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fellowshippers2008-09-07 12:48 pm
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Entry tags:
Each to Each - Chapter 1 - V/O, AU
Title: Each to Each
Author: Erandir
Rating: PG13 - R
Pairing: VM/OB
Summary: "And straight was the path of gold for him, / And the need of a world of men for me." One man stuck outside looking in, the other confined to watch the outside world pass him by.
Warnings: AU, Violence
Author's Note: This is my first RPS fic in any fandom. I figured I would play it safe and work in AU to start.
If you want to follow my work more reliably please don't hesitate to friend my fiction journal:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
golden_fiction
----------------------------
Chapter One –
----------------------------
For his entire life Orlando Bloom had struggled with his parents in order to simply go outside. It was a privilege that most children enjoyed almost limitlessly. But Orlando was not most children.
The boy had no friends except the household servants and his elder brother. Everyone in the house doted on him. Orlando had everything he had ever asked for. Except his freedom.
There were, of course, times when the boy managed to escape into the gardens to get some fresh air or talk to the gardeners for a moment. But every instance when he was discovered his mother would fret over him and baby him again. She worried so much that Orlando’s escapes became fewer and fewer. He could not stand to make her worry.
But at the same time he was jealous.
His brother was allowed to do anything he wanted. Eric went out hunting and drinking with friends; he attended parties and courted girls. But Orlando was all but locked in his room every day. And why should he not be allowed out? He was not ill. He could not be harmed in their fenced yard. So why could he not have the same freedom that everyone else enjoyed?
When he had asked, Orlando always received the same answer. “I’m sorry, Orli,” his mother would say, “But you know we have to be careful about your health.” Orlando had begged, pleaded, argued and thrown tantrums but nothing had convinced her otherwise. He had beseeched his father and his brother, but it was clear that his mother was the one with all the power when Orlando was concerned.
Orlando was tired of watching the outside world from his bedroom window. No one outside the household even knew that he existed. He wanted to go out and explore and meet new people. He wanted to make friends, and go to parties, and fall in love. He wanted to do all the things that normal people did and all the things he had read about in books. And he read a good many books, for there was little else to do cooped up inside all day, and his father had an extensive library in order to keep him occupied.
But as long as he was cooped up in here he could not do any of those fabulously exciting things which he dreamed of.
-------
Viggo Mortensen passed his lord’s manor every day as he headed to work in the morning and again on his way home in the late afternoon. The mansion stood strong in the center of town, three levels of red stone and brick guarded by a wrought iron fence that lined the property, running along the sidewalk where Viggo walked. It was an impressive sight, with its perfectly manicured gardens and the ivy climbing the aged stones.
After the first few times he had seen it, the large and rather imposing house ceased to be of much interest. It never changed, after all. When he passed in the morning, early to avoid the bustle of other people going about their morning business, the gardeners were always at work keeping the perfectly manicured gardens just that. When he headed home in the dimming evening light the servants were lighting the lamps inside. Always in the same order. If Viggo had cared to stand and watch he would have been able to point out which window would light up next.
It must have been a terribly boring job, working in the manor; tedious and repetitive. But then again, Viggo’s life was rather repetitive these days as well. Every day he woke up, made himself a meager breakfast, washed, dressed, and went to work. Work itself was only a tedious pile of paperwork to be sorted and handed to someone else. Then he went home, made himself dinner and went to bed. So maybe his life was not all that different from those in the manor.
But, of course, their life was far nicer than his own; far more luxurious.
Viggo often heard those higher up and the more favored of his coworkers talking about the parties that were often held at the manor. Viggo himself had never been invited to any of these, although he longed to. Everyone knew the only way to get promoted was to be invited to one of those parties. Was that not what everyone wanted?
It was certainly what Viggo had been lead to believe when he was a child. As the son of a lower-middle class solicitor, it was to be expected that his parents would want more for their son.
Suffice it to say, Viggo Mortensen was not quite satisfied with his life.
-------
It was one of those evenings when Viggo was making that long walk home past the manor. It was summer. The sun was low in the sky but not yet touching the horizon and the air was warm. The man was enjoying the warmth and sunlight, lost in his own thoughts as he walked.
Work that day had been the same boring tedium that it always was. Except that there had been a mix-up in the paperwork and something had been sent to the wrong office. Viggo sighed and raked a hand through his hair. Funny how the things that seemed important while he was at work no longer seemed to matter in the slightest after he stepped outside again.
The man was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard laughter coming from beyond the manor’s wrought iron fence. Usually everything about the manor was calm and serious, so this was strange. Unable to contain his curiosity, as was often the case for Viggo, he moved closer to the fence.
When he moved closer he could also hear the playful barking of dogs. This should not have been so strange, but as far as Viggo knew the lord had only hunting dogs. And hunter dogs were not known to play with children.
Directly next to the fence now, Viggo was able to peer though the bars and the crimson rhododendrons that lined them. His view may have been obscured, but even that did not stop him from being shocked at what he saw.
There on the lawn, playing with the hunting dogs as though they were puppies was the most beautiful person Viggo had ever seen. The boy could not have been more than eighteen or nineteen. Curls of dark hair tumbled around his face; a face that Viggo wished he could get a closer look at. Even though he could only catch glimpses of the boy through the leaves as he tumbled on the grass with the dogs, Viggo could not take his eyes off him.
He had never seen this boy before in all his years walking past the house each day. Who was he? A servant? No, he would not have time to be playing out of doors if he were a servant. So he had to be a part of the family, then. But Viggo had never heard of lord Bloom having a younger son. Maybe a visiting nephew, then? But he also had not heard that lord Bloom had any siblings. And while it was completely plausible that the boy was a younger son or nephew, because all that Viggo knew was second hand, he thought it unlikely. It would have been the talk of the town, were a cousin visiting, and they would have been holding a ball for his arrival.
But surely if someone so beautiful lived in the manor the gossip would have reached even Viggo by now.
A shout from the manor caused the boy to look up, breaking the trance he had placed upon Viggo. The boy stopped and looked up, a look of concern on his perfect features. Shortly, a maid came into Viggo’s view and spoke to the boy, pulling him back toward the house. Viggo could not make out what they were saying, but it seemed to him that the boy protested. His body language seemed to indicate that he was reluctant to go back inside, although eventually he was persuaded and dragged back in through a side door.
Viggo grew even more curious after seeing this display. He had no idea who the boy was, but it seemed to him that they were keeping him secret. The man pondered these things as he left the fence and started walking again. He supposed, regretfully, that he would never see the boy again.
Meanwhile, inside the manor, the boy was being fussed over again by the servant who had forced him back inside. He did not fight her because he knew it was pointless, but sometimes he wished he could.
“What on earth were you doing outside like that, Orli?” the woman asked as she shooed him up to his room. “You know you should not be out wit your health the way it is.”
“I feel fine,” the boy argued “I have not been ill for months.”
“That does not mean you cannot get sick again,” he was reminded. “And you know how your mother would react if you took ill.”
The boy sighed. He knew how his mother would react. It was how she behaved each day, only worse. “I just wanted some fresh air.”
“That is what windows are for, Orlando. Now clean yourself up before your mother can see that you have been out.”
“Yes ma’am,” the boy murmured in defeat. But when he was alone in his room he did not clean up. He was beyond caring what his mother thought. Instead he moved over to the window and sat down on the seat there. He pushed the window open as far as he could and leaned out into the fresh air. It was not the same as actually being outside, though. With a long sigh he sat back and looked out If there was one good thing about his room it was that he had a perfect view of the west side of town. As he watched the outside world he spotted a man walking down the street, and a smile came over his face.
He knew this man, or pretended that he did. After all, he passed the house every day, and Orlando watched him every day. The boy liked to make up stories about the people he saw on the street. And this man’s was the most elaborate.
Though Orlando had never seen his face he recognized that blond hair and the way he walked. The man plodded along as though he had no real desire to get where he was going. It was a strange thought to Orlando, to go out every day and yet not to enjoy yourself. That was why the man intrigued him so.
TBC
Author: Erandir
Rating: PG13 - R
Pairing: VM/OB
Summary: "And straight was the path of gold for him, / And the need of a world of men for me." One man stuck outside looking in, the other confined to watch the outside world pass him by.
Warnings: AU, Violence
Author's Note: This is my first RPS fic in any fandom. I figured I would play it safe and work in AU to start.
If you want to follow my work more reliably please don't hesitate to friend my fiction journal:
golden_fiction"And a voice less loud, thro' its joys and fears,
Than the two hearts beating each to each!"
- Robert Browning
Than the two hearts beating each to each!"
- Robert Browning
----------------------------
Chapter One –
----------------------------
For his entire life Orlando Bloom had struggled with his parents in order to simply go outside. It was a privilege that most children enjoyed almost limitlessly. But Orlando was not most children.
The boy had no friends except the household servants and his elder brother. Everyone in the house doted on him. Orlando had everything he had ever asked for. Except his freedom.
There were, of course, times when the boy managed to escape into the gardens to get some fresh air or talk to the gardeners for a moment. But every instance when he was discovered his mother would fret over him and baby him again. She worried so much that Orlando’s escapes became fewer and fewer. He could not stand to make her worry.
But at the same time he was jealous.
His brother was allowed to do anything he wanted. Eric went out hunting and drinking with friends; he attended parties and courted girls. But Orlando was all but locked in his room every day. And why should he not be allowed out? He was not ill. He could not be harmed in their fenced yard. So why could he not have the same freedom that everyone else enjoyed?
When he had asked, Orlando always received the same answer. “I’m sorry, Orli,” his mother would say, “But you know we have to be careful about your health.” Orlando had begged, pleaded, argued and thrown tantrums but nothing had convinced her otherwise. He had beseeched his father and his brother, but it was clear that his mother was the one with all the power when Orlando was concerned.
Orlando was tired of watching the outside world from his bedroom window. No one outside the household even knew that he existed. He wanted to go out and explore and meet new people. He wanted to make friends, and go to parties, and fall in love. He wanted to do all the things that normal people did and all the things he had read about in books. And he read a good many books, for there was little else to do cooped up inside all day, and his father had an extensive library in order to keep him occupied.
But as long as he was cooped up in here he could not do any of those fabulously exciting things which he dreamed of.
-------
Viggo Mortensen passed his lord’s manor every day as he headed to work in the morning and again on his way home in the late afternoon. The mansion stood strong in the center of town, three levels of red stone and brick guarded by a wrought iron fence that lined the property, running along the sidewalk where Viggo walked. It was an impressive sight, with its perfectly manicured gardens and the ivy climbing the aged stones.
After the first few times he had seen it, the large and rather imposing house ceased to be of much interest. It never changed, after all. When he passed in the morning, early to avoid the bustle of other people going about their morning business, the gardeners were always at work keeping the perfectly manicured gardens just that. When he headed home in the dimming evening light the servants were lighting the lamps inside. Always in the same order. If Viggo had cared to stand and watch he would have been able to point out which window would light up next.
It must have been a terribly boring job, working in the manor; tedious and repetitive. But then again, Viggo’s life was rather repetitive these days as well. Every day he woke up, made himself a meager breakfast, washed, dressed, and went to work. Work itself was only a tedious pile of paperwork to be sorted and handed to someone else. Then he went home, made himself dinner and went to bed. So maybe his life was not all that different from those in the manor.
But, of course, their life was far nicer than his own; far more luxurious.
Viggo often heard those higher up and the more favored of his coworkers talking about the parties that were often held at the manor. Viggo himself had never been invited to any of these, although he longed to. Everyone knew the only way to get promoted was to be invited to one of those parties. Was that not what everyone wanted?
It was certainly what Viggo had been lead to believe when he was a child. As the son of a lower-middle class solicitor, it was to be expected that his parents would want more for their son.
Suffice it to say, Viggo Mortensen was not quite satisfied with his life.
-------
It was one of those evenings when Viggo was making that long walk home past the manor. It was summer. The sun was low in the sky but not yet touching the horizon and the air was warm. The man was enjoying the warmth and sunlight, lost in his own thoughts as he walked.
Work that day had been the same boring tedium that it always was. Except that there had been a mix-up in the paperwork and something had been sent to the wrong office. Viggo sighed and raked a hand through his hair. Funny how the things that seemed important while he was at work no longer seemed to matter in the slightest after he stepped outside again.
The man was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard laughter coming from beyond the manor’s wrought iron fence. Usually everything about the manor was calm and serious, so this was strange. Unable to contain his curiosity, as was often the case for Viggo, he moved closer to the fence.
When he moved closer he could also hear the playful barking of dogs. This should not have been so strange, but as far as Viggo knew the lord had only hunting dogs. And hunter dogs were not known to play with children.
Directly next to the fence now, Viggo was able to peer though the bars and the crimson rhododendrons that lined them. His view may have been obscured, but even that did not stop him from being shocked at what he saw.
There on the lawn, playing with the hunting dogs as though they were puppies was the most beautiful person Viggo had ever seen. The boy could not have been more than eighteen or nineteen. Curls of dark hair tumbled around his face; a face that Viggo wished he could get a closer look at. Even though he could only catch glimpses of the boy through the leaves as he tumbled on the grass with the dogs, Viggo could not take his eyes off him.
He had never seen this boy before in all his years walking past the house each day. Who was he? A servant? No, he would not have time to be playing out of doors if he were a servant. So he had to be a part of the family, then. But Viggo had never heard of lord Bloom having a younger son. Maybe a visiting nephew, then? But he also had not heard that lord Bloom had any siblings. And while it was completely plausible that the boy was a younger son or nephew, because all that Viggo knew was second hand, he thought it unlikely. It would have been the talk of the town, were a cousin visiting, and they would have been holding a ball for his arrival.
But surely if someone so beautiful lived in the manor the gossip would have reached even Viggo by now.
A shout from the manor caused the boy to look up, breaking the trance he had placed upon Viggo. The boy stopped and looked up, a look of concern on his perfect features. Shortly, a maid came into Viggo’s view and spoke to the boy, pulling him back toward the house. Viggo could not make out what they were saying, but it seemed to him that the boy protested. His body language seemed to indicate that he was reluctant to go back inside, although eventually he was persuaded and dragged back in through a side door.
Viggo grew even more curious after seeing this display. He had no idea who the boy was, but it seemed to him that they were keeping him secret. The man pondered these things as he left the fence and started walking again. He supposed, regretfully, that he would never see the boy again.
Meanwhile, inside the manor, the boy was being fussed over again by the servant who had forced him back inside. He did not fight her because he knew it was pointless, but sometimes he wished he could.
“What on earth were you doing outside like that, Orli?” the woman asked as she shooed him up to his room. “You know you should not be out wit your health the way it is.”
“I feel fine,” the boy argued “I have not been ill for months.”
“That does not mean you cannot get sick again,” he was reminded. “And you know how your mother would react if you took ill.”
The boy sighed. He knew how his mother would react. It was how she behaved each day, only worse. “I just wanted some fresh air.”
“That is what windows are for, Orlando. Now clean yourself up before your mother can see that you have been out.”
“Yes ma’am,” the boy murmured in defeat. But when he was alone in his room he did not clean up. He was beyond caring what his mother thought. Instead he moved over to the window and sat down on the seat there. He pushed the window open as far as he could and leaned out into the fresh air. It was not the same as actually being outside, though. With a long sigh he sat back and looked out If there was one good thing about his room it was that he had a perfect view of the west side of town. As he watched the outside world he spotted a man walking down the street, and a smile came over his face.
He knew this man, or pretended that he did. After all, he passed the house every day, and Orlando watched him every day. The boy liked to make up stories about the people he saw on the street. And this man’s was the most elaborate.
Though Orlando had never seen his face he recognized that blond hair and the way he walked. The man plodded along as though he had no real desire to get where he was going. It was a strange thought to Orlando, to go out every day and yet not to enjoy yourself. That was why the man intrigued him so.
TBC
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Mmm, I'm curious too . . . a good start; looking forward to more.
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Cheers :)