wave at Peter to let him know he understood, he jogged off to where he had last seen Orli lurking around, hoping he’d be able to find him quickly.
The panicked cry for help stopped Viggo short. The sound echoed through the stone, becoming distorted. He altered his direction somewhat, following the others who were closer, who had also heard the desperate call.
Three people were there ahead of Viggo, and he pushed past them all to take in the sight of Orlando, crouched on the ground over the slumping body of another elf, unrecognizable in the bad light. ‘Help me’ Orli was still screaming. ‘Help him.’
Someone muttered something about a medic and took off behind Viggo, while someone else with more presence of mind flashed on a nearby light, illuminating the scene. Orli flinched away from the high powered lights, squeezing his eyes shut as he pleaded with someone to just help. Viggo glanced passed him at the motionless man.
“Orli ...” He said softly. But Orli wasn’t looking at the person under his hands, he was still yelling at those arriving, eyes squeezed tight against the bright set lights. Then the medics were there, and they did push Orlando away as Viggo reached out to grab him, pulling him away, ignoring the mouthful of blond hair. Orlando was fighting Viggo’s grip trying to turn around to see what was going on, but Viggo was equally determined not to let him.
When the lights had flashed, he had seen what Orli hadn’t – that the man’s neck had been slit. He was covered in blood, and very dead.
==
Three hours later, the body was still there, the set had been declared a crime scene, and Orlando was sitting in his soaked costume, waiting to be interviewed by the cops. Next to him, Viggo worriedly past him a hot cup of tea, which Orlando politely declined as he had the others. He was shivering intermediately, and Viggo , long since changed out of his own costume into more comfortable clothes, wished the god damn detectives could hurry it up. Evidence they had been told. Orlando had touched the dead man. No one else should touch Orlando until the forensic team had a chance to go over him.
It wasn’t until two hours later, with dawn breaking across the sky, that they finally finished with Orli. They had asked him what he had heard before he found the body, and Orli could only answer in vague tones about rustlings, and hidden cigarettes. They spent half an hour cleaning his hands, removing the blood with a special solvent, and when they final got costume to get rid of the sopping tunic (carefully placed in plastic bags) Orli looking on it all with a sort of detached horror. Viggo’s heart had lurched at the expression.
Finally they were done, and with Orli wrapped in layers of fleece, but still trembling, Viggo offered to take him home.
++
Five hours ago, Peter Jackson, entrusted with three hundred million dollars to bring his dream to life, had thought that nothing more could go wrong on the Helm’s Deep set. He had been wrong.
The policeman - or detective, Peter supposed, was still talking. “Michael Weyerhauser.”
Peter looked at him blankly. The detective, who had a good two feet on Peter, checked his notes.
“Elf Warrior number-“
Peter interrupted him. “How... I mean why? Mr...”
“Elliot. Detective Elliot.”
“Ok – do you know...”
“We aren’t disclosing details at this time.”
Peter swallowed, searching for the answers to the questions he didn’t want to ask in the craggy planes of Elliot’s face. “Any idea..”
“No.”
Peter nodded “And you wouldn’t tell me anyway.”
“Not at this time.” The detective repeated.
When Peter didn’t move, seemingly staring off into space, Elliot continued. “We’re still going over the forensic evidence collected off of-“ He paused, glancing at his ever present paper pad. “Bloom – but it doesn’t look like we’re going to get much. Seems to have been all of Weyerhauser’s blood.”
Peter was trying to listen but at the same time his mind was trying to explore every way this was going to affect his movie, how to minimize, what would New Line say? Could they shut it down? What would insurance cover? And Jesus Christ but a man was dead, not just dead – murdered.
He turned to find the detective staring at him.
“Pardon?” Peter asked, assuming he’d missed something.
Detective Elliot shook his head. “Nothing. Just that this is a crime scene now, all shooting is going to be shut down until we give the go ahead.”
Peter just nodded. “Thanks” He said automatically. The detective was just doing his job, and he supposed it was in all their interests to be cooperative and a man was dead – not just dead – murdered. The thought ran through his head again.
Elliot relaxed a fraction. He hadn’t the patience for the Hollywood types, but Peter was one of them. “Take it easy, kay mate?”
Peter sighed as his cell phone vibrated in his pocket for the fifth time in as many minutes. Not much chance of that.
++
Orlando had been almost comatose in the car. Staring unblinkingly out the window, answering Viggo’s chit chat with monosyllables. But now that they were home Orlando seem to come awake.
“This isn’t my place.”
“No.” Viggo agreed. “It’s mine.” He shrugged “It’s closer, and you –“ he didn’t complete the sentence, that Orlando looked like he could use some company.
“I’m fine.” Orlando hissed suddenly, causing Viggo to turn towards him in astonishment.
“Orli.”
But Orli was out of the car now, standing towards the sunrise that was just beginning to break. Staring at it. Viggo in turn, stared at Orli as he got out of the car, waiting.
“it was Michael.” Orlando finally said. “Elf Warrior number 19. I bummed a smoke off him two days ago. Never returned the favour. I guess they’re right, eh? Smoking ki..” Viggo heard his voice catch and took a step closer as Orli didn’t complete the sentence.. “I didn’t think he was dead, you know? I was thinking, I wasn’t thinking, but he wasn’t dead.”
“Come on – we’re both beat. I’ve got a spare room. You can crash here.”
For a second Viggo was sure that Orli was going to refuse – but the tightly wound figure in front of him suddenly nodded.
“Yeah” Orlando replied softly. “That sounds ok.”
The decision made, Orli suddenly seemed to slump, his nervous energy of before dissipating into the night.
“Fuck.” He rasped. Words jumbled by hands rubbing his face. “I’m exhausted.”
Viggo wasted no time setting up Orlando in the guestroom. Reminding him where the bathroom was, but Orlando was asleep almost as soon as he hit the bed, clothes and all.
Viggo just pulled the drapes closed against the morning sunlight and threw a blanket over him. He also laid out a spare set of clean boxers and a toothbrush in case Orli woke up at some point.
Then Viggo retreated back to his room. But unlike Orli, sleep didn’t come instantanously. Instead he recalled the way Orli’s voice had sounded, and how he had known, somehow known who it was, and the horrible feeling that had sent through his body.
++
News travels fast on a movie set, and Viggo came blinking awake far too early to the repetitively annoying sound of his phone ringing.
Fumbling around the bedstand next to him, he finally grasped it.
“’Lo.” He grunted softly.
“Vig! Thankgodwecouldn’tgetaholdoforliandnoonewasasnwering-“
Viggo opened his eyes. “Lij.”
“Petersnotonsetandnooneknowswhatsgoingon.”
“Lij. Calm down.”
Viggo was relieved to hear him catch his breath. He decided to take advantage of the momentary break.
“I’m ok, Orlando’s here with me and he’s ok.”
Viggo heard the short exhale of breath, before the message was relayed to whoever else was there. Sounded like at least Billy and Austin, which meant that they were probably getting their feet done. He glanced at the alarm clock next to his bed – 8:30. He’d had like an hour and a half an hour of sleep. Not good.
“Is it true Vig? Is someone dead?”
“Yeah, Lij, it is.”
“Murdered?”
“Yeah – they think so.” Or else Michael had decided to stab himself numerous times before slitting his throat. But Elijah didn’t need those details – Viggo wished that he didn’t have them floating around in his own head.
“And Orlando saw it?”
That got Viggo’s attention
“No – Elijah – what? Who told you that?”
He could practically hear the shrug. “Someone just said that Orli saw it.”
“He didn’t.” Viggo said as firmly as possible. “Lij, listen, I know that rumors are a dime a dozen on a movie set, and particularly this movie set. But Orlando saw nothing, Orlando knows nothing. Understand?”
“Yeah.” Elijah sounded confused, and Viggo sighed, not wanting to spell it out.
“Look Elijah, they haven’t caught the person who did it. Understand?”
The quick intake of breath assured Viggo that Elijah did get it.
“Oh jesus. Oh Viggo. You don’t think-“
“I don’t know. I hope they’ve got the guy already. But if not ... “
“Orli didn’t see anything, right.” The voice on the other end promised.
The hobbits were on the task.
+++
Orli woke up to darkness. The first thing he was aware of was how wonderfully comfortable he was. The next was that he was wearing a sweatshirt to bed, which was wrong. He struggled to sit upright for a few moments, sliding it over his head.
He was drifting back to sleep when he felt it – just the sense that there was someone else in the room, but he was dead to the world before it could really register. His exhausted body craving sleep at a level that couldn’t be denied.
++
For Peter, sleep remained determinedly elusive. He had spent the morning on the phone dealing with panicked investors, had stopped by for a quick check up on how filming was going with the hobbits, cancelled the Helm’s Deep shot that night, had finally fallen into a handy sofa at about three in the afternoon.
Now he was being dragged back to consciousness by the sound of a heavy hand banging on the trailer door.
Trying to remember that he had wanted to do this, Peter hauled himself up, reaching the trailer door, only to be meet by an irate Detective.
“Where the fuck is that Bloom kid?”
Peter just blinked, wondering where he left his glasses.
“What?”
“The Bloom kid.” The detective was waving something in his hand.
“Is he in trouble?”
“Yes.” Was the short answer, and Peter felt his heart sink.
“I can get his address for you.”
“Already got it. He’s not there. Where else would he be?”
Peter tried to think back. “You could try Viggo’s.”
“Where’s that?”
Peter tossed him his cell and he felt his pockets for the keys to his jeep. If Orlando was in trouble than it was his problem too. “He’s number 9 on the quick dial. Com’on” he said “I’ll take you.”
++
Viggo woke up for the second time around three, and, after a brief check ascertaining Orli was still sound asleep, he headed downstairs to find something to eat. He was hungry and no doubt Orli would be starving when he finally woke up.
He was just embracing a hot cup of coffee when the banging on his door almost made him drop it.
“Why don’t you answer the goddamn phone” Was the greeting he got when he pulled the door open to reveal the detective from last night, evidently in a temper.
“Ringers off.” He replied calmly, turning to his director. “Peter what’s going on?”
Peter shrugged. “He needs to talk to Orlando.”
“Damn right. Where is he?”
“Upstairs-“ Was all Viggo got out before Elliot was gone. “He’s asleep” he called after him, to no apparent effect.
They both heard the pounding on the stairs, then a bedroom door slam, there was dead silence for a split second and then the most unearthy screaming Viggo had ever heard filled the air.
“Jesus.” Viggo was taking the steps two at a time, Peter behind him.
It took Viggo all of a couple of seconds to reach the bedroom door, and the sight halted him dead in his tracks. There, sitting up in bed, wearing nothing but an t-shirt drenched with sweat, was Orlando – eyes open, seeing nothing and hyperventilating. Elliot, only a few steps into the room, was frozen, staring in amazement.
“I didn’t touch him.” The detective actually took a step back, hands raised. Viggo was also momentarily stunned, but Peter, huffing, arriving a few moments later, had two young kids at home and got it immediately.
“He’s still asleep.”
Pushing past both of them, Peter moved to the bed, grabbing Orlando’s shoulders, calling his name.
Orli’s eyes flew open and meet Peter’s two concerned eyes.
“Orlando, Orli, you’re ok. You’re fine. Ok? Fine.”
Frightened eyes just stared back, body wracked as great gulps of air were inhaled. Peter pulled him closer, pushing him against his shoulder. Could feel the heart flutter-light beating against him, the ribs and backbone under his arms.
Finally Peter felt the desperate heaves turn into tremors, and felt the head turn to tuck into his shoulder.
“It’s ok. It’s ok.” Peter did his best to soothe him.
Finally the tears stopped.
“You ok?”
He felt the nod, and he gently eased Orlando back.
Wet red eyes blinked at him. “Sorry” Orli said softly, turning away.
“Nah- you’re alright.” Peter assured him, “Believe me this shirt has seen worse. At least you haven’t chundered all over it.” He noticed with satisfaction the smile that flittered across the mobile features, only to watch it disappear as Orli became aware of the other people in the room. But Peter wasn’t ready to let him go yet.
“Do you remember what it was?”
But Orli just shook his head. “No idea.”
Detective Elliot stepped forward. “Well maybe this had something to do with it.” He threw a plain white envelope down on the bed, watching as Orlando practically winced from it. Viggo and Peter just looked puzzled. “Went through the studio’s mail this morning.” He said conversationally. “And low and behold in Orlando Bloom’s mail box I find this. Do you know what this is?”
From the bed, Orlando just nodded, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes..
“Tell them.”
“It’s a letter.” Orlando said hesitantly.
“Try harder.”
But Orlando had clammed up, evidently deciding that nothing more would be said. Viggo, taking a few steps closer, picked it up, sliding the letter out of the envelope.
“It’s in elvish.” He said, surprised.
Elliot nodded. “Read it.”
Viggo frowned at the words, before handing it over to Peter with an apologetic shrug. There was method acting and then there was method acting – he’d learned his lines, not the entire language.
Detective Elliot’s exasperation came out in his voice. “It’s a threat. Addressed to Orlando.”
Peter and Viggo’s intake of breath was audible.
“Orlando-“ Peter tried to control the level of his voice. Shouting at him now wasn’t going to help. “You know we have a policy.”
“I’m sorry, Peter.” Orli said softly. “I know I should have said something. But –“
Viggo’s voice was tight with anger. “How many of these have you gotten?”
Orli shrugged.
“Guess.” Elliot demanded.
“10 – maybe.”
“Maybe?”
Orli didn’t look up from where he had fixed his gaze to the bedspread and Detective Elliot resisted the urge to shake the answers out of him.
“Well has it occurred to you that had you said something a man might still be alive?”
Orlando seemed to shrink even further into the sheets. “Yes.” He finally whispered.
Then he turned away, ignoring them all.
+++
“It was in elvish?”
“Uh-huh.” Elijah nodded as he went back for another bit of his sandwich. Shooting had wrapped for the day, and what with the events of last night, the rumour mill was even more efficient than usual.
“Elvish death threats? To Orli?”
“Creepy huh? Imagine if a bunch of hobbits came after us?”
“Lij!”
“I didn’t think he was doing that bad of a job.” Elijah continued, ignoring the horrified looks on Dom’s and Billy faces.
“Not funny Lij,” Dom suddenly snapped. “Someone’s dead.”
Elijah’s face fell so suddenly that Dom regretted his harshness.
“I know Dom” he said softly. “I just can’t think about it, but I can’t stop thinking about it. And Orli...” Elijah’s eyes closed. “It’s just all so awful, but I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Billy squashed himself down next to Elijah, wrapping his arms around the younger man. “It’s ok. They got the letters. There will be clues. Handwriting, fingerprints, all that shite. They’ll catch the guy. Orli and Viggo’s vacation will be over, and we’ll all get back to normal.”
Elijah looked up at him. “Do you think Orli would like some company tonight?”
+++
Detective Elliot, married twice, widowed once, divorced once, liked things to be in order. And this case was raising more questions then it was answering. Truth was that most murders were open and shut – 90% of all homicides were committed someone known to the victim, if not a family member. But this guy’s family had been no where near Helm’s Deep last night.
He stared at the small pile of elvish letters sitting on his desk. Orlando had managed to find a few of them that he hadn’t destroyed or thrown away. The poor kid had looked awful, and Elliot relenting a little, saved the rest of the lecture.
There was a knock on his door.
“Open” He called out.
The door was pushed open and two coffee cups, followed by a tall willowy redhead entered.
“Elliot?”
“Not fired yet,” he replied. “Still here.”
“Damn. I’ll try back later.” She turned to leave, glancing at her watch. “What do you think? An hour? Maybe two?”
“Tops.” Elliot replied, smiling inspite of himself. “Wadda you want Summers?”
“I humbly come bearing gifts from the machine down the hall.”
Summers eased her way into his office, frowning at the lack of light.
“You can’t see anything in here,” she complained. She raised a hand. “How many fingers?”
“Fuck off.”
“Lucky guess.” She muttered, lowering her middle finger.
“And you’re wrong.”
Elliot could barely make out the thin eyebrow rising in doubt.
“The point isn’t that you can’t see, but that nothing can see you.”
“How charmingly paranoid.”
“Hey it’s my ass.” Elliot grumbled but swung his feet of his desk. “I take it you have some results for me?”
Dr. Summers carefully handed one of the mugs to Elliot, dumping a plastic wrapped croissant next to it. Elliot just eyed it. Wiping her hands carefully she snagged the folder from underneath her arm.
“Letters first?”
“Yeah” He nodded, sipping his coffee. It was milky. Hers, then. He switched it for the other one.
“Ok – all written in elvish, the paper most likely originated from a stack that they have on set, but all the paper is hand made and as such has such variance that potentially someone else could have made it elsewhere.”
“Unlikely though.”
“90-10”
“Ok. Next.”
“Victim bleed to death at approx 1:55 am – shortly before the body was discovered.”
“How shortly.”
“Minutes. Maybe even seconds.”
Elliot whistled.
“Indeed. Assailant probably fled when he heard Bloom approach...”
“But....” Elliot prompted.
“But, as you well know, the victim was found in a dead end, with no tracks and any other evidence that suggests he did anything other than just walk back the way he came.”
“Except Bloom didn’t see anyone.” Elliot reminded her.
“It was dark.”
“I saw you, didn’t I?”
“Touche. Victim died with massive blood loss, but his throat was slit first to prevent noise. Then the assailant went to town on the victim’s thoracic area. Two blades were used. Approximately 2 feet long, extremely sharp. Didn’t disembowled him – seem to know just what he was doing.” Dr Summer looked up from her report, taking a sip of her coffee. “I looked for a pattern in the markings, anything like that, but couldn’t find one. Still...”
“Has the feeling of a ritualistic killing, right?”
She shrugged gracefully, but then nodded. “All the signs.”
“Damn.”
Elliot always hated these ones. Had to take everything that you knew and throw it out the window. These guys never followed the rules.
“Anything else?”
Summers shook her head. “Not from me on this end.”
She closed her file, taking an even larger sip of her coffee, and even reaching for the croissant.
“What about on your end?”
Elliot pulled his lips into a thin line. “I think you know the main points. Bloom says he didn’t see anything. Heard nothing useful. Said that as he kept on getting those letters but when nothing happened ... Didn’t want to make a fuss.”
“Actors.” Summer shrugged.
“Idiots.”
“That’s what I said.”
They shared a grin.
“Anyway. That’s it.” Elliot finished.
“Outlook’s a bit grim.”
Elliot sipped on his coffee and said nothing. They were still early. More test results were being waited on. And despite what he told Summers, he still wanted to talk to Orli again. Really talk.
“Hey Summers?”
She glanced in his general direction, waiting.
“What do you know about night terrors?”
“You mean nightmares?”
Elliot shook his head. “I think these are somewhat different. Kids get them.”
Summers snorted. “What would I know? You’re the one with the kid.”
Elliots’s face froze, but he managed a smile. “Yeah right.”
“Oh jeez. Elliot .. I’m .. “
Elliot shrugged.”Forget it. Anyway. That’s it?”
Still looking troubled, Summers nodded, gathering her files and exiting, but, Elliot noticed, leaving the croissant.
++
The road to hell were the first four words that popped into Viggo’s head as he opened his door to find a contingency of hobbits on his doorstep. His eyes traveled over the six pack of beer warming in Dom’s grasp, and the collection of DVDs in Elijah’s.
“Guys...” He began softly, only to be out shouted almost immediately as Orlando appeared in the doorway. He gave up as they all stampeded into his house, but kept an eye on Orli as he was swamped by his castmates. Orli’s mood had been swinging from extremes all day, but now he was looking thrilled as a kid on Christmas by the hobbits’ presence.
Maybe good intentions would be enough, Viggo thought, as he watched Billy crack open a bottle and tell Orli the latest hobbit prank they’d played on those unsuspecting elves. Elijah suddenly appeared from his kitchen. “Where the chips?”
“Right shelf, over the frig.”
“Right.” Elijah disappeared again. Viggo suddenly felt hollow, drained. It had been a long day. He glanced over at Orli, who right now was laughing his head off at Billy’s antics – it was better then the expressionless monotones that had greeted any attempt at conversation for the last two hours.
There was giant crash from the kitchen, soon followed by an “I’m alright! Don’t come in!”
Viggo sighed. He’d leave the kids to themselves. The peace and quiet of his studio beckoned.
++
Orlando stopped smiling when the last hobbit fell asleep. He leaned over and turned off the late late dating show that they’d only been half watching anyway. On the sofa, bodies intertwined, Billy sighed as Elijah tugged on the blanket. Curled up amongst the pillows on the floor was Dom. In the sudden silence Orli could hear Dom’s deep breaths, punctuated occasionally by Billy’s tiny snores and Elijah’s mutterings.
He walked around, picking up empties and even prying the still half full beer from Dom’s surprisingly tight gasp. Coming back, he stared at the three of them, and then hesitating, he turned and went up the stairs, maybe Viggo, still on the Helm’s Deep night schedule, would be up.
The soft light filtering out from the studio’s door gave away Viggo’s location. Not wanting to disturb, Orli hovered, peering inside.
He could hear string music softly being played, and he let his eyes drift around the studio space, taking in the soft colours, the blankets and pillows, the pieces of art at all various stages, before finally letting them rest on Viggo. Viggo’s back was to the door as he bent towards his latest piece. Suddenly feeling like a voyeur, Orli forced himself to knock lightly.
Viggo didn’t turn around. “You can come in you know. Door’s open.”
Orli obediently took a few steps in, moving towards where Viggo was, looking over his shoulder studying the painting. When he finally looked at Viggo, he was surprised to find Viggo studying him.
“What do you think?” Viggo asked quietly. Orlando got the feeling that it wasn’t the painting that was being judged, but rather him. He turned back to study it again.
“It feels ... sad.”
Orlando missed the flicker of surprise on Viggo’s face.
“I think you’re feeling sad.”
But Orlando, eyes still on the painting, just shook his head. “I don’t, you know. I don’t feel anything, or, I feel everything – anger, sick, tired, wired ...”
“Afraid.”
Viggo watched as Orli just closed his eyes, fingers automatically encirculating, rubbing his hands. Viggo reached out to stop them, grasping the fine boned hands in his own. They were cold, and instinctively Viggo held them tighter.
“It’s late.”
“I’m not tired.” Orli pulled back, but when Viggo didn’t release his hands, stood still again.
“It’s ok, Orli.” Viggo whispered. “Nothing bad will happen tonight.”
Orli didn’t move.
“Come on.” And, never letting go of Orli’s hands, he pulled him towards his bedroom.
But still, at the edge of the bed, Orlando hovered uncertainly.
“Does this mean anything?”
“It doesn’t have to.” Viggo replied evenly.
In the dark, Viggo could just make out Orli tilting his head, considering.
“Ah for Pete’s sake,” Viggo grumbled goodnaturedly. “I’ll still respect you in the morning.”
That got the smile Viggo had been waiting for as Orlando relaxed.
“Well,” he replied softly. “Ok then.”
Never self conscious, but with a certain efficiency, Orli stripped down to his boxers, sliding down onto the other side of the bed. Viggo thought that, like last night, he had simply fallen asleep. It wasn’t until a few minutes later, when Viggo was in his pajamas and crawling into his own side of the bed that Orli spoke again.
“I don’t need this, you know. I’m fine by my own.”
Viggo just snorted from his side of the bed. “Go to sleep you moron.”
“Smelly human.”
Viggo smiled.
+++
Viggo woke up with the unfamiliar but not unwelcome feeling of a large heavy blanket wrapped across him. It was only when he reached to pull it higher that he felt thick curly hair under his fingers, and came suddenly awake to the rather unusual sight of Orlando Bloom drapped across his stomach and chest, letting out the occasional snore of content. He reminded Viggo of a great dane puppy a friend of his had once owned.
He could also feel Orlando’s morning erection pressing against his leg, causing an awkard response in his own body. Deciding he might as well get up to deal with it, Viggo tried to ease himself out from the reluctant elf. Gently, so as not to wake him, Viggo shifted Orli, and then rolled him to the side, allowing himself to escape. Watching with a wry grin as Orlando rolled back almost immediately, settling in with a sigh of disappointment when he discovered Viggo gone. It wasn’t until Viggo had finished in the bathroom and headed downstairs to the kitchen that he remembered the hobbits.
The main room was empty and surprisingly clean, as was the kitchen, where – stuck on the overloaded fridge door was a note.
‘Viggo – thanks for last night, we let ourselves out, see you on the set.’
Below someone had scribbled, ‘and tell your bed partner he’s got really sexy legs.”
Viggo smiled. Then decided to hide the note before Orli saw it.
The last thing he wanted to do on this 18 month shoot was mess around with his co-stars, and that went double for the ones under thirty.
+++
tbc.
Author: endofdec
Pairing: V/O
Rating: R
Disclaimer: not true. not mine.
++
Chapter One
Helm's Deep.
Early morning.
And fuck but did Orlando wish he really was an elf. Wet alternated with cold alternated with exhausted and hungry. He knew he was at his breaking point. And fucking cheerful, Kom-ba-ya Viggo was not helping one bit.
He glanced around, sure enough, there the man was, telling some sort of dirty joke to a group of Orc-actors. For a second Orli felt a small flicker of jealousy over how Viggo could make himself fit in anywhere. He quickly brushed the odd feeling aside – who was he kidding – it was precisely because of Viggo that he, Orli, had been accepted as well as he had been among the extras here. Besides, he reassured himself, an elf wasn’t suppose to feel welcome here, surrounded by humans.
Ignoring for the moment the uniform slate of the Helm’s Deep fortress surrounding him, he tried to remember which loose piece of rock he had hid his cigarettes under to keep them dry. One careless comment to Viggo about thinking of quitting smoking had generated an amount of nagging not seen since Macbeth. As a result, he had taken to sneaking furtively around the set, cigs tucked up his sleeves, lighter in his boot, and when that wasn’t feasible, even stashing them around the set.
He glanced around, no one seem to be looking in his general direction. He dropped fluidly into a crouch, fingers running along the wall. Ah... here. It looked different in the dark but this was definitely it.
Practiced fingers filched two from the pack, barely disturbing it as he replaced the cover. That part done, he now needed to find a suitably sheltered spot to smoke them. He ducked around to the back of some large ramparts. Perfect.
Focused as he was on his damp lighter and half frozen fingers, he almost missed the noise that came echoing softly from his right. A small rustling.
Bleeding hell, Orli thought, spies – not that he’d put it past Viggo. He heard the noise again, but he steadfast ignored it, flicking his lighter harder. In for a penny in for a pound- if he was going to get caught, he’d damn well get his smoke too.
He successfully lit the first cigarette, and the comforting glow grew as he inhaled deeply. That was what he needed. The rustling stopped.
“Alright – you caught me” His voice rang out, louder than expected. No response. Fine with me, Orlando thought, sucking in another lungful. “Don’t tell Viggo and I’ll share,” he offered mischievously, holding the lit cigarette in his hand as he stood up, taking a step. Another step and he could see a shape, sitting against the wall. It suddenly occurred to him that it just might be someone else trying to find a bit of peace.
“Sorry mate.”
But the shape didn’t respond. Orli hesitated, then took another step forward. Squinting.
“Hey, uhm ... like - are you ok?” The shadows were deep, and Orli suddenly felt silly, wondering if the shape in the dark was a human at all, probably just some random formation of rocks tricking his decidedly non-elfish eyesight.
But wasn’t that a head, sort of slumped, and one of the many elven props discarded next to the extended arm lying on the ground? Orli took another step, then bent down to gently touch the man’s shoulder, intending to make some comment to his fellow elf. But when he touched the man’s shoulder, shaking it a little, the only result was that the head lulled forward, and Orli instinctively knew that something was terribly wrong.
+++
“And then the old man pulled of the oxygen mask and asked the nurse, “Are my test results back?””
Silence. Viggo glanced around nervously and wondered if he had misjudged the humour – but then the Orc actors and extras who had been following since the beginning, went off into roars of laughter. He felt large gloves thudding his shoulder and back.
“Excellent! Excellent!”
Viggo just grinned in relief, and then started looking around for Peter to save him just in case they demanded an encore. Three weeks of filming here had drastically reduced his supply of dirty jokes. He needed to spend some time on the phone with Henry and get refurbished. Or some time on the internet. Keeping up with the Hobbits required resources.
Luckily, Peter was indeed glancing around, face lighting up as he caught Viggo’s gaze.
“Almost ready.” Their ever-patient director called in his general direction. “Can you grab Orli and the others?”
Viggo glanced around. The doubles were all in place, just Orli was no where to be seen. Probably smoking. With a wave at Peter to let him know he understood, he jogged off to where he had last seen Orli lurking around, hoping he’d be able to find him quickly.
The panicked cry for help stopped Viggo short. The sound echoed through the stone, becoming distorted. He altered his direction somewhat, following the others who were closer, who had also heard the desperate call.
Three people were there ahead of Viggo, and he pushed past them all to take in the sight of Orlando, crouched on the ground over the slumping body of another elf, unrecognizable in the bad light. ‘Help me’ Orli was still screaming. ‘Help him.’
Someone muttered something about a medic and took off behind Viggo, while someone else with more presence of mind flashed on a nearby light, illuminating the scene. Orli flinched away from the high powered lights, squeezing his eyes shut as he pleaded with someone to just help. Viggo glanced passed him at the motionless man.
“Orli ...” He said softly. But Orli wasn’t looking at the person under his hands, he was still yelling at those arriving, eyes squeezed tight against the bright set lights. Then the medics were there, and they did push Orlando away as Viggo reached out to grab him, pulling him away, ignoring the mouthful of blond hair. Orlando was fighting Viggo’s grip trying to turn around to see what was going on, but Viggo was equally determined not to let him.
When the lights had flashed, he had seen what Orli hadn’t – that the man’s neck had been slit. He was covered in blood, and very dead.
==
Three hours later, the body was still there, the set had been declared a crime scene, and Orlando was sitting in his soaked costume, waiting to be interviewed by the cops. Next to him, Viggo worriedly past him a hot cup of tea, which Orlando politely declined as he had the others. He was shivering intermediately, and Viggo , long since changed out of his own costume into more comfortable clothes, wished the god damn detectives could hurry it up. Evidence they had been told. Orlando had touched the dead man. No one else should touch Orlando until the forensic team had a chance to go over him.
It wasn’t until two hours later, with dawn breaking across the sky, that they finally finished with Orli. They had asked him what he had heard before he found the body, and Orli could only answer in vague tones about rustlings, and hidden cigarettes. They spent half an hour cleaning his hands, removing the blood with a special solvent, and when they final got costume to get rid of the sopping tunic (carefully placed in plastic bags) Orli looking on it all with a sort of detached horror. Viggo’s heart had lurched at the expression.
Finally they were done, and with Orli wrapped in layers of fleece, but still trembling, Viggo offered to take him home.
++
Five hours ago, Peter Jackson, entrusted with three hundred million dollars to bring his dream to life, had thought that nothing more could go wrong on the Helm’s Deep set. He had been wrong.
The policeman - or detective, Peter supposed, was still talking. “Michael Weyerhauser.”
Peter looked at him blankly. The detective, who had a good two feet on Peter, checked his notes.
“Elf Warrior number-“
Peter interrupted him. “How... I mean why? Mr...”
“Elliot. Detective Elliot.”
“Ok – do you know...”
“We aren’t disclosing details at this time.”
Peter swallowed, searching for the answers to the questions he didn’t want to ask in the craggy planes of Elliot’s face. “Any idea..”
“No.”
Peter nodded “And you wouldn’t tell me anyway.”
“Not at this time.” The detective repeated.
When Peter didn’t move, seemingly staring off into space, Elliot continued. “We’re still going over the forensic evidence collected off of-“ He paused, glancing at his ever present paper pad. “Bloom – but it doesn’t look like we’re going to get much. Seems to have been all of Weyerhauser’s blood.”
Peter was trying to listen but at the same time his mind was trying to explore every way this was going to affect his movie, how to minimize, what would New Line say? Could they shut it down? What would insurance cover? And Jesus Christ but a man was dead, not just dead – murdered.
He turned to find the detective staring at him.
“Pardon?” Peter asked, assuming he’d missed something.
Detective Elliot shook his head. “Nothing. Just that this is a crime scene now, all shooting is going to be shut down until we give the go ahead.”
Peter just nodded. “Thanks” He said automatically. The detective was just doing his job, and he supposed it was in all their interests to be cooperative and a man was dead – not just dead – murdered. The thought ran through his head again.
Elliot relaxed a fraction. He hadn’t the patience for the Hollywood types, but Peter was one of them. “Take it easy, kay mate?”
Peter sighed as his cell phone vibrated in his pocket for the fifth time in as many minutes. Not much chance of that.
++
Orlando had been almost comatose in the car. Staring unblinkingly out the window, answering Viggo’s chit chat with monosyllables. But now that they were home Orlando seem to come awake.
“This isn’t my place.”
“No.” Viggo agreed. “It’s mine.” He shrugged “It’s closer, and you –“ he didn’t complete the sentence, that Orlando looked like he could use some company.
“I’m fine.” Orlando hissed suddenly, causing Viggo to turn towards him in astonishment.
“Orli.”
But Orli was out of the car now, standing towards the sunrise that was just beginning to break. Staring at it. Viggo in turn, stared at Orli as he got out of the car, waiting.
“it was Michael.” Orlando finally said. “Elf Warrior number 19. I bummed a smoke off him two days ago. Never returned the favour. I guess they’re right, eh? Smoking ki..” Viggo heard his voice catch and took a step closer as Orli didn’t complete the sentence.. “I didn’t think he was dead, you know? I was thinking, I wasn’t thinking, but he wasn’t dead.”
“Come on – we’re both beat. I’ve got a spare room. You can crash here.”
For a second Viggo was sure that Orli was going to refuse – but the tightly wound figure in front of him suddenly nodded.
“Yeah” Orlando replied softly. “That sounds ok.”
The decision made, Orli suddenly seemed to slump, his nervous energy of before dissipating into the night.
“Fuck.” He rasped. Words jumbled by hands rubbing his face. “I’m exhausted.”
Viggo wasted no time setting up Orlando in the guestroom. Reminding him where the bathroom was, but Orlando was asleep almost as soon as he hit the bed, clothes and all.
Viggo just pulled the drapes closed against the morning sunlight and threw a blanket over him. He also laid out a spare set of clean boxers and a toothbrush in case Orli woke up at some point.
Then Viggo retreated back to his room. But unlike Orli, sleep didn’t come instantanously. Instead he recalled the way Orli’s voice had sounded, and how he had known, somehow known who it was, and the horrible feeling that had sent through his body.
++
News travels fast on a movie set, and Viggo came blinking awake far too early to the repetitively annoying sound of his phone ringing.
Fumbling around the bedstand next to him, he finally grasped it.
“’Lo.” He grunted softly.
“Vig! Thankgodwecouldn’tgetaholdoforliandnoonewasasnwering-“
Viggo opened his eyes. “Lij.”
“Petersnotonsetandnooneknowswhatsgoingon.”
“Lij. Calm down.”
Viggo was relieved to hear him catch his breath. He decided to take advantage of the momentary break.
“I’m ok, Orlando’s here with me and he’s ok.”
Viggo heard the short exhale of breath, before the message was relayed to whoever else was there. Sounded like at least Billy and Austin, which meant that they were probably getting their feet done. He glanced at the alarm clock next to his bed – 8:30. He’d had like an hour and a half an hour of sleep. Not good.
“Is it true Vig? Is someone dead?”
“Yeah, Lij, it is.”
“Murdered?”
“Yeah – they think so.” Or else Michael had decided to stab himself numerous times before slitting his throat. But Elijah didn’t need those details – Viggo wished that he didn’t have them floating around in his own head.
“And Orlando saw it?”
That got Viggo’s attention
“No – Elijah – what? Who told you that?”
He could practically hear the shrug. “Someone just said that Orli saw it.”
“He didn’t.” Viggo said as firmly as possible. “Lij, listen, I know that rumors are a dime a dozen on a movie set, and particularly this movie set. But Orlando saw nothing, Orlando knows nothing. Understand?”
“Yeah.” Elijah sounded confused, and Viggo sighed, not wanting to spell it out.
“Look Elijah, they haven’t caught the person who did it. Understand?”
The quick intake of breath assured Viggo that Elijah did get it.
“Oh jesus. Oh Viggo. You don’t think-“
“I don’t know. I hope they’ve got the guy already. But if not ... “
“Orli didn’t see anything, right.” The voice on the other end promised.
The hobbits were on the task.
+++
Orli woke up to darkness. The first thing he was aware of was how wonderfully comfortable he was. The next was that he was wearing a sweatshirt to bed, which was wrong. He struggled to sit upright for a few moments, sliding it over his head.
He was drifting back to sleep when he felt it – just the sense that there was someone else in the room, but he was dead to the world before it could really register. His exhausted body craving sleep at a level that couldn’t be denied.
++
For Peter, sleep remained determinedly elusive. He had spent the morning on the phone dealing with panicked investors, had stopped by for a quick check up on how filming was going with the hobbits, cancelled the Helm’s Deep shot that night, had finally fallen into a handy sofa at about three in the afternoon.
Now he was being dragged back to consciousness by the sound of a heavy hand banging on the trailer door.
Trying to remember that he had wanted to do this, Peter hauled himself up, reaching the trailer door, only to be meet by an irate Detective.
“Where the fuck is that Bloom kid?”
Peter just blinked, wondering where he left his glasses.
“What?”
“The Bloom kid.” The detective was waving something in his hand.
“Is he in trouble?”
“Yes.” Was the short answer, and Peter felt his heart sink.
“I can get his address for you.”
“Already got it. He’s not there. Where else would he be?”
Peter tried to think back. “You could try Viggo’s.”
“Where’s that?”
Peter tossed him his cell and he felt his pockets for the keys to his jeep. If Orlando was in trouble than it was his problem too. “He’s number 9 on the quick dial. Com’on” he said “I’ll take you.”
++
Viggo woke up for the second time around three, and, after a brief check ascertaining Orli was still sound asleep, he headed downstairs to find something to eat. He was hungry and no doubt Orli would be starving when he finally woke up.
He was just embracing a hot cup of coffee when the banging on his door almost made him drop it.
“Why don’t you answer the goddamn phone” Was the greeting he got when he pulled the door open to reveal the detective from last night, evidently in a temper.
“Ringers off.” He replied calmly, turning to his director. “Peter what’s going on?”
Peter shrugged. “He needs to talk to Orlando.”
“Damn right. Where is he?”
“Upstairs-“ Was all Viggo got out before Elliot was gone. “He’s asleep” he called after him, to no apparent effect.
They both heard the pounding on the stairs, then a bedroom door slam, there was dead silence for a split second and then the most unearthy screaming Viggo had ever heard filled the air.
“Jesus.” Viggo was taking the steps two at a time, Peter behind him.
It took Viggo all of a couple of seconds to reach the bedroom door, and the sight halted him dead in his tracks. There, sitting up in bed, wearing nothing but an t-shirt drenched with sweat, was Orlando – eyes open, seeing nothing and hyperventilating. Elliot, only a few steps into the room, was frozen, staring in amazement.
“I didn’t touch him.” The detective actually took a step back, hands raised. Viggo was also momentarily stunned, but Peter, huffing, arriving a few moments later, had two young kids at home and got it immediately.
“He’s still asleep.”
Pushing past both of them, Peter moved to the bed, grabbing Orlando’s shoulders, calling his name.
Orli’s eyes flew open and meet Peter’s two concerned eyes.
“Orlando, Orli, you’re ok. You’re fine. Ok? Fine.”
Frightened eyes just stared back, body wracked as great gulps of air were inhaled. Peter pulled him closer, pushing him against his shoulder. Could feel the heart flutter-light beating against him, the ribs and backbone under his arms.
Finally Peter felt the desperate heaves turn into tremors, and felt the head turn to tuck into his shoulder.
“It’s ok. It’s ok.” Peter did his best to soothe him.
Finally the tears stopped.
“You ok?”
He felt the nod, and he gently eased Orlando back.
Wet red eyes blinked at him. “Sorry” Orli said softly, turning away.
“Nah- you’re alright.” Peter assured him, “Believe me this shirt has seen worse. At least you haven’t chundered all over it.” He noticed with satisfaction the smile that flittered across the mobile features, only to watch it disappear as Orli became aware of the other people in the room. But Peter wasn’t ready to let him go yet.
“Do you remember what it was?”
But Orli just shook his head. “No idea.”
Detective Elliot stepped forward. “Well maybe this had something to do with it.” He threw a plain white envelope down on the bed, watching as Orlando practically winced from it. Viggo and Peter just looked puzzled. “Went through the studio’s mail this morning.” He said conversationally. “And low and behold in Orlando Bloom’s mail box I find this. Do you know what this is?”
From the bed, Orlando just nodded, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes..
“Tell them.”
“It’s a letter.” Orlando said hesitantly.
“Try harder.”
But Orlando had clammed up, evidently deciding that nothing more would be said. Viggo, taking a few steps closer, picked it up, sliding the letter out of the envelope.
“It’s in elvish.” He said, surprised.
Elliot nodded. “Read it.”
Viggo frowned at the words, before handing it over to Peter with an apologetic shrug. There was method acting and then there was method acting – he’d learned his lines, not the entire language.
Detective Elliot’s exasperation came out in his voice. “It’s a threat. Addressed to Orlando.”
Peter and Viggo’s intake of breath was audible.
“Orlando-“ Peter tried to control the level of his voice. Shouting at him now wasn’t going to help. “You know we have a policy.”
“I’m sorry, Peter.” Orli said softly. “I know I should have said something. But –“
Viggo’s voice was tight with anger. “How many of these have you gotten?”
Orli shrugged.
“Guess.” Elliot demanded.
“10 – maybe.”
“Maybe?”
Orli didn’t look up from where he had fixed his gaze to the bedspread and Detective Elliot resisted the urge to shake the answers out of him.
“Well has it occurred to you that had you said something a man might still be alive?”
Orlando seemed to shrink even further into the sheets. “Yes.” He finally whispered.
Then he turned away, ignoring them all.
+++
“It was in elvish?”
“Uh-huh.” Elijah nodded as he went back for another bit of his sandwich. Shooting had wrapped for the day, and what with the events of last night, the rumour mill was even more efficient than usual.
“Elvish death threats? To Orli?”
“Creepy huh? Imagine if a bunch of hobbits came after us?”
“Lij!”
“I didn’t think he was doing that bad of a job.” Elijah continued, ignoring the horrified looks on Dom’s and Billy faces.
“Not funny Lij,” Dom suddenly snapped. “Someone’s dead.”
Elijah’s face fell so suddenly that Dom regretted his harshness.
“I know Dom” he said softly. “I just can’t think about it, but I can’t stop thinking about it. And Orli...” Elijah’s eyes closed. “It’s just all so awful, but I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Billy squashed himself down next to Elijah, wrapping his arms around the younger man. “It’s ok. They got the letters. There will be clues. Handwriting, fingerprints, all that shite. They’ll catch the guy. Orli and Viggo’s vacation will be over, and we’ll all get back to normal.”
Elijah looked up at him. “Do you think Orli would like some company tonight?”
+++
Detective Elliot, married twice, widowed once, divorced once, liked things to be in order. And this case was raising more questions then it was answering. Truth was that most murders were open and shut – 90% of all homicides were committed someone known to the victim, if not a family member. But this guy’s family had been no where near Helm’s Deep last night.
He stared at the small pile of elvish letters sitting on his desk. Orlando had managed to find a few of them that he hadn’t destroyed or thrown away. The poor kid had looked awful, and Elliot relenting a little, saved the rest of the lecture.
There was a knock on his door.
“Open” He called out.
The door was pushed open and two coffee cups, followed by a tall willowy redhead entered.
“Elliot?”
“Not fired yet,” he replied. “Still here.”
“Damn. I’ll try back later.” She turned to leave, glancing at her watch. “What do you think? An hour? Maybe two?”
“Tops.” Elliot replied, smiling inspite of himself. “Wadda you want Summers?”
“I humbly come bearing gifts from the machine down the hall.”
Summers eased her way into his office, frowning at the lack of light.
“You can’t see anything in here,” she complained. She raised a hand. “How many fingers?”
“Fuck off.”
“Lucky guess.” She muttered, lowering her middle finger.
“And you’re wrong.”
Elliot could barely make out the thin eyebrow rising in doubt.
“The point isn’t that you can’t see, but that nothing can see you.”
“How charmingly paranoid.”
“Hey it’s my ass.” Elliot grumbled but swung his feet of his desk. “I take it you have some results for me?”
Dr. Summers carefully handed one of the mugs to Elliot, dumping a plastic wrapped croissant next to it. Elliot just eyed it. Wiping her hands carefully she snagged the folder from underneath her arm.
“Letters first?”
“Yeah” He nodded, sipping his coffee. It was milky. Hers, then. He switched it for the other one.
“Ok – all written in elvish, the paper most likely originated from a stack that they have on set, but all the paper is hand made and as such has such variance that potentially someone else could have made it elsewhere.”
“Unlikely though.”
“90-10”
“Ok. Next.”
“Victim bleed to death at approx 1:55 am – shortly before the body was discovered.”
“How shortly.”
“Minutes. Maybe even seconds.”
Elliot whistled.
“Indeed. Assailant probably fled when he heard Bloom approach...”
“But....” Elliot prompted.
“But, as you well know, the victim was found in a dead end, with no tracks and any other evidence that suggests he did anything other than just walk back the way he came.”
“Except Bloom didn’t see anyone.” Elliot reminded her.
“It was dark.”
“I saw you, didn’t I?”
“Touche. Victim died with massive blood loss, but his throat was slit first to prevent noise. Then the assailant went to town on the victim’s thoracic area. Two blades were used. Approximately 2 feet long, extremely sharp. Didn’t disembowled him – seem to know just what he was doing.” Dr Summer looked up from her report, taking a sip of her coffee. “I looked for a pattern in the markings, anything like that, but couldn’t find one. Still...”
“Has the feeling of a ritualistic killing, right?”
She shrugged gracefully, but then nodded. “All the signs.”
“Damn.”
Elliot always hated these ones. Had to take everything that you knew and throw it out the window. These guys never followed the rules.
“Anything else?”
Summers shook her head. “Not from me on this end.”
She closed her file, taking an even larger sip of her coffee, and even reaching for the croissant.
“What about on your end?”
Elliot pulled his lips into a thin line. “I think you know the main points. Bloom says he didn’t see anything. Heard nothing useful. Said that as he kept on getting those letters but when nothing happened ... Didn’t want to make a fuss.”
“Actors.” Summer shrugged.
“Idiots.”
“That’s what I said.”
They shared a grin.
“Anyway. That’s it.” Elliot finished.
“Outlook’s a bit grim.”
Elliot sipped on his coffee and said nothing. They were still early. More test results were being waited on. And despite what he told Summers, he still wanted to talk to Orli again. Really talk.
“Hey Summers?”
She glanced in his general direction, waiting.
“What do you know about night terrors?”
“You mean nightmares?”
Elliot shook his head. “I think these are somewhat different. Kids get them.”
Summers snorted. “What would I know? You’re the one with the kid.”
Elliots’s face froze, but he managed a smile. “Yeah right.”
“Oh jeez. Elliot .. I’m .. “
Elliot shrugged.”Forget it. Anyway. That’s it?”
Still looking troubled, Summers nodded, gathering her files and exiting, but, Elliot noticed, leaving the croissant.
++
The road to hell were the first four words that popped into Viggo’s head as he opened his door to find a contingency of hobbits on his doorstep. His eyes traveled over the six pack of beer warming in Dom’s grasp, and the collection of DVDs in Elijah’s.
“Guys...” He began softly, only to be out shouted almost immediately as Orlando appeared in the doorway. He gave up as they all stampeded into his house, but kept an eye on Orli as he was swamped by his castmates. Orli’s mood had been swinging from extremes all day, but now he was looking thrilled as a kid on Christmas by the hobbits’ presence.
Maybe good intentions would be enough, Viggo thought, as he watched Billy crack open a bottle and tell Orli the latest hobbit prank they’d played on those unsuspecting elves. Elijah suddenly appeared from his kitchen. “Where the chips?”
“Right shelf, over the frig.”
“Right.” Elijah disappeared again. Viggo suddenly felt hollow, drained. It had been a long day. He glanced over at Orli, who right now was laughing his head off at Billy’s antics – it was better then the expressionless monotones that had greeted any attempt at conversation for the last two hours.
There was giant crash from the kitchen, soon followed by an “I’m alright! Don’t come in!”
Viggo sighed. He’d leave the kids to themselves. The peace and quiet of his studio beckoned.
++
Orlando stopped smiling when the last hobbit fell asleep. He leaned over and turned off the late late dating show that they’d only been half watching anyway. On the sofa, bodies intertwined, Billy sighed as Elijah tugged on the blanket. Curled up amongst the pillows on the floor was Dom. In the sudden silence Orli could hear Dom’s deep breaths, punctuated occasionally by Billy’s tiny snores and Elijah’s mutterings.
He walked around, picking up empties and even prying the still half full beer from Dom’s surprisingly tight gasp. Coming back, he stared at the three of them, and then hesitating, he turned and went up the stairs, maybe Viggo, still on the Helm’s Deep night schedule, would be up.
The soft light filtering out from the studio’s door gave away Viggo’s location. Not wanting to disturb, Orli hovered, peering inside.
He could hear string music softly being played, and he let his eyes drift around the studio space, taking in the soft colours, the blankets and pillows, the pieces of art at all various stages, before finally letting them rest on Viggo. Viggo’s back was to the door as he bent towards his latest piece. Suddenly feeling like a voyeur, Orli forced himself to knock lightly.
Viggo didn’t turn around. “You can come in you know. Door’s open.”
Orli obediently took a few steps in, moving towards where Viggo was, looking over his shoulder studying the painting. When he finally looked at Viggo, he was surprised to find Viggo studying him.
“What do you think?” Viggo asked quietly. Orlando got the feeling that it wasn’t the painting that was being judged, but rather him. He turned back to study it again.
“It feels ... sad.”
Orlando missed the flicker of surprise on Viggo’s face.
“I think you’re feeling sad.”
But Orlando, eyes still on the painting, just shook his head. “I don’t, you know. I don’t feel anything, or, I feel everything – anger, sick, tired, wired ...”
“Afraid.”
Viggo watched as Orli just closed his eyes, fingers automatically encirculating, rubbing his hands. Viggo reached out to stop them, grasping the fine boned hands in his own. They were cold, and instinctively Viggo held them tighter.
“It’s late.”
“I’m not tired.” Orli pulled back, but when Viggo didn’t release his hands, stood still again.
“It’s ok, Orli.” Viggo whispered. “Nothing bad will happen tonight.”
Orli didn’t move.
“Come on.” And, never letting go of Orli’s hands, he pulled him towards his bedroom.
But still, at the edge of the bed, Orlando hovered uncertainly.
“Does this mean anything?”
“It doesn’t have to.” Viggo replied evenly.
In the dark, Viggo could just make out Orli tilting his head, considering.
“Ah for Pete’s sake,” Viggo grumbled goodnaturedly. “I’ll still respect you in the morning.”
That got the smile Viggo had been waiting for as Orlando relaxed.
“Well,” he replied softly. “Ok then.”
Never self conscious, but with a certain efficiency, Orli stripped down to his boxers, sliding down onto the other side of the bed. Viggo thought that, like last night, he had simply fallen asleep. It wasn’t until a few minutes later, when Viggo was in his pajamas and crawling into his own side of the bed that Orli spoke again.
“I don’t need this, you know. I’m fine by my own.”
Viggo just snorted from his side of the bed. “Go to sleep you moron.”
“Smelly human.”
Viggo smiled.
+++
Viggo woke up with the unfamiliar but not unwelcome feeling of a large heavy blanket wrapped across him. It was only when he reached to pull it higher that he felt thick curly hair under his fingers, and came suddenly awake to the rather unusual sight of Orlando Bloom drapped across his stomach and chest, letting out the occasional snore of content. He reminded Viggo of a great dane puppy a friend of his had once owned.
He could also feel Orlando’s morning erection pressing against his leg, causing an awkard response in his own body. Deciding he might as well get up to deal with it, Viggo tried to ease himself out from the reluctant elf. Gently, so as not to wake him, Viggo shifted Orli, and then rolled him to the side, allowing himself to escape. Watching with a wry grin as Orlando rolled back almost immediately, settling in with a sigh of disappointment when he discovered Viggo gone. It wasn’t until Viggo had finished in the bathroom and headed downstairs to the kitchen that he remembered the hobbits.
The main room was empty and surprisingly clean, as was the kitchen, where – stuck on the overloaded fridge door was a note.
‘Viggo – thanks for last night, we let ourselves out, see you on the set.’
Below someone had scribbled, ‘and tell your bed partner he’s got really sexy legs.”
Viggo smiled. Then decided to hide the note before Orli saw it.
The last thing he wanted to do on this 18 month shoot was mess around with his co-stars, and that went double for the ones under thirty.
+++
tbc.
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I will be looking forward to the next part.
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I suspect that I'm missing something here because I've never watched a 'forensiks is fun' show (apologies for the sarcasm) in my life, but you're doing such an extremely wonderful job with the LOTR boys and the anciliary characters that I bow to your wisdom and grace with pen (metaphorically, of course) Lovely to see Pete in a story too! Cheers!
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Uhoh....
(Feel free to screen/delete this if I gave something away)