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fellowshippers2005-10-30 06:14 pm
pecos.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2005-10-30 06:14 pm
Trick or Treat...
*ding-dong!* “Trick or treat!”
Well, well, well…hello my dear friends! Thank you for coming to my house on this delightful, spooky, haunted evening when we celebrate the darker side of life and how much necessary color it adds to the light. I have a treat for you, my little ones…
title: How Fragile We Are
author: Pecos – PecosPhil@sprintmail.com
website: http://www.chimerafic.com
beta reader: Gloria Mundi
what is it?: RPS, speculative fiction
rating: NC-17 – angst, adult language, gay men,
violence, supernatural and horror elements
disclaimer: I don’t make the toys; I’m only
playing with them. No money made, nor
disrespect intended. This is FICTION
who’s in it?: Sean Bean, Orlando Bloom,
Billy Boyd, Dominic Monaghan, Viggo
Mortensen and Elijah Wood, mostly...
summary: Present day
Orlando plans a reunion for his friends
at a peculiar plantation in the Caribbean
feedback: yes, please! Even if just to say hello...
inspiration: “...perhaps this final act was meant,
to clench a lifetime’s argument, that
nothing comes from violence, and nothing
ever could. For all us born beneath an
angry star, lest we forget...” (Sting)
How Fragile We Are
A Caribbean Haunting Tale
by Pecos
“Well, the place has a unique ambience, I’ll grant ye that,” Billy Boyd commented, standing up in the passenger seat of the open Jeep Dom was driving as they paused at the crest of a hill.
“Ambience?” questioned Elijah Wood from the back. “More like a decrepit creepitude.”
“That’s not a proper word,” Dom said, thinking that it was a pretty good description, nonetheless. The mansion crouched like a beast on the breast of a rugged hill, overlooking the green Caribbean waters. The building was obviously very old, and had been added to many times over the intervening decades, not always well or with any adherence to a particular style. It was a massive structure, one which would defy any impertinent tropical storm or the trivial passage of time. Weird little old-world architectural embellishments seemed out of place in this pleasant locale. The mansion would have been better suited to a deep forest in Maine or some lost, rocky shore off the northern coast of Scotland. And yet, improbable and unique, here it was on a lovely little island in the Lesser Antilles, legendary playground of the rich and famous.
“What the hell was Orlando thinking?” Elijah questioned.
“I’m a rich bastard, aren’t I?” Billy speculated.
“Tsk,” Dom lectured. “Don’t go picking on the man...at least until he arrives.”
Elijah put on his bad posh English accent, saying “in his private jet, thank you very kindly. Please be sure that the port is warmed, the champagne chilled, and the vodka is in the freezer.”
“I thought they had plantations and stuff around here,” Billy said.
“Yeah, sugar and all,” Dom replied. “Didn’t you see the banana trees on our way up from town?”
“So why doesn’t anything grow here?” the Scotsman asked.
Boyd was right – nothing green or living seemed to venture near the mansion. It stood on bare rock and soil, alone on the ridge – an outcast, defiant and naked. It was like a giant hand had scraped the earth clear and dropped this crooked building down from a great height. Some industrious child had put it there, intending to build roads and play with his toy cars, but had lost interest and wandered off. Now the forgotten and neglected plaything sat bleaching in the sun. Dom smiled to himself at the metaphor, and in the next instant he thought that the child must have been either horrible or deranged, because the more you looked at the mansion, the more uneasy you became.
“I don’t like it.” That was Elijah. He was always the quickest one to make up his mind.
“Pussy!” Billy teased, turning in his seat to pull a face at the younger man. “Look, Viggo is probably already down there, and Bean - if he made it!”
“I don’t see any other cars,” Dom commented.
“Well, hell, you could hide a fleet of cars and a cruise ship behind that thing! Come on,” Billy urged. “Got to get that vodka into the freezer before Lord Orlando arrives.” Laughing, Dom brought in the clutch, and the three actors drove down the crest of the ridge to their vacation get-away in the tropical sun.
“It’s about time!” Viggo hailed from the staircase in the entrance hall. “I was thinking that Sean and I would have to eat the whole dinner ourselves!” Hobbits swept past massive black oak doors into the cool interior of the mansion, dropping luggage like a stray loses fleas, running to greet their King. Viggo was doing his madman laugh, typical for the Dane, planting kisses indiscriminately.
The Steward of Gondor came in from a parlor, grinning, a can of ale in one hand and the other arm open for hugs and hair-ruffling. “Shirelings! Good thing you’re here, lads! Too quiet, aye? And you should see all the damn fish Viggo’s planning on grilling! He bought half the catch off a fisherman in town. Flying fish, if you can believe it. He says they’ll be edible, but I’ve got some bangers if it turns out to be a Ranger’s lie. Isn’t the poncy Elfling with you?”
“Orlando’s coming in on his own,” Dom said, leaving out the bit about the private plane. “We waited for a little while, but it was hot and the Jeep guy had a car all ready to go.”
“Can he call from the airport?” Viggo wanted to know. “I haven’t found a telephone yet.”
“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Elijah said. “Flying fish, Viggo? For real?”
“They’re fabulous! I’m making a basil/lime sauce; you’ll be thanking me over dessert.”
“I did the dessert,” Sean bragged. “Found Popsicles at the grocers! I think they’re even from some time this year!”
“At least we brought beer!” Dom exclaimed.
“What a surprise,” Viggo said, deadpan. “Get it out of the sun and follow me – I’ll show you to the kitchens.”
“We’ve been here for hours, exploring,” Sean said as the group of old friends clumped down a long, dark passageway toward the back to the building. “I think this was originally a separate building. Used to be the ovens made it too hot to have the kitchen attached to the house. It must’ve gotten absorbed in some expansion project.” They went down a couple of uneven steps and through a stone doorway into a spacious and oddly modern kitchen.
Dom whistled. “This is nice! Looks like a restaurant or something!”
Elijah took in the gleaming interior, pots and pans hung from heavy hooks suspended over sparkling counters, stainless steel stovetops and ovens. “They’ve got gadgets in here just for opening other gadgets!”
“Oh, you just know there’s a decent wine cellar somewhere!” Billy said.
“Aye, and fully stocked, too!” Sean told them. “Even JRD would approve.”
Dom was pulling open the door of a walk-in cooler. “Damn! Uh, are these your Popsicles, Beanie? Next to the year’s supply of Dove Ice Cream, and the twenty flavors of gourmet sorbet?”
“That would be them!” Sean grinned.
“So that’s what a truffle looks like!” Elijah said, lifting a jar from a colorful collection in an open cabinet.
Billy peered over his shoulder at the shriveled black spheres within. “Ewwww, mate. Looks like an Uruk’s balls! Put it back. Yer makin’ me lose my appetite.”
Viggo was looking around admiringly. “Orli really pulled out all the stops for this little reunion all right. Too bad John, Ian and Astin couldn’t make it. They’re really going to miss out.” The Hobbits exchanged glances, probably thinking something far less charitable, but before anyone else spoke the heavy door on the back wall swung open with a creak and three very large dogs trotted into the kitchen like they owned the place. The dogs padded through the room and down the hall without even acknowledging the tenants, intent on some canine errand.
“Holy shit,” Elijah said in a whisper. “What was that?”
“Irish Wolfhounds, I think,” Sean said. “Big lads, eh?”
“I’ve ridden smaller horses,” Dom told them, intimidated. “You think they’re Orlando’s?”
“Probably come with the house,” Viggo suggested. “Uh, guard dogs, or something. ‘Course, Orli would like that sort of thing. I hope he isn’t bringing Sidi with him.”
“They’d eat Sidi for tea,” Billy said.
Orlando arrived a short time later, in a car driven by someone from the airport. He was looking up at the plantation house with a stunned expression, fumbling with one bag while the driver wrestled another. He hadn’t brought his dog – Sidi was staying in Los Angeles with one of his assistants. “Damn,” the young man muttered, moving into the mansion’s shadow. The doors swung open and his fellow Rings cast mates spilled out, teasing and joking, engulfing him in a group hug.
“You’ve booked us into a haunted house,” Elijah exclaimed, only partly kidding.
“It didn’t look anything like this in the brochure,” Orlando said. He went to pay the driver, and the man left again without another word. Sighing, the young Brit turned back to survey the house as they moved inside, everyone chattering. “I hope I didn’t get ripped off. It doesn’t leak or anything, does it? Did they stock the kitchens? I sent a whole list of stuff you guys like to eat.”
“Everything’s here, Orli,” Viggo assured him. “It’s just loaded with atmosphere, that’s all. Thanks for rounding everyone up.”
“Yeah, thanks for the reunion,” Billy added, frowning at the heavy bag he’d taken from the driver. It clinked ominously. “You brought liquor too?”
“No, that was all on the list,” Orlando said, distracted. “Those are presents. Don’t drop it.” Billy had been on the verge of plopping the bag down with a lecture about not being a bellboy. He set the bag gently on the stairs, chastising himself for being uncharitable. Bean grabbed Orlando in a tight embrace, and was immediately called: “Northern bastard! I’m so glad you could make it after all!”
“Finished early, didn’t we?” Sean mumbled. “Southern softie! How’s my little Princeling?”
“Famished. Viggo, are you cooking tonight?”
“You know it, poncy Elf. I’m going to get started, now that you’re here.”
“Yeah, now the party can roll!” Dom said with a grin, hoisting a bottle he’d been carrying for some time. He met Elijah’s eyes, and a secret smile passed between them.
Elijah and Dom were exploring the back part of the house, in a section that seemed to be unconnected to the spacious bedroom areas. They’d found a flight of wooden stairs rising from the kitchen, and there were several rooms up there almost bare of furniture and with only the most primitive decoration. It looked like a good spot for a secret rendezvous. “Here’s a view for you,” Elijah observed, standing in front of a small window which looked right into a stone wall, bare inches away.
“Saves on the heating bill,” Dom told him, coming over and wrapping his arms around the slight young man. He nuzzled Elijah’s neck shamelessly. “I’ve missed you, Doodlebug.”
“Look at this glass,” Elijah said, distracted, examining the dirty surface. “It isn’t even, it’s like it was hand-poured or something. I wonder how old this is. Think we can get it open? I want to see if there’s any space between this wall and the next one.”
“Glad to be so resistible,” Dom grumbled. He helped Elijah tug and pull at the ancient wooden window frame, and with a final cracking noise the glass slid upwards a few inches. A little cloud of dust and sand billowed out, sifting down into the room.
Elijah crouched on his haunches, looking upwards, failing to see any light coming down from above. “Who would build like this? It’s just crazy!” He tried to push the glass higher, but his hand dislodged something in the dust collected on the other side of the windowsill, and with a faint clatter a collection of odd white sticks fell into the room and scattered on the floor.
“What?” Dom asked.
“Bones. They’re little bones. Here’s most of a...it’s a bird’s skeleton.”
“Birds? But the whole window is sealed off by the building. How would birds have gotten in there?” Dom crouched down, touching the tiny white bones. They felt cool and smooth and very, very strange – lighter then they looked. “Has to be several of them here, and they look full grown.”
“Where did they come from?”
“I dunno, Lijah. Maybe inside this room? There’s the other windows which aren’t blocked up.”
Elijah shifted the bones around, suddenly uncomfortable. “Surely someone would have known it if birds got in and got trapped behind the glass. I’m sure they made noise.”
Dom shrugged, reaching out to lift Elijah’s troubled face. He got a smile for his efforts, and the two actors leaned toward each other, intent on a kiss they’d both been craving for some time. A shout from below startled Elijah so much that he fell sideways onto his ass, crushing several of the fine white bones in his scramble to get up again. Someone down in the kitchen was yelling for help, and they sounded very frightened.
Sean Bean hiked his butt onto a marble countertop and snagged a carrot from the pile Viggo had already washed and trimmed. “Those’re going to be honey-glazed,” Viggo said, “with a bit of mint. Found mint sprigs hanging in that drying cabinet. Remind me to load up before we leave – especially the bay leaves.”
“You’re such a girl’s blouse, Viggers. Jesus, going to knit me a tea cosy too?”
“I might. You got a favorite color?”
“Dunno. Can you do a Blades logo?”
“I did a set of San Lorenzo mittens...and a scarf.”
Sean stared at him for a moment before bursting out laughing. “You daft bastard! Had me for a moment there! Course I wouldn’t put the like past you. I get a lot of drinks bought with the promise of a ‘crazy Viggo’ story or two on movie sets. How’s Hen doing?”
“College, can you believe it? I hope to God he doesn’t want to be in the film industry. I’d rather that he pump gas or sell insurance.”
“Second that,” Sean saluted with his chewed carrot. “It just plain scares me how fast the girls are growing. I think I’m going to have a heart attack the first time one of them mentions having sex.”
Viggo filled a pot with water and checked on the marinating fish filets. “Beautiful,” he declared. “Ever seen flying fish racing away from the bow of a ship? It’s like they’re running atop the waves, silver and blue glinting in the sun.” He set the pot on one of the burners and started sorting through the carrots, finding one that didn’t meet his exacting specifications and passing it to Sean, who obligingly accepted the crisp vegetable for disposal.
“I see that Elijah and Dominic are still giving each other the goo-goo eyes,” Sean observed, crunching. “I thought maybe their ardor had cooled a bit with Dom out there in Hawaii and the Ringbearer off filming in Eastern Europe and all. And of course Dom’s got that adorable little girlfriend on his show, the one with the...Viggers? What is it?”
Viggo’s face was strangely intent. He was staring down at his hand, which was pressed flat against one of the burner rings on the smooth-topped stove. “How odd,” Mortensen said slowly. “I can’t move my hand.”
“What? Is this part of a story?”
“No,” he said slowly. “I can’t lift my hand. It feels like someone is holding it down.” He grasped his own wrist, and Sean could see the muscles in his arms flex and strain. “It’s...I can’t move it.”
Sean slid off the counter and stood next to him, puzzled. “Did you get it into something sticky?” He grasped Viggo’s wrist too and tried tugging. Not a bit of motion.
“I’m pulling as hard as I can,” Viggo said with a strained voice, sounding oddly detached. “This is bizarre.”
Sean heard a soft click and saw the first faint glow of red from beneath the smooth burner cover. “Jesus!” he gasped, using both hands and pulling up as hard as he could. Viggo grunted in pain, but his hand stuck fast. “Turn off the burner!” Sean said urgently, bracing his feet and trying again.
“It’s not on.”
“It bloody well is on! I can see...” he desperately clawed at the stove’s knobs. All of the burners were off, yet the one under Viggo’s hand continued to glow brighter and brighter. Sean scrambled for a spatula or something, frantic. By the time he got back to Viggo’s side he could smell the burning flesh. Viggo’s face was white – eyes wide.
“Jesus, Jesus! HELP! Someone help me!” Sean wrenched and jerked on the unmoving hand, trying to wedge something underneath. They heard running feet somewhere overhead and then on the stairs, and suddenly Viggo was freed. The two men flew backwards, collapsing on the floor, Viggo in Sean’s arms. Sean would have screamed again if he’d had enough air in his lungs.
Elijah and Dom burst into the kitchen from the stairway, both panicked by the shouting. Sean grasped Viggo tight to his chest, and they both looked as Viggo slowly raised his now-freed hand and turned it over. His palm was completely unmarked, no sign of the charred flesh they’d both expected to see. His wrist was scratched and an angry red from all the tugging. The scent of burning flesh still hung in the air.
“What happened, what’s wrong?” Elijah and Dom were demanding. Viggo got slowly to his feet, going back to the stove and looking at the guilty burner. It was clearly off, and cold to the cautious touch.
“Did someone get hurt?” Elijah asked, frightened by their behavior.
“Apparently not,” Viggo said softly.
Billy was frowning at a closed door. He was on the second floor of the main wing, where all the guest bedrooms were located. Everyone had decided to pick their own accommodations, and he’d brought his suitcase up earlier, settling on a room with a simple set of furniture and a great view of the ocean. But now he couldn’t seem to find the room again.
He’d been up the hallway; he’d been down it. He’d found bedrooms with heavy four-poster beds and ones with mosquito netting and balconies, bedrooms that looked unmistakably girly, and one that had Elijah and Dom’s bags sitting guiltily next to each other at the foot of an enormous bed covered with brocade and pillows. He’d found Orlando’s room, where the young man was apparently showering in the en suite bathroom, his luggage already open and seemingly exploded over every available surface. Billy backed out without alerting Orlando to his presence, and worked his way back up the hall again, this time leaving the doors open as he went.
Reaching the end of the hallway, Boyd found an oddly decorated door set in the left-hand wall that he didn’t remember seeing before. He was sure he hadn’t come down this far, but he decided to try it anyway, curious about what else could have disappeared. He stepped into the alcove and opened the door, only to find an identical hallway to the one he’d just left. He frowned, wondering how there could be an entire other wing in the house when the last one had run from one end to the other. He tried the first room on the right and found Elijah and Dom’s luggage again. That couldn’t be right. Billy retraced his steps to the door and found the hallway he’d just left – but this time all the doors were closed again.
Okay, this was getting really strange. Billy went back through the door and down a few paces to another room. He tried that door and walked through to surprise Orlando as he was coming out of the bathroom naked. “Oh, fuck, sorry!” Billy stammered, turning heel and bolting back out again. He slammed the door on Orlando’s assurances that there was no problem, and did he need something? Billy frowned, looking up and down the hallway, wondering how he could have gotten turned around like that. He felt bad about running off like that on Orlando – like there was something hideously wrong with seeing your mates naked, when they’d all had plenty of that sort of thing in New Zealand.
He had to confront this rift he’d felt growing between them, and better sooner than later. Billy turned back to Orlando’s door and rapped his knuckles on the worn old dark wood. “Orli? Hey, uh, mind if I come in?” There was no answer. He turned the knob and eased the door open slowly. Instead of an elegant black-wood four poster and a naked movie star he found a simple bed and bureau, a big wardrobe standing open, and his own suitcase on the floor before it. The ocean heaved gently under a setting sun outside the wide windows.
“What the hell?” Billy muttered, mystified.
“Where have you been?” Elijah asked when Billy finally arrived in the big formal dining room, where everyone had gathered for their first meal.
“Just don’t fuckin’ ask,” the Scot slurred, frowning as he took a seat next to Bean, immediately reaching for the nearest bottle of wine.
Dom shot a curious look at his old friend, then returned to his story about the antics which had followed the arrival of a very cheesy polar bear costume on the Lost set. He threw a bit of bread at Elijah, who seemed preoccupied. Viggo slid another fillet onto Orlando’s plate and pushed the bowl of chutney closer, raising a brow inquisitively.
Sean Bean picked up his fork and noticed that the fine silver handle was crooked. “Anyone else get the feeling that there’s something odd going on here?” he asked, shoveling a mouthful of succulent fish despite the queer peculiar cutlery.
“You mean the whole haunted house thing?” Dom asked.
“What?” Orlando sputtered.
“Oh yeah,” Elijah agreed. “Definitely haunted, or something.”
“Come on, you’re having a laugh,” Bloom complained. “Look, I’m sorry that it didn’t turn out like I’d hoped. Really, the brochure made it sound very much more modern and uh...less...oppressive?”
“That really would be a bit of poetic license,” Sean snorted.
“What about the Three Dogs of the Apocalypse?” Billy asked. “Anyone seen them again?”
Orlando turned to him, “there’re dogs here?”
“Hell hounds, most likely,” Elijah muttered.
“Famine, Pestilence and War,” Dom suggested. He mimicked calling a pet, “here Famine, here boy! Din-din time!” Orlando scowled at him.
“There were dogs,” Viggo confirmed, “big dogs. And there is definitely an...an air about this place. But I kinda like it.”
“After what happened in the kitchen?” Sean asked, disbelievingly. “You really are daft, mate. First ghostie messes with me and I am out that door.”
“I’ll be waiting in the car for you,” Elijah said.
“I want to know how it works,” Billy harrumphed. “There has to be a trick....”
Orlando laid his fork down with a thump. “Okay...I get it. You guys going to tell me why you’re angry? Look, I’m sorry, whatever it was that I did. I know I’ve been really hard to reach and so busy and all, but I really just wanted to have a chance to see you all again! Even Kate said that I’ve been more distant and....”
“This isn’t about the Orlando Bloom Three Ring Circus, you self-centered twat!” Dom snapped.
“Aye. Not everything is about you, y'know?” Billy added, reaching for more wine.
“My mistake,” Orlando growled, refusing to look up. He stood quickly, almost knocking his chair over.
“Orli, don’t....” Viggo started.
“Thank you for cooking, Viggo. It was wonderful.” With that, Orlando left the dinning hall. Viggo sighed, looking down at his own plate.
“I’ll go after him,” Sean offered, rising. “I’ve probably seen more of him in the last couple of years than the rest of you put together.” He glared at the Hobbits as he left. “Save me a Popsicle, yeah?”
The group gathered again in one of the lounges after dinner, with a roaring fire despite the warm night and glasses of something smooth and expensive all around. The younger men had apologized to Orlando, and he did the same, but the air held a definable tension despite the enforced courtesy. “I guess I’d better give out everyone’s presents before I put my foot in it again,” Orlando explained, producing the suitcase from earlier.
“Why would we need presents?” Viggo questioned, accepting a wrapped box.
“Because I forgot your birthday, Viggo. And Dom, you remembered a card on the anniversary of my walking out of hospital.” Dom’s face reflected puzzlement at that, but Orlando was still talking. “Billy, I missed your birthday, too, and I’m pretty sure that I had old addresses for most of you last Christmas.”
“That’s just daft, lad,” Sean said gently. “It’s not necessary. You can always just send me liquor.” He winked.
“Okay, yeah, but...it’s just because I wanted to, okay?”
“Good enough for me!” Elijah said happily, tearing into his package. It contained a set of what looked like CDs in a plain box, numbers written on them and the letters DMC scribbled directly onto the discs. “Uh, I didn’t know that Run DMC had a new recording,” Elijah said, puzzled.
“It’s a beta-test copy of a new videogame for ‘Pirates 2: Dead Man’s Chest. I couldn’t get past the first level, but I’m told that it’s going to be really, really cool, and you can be the first real person to play it.”
Elijah’s jaw dropped in geeky ecstasy. “I need a laptop, a PS2, an X box...anything! I need it now!” He cradled the discs with absolute reverence. “Mine!”
“Score one Trekkie hard-on, Orli,” Dom snorted. “I’m next!” His package turned out to contain several bracelets from a custom leather store Orlando had fallen in love with in Louisville, Kentucky. One had Elvish writing etched into it, which Viggo translated as ‘Most respected and renowned slayer of the Witch King, Meriadoc Brandybuck. Make love, not war.’ “Nice!” Dom cooed, fondling the smooth, warm leather with a quirked brow and a broad grin.
“Who’s got a hard-on now?” Elijah teased.
Sean went next, and he commented that his was by far the heaviest. First he opened an envelope full of papers, and rifled through them quizzically. “Uh, legal stuff? You gave me lawyer yadda-yadda? Gee, thanks, Elfling.”
“That’s so you can take your gift home,” Orlando said, looking at the floor. “There’s forms and so on...I had my attorney fix it all up.”
“I don’t even have an attorney,” Billy muttered.
Sean tore the paper off the box - which turned out to be wood - and opened it carefully, staring down for several long moments. The Hobbits started to complain, and then he very, very cautiously lifted up a gleaming old-fashioned metal gun to show them. Elijah was pestering Bean to know what the deal was, when Sean looked up to find Orlando finally meeting his eyes. “This is the real thing, isn’t it?” Orlando nodded, eyes big and moist. Sean took a deep breath, setting the gun down again, then explained, “it’s a British Light Dragoon Cavalry Pistol, from the Napoleonic Wars. It’s the same gun we used in the Sharpe movies. But this one is real. This is a museum piece. Orli, you shouldn’t have! It must have cost the moon!” He put the box down and went to Orlando, hugging him fiercely, whispering his thanks.
“Well, I hope I didn’t get a weapon,” Viggo joked, tearing open his package in an effort to defuse the display of emotions. He got the cheap cardboard box open and found an even cheaper gift inside – a fake rubber flounder mounted on a plastic plaque. “Gosh, uh, wow...you shouldn’t have. My décor just isn’t up to something of this quality, Orli.” He was grinning.
“Turn it on,” Bloom instructed.
The fish immediately began flapping its tail and its mouth opened and closed as it ‘sang’. It took Viggo a moment to realize that the song was actually a recording of ‘Home on the Range’ that he’d done himself for his ‘Pandemonium From America’ CD. Viggo started laughing so hard he could barely keep from dropping the flopping fish.
“I had an FX guy that I know re-wire it and put in your song. Thought it would be nice over the mantle at your ranch-house, you know?”
Viggo was still giggling. Dom took the fish off him to admire, saying, “Brilliant. Seriously. I have to have one of these!”
“I guess that just leaves me,” Billy said, sounding a bit uncertain. His gift was small, and pretty simple. He tore the paper off to find a book. “Lord of the Rings’, he read off the cover. “Gee...think I’ve maybe heard of this one.” He turned the book over a couple of times and peeked inside the cover, seeming to expect something more.
Orlando’s expression had grown worried as he saw the cool reception to his present. “It’s not just any copy, Bills. It’s from the printing shop you used to work for up in Glasgow. The owner assured me that this was made when you worked there. You made that copy, so many years ago, before you even started acting.”
“Bloody hell,” Billy mumbled, looking at the binding carefully. “I...I think you’re right! How’d ye ever think of it?”
“Your sister suggested it. I asked her because I haven’t seen much of you lately. She said either that, or a donation to your scholarship programme in Glasgow. I did that too, by the way.”
“Show off,” Dom complained. “You don’t have to buy us off, you know.”
“Yeah, we’re not broke, Orli,” Elijah added. “We earn decent livings.”
“Maybe not ten mil a picture, but we’re paying the rent,” Dom said.
“I know that! It’s just...look, I wanted to give you guys presents! I wanted to thank you for coming to the reunion! I know you’ve all got jobs and families and...well, thanks, okay? Just, thanks for clearing your calendars and coming down.” He folded his hands and stared into the fire for a moment. No one really knew what to say, and the silence was accentuated into an ominous thing of its own by the mostly-empty house. “I’m going to make some tea,” Orlando suddenly announced, rising.
“I’ll come too,” Viggo said. “I don’t entirely trust the kitchen.” They stepped out of the parlor and the mansion swallowed even the sound of their feet on the old wooden floors.
Sean Bean drew a great breath, and turned murderous eyes on the three Hobbit actors. “Nice fucking move, you arseholes! Next time, why don’t you just stab him in the back while you’re at it?”
“What?” Dom complained indignantly. “I was just saying that he doesn’t need to throw money around. What’s wrong with that?”
“Maybe he does,” Sean said tightly. “You all know what’s happened to Orlando. Fucking hell...the industry, the press, the fans...it’s insane! They’ve taken so much from him that maybe now all he has left to give is money. You going to tell me that he didn’t spend time and effort on every single one of these presents? And he would have put just as much into gifts for John and Sean and Ian, if they’d bothered to come. Just try to look beyond the cost at the intention.”
“It’s the thought that counts,” Elijah sighed. “That’s what my mom would say.”
“She’s fucking right, too. Shame on you, all three of you.” And with that Sean stood up. “I’m going to join my mates for a cup of tea. Good night.” He stalked out of the room angrily.
“Were we really being too hard on Orli?” Elijah asked softly. He lay curled against Dom’s chest, enfolded in a protective embrace in the huge old bed. Night sounds drifted in through open windows; the faint music of the ocean crashing on rocks below in the moonlight.
“I don’t think so. Well, maybe. It’s just that things are so different now. He’s not the same guy we all knew so well in Wellington.”
“Yeah. But we’re not the same either, are we? Maybe Sean is right. He’s gotten it pretty rough from the press, and his newest movie was savaged. I think he always wanted to be a serious actor.”
“Unlike me...” Dom admitted. “I’m more interested in having a job. I love acting, but only because it pays the bills so I can have an interesting life.”
“Dilettante!” Elijah teased. He let his hand burrow along a bare hip, scratching lightly with uneven nails. “We’ll make it up to him, okay?”
Dom groaned appreciatively and rolled towards him. “I miss you so much sometimes. I love Evie, and love being with her, but you’ve got a permanent corner of my heart, you pervy little cocksucker!”
“Is that sort of nasty talk supposed to make me roll right over? Because now you’re going to have to make it up to me, you prick.”
“I can arrange that....”
Unheard over the sound of their moans and the rustling of the sheets and pillows, a faint giggle carried from a high corner of the room. A scent of flowers drifted on the night air, and then was gone.
When Billy left his room to use the toilet in the hallway he propped the door open with a boot. He wasn’t taking any chances. He washed up and brushed his teeth, then decided he should shave because he was looking a bit too much like a guy who didn’t care, and that wasn’t what he wanted his friends to think. Billy ran hot water while he razored off the stubble, sighing as he looked into his own eyes. He looked old – so much older than the kid who’d worked at that bookbinder’s. And yet it hadn’t really been that many years ago, had it? What had happened to that kid?
He concentrated on rinsing off his razor, then toweled it dry. Things could rust pretty quickly in this kind of climate. Glancing up one more time before he left, Billy’s heart froze as he caught sight of someone else’s face in the foggy mirror. It was just there for the briefest of moments, turning away even as his eyes tracked the motion. A very dark, broad face...an evil-looking and cruel face, with hard, glittering little eyes. Gasping, Billy spun, but there was no one behind him, no one else in the bathroom.
Adrenalin pounding a message of fear to his body, Billy whirled around, searching the room. He was alone. He banged the hall door open, but there was no one outside either. A faint aroma of smoke hung in the air, as if someone had just walked by with a lit cigarette. He took a shaky breath, then quickly gathered up his things. When he stepped back into the hallway all the doors were closed. His shoulders slumped. It took him several minutes to find his room again, and he would have sworn it was on the other side to the hall before. The boot he’d left in the door was back with its mate by the foot of the bed. Grumbling angrily, Billy climbed beneath the sheets. His hand paused before putting out the light, but he finally did, telling himself that his imagination was running wild with him. He clearly needed the rest.
Viggo sat up at the desk in the room he’d chosen, scribbling madly in a notebook. Words and images crowded his brain, some in Spanish, some in a language he didn’t even think he knew. He spilled them all onto the pages, intending to sort through them later. He paused for a moment to doodle in the corner while he tried to find a way to express what colors he was feeling. His pen wandered in tight little circles, making scratching noises like some tiny little animal, like some trapped bird.
A flap of wings outside the window, probably a bat or some big night bird, and Viggo snapped out of his reverie to find that he’d drawn the face of a young girl, smiling, with crooked teeth, flowers in her hair. He smiled down at her, then turned the page. His pen scratched and itched long into the night.
In the room next door, Sean Bean was sleeping soundly. The ancient gun lay in its box, open, on the table next to the bed, glinting in the moonlight. Sean was dreaming of Sharpe’s adventures: horses and cannons and the tang of gunpowder, the screams and clamor of warfare. Running and hiding and fearing for your life. Flags snapped in a smoky breeze, and men depended on each other to guard their backs. Sean looked back to see who was watching out for him – and there was no one there.
Orlando Bloom lay utterly still in the center of the big bed, staring past the ceiling, his mind going in a dozen directions at once. He felt very much alone. He missed Kate; he missed Sidi. He missed having something familiar around, even though he’d unpacked the usual crap he seemed to lug everywhere. No matter how much familiar junk he littered his life with, he always felt like a tourist in his own room, even in his own skin. He had no idea who Orlando Bloom even was anymore, and he was starting to suspect that he didn’t really like the guy anyhow.
That guy led such a shallow, wasted life, full of people he didn’t know. And they all wanted things from him, things that he didn’t think he should be sharing. How could you keep handing out bits of yourself and still expect there to be anything left when you were finally alone, in the dark, with the sound of the ocean and the night and the pressing silence of a house that was way, way too big and too empty? Even with his friends around him, he was alone.
“I am disappearing,” Orlando said softly. “I am fading away. Pretty soon there will be no one left at all.” No one answered his quiet plea for help.
But that didn’t mean that no one was listening.
(sadly, here’s the trick – the story is TBC! But it will be soon, I promise…)
Well, well, well…hello my dear friends! Thank you for coming to my house on this delightful, spooky, haunted evening when we celebrate the darker side of life and how much necessary color it adds to the light. I have a treat for you, my little ones…
title: How Fragile We Are
author: Pecos – PecosPhil@sprintmail.com
website: http://www.chimerafic.com
beta reader: Gloria Mundi
what is it?: RPS, speculative fiction
rating: NC-17 – angst, adult language, gay men,
violence, supernatural and horror elements
disclaimer: I don’t make the toys; I’m only
playing with them. No money made, nor
disrespect intended. This is FICTION
who’s in it?: Sean Bean, Orlando Bloom,
Billy Boyd, Dominic Monaghan, Viggo
Mortensen and Elijah Wood, mostly...
summary: Present day
Orlando plans a reunion for his friends
at a peculiar plantation in the Caribbean
feedback: yes, please! Even if just to say hello...
inspiration: “...perhaps this final act was meant,
to clench a lifetime’s argument, that
nothing comes from violence, and nothing
ever could. For all us born beneath an
angry star, lest we forget...” (Sting)
How Fragile We Are
A Caribbean Haunting Tale
by Pecos
“Well, the place has a unique ambience, I’ll grant ye that,” Billy Boyd commented, standing up in the passenger seat of the open Jeep Dom was driving as they paused at the crest of a hill.
“Ambience?” questioned Elijah Wood from the back. “More like a decrepit creepitude.”
“That’s not a proper word,” Dom said, thinking that it was a pretty good description, nonetheless. The mansion crouched like a beast on the breast of a rugged hill, overlooking the green Caribbean waters. The building was obviously very old, and had been added to many times over the intervening decades, not always well or with any adherence to a particular style. It was a massive structure, one which would defy any impertinent tropical storm or the trivial passage of time. Weird little old-world architectural embellishments seemed out of place in this pleasant locale. The mansion would have been better suited to a deep forest in Maine or some lost, rocky shore off the northern coast of Scotland. And yet, improbable and unique, here it was on a lovely little island in the Lesser Antilles, legendary playground of the rich and famous.
“What the hell was Orlando thinking?” Elijah questioned.
“I’m a rich bastard, aren’t I?” Billy speculated.
“Tsk,” Dom lectured. “Don’t go picking on the man...at least until he arrives.”
Elijah put on his bad posh English accent, saying “in his private jet, thank you very kindly. Please be sure that the port is warmed, the champagne chilled, and the vodka is in the freezer.”
“I thought they had plantations and stuff around here,” Billy said.
“Yeah, sugar and all,” Dom replied. “Didn’t you see the banana trees on our way up from town?”
“So why doesn’t anything grow here?” the Scotsman asked.
Boyd was right – nothing green or living seemed to venture near the mansion. It stood on bare rock and soil, alone on the ridge – an outcast, defiant and naked. It was like a giant hand had scraped the earth clear and dropped this crooked building down from a great height. Some industrious child had put it there, intending to build roads and play with his toy cars, but had lost interest and wandered off. Now the forgotten and neglected plaything sat bleaching in the sun. Dom smiled to himself at the metaphor, and in the next instant he thought that the child must have been either horrible or deranged, because the more you looked at the mansion, the more uneasy you became.
“I don’t like it.” That was Elijah. He was always the quickest one to make up his mind.
“Pussy!” Billy teased, turning in his seat to pull a face at the younger man. “Look, Viggo is probably already down there, and Bean - if he made it!”
“I don’t see any other cars,” Dom commented.
“Well, hell, you could hide a fleet of cars and a cruise ship behind that thing! Come on,” Billy urged. “Got to get that vodka into the freezer before Lord Orlando arrives.” Laughing, Dom brought in the clutch, and the three actors drove down the crest of the ridge to their vacation get-away in the tropical sun.
“It’s about time!” Viggo hailed from the staircase in the entrance hall. “I was thinking that Sean and I would have to eat the whole dinner ourselves!” Hobbits swept past massive black oak doors into the cool interior of the mansion, dropping luggage like a stray loses fleas, running to greet their King. Viggo was doing his madman laugh, typical for the Dane, planting kisses indiscriminately.
The Steward of Gondor came in from a parlor, grinning, a can of ale in one hand and the other arm open for hugs and hair-ruffling. “Shirelings! Good thing you’re here, lads! Too quiet, aye? And you should see all the damn fish Viggo’s planning on grilling! He bought half the catch off a fisherman in town. Flying fish, if you can believe it. He says they’ll be edible, but I’ve got some bangers if it turns out to be a Ranger’s lie. Isn’t the poncy Elfling with you?”
“Orlando’s coming in on his own,” Dom said, leaving out the bit about the private plane. “We waited for a little while, but it was hot and the Jeep guy had a car all ready to go.”
“Can he call from the airport?” Viggo wanted to know. “I haven’t found a telephone yet.”
“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Elijah said. “Flying fish, Viggo? For real?”
“They’re fabulous! I’m making a basil/lime sauce; you’ll be thanking me over dessert.”
“I did the dessert,” Sean bragged. “Found Popsicles at the grocers! I think they’re even from some time this year!”
“At least we brought beer!” Dom exclaimed.
“What a surprise,” Viggo said, deadpan. “Get it out of the sun and follow me – I’ll show you to the kitchens.”
“We’ve been here for hours, exploring,” Sean said as the group of old friends clumped down a long, dark passageway toward the back to the building. “I think this was originally a separate building. Used to be the ovens made it too hot to have the kitchen attached to the house. It must’ve gotten absorbed in some expansion project.” They went down a couple of uneven steps and through a stone doorway into a spacious and oddly modern kitchen.
Dom whistled. “This is nice! Looks like a restaurant or something!”
Elijah took in the gleaming interior, pots and pans hung from heavy hooks suspended over sparkling counters, stainless steel stovetops and ovens. “They’ve got gadgets in here just for opening other gadgets!”
“Oh, you just know there’s a decent wine cellar somewhere!” Billy said.
“Aye, and fully stocked, too!” Sean told them. “Even JRD would approve.”
Dom was pulling open the door of a walk-in cooler. “Damn! Uh, are these your Popsicles, Beanie? Next to the year’s supply of Dove Ice Cream, and the twenty flavors of gourmet sorbet?”
“That would be them!” Sean grinned.
“So that’s what a truffle looks like!” Elijah said, lifting a jar from a colorful collection in an open cabinet.
Billy peered over his shoulder at the shriveled black spheres within. “Ewwww, mate. Looks like an Uruk’s balls! Put it back. Yer makin’ me lose my appetite.”
Viggo was looking around admiringly. “Orli really pulled out all the stops for this little reunion all right. Too bad John, Ian and Astin couldn’t make it. They’re really going to miss out.” The Hobbits exchanged glances, probably thinking something far less charitable, but before anyone else spoke the heavy door on the back wall swung open with a creak and three very large dogs trotted into the kitchen like they owned the place. The dogs padded through the room and down the hall without even acknowledging the tenants, intent on some canine errand.
“Holy shit,” Elijah said in a whisper. “What was that?”
“Irish Wolfhounds, I think,” Sean said. “Big lads, eh?”
“I’ve ridden smaller horses,” Dom told them, intimidated. “You think they’re Orlando’s?”
“Probably come with the house,” Viggo suggested. “Uh, guard dogs, or something. ‘Course, Orli would like that sort of thing. I hope he isn’t bringing Sidi with him.”
“They’d eat Sidi for tea,” Billy said.
Orlando arrived a short time later, in a car driven by someone from the airport. He was looking up at the plantation house with a stunned expression, fumbling with one bag while the driver wrestled another. He hadn’t brought his dog – Sidi was staying in Los Angeles with one of his assistants. “Damn,” the young man muttered, moving into the mansion’s shadow. The doors swung open and his fellow Rings cast mates spilled out, teasing and joking, engulfing him in a group hug.
“You’ve booked us into a haunted house,” Elijah exclaimed, only partly kidding.
“It didn’t look anything like this in the brochure,” Orlando said. He went to pay the driver, and the man left again without another word. Sighing, the young Brit turned back to survey the house as they moved inside, everyone chattering. “I hope I didn’t get ripped off. It doesn’t leak or anything, does it? Did they stock the kitchens? I sent a whole list of stuff you guys like to eat.”
“Everything’s here, Orli,” Viggo assured him. “It’s just loaded with atmosphere, that’s all. Thanks for rounding everyone up.”
“Yeah, thanks for the reunion,” Billy added, frowning at the heavy bag he’d taken from the driver. It clinked ominously. “You brought liquor too?”
“No, that was all on the list,” Orlando said, distracted. “Those are presents. Don’t drop it.” Billy had been on the verge of plopping the bag down with a lecture about not being a bellboy. He set the bag gently on the stairs, chastising himself for being uncharitable. Bean grabbed Orlando in a tight embrace, and was immediately called: “Northern bastard! I’m so glad you could make it after all!”
“Finished early, didn’t we?” Sean mumbled. “Southern softie! How’s my little Princeling?”
“Famished. Viggo, are you cooking tonight?”
“You know it, poncy Elf. I’m going to get started, now that you’re here.”
“Yeah, now the party can roll!” Dom said with a grin, hoisting a bottle he’d been carrying for some time. He met Elijah’s eyes, and a secret smile passed between them.
Elijah and Dom were exploring the back part of the house, in a section that seemed to be unconnected to the spacious bedroom areas. They’d found a flight of wooden stairs rising from the kitchen, and there were several rooms up there almost bare of furniture and with only the most primitive decoration. It looked like a good spot for a secret rendezvous. “Here’s a view for you,” Elijah observed, standing in front of a small window which looked right into a stone wall, bare inches away.
“Saves on the heating bill,” Dom told him, coming over and wrapping his arms around the slight young man. He nuzzled Elijah’s neck shamelessly. “I’ve missed you, Doodlebug.”
“Look at this glass,” Elijah said, distracted, examining the dirty surface. “It isn’t even, it’s like it was hand-poured or something. I wonder how old this is. Think we can get it open? I want to see if there’s any space between this wall and the next one.”
“Glad to be so resistible,” Dom grumbled. He helped Elijah tug and pull at the ancient wooden window frame, and with a final cracking noise the glass slid upwards a few inches. A little cloud of dust and sand billowed out, sifting down into the room.
Elijah crouched on his haunches, looking upwards, failing to see any light coming down from above. “Who would build like this? It’s just crazy!” He tried to push the glass higher, but his hand dislodged something in the dust collected on the other side of the windowsill, and with a faint clatter a collection of odd white sticks fell into the room and scattered on the floor.
“What?” Dom asked.
“Bones. They’re little bones. Here’s most of a...it’s a bird’s skeleton.”
“Birds? But the whole window is sealed off by the building. How would birds have gotten in there?” Dom crouched down, touching the tiny white bones. They felt cool and smooth and very, very strange – lighter then they looked. “Has to be several of them here, and they look full grown.”
“Where did they come from?”
“I dunno, Lijah. Maybe inside this room? There’s the other windows which aren’t blocked up.”
Elijah shifted the bones around, suddenly uncomfortable. “Surely someone would have known it if birds got in and got trapped behind the glass. I’m sure they made noise.”
Dom shrugged, reaching out to lift Elijah’s troubled face. He got a smile for his efforts, and the two actors leaned toward each other, intent on a kiss they’d both been craving for some time. A shout from below startled Elijah so much that he fell sideways onto his ass, crushing several of the fine white bones in his scramble to get up again. Someone down in the kitchen was yelling for help, and they sounded very frightened.
Sean Bean hiked his butt onto a marble countertop and snagged a carrot from the pile Viggo had already washed and trimmed. “Those’re going to be honey-glazed,” Viggo said, “with a bit of mint. Found mint sprigs hanging in that drying cabinet. Remind me to load up before we leave – especially the bay leaves.”
“You’re such a girl’s blouse, Viggers. Jesus, going to knit me a tea cosy too?”
“I might. You got a favorite color?”
“Dunno. Can you do a Blades logo?”
“I did a set of San Lorenzo mittens...and a scarf.”
Sean stared at him for a moment before bursting out laughing. “You daft bastard! Had me for a moment there! Course I wouldn’t put the like past you. I get a lot of drinks bought with the promise of a ‘crazy Viggo’ story or two on movie sets. How’s Hen doing?”
“College, can you believe it? I hope to God he doesn’t want to be in the film industry. I’d rather that he pump gas or sell insurance.”
“Second that,” Sean saluted with his chewed carrot. “It just plain scares me how fast the girls are growing. I think I’m going to have a heart attack the first time one of them mentions having sex.”
Viggo filled a pot with water and checked on the marinating fish filets. “Beautiful,” he declared. “Ever seen flying fish racing away from the bow of a ship? It’s like they’re running atop the waves, silver and blue glinting in the sun.” He set the pot on one of the burners and started sorting through the carrots, finding one that didn’t meet his exacting specifications and passing it to Sean, who obligingly accepted the crisp vegetable for disposal.
“I see that Elijah and Dominic are still giving each other the goo-goo eyes,” Sean observed, crunching. “I thought maybe their ardor had cooled a bit with Dom out there in Hawaii and the Ringbearer off filming in Eastern Europe and all. And of course Dom’s got that adorable little girlfriend on his show, the one with the...Viggers? What is it?”
Viggo’s face was strangely intent. He was staring down at his hand, which was pressed flat against one of the burner rings on the smooth-topped stove. “How odd,” Mortensen said slowly. “I can’t move my hand.”
“What? Is this part of a story?”
“No,” he said slowly. “I can’t lift my hand. It feels like someone is holding it down.” He grasped his own wrist, and Sean could see the muscles in his arms flex and strain. “It’s...I can’t move it.”
Sean slid off the counter and stood next to him, puzzled. “Did you get it into something sticky?” He grasped Viggo’s wrist too and tried tugging. Not a bit of motion.
“I’m pulling as hard as I can,” Viggo said with a strained voice, sounding oddly detached. “This is bizarre.”
Sean heard a soft click and saw the first faint glow of red from beneath the smooth burner cover. “Jesus!” he gasped, using both hands and pulling up as hard as he could. Viggo grunted in pain, but his hand stuck fast. “Turn off the burner!” Sean said urgently, bracing his feet and trying again.
“It’s not on.”
“It bloody well is on! I can see...” he desperately clawed at the stove’s knobs. All of the burners were off, yet the one under Viggo’s hand continued to glow brighter and brighter. Sean scrambled for a spatula or something, frantic. By the time he got back to Viggo’s side he could smell the burning flesh. Viggo’s face was white – eyes wide.
“Jesus, Jesus! HELP! Someone help me!” Sean wrenched and jerked on the unmoving hand, trying to wedge something underneath. They heard running feet somewhere overhead and then on the stairs, and suddenly Viggo was freed. The two men flew backwards, collapsing on the floor, Viggo in Sean’s arms. Sean would have screamed again if he’d had enough air in his lungs.
Elijah and Dom burst into the kitchen from the stairway, both panicked by the shouting. Sean grasped Viggo tight to his chest, and they both looked as Viggo slowly raised his now-freed hand and turned it over. His palm was completely unmarked, no sign of the charred flesh they’d both expected to see. His wrist was scratched and an angry red from all the tugging. The scent of burning flesh still hung in the air.
“What happened, what’s wrong?” Elijah and Dom were demanding. Viggo got slowly to his feet, going back to the stove and looking at the guilty burner. It was clearly off, and cold to the cautious touch.
“Did someone get hurt?” Elijah asked, frightened by their behavior.
“Apparently not,” Viggo said softly.
Billy was frowning at a closed door. He was on the second floor of the main wing, where all the guest bedrooms were located. Everyone had decided to pick their own accommodations, and he’d brought his suitcase up earlier, settling on a room with a simple set of furniture and a great view of the ocean. But now he couldn’t seem to find the room again.
He’d been up the hallway; he’d been down it. He’d found bedrooms with heavy four-poster beds and ones with mosquito netting and balconies, bedrooms that looked unmistakably girly, and one that had Elijah and Dom’s bags sitting guiltily next to each other at the foot of an enormous bed covered with brocade and pillows. He’d found Orlando’s room, where the young man was apparently showering in the en suite bathroom, his luggage already open and seemingly exploded over every available surface. Billy backed out without alerting Orlando to his presence, and worked his way back up the hall again, this time leaving the doors open as he went.
Reaching the end of the hallway, Boyd found an oddly decorated door set in the left-hand wall that he didn’t remember seeing before. He was sure he hadn’t come down this far, but he decided to try it anyway, curious about what else could have disappeared. He stepped into the alcove and opened the door, only to find an identical hallway to the one he’d just left. He frowned, wondering how there could be an entire other wing in the house when the last one had run from one end to the other. He tried the first room on the right and found Elijah and Dom’s luggage again. That couldn’t be right. Billy retraced his steps to the door and found the hallway he’d just left – but this time all the doors were closed again.
Okay, this was getting really strange. Billy went back through the door and down a few paces to another room. He tried that door and walked through to surprise Orlando as he was coming out of the bathroom naked. “Oh, fuck, sorry!” Billy stammered, turning heel and bolting back out again. He slammed the door on Orlando’s assurances that there was no problem, and did he need something? Billy frowned, looking up and down the hallway, wondering how he could have gotten turned around like that. He felt bad about running off like that on Orlando – like there was something hideously wrong with seeing your mates naked, when they’d all had plenty of that sort of thing in New Zealand.
He had to confront this rift he’d felt growing between them, and better sooner than later. Billy turned back to Orlando’s door and rapped his knuckles on the worn old dark wood. “Orli? Hey, uh, mind if I come in?” There was no answer. He turned the knob and eased the door open slowly. Instead of an elegant black-wood four poster and a naked movie star he found a simple bed and bureau, a big wardrobe standing open, and his own suitcase on the floor before it. The ocean heaved gently under a setting sun outside the wide windows.
“What the hell?” Billy muttered, mystified.
“Where have you been?” Elijah asked when Billy finally arrived in the big formal dining room, where everyone had gathered for their first meal.
“Just don’t fuckin’ ask,” the Scot slurred, frowning as he took a seat next to Bean, immediately reaching for the nearest bottle of wine.
Dom shot a curious look at his old friend, then returned to his story about the antics which had followed the arrival of a very cheesy polar bear costume on the Lost set. He threw a bit of bread at Elijah, who seemed preoccupied. Viggo slid another fillet onto Orlando’s plate and pushed the bowl of chutney closer, raising a brow inquisitively.
Sean Bean picked up his fork and noticed that the fine silver handle was crooked. “Anyone else get the feeling that there’s something odd going on here?” he asked, shoveling a mouthful of succulent fish despite the queer peculiar cutlery.
“You mean the whole haunted house thing?” Dom asked.
“What?” Orlando sputtered.
“Oh yeah,” Elijah agreed. “Definitely haunted, or something.”
“Come on, you’re having a laugh,” Bloom complained. “Look, I’m sorry that it didn’t turn out like I’d hoped. Really, the brochure made it sound very much more modern and uh...less...oppressive?”
“That really would be a bit of poetic license,” Sean snorted.
“What about the Three Dogs of the Apocalypse?” Billy asked. “Anyone seen them again?”
Orlando turned to him, “there’re dogs here?”
“Hell hounds, most likely,” Elijah muttered.
“Famine, Pestilence and War,” Dom suggested. He mimicked calling a pet, “here Famine, here boy! Din-din time!” Orlando scowled at him.
“There were dogs,” Viggo confirmed, “big dogs. And there is definitely an...an air about this place. But I kinda like it.”
“After what happened in the kitchen?” Sean asked, disbelievingly. “You really are daft, mate. First ghostie messes with me and I am out that door.”
“I’ll be waiting in the car for you,” Elijah said.
“I want to know how it works,” Billy harrumphed. “There has to be a trick....”
Orlando laid his fork down with a thump. “Okay...I get it. You guys going to tell me why you’re angry? Look, I’m sorry, whatever it was that I did. I know I’ve been really hard to reach and so busy and all, but I really just wanted to have a chance to see you all again! Even Kate said that I’ve been more distant and....”
“This isn’t about the Orlando Bloom Three Ring Circus, you self-centered twat!” Dom snapped.
“Aye. Not everything is about you, y'know?” Billy added, reaching for more wine.
“My mistake,” Orlando growled, refusing to look up. He stood quickly, almost knocking his chair over.
“Orli, don’t....” Viggo started.
“Thank you for cooking, Viggo. It was wonderful.” With that, Orlando left the dinning hall. Viggo sighed, looking down at his own plate.
“I’ll go after him,” Sean offered, rising. “I’ve probably seen more of him in the last couple of years than the rest of you put together.” He glared at the Hobbits as he left. “Save me a Popsicle, yeah?”
The group gathered again in one of the lounges after dinner, with a roaring fire despite the warm night and glasses of something smooth and expensive all around. The younger men had apologized to Orlando, and he did the same, but the air held a definable tension despite the enforced courtesy. “I guess I’d better give out everyone’s presents before I put my foot in it again,” Orlando explained, producing the suitcase from earlier.
“Why would we need presents?” Viggo questioned, accepting a wrapped box.
“Because I forgot your birthday, Viggo. And Dom, you remembered a card on the anniversary of my walking out of hospital.” Dom’s face reflected puzzlement at that, but Orlando was still talking. “Billy, I missed your birthday, too, and I’m pretty sure that I had old addresses for most of you last Christmas.”
“That’s just daft, lad,” Sean said gently. “It’s not necessary. You can always just send me liquor.” He winked.
“Okay, yeah, but...it’s just because I wanted to, okay?”
“Good enough for me!” Elijah said happily, tearing into his package. It contained a set of what looked like CDs in a plain box, numbers written on them and the letters DMC scribbled directly onto the discs. “Uh, I didn’t know that Run DMC had a new recording,” Elijah said, puzzled.
“It’s a beta-test copy of a new videogame for ‘Pirates 2: Dead Man’s Chest. I couldn’t get past the first level, but I’m told that it’s going to be really, really cool, and you can be the first real person to play it.”
Elijah’s jaw dropped in geeky ecstasy. “I need a laptop, a PS2, an X box...anything! I need it now!” He cradled the discs with absolute reverence. “Mine!”
“Score one Trekkie hard-on, Orli,” Dom snorted. “I’m next!” His package turned out to contain several bracelets from a custom leather store Orlando had fallen in love with in Louisville, Kentucky. One had Elvish writing etched into it, which Viggo translated as ‘Most respected and renowned slayer of the Witch King, Meriadoc Brandybuck. Make love, not war.’ “Nice!” Dom cooed, fondling the smooth, warm leather with a quirked brow and a broad grin.
“Who’s got a hard-on now?” Elijah teased.
Sean went next, and he commented that his was by far the heaviest. First he opened an envelope full of papers, and rifled through them quizzically. “Uh, legal stuff? You gave me lawyer yadda-yadda? Gee, thanks, Elfling.”
“That’s so you can take your gift home,” Orlando said, looking at the floor. “There’s forms and so on...I had my attorney fix it all up.”
“I don’t even have an attorney,” Billy muttered.
Sean tore the paper off the box - which turned out to be wood - and opened it carefully, staring down for several long moments. The Hobbits started to complain, and then he very, very cautiously lifted up a gleaming old-fashioned metal gun to show them. Elijah was pestering Bean to know what the deal was, when Sean looked up to find Orlando finally meeting his eyes. “This is the real thing, isn’t it?” Orlando nodded, eyes big and moist. Sean took a deep breath, setting the gun down again, then explained, “it’s a British Light Dragoon Cavalry Pistol, from the Napoleonic Wars. It’s the same gun we used in the Sharpe movies. But this one is real. This is a museum piece. Orli, you shouldn’t have! It must have cost the moon!” He put the box down and went to Orlando, hugging him fiercely, whispering his thanks.
“Well, I hope I didn’t get a weapon,” Viggo joked, tearing open his package in an effort to defuse the display of emotions. He got the cheap cardboard box open and found an even cheaper gift inside – a fake rubber flounder mounted on a plastic plaque. “Gosh, uh, wow...you shouldn’t have. My décor just isn’t up to something of this quality, Orli.” He was grinning.
“Turn it on,” Bloom instructed.
The fish immediately began flapping its tail and its mouth opened and closed as it ‘sang’. It took Viggo a moment to realize that the song was actually a recording of ‘Home on the Range’ that he’d done himself for his ‘Pandemonium From America’ CD. Viggo started laughing so hard he could barely keep from dropping the flopping fish.
“I had an FX guy that I know re-wire it and put in your song. Thought it would be nice over the mantle at your ranch-house, you know?”
Viggo was still giggling. Dom took the fish off him to admire, saying, “Brilliant. Seriously. I have to have one of these!”
“I guess that just leaves me,” Billy said, sounding a bit uncertain. His gift was small, and pretty simple. He tore the paper off to find a book. “Lord of the Rings’, he read off the cover. “Gee...think I’ve maybe heard of this one.” He turned the book over a couple of times and peeked inside the cover, seeming to expect something more.
Orlando’s expression had grown worried as he saw the cool reception to his present. “It’s not just any copy, Bills. It’s from the printing shop you used to work for up in Glasgow. The owner assured me that this was made when you worked there. You made that copy, so many years ago, before you even started acting.”
“Bloody hell,” Billy mumbled, looking at the binding carefully. “I...I think you’re right! How’d ye ever think of it?”
“Your sister suggested it. I asked her because I haven’t seen much of you lately. She said either that, or a donation to your scholarship programme in Glasgow. I did that too, by the way.”
“Show off,” Dom complained. “You don’t have to buy us off, you know.”
“Yeah, we’re not broke, Orli,” Elijah added. “We earn decent livings.”
“Maybe not ten mil a picture, but we’re paying the rent,” Dom said.
“I know that! It’s just...look, I wanted to give you guys presents! I wanted to thank you for coming to the reunion! I know you’ve all got jobs and families and...well, thanks, okay? Just, thanks for clearing your calendars and coming down.” He folded his hands and stared into the fire for a moment. No one really knew what to say, and the silence was accentuated into an ominous thing of its own by the mostly-empty house. “I’m going to make some tea,” Orlando suddenly announced, rising.
“I’ll come too,” Viggo said. “I don’t entirely trust the kitchen.” They stepped out of the parlor and the mansion swallowed even the sound of their feet on the old wooden floors.
Sean Bean drew a great breath, and turned murderous eyes on the three Hobbit actors. “Nice fucking move, you arseholes! Next time, why don’t you just stab him in the back while you’re at it?”
“What?” Dom complained indignantly. “I was just saying that he doesn’t need to throw money around. What’s wrong with that?”
“Maybe he does,” Sean said tightly. “You all know what’s happened to Orlando. Fucking hell...the industry, the press, the fans...it’s insane! They’ve taken so much from him that maybe now all he has left to give is money. You going to tell me that he didn’t spend time and effort on every single one of these presents? And he would have put just as much into gifts for John and Sean and Ian, if they’d bothered to come. Just try to look beyond the cost at the intention.”
“It’s the thought that counts,” Elijah sighed. “That’s what my mom would say.”
“She’s fucking right, too. Shame on you, all three of you.” And with that Sean stood up. “I’m going to join my mates for a cup of tea. Good night.” He stalked out of the room angrily.
“Were we really being too hard on Orli?” Elijah asked softly. He lay curled against Dom’s chest, enfolded in a protective embrace in the huge old bed. Night sounds drifted in through open windows; the faint music of the ocean crashing on rocks below in the moonlight.
“I don’t think so. Well, maybe. It’s just that things are so different now. He’s not the same guy we all knew so well in Wellington.”
“Yeah. But we’re not the same either, are we? Maybe Sean is right. He’s gotten it pretty rough from the press, and his newest movie was savaged. I think he always wanted to be a serious actor.”
“Unlike me...” Dom admitted. “I’m more interested in having a job. I love acting, but only because it pays the bills so I can have an interesting life.”
“Dilettante!” Elijah teased. He let his hand burrow along a bare hip, scratching lightly with uneven nails. “We’ll make it up to him, okay?”
Dom groaned appreciatively and rolled towards him. “I miss you so much sometimes. I love Evie, and love being with her, but you’ve got a permanent corner of my heart, you pervy little cocksucker!”
“Is that sort of nasty talk supposed to make me roll right over? Because now you’re going to have to make it up to me, you prick.”
“I can arrange that....”
Unheard over the sound of their moans and the rustling of the sheets and pillows, a faint giggle carried from a high corner of the room. A scent of flowers drifted on the night air, and then was gone.
When Billy left his room to use the toilet in the hallway he propped the door open with a boot. He wasn’t taking any chances. He washed up and brushed his teeth, then decided he should shave because he was looking a bit too much like a guy who didn’t care, and that wasn’t what he wanted his friends to think. Billy ran hot water while he razored off the stubble, sighing as he looked into his own eyes. He looked old – so much older than the kid who’d worked at that bookbinder’s. And yet it hadn’t really been that many years ago, had it? What had happened to that kid?
He concentrated on rinsing off his razor, then toweled it dry. Things could rust pretty quickly in this kind of climate. Glancing up one more time before he left, Billy’s heart froze as he caught sight of someone else’s face in the foggy mirror. It was just there for the briefest of moments, turning away even as his eyes tracked the motion. A very dark, broad face...an evil-looking and cruel face, with hard, glittering little eyes. Gasping, Billy spun, but there was no one behind him, no one else in the bathroom.
Adrenalin pounding a message of fear to his body, Billy whirled around, searching the room. He was alone. He banged the hall door open, but there was no one outside either. A faint aroma of smoke hung in the air, as if someone had just walked by with a lit cigarette. He took a shaky breath, then quickly gathered up his things. When he stepped back into the hallway all the doors were closed. His shoulders slumped. It took him several minutes to find his room again, and he would have sworn it was on the other side to the hall before. The boot he’d left in the door was back with its mate by the foot of the bed. Grumbling angrily, Billy climbed beneath the sheets. His hand paused before putting out the light, but he finally did, telling himself that his imagination was running wild with him. He clearly needed the rest.
Viggo sat up at the desk in the room he’d chosen, scribbling madly in a notebook. Words and images crowded his brain, some in Spanish, some in a language he didn’t even think he knew. He spilled them all onto the pages, intending to sort through them later. He paused for a moment to doodle in the corner while he tried to find a way to express what colors he was feeling. His pen wandered in tight little circles, making scratching noises like some tiny little animal, like some trapped bird.
A flap of wings outside the window, probably a bat or some big night bird, and Viggo snapped out of his reverie to find that he’d drawn the face of a young girl, smiling, with crooked teeth, flowers in her hair. He smiled down at her, then turned the page. His pen scratched and itched long into the night.
In the room next door, Sean Bean was sleeping soundly. The ancient gun lay in its box, open, on the table next to the bed, glinting in the moonlight. Sean was dreaming of Sharpe’s adventures: horses and cannons and the tang of gunpowder, the screams and clamor of warfare. Running and hiding and fearing for your life. Flags snapped in a smoky breeze, and men depended on each other to guard their backs. Sean looked back to see who was watching out for him – and there was no one there.
Orlando Bloom lay utterly still in the center of the big bed, staring past the ceiling, his mind going in a dozen directions at once. He felt very much alone. He missed Kate; he missed Sidi. He missed having something familiar around, even though he’d unpacked the usual crap he seemed to lug everywhere. No matter how much familiar junk he littered his life with, he always felt like a tourist in his own room, even in his own skin. He had no idea who Orlando Bloom even was anymore, and he was starting to suspect that he didn’t really like the guy anyhow.
That guy led such a shallow, wasted life, full of people he didn’t know. And they all wanted things from him, things that he didn’t think he should be sharing. How could you keep handing out bits of yourself and still expect there to be anything left when you were finally alone, in the dark, with the sound of the ocean and the night and the pressing silence of a house that was way, way too big and too empty? Even with his friends around him, he was alone.
“I am disappearing,” Orlando said softly. “I am fading away. Pretty soon there will be no one left at all.” No one answered his quiet plea for help.
But that didn’t mean that no one was listening.
(sadly, here’s the trick – the story is TBC! But it will be soon, I promise…)
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btw, the ideas of presents you came up with are fabulous
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I almost died when I saw your lovely icon. I came across that cast photo a while back and could never find it again. Please tell me you know where I can find the larger image! Thanks so much.
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I will be having nightmares tonight thank you very much! *bites nails*
J/K I love it, I love scary Halloween fics! More please?
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this is at once fun, creepy, scary and also sad.
and it's really lucky for me that so far it's dm/ewi wasn't prepared for the sadness of the last orlando bits. wow.
and your descriptions are just! so! thrilling!
The mansion crouched like a beast on the breast of a rugged hill, overlooking the green Caribbean waters. The building was obviously very old, and had been added to many times over the intervening decades, not always well or with any adherence to a particular style. It was a massive structure, one which would defy any impertinent tropical storm or the trivial passage of time.
incredible.
and then also incredible are your most simple lines timed perfectly...
“I’ll be waiting in the car for you,” Elijah said.
perfect. so fun.
one of my very favorites that made me so happy to come across was this one...
Words and images crowded his brain, some in Spanish, some in a language he didn’t even think he knew.
hee. that's so cool and so viggo-ish.
it's rare to get to read a story that is so well written, gripping and also such good fanfiction. the characters are so recognizable, which for me is the most important part of a fanfiction story.
thank you for this halloween treat. and actually i am glad for your trick because that means i get to enjoy this a whole nother day!
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Now, just wait until the haunting REALLY gets going!
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I'm afraid that Elijah and the rest of the gang are in for a wild ride at this haunted mansion, and it won't be curtesy of Disney. Please come along for the ride!
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Brilliant, and I can't wait for more.
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Really loved it. And nearly got a heart attack as I reached the "trick"-part... no, don't feel pressured.... :)
Fantastic read so far, love the tension and jealousy and missing Kate-bits.
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fun fun fun fun very fun!
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Cheers!