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fellowshippers2006-07-31 05:34 am
v-angelique.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2006-07-31 05:34 am
Fic: Controlled 3/45
Title: Controlled (3/45)
Author: Viktoria Angelique
Email: viktoria_angelique@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17 for series, PG for this part
Pairing: Elijah/Viggo (coming up)
Warnings: BDSM (but not this part)
Disclaimer: If this were true the world might be a better place.
Feedback: I love it!
Summary: Viggo arrives in New Zealand, and the gang goes out for a drink to celebrate. Elijah continues to search for his place on and off set.
When Viggo first arrived on set in October, it was something of a relief. It wasn’t that Elijah had disliked Stuart, per say, but there was something infinitely calming about Viggo, something that reassured Elijah and made his acting feel strangely more right. Viggo was perfect for the part of the reluctant king, the exile who honed his skills in the distant North but came up swinging when called to the defence of lesser races.
Elijah particularly liked the way Viggo swung his sword, a controlled grace that made Elijah think of a very deadly dance, the nuances of lunge and parry buried in a carefully choreographed sequence that just flowed, steady as the river Anduin. Something about Viggo just made a man want to wax poetic, and though Elijah himself felt that the sword sequences he had been taught but would barely have a chance to practice during the film were awkward and obviously staged, Viggo made it work. Viggo had the same training they all did, but only in a day, and when he showed up on the Weathertop set in long black cloak and perfectly mussed wig, he made it work. If Elijah had been playing one of the Ringwraiths, he was sure he would have been scared shitless of all that step and twirl and carefully disciplined masculinity. It was much more terrifying than Sean Bean’s overt bulk in his costume’s armour, or John’s technique of straight-on-run-with-axe, to watch Viggo handle a sword. The man knew what he was doing, and rather than put his full strength into the act, it actually looked as if he was holding back, as if the strength he had reserved in his muscles and spirit was being controlled somehow, held just under the surface until it was necessary to strike with all he had. Viggo, in other words, was the perfect Aragorn.
“Hey Elijah!” Elijah turned around on his way to the makeup trailer, smiling to himself. He hadn’t quite gotten used to the way Dom and Orli always put an “r” on the end of his name, but he found he rather liked it. Orli, who stood a few feet away at the foot of the steps to his trailer, was a rather humorous picture, standing there pulling restlessly at the tip of one ear, evidently trying to pick off some unseen bit of glue. The wig had been removed, but he still wore Legolas’ cloak, and it was an odd juxtaposition with his close-cropped and not-at-all elflike hair.
“Yeah, whatd’ya need?” Elijah asked good-naturedly, running a hand through his own curly wig.
“Well we were just thinking of going out tonight, you know, to celebrate the arrival of the King,” he replied, and Elijah matched the little grin that Orlando wore when referring to Viggo as such. Without the blue contacts, Orlando’s eyes sparkled merrily when he laughed, and Elijah found himself much more at ease with bumbling, prankster Orlando than with the cool and collected Elf.
“Count me in. Same pub as last week?”
“Same pub as every Saturday night, mate! Last to show buys a round.” Elijah grinned and hurried into the trailer, determined to get home and change before he was resigned to that fate. Dom and Billy were almost entirely de-hobbited, but Sean had just begun and the requisite tucking in of Ally back at home meant that Elijah was unlikely to be buying. Still, Elijah was embarrassed to admit that he often took the longest to get ready, longer even than Dom and Orli, who had quickly established themselves as the resident pretty boys on set. Elijah, after all, was very sensitive to smell, and he loved how his skin felt after a long hot shower and an all-over application of body lotion.
Despite his somewhat reclusive nature as a teenager, Elijah had begun to open up a bit more in New Zealand, and this sociability thus lent itself to meticulous care in selecting his clothes, casual as the final product might be. This ritual fussing in his wardrobe was followed by a thorough finger combing of hair that was unlikely to ever look anything but messy, and by the time this was through he was often the last one out the door.
Still, tonight, Elijah was humming a happy tune, and despite the twelve takes that had been necessary just to film the one moment of recognition when the hobbits ran to the top of Amon Sul, he was in a good mood and arrived at the bar before both Seans and Viggo.
“Frodo!” Dominic yelled in a good-natured tone when Elijah nudged the screen door open with his shoulder, waving Elijah over to the large table they had claimed in a corner. Their pub of choice was a bit off the beaten path, but it was friendly, and the owners didn’t care if they shoved wooden tables together in a convenient row. Throwing his leather jacket over a peg near the door, Elijah held a hand up in greeting to his fellow hobbits plus Orlando and headed first to the bar for a pint.
Over the first couple of months of rehearsals and filming, the hobbits and Orlando had fallen into a fairly regular schedule of meeting at the pub after work for drinks Saturday nights, sometimes joined by Sean Bean once he arrived on set. The other older actors tended to politely decline, having found their own quieter jazz bar somewhere near the city centre, but sometimes Pete or some of the crew would show up, and it was generally a good time to be had.
Elijah slid easily onto the bench next to Dom, noting that both he and Billy were nursing almost empty pints already. Orli, whose constantly running mouth tended to preclude drinking quite as quickly, was babbling along amicably as always, and his own beer was only short a few gulps. Sean Astin, who had arrived just on Elijah’s heels, punctuated Orli’s monologue with occasional eye rolls and eyebrow raises, but Elijah suspected that Sean enjoyed the tales of Orli’s adventures more than he let on, simply being accustomed to the straight edged dad role by now.
Elijah didn’t even notice that Viggo and Sean Bean had arrived until they were taking their seats, Sean on his right and Viggo next to Orli. Sean was making the expected insults of Viggo’s Corona and lime, having found a respectable pint of Guinness for himself, and Elijah was once again pleased to see how easily Viggo fit in with the lot of them right away.
Viggo and Bean had developed the most immediate camaraderie of the group, presumably due to their similar age, but Elijah noticed that Viggo seemed to have an oddly calming effect on Orlando as well, making him sit up just a bit straighter and not be quite so fidgety in Viggo’s presence. He noticed that when Viggo was around, Orlando asked a lot more questions and did a lot more listening, and Elijah had to privately wonder how exactly Viggo managed it. Clearly, the man was a mystery, and there wasn’t much Elijah could do to suss it out.
“Who’s buying next round, then?” Dom asked after ten minutes had passed and his and Billy’s beers, at least, were empty. “According to rules it’s you or Beanie, Vig,” he explained, informing the newcomer as to their tradition.
“I’ll buy a round,” the American offered with a grin. “I’m sure there’s some way to bet the next one out of you, hobbit.”
“Oh now you’re on. What do you mean, bet it out of me?” Dom asked with a challenging grin, leaning forward slightly across the table.
“I’m just saying. You seem like the type to take a bet, and I’m thinking I can find myself a way to end up with a free drink by the time the night is through.”
“Ha, we’ll see about that, Yankee. Just because I take bets doesn’t mean I lose them,” Dom asserted with a cocky grin. Billy laughed companionably along with Viggo’s calmer chuckle, patting his friend on the back. Billy, after all, had seen with the rest of them how Dom could get when sloshed, and if Orli was the one with the death wish, it was still Dom who most easily took on a sucker’s bet.
A few minutes later, Viggo returned to the table with an assortment of beers on a tray he had nabbed from the cute blonde female bartender, and Dom, Billy and Orlando chugged with gusto on their free beverages while Elijah sipped with a little more caution.
“Where you from then, Elijah?” Viggo asked, and it occurred to Elijah not for the first time how strange it was that fellow actors so rarely thought to ask the obvious questions when working on a film together.
“Cedar Rapids, originally. You?”
“A number of places, but we’ll say New York for kicks.” Elijah smiled and took a sip of beer, wondering idly what exactly the most polite manner of wiping foam off one’s upper lip was.
“You have any kids?” he asked, though he didn’t really see Viggo as the family man. Sean, seemingly on his way to divorce number three, appeared to be the more family-oriented of the pair, but that wasn’t saying much.
“A son. Henry. He’s eleven.”
“Really? You’re married, then?”
“Divorced,” Viggo answered with a matter-of-fact tone.
“Oh. Do you see your son much?”
“All the time, when I’m in LA.”
Elijah nodded, took another sip, thought about his own family with a hint of guilt as he didn’t think about them nearly as much as he should nowadays. “You miss him, then?”
“Yeah, but it’s part of the job. His mom takes good care of him.”
“Yeah.” Elijah paused, fished around for an appropriate question but came up short.
“When’d you leave Iowa, then? Must have been pretty young,” Viggo reasoned.
“Yeah, when I was a kid. I mean, I still have family there. My dad’s there, but I don’t see him much.”
“By choice?”
“Yeah.” Elijah lowered his eyes, cleared his throat, and avoided the subject. “I like LA fine. I mean, it’s not the best place in the world but it’s good for my career and it’s more or less home now.”
“You miss it when you’re away?”
“I do, but then look around you. It’s hard to miss the smog and traffic when you’re in a place like this.” Viggo smiled and let Elijah continue. “I don’t miss LA itself, so much, but I do miss some people back home. My brother and sister and my Mom are all still there.”
“No girlfriend?”
“Hey, would you want to date the kid from Flipper?” Viggo laughed, took a sip of his beer, almost appeared to be considering for a moment.
“Well you’re hardly just a child star now. I mean, come on. Frodo,” Viggo pointed out in a teasing tone.
Elijah laughed in return and toyed with the spare coaster in front of him as he thought about it. “I don’t know… I guess I’m not, I mean, I guess I should be dating, but…”
“I didn’t say you should, Elijah,” Viggo interrupted. “You don’t have to date if you don’t want to.”
Elijah shrugged. “I guess not… I don’t know, the relationship thing never worked for me. Or rather, I never got it to work.”
“Don’t blame yourself. It takes two, always does.” Viggo’s eyes were understanding, but Elijah just shrugged again, feeling for all the world like a puppet with the same repetitive response to Viggo’s barrage of questions.
“I suppose. Well there was a girl, back in LA… “ Elijah paused, feeling that he had said too much. “…but she was my best friend.”
“Had a thing for her?” Viggo asked with a knowing smile, and Elijah’s smile was just as kind as he shook his head.
“Not at all. Other way around, really, but we tried some things. Didn’t work out.”
“You have time,” Viggo pointed out in a reassuring tone.
“Yeah… you know, if anyone wants to date an actor who’s signed his life away to work in New Zealand for a year and a half, I’m their man!” Elijah joked, prompting laughter from Viggo, who shook his head dismissively.
“We’re all in the same boat with you there, I guess,” Viggo conceded. “But it’s not like there aren’t people to date in New Zealand.” Elijah smiled, shrugged, considered. No, it wasn’t. But still, he was sceptical. If only things worked out half as simply as Viggo seemed to see them, it would be quite a world indeed.
Author: Viktoria Angelique
Email: viktoria_angelique@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17 for series, PG for this part
Pairing: Elijah/Viggo (coming up)
Warnings: BDSM (but not this part)
Disclaimer: If this were true the world might be a better place.
Feedback: I love it!
Summary: Viggo arrives in New Zealand, and the gang goes out for a drink to celebrate. Elijah continues to search for his place on and off set.
When Viggo first arrived on set in October, it was something of a relief. It wasn’t that Elijah had disliked Stuart, per say, but there was something infinitely calming about Viggo, something that reassured Elijah and made his acting feel strangely more right. Viggo was perfect for the part of the reluctant king, the exile who honed his skills in the distant North but came up swinging when called to the defence of lesser races.
Elijah particularly liked the way Viggo swung his sword, a controlled grace that made Elijah think of a very deadly dance, the nuances of lunge and parry buried in a carefully choreographed sequence that just flowed, steady as the river Anduin. Something about Viggo just made a man want to wax poetic, and though Elijah himself felt that the sword sequences he had been taught but would barely have a chance to practice during the film were awkward and obviously staged, Viggo made it work. Viggo had the same training they all did, but only in a day, and when he showed up on the Weathertop set in long black cloak and perfectly mussed wig, he made it work. If Elijah had been playing one of the Ringwraiths, he was sure he would have been scared shitless of all that step and twirl and carefully disciplined masculinity. It was much more terrifying than Sean Bean’s overt bulk in his costume’s armour, or John’s technique of straight-on-run-with-axe, to watch Viggo handle a sword. The man knew what he was doing, and rather than put his full strength into the act, it actually looked as if he was holding back, as if the strength he had reserved in his muscles and spirit was being controlled somehow, held just under the surface until it was necessary to strike with all he had. Viggo, in other words, was the perfect Aragorn.
“Hey Elijah!” Elijah turned around on his way to the makeup trailer, smiling to himself. He hadn’t quite gotten used to the way Dom and Orli always put an “r” on the end of his name, but he found he rather liked it. Orli, who stood a few feet away at the foot of the steps to his trailer, was a rather humorous picture, standing there pulling restlessly at the tip of one ear, evidently trying to pick off some unseen bit of glue. The wig had been removed, but he still wore Legolas’ cloak, and it was an odd juxtaposition with his close-cropped and not-at-all elflike hair.
“Yeah, whatd’ya need?” Elijah asked good-naturedly, running a hand through his own curly wig.
“Well we were just thinking of going out tonight, you know, to celebrate the arrival of the King,” he replied, and Elijah matched the little grin that Orlando wore when referring to Viggo as such. Without the blue contacts, Orlando’s eyes sparkled merrily when he laughed, and Elijah found himself much more at ease with bumbling, prankster Orlando than with the cool and collected Elf.
“Count me in. Same pub as last week?”
“Same pub as every Saturday night, mate! Last to show buys a round.” Elijah grinned and hurried into the trailer, determined to get home and change before he was resigned to that fate. Dom and Billy were almost entirely de-hobbited, but Sean had just begun and the requisite tucking in of Ally back at home meant that Elijah was unlikely to be buying. Still, Elijah was embarrassed to admit that he often took the longest to get ready, longer even than Dom and Orli, who had quickly established themselves as the resident pretty boys on set. Elijah, after all, was very sensitive to smell, and he loved how his skin felt after a long hot shower and an all-over application of body lotion.
Despite his somewhat reclusive nature as a teenager, Elijah had begun to open up a bit more in New Zealand, and this sociability thus lent itself to meticulous care in selecting his clothes, casual as the final product might be. This ritual fussing in his wardrobe was followed by a thorough finger combing of hair that was unlikely to ever look anything but messy, and by the time this was through he was often the last one out the door.
Still, tonight, Elijah was humming a happy tune, and despite the twelve takes that had been necessary just to film the one moment of recognition when the hobbits ran to the top of Amon Sul, he was in a good mood and arrived at the bar before both Seans and Viggo.
“Frodo!” Dominic yelled in a good-natured tone when Elijah nudged the screen door open with his shoulder, waving Elijah over to the large table they had claimed in a corner. Their pub of choice was a bit off the beaten path, but it was friendly, and the owners didn’t care if they shoved wooden tables together in a convenient row. Throwing his leather jacket over a peg near the door, Elijah held a hand up in greeting to his fellow hobbits plus Orlando and headed first to the bar for a pint.
Over the first couple of months of rehearsals and filming, the hobbits and Orlando had fallen into a fairly regular schedule of meeting at the pub after work for drinks Saturday nights, sometimes joined by Sean Bean once he arrived on set. The other older actors tended to politely decline, having found their own quieter jazz bar somewhere near the city centre, but sometimes Pete or some of the crew would show up, and it was generally a good time to be had.
Elijah slid easily onto the bench next to Dom, noting that both he and Billy were nursing almost empty pints already. Orli, whose constantly running mouth tended to preclude drinking quite as quickly, was babbling along amicably as always, and his own beer was only short a few gulps. Sean Astin, who had arrived just on Elijah’s heels, punctuated Orli’s monologue with occasional eye rolls and eyebrow raises, but Elijah suspected that Sean enjoyed the tales of Orli’s adventures more than he let on, simply being accustomed to the straight edged dad role by now.
Elijah didn’t even notice that Viggo and Sean Bean had arrived until they were taking their seats, Sean on his right and Viggo next to Orli. Sean was making the expected insults of Viggo’s Corona and lime, having found a respectable pint of Guinness for himself, and Elijah was once again pleased to see how easily Viggo fit in with the lot of them right away.
Viggo and Bean had developed the most immediate camaraderie of the group, presumably due to their similar age, but Elijah noticed that Viggo seemed to have an oddly calming effect on Orlando as well, making him sit up just a bit straighter and not be quite so fidgety in Viggo’s presence. He noticed that when Viggo was around, Orlando asked a lot more questions and did a lot more listening, and Elijah had to privately wonder how exactly Viggo managed it. Clearly, the man was a mystery, and there wasn’t much Elijah could do to suss it out.
“Who’s buying next round, then?” Dom asked after ten minutes had passed and his and Billy’s beers, at least, were empty. “According to rules it’s you or Beanie, Vig,” he explained, informing the newcomer as to their tradition.
“I’ll buy a round,” the American offered with a grin. “I’m sure there’s some way to bet the next one out of you, hobbit.”
“Oh now you’re on. What do you mean, bet it out of me?” Dom asked with a challenging grin, leaning forward slightly across the table.
“I’m just saying. You seem like the type to take a bet, and I’m thinking I can find myself a way to end up with a free drink by the time the night is through.”
“Ha, we’ll see about that, Yankee. Just because I take bets doesn’t mean I lose them,” Dom asserted with a cocky grin. Billy laughed companionably along with Viggo’s calmer chuckle, patting his friend on the back. Billy, after all, had seen with the rest of them how Dom could get when sloshed, and if Orli was the one with the death wish, it was still Dom who most easily took on a sucker’s bet.
A few minutes later, Viggo returned to the table with an assortment of beers on a tray he had nabbed from the cute blonde female bartender, and Dom, Billy and Orlando chugged with gusto on their free beverages while Elijah sipped with a little more caution.
“Where you from then, Elijah?” Viggo asked, and it occurred to Elijah not for the first time how strange it was that fellow actors so rarely thought to ask the obvious questions when working on a film together.
“Cedar Rapids, originally. You?”
“A number of places, but we’ll say New York for kicks.” Elijah smiled and took a sip of beer, wondering idly what exactly the most polite manner of wiping foam off one’s upper lip was.
“You have any kids?” he asked, though he didn’t really see Viggo as the family man. Sean, seemingly on his way to divorce number three, appeared to be the more family-oriented of the pair, but that wasn’t saying much.
“A son. Henry. He’s eleven.”
“Really? You’re married, then?”
“Divorced,” Viggo answered with a matter-of-fact tone.
“Oh. Do you see your son much?”
“All the time, when I’m in LA.”
Elijah nodded, took another sip, thought about his own family with a hint of guilt as he didn’t think about them nearly as much as he should nowadays. “You miss him, then?”
“Yeah, but it’s part of the job. His mom takes good care of him.”
“Yeah.” Elijah paused, fished around for an appropriate question but came up short.
“When’d you leave Iowa, then? Must have been pretty young,” Viggo reasoned.
“Yeah, when I was a kid. I mean, I still have family there. My dad’s there, but I don’t see him much.”
“By choice?”
“Yeah.” Elijah lowered his eyes, cleared his throat, and avoided the subject. “I like LA fine. I mean, it’s not the best place in the world but it’s good for my career and it’s more or less home now.”
“You miss it when you’re away?”
“I do, but then look around you. It’s hard to miss the smog and traffic when you’re in a place like this.” Viggo smiled and let Elijah continue. “I don’t miss LA itself, so much, but I do miss some people back home. My brother and sister and my Mom are all still there.”
“No girlfriend?”
“Hey, would you want to date the kid from Flipper?” Viggo laughed, took a sip of his beer, almost appeared to be considering for a moment.
“Well you’re hardly just a child star now. I mean, come on. Frodo,” Viggo pointed out in a teasing tone.
Elijah laughed in return and toyed with the spare coaster in front of him as he thought about it. “I don’t know… I guess I’m not, I mean, I guess I should be dating, but…”
“I didn’t say you should, Elijah,” Viggo interrupted. “You don’t have to date if you don’t want to.”
Elijah shrugged. “I guess not… I don’t know, the relationship thing never worked for me. Or rather, I never got it to work.”
“Don’t blame yourself. It takes two, always does.” Viggo’s eyes were understanding, but Elijah just shrugged again, feeling for all the world like a puppet with the same repetitive response to Viggo’s barrage of questions.
“I suppose. Well there was a girl, back in LA… “ Elijah paused, feeling that he had said too much. “…but she was my best friend.”
“Had a thing for her?” Viggo asked with a knowing smile, and Elijah’s smile was just as kind as he shook his head.
“Not at all. Other way around, really, but we tried some things. Didn’t work out.”
“You have time,” Viggo pointed out in a reassuring tone.
“Yeah… you know, if anyone wants to date an actor who’s signed his life away to work in New Zealand for a year and a half, I’m their man!” Elijah joked, prompting laughter from Viggo, who shook his head dismissively.
“We’re all in the same boat with you there, I guess,” Viggo conceded. “But it’s not like there aren’t people to date in New Zealand.” Elijah smiled, shrugged, considered. No, it wasn’t. But still, he was sceptical. If only things worked out half as simply as Viggo seemed to see them, it would be quite a world indeed.
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