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fellowshippers2004-05-13 12:17 pm
queen-geek.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-05-13 12:17 pm
Sphere
A 375-word ficlet I wrote for challenge 3 over at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
lotrpschallenge.
Title: Sphere
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
queen_geek
Persons: Billy Boyd, Viggo Mortensen - Gen
Rating: PG-13
Billy Boyd was not used to the way he felt around Viggo. He’d spent years ignoring the taunting of bullies who’d mocked his jumpers (knit by his gran), his diminutive size (still well under the five-foot mark upon his entry into ninth form), and countless other cruelties he faced at the hands of his classmates. By the time he left school, he had a firm outer shell, and he fancied it to be spherical around him, glowing blue, because he knew that the hardest shape to break was a sphere. And because blue always made him feel stronger, somehow. Six years of bookbinding only made the shell stronger, fortified it, and shot it with threads of platinum and charcoal grey, colours that seemed to Billy to be utterly unbreakable.
Unforturnately, every sphere has its weak point, and Billy’s proved to be Viggo. He arrived on the set weeks after everyone else, and hurled himself into training with a force of will and subtle grace that Billy envied. He refused to call it anything but envy; to say that he was intimidated by the older, taller, more renaissance man would be a betrayal of everything that Billy held to be true. And Billy practiced his guitar and wished that his voice was more gravelly, and suddenly realized that he was back in sixth grade, before his Mum and Da had died, before the shell, and he was vulnerable.
Over months spent filming, the shell weakened, the blue and platinum and grey fading from brittle brightness to soft faded denim blends, and then to pastels, and then to nothing. Billy shivered all day when Viggo invited him in to the Cuntebago, where he saw the wall plastered with photos, scribbles of poems, and a pair of paint-spattered jeans on the chair in the middle of the miniscule kitchenette. When he got back to his own apartment, he pulled on two pairs of socks and a sweater that his gran had knit, and sat in silence, contemplating his timidity in the face of Viggo. The next day he wore blue jeans and a grey shirt to the set, and he looked away when Viggo approached. He might be intimidated, but he’d be damned if anyone else would know.
lotrpschallenge.Title: Sphere
Author:
queen_geekPersons: Billy Boyd, Viggo Mortensen - Gen
Rating: PG-13
Billy Boyd was not used to the way he felt around Viggo. He’d spent years ignoring the taunting of bullies who’d mocked his jumpers (knit by his gran), his diminutive size (still well under the five-foot mark upon his entry into ninth form), and countless other cruelties he faced at the hands of his classmates. By the time he left school, he had a firm outer shell, and he fancied it to be spherical around him, glowing blue, because he knew that the hardest shape to break was a sphere. And because blue always made him feel stronger, somehow. Six years of bookbinding only made the shell stronger, fortified it, and shot it with threads of platinum and charcoal grey, colours that seemed to Billy to be utterly unbreakable.
Unforturnately, every sphere has its weak point, and Billy’s proved to be Viggo. He arrived on the set weeks after everyone else, and hurled himself into training with a force of will and subtle grace that Billy envied. He refused to call it anything but envy; to say that he was intimidated by the older, taller, more renaissance man would be a betrayal of everything that Billy held to be true. And Billy practiced his guitar and wished that his voice was more gravelly, and suddenly realized that he was back in sixth grade, before his Mum and Da had died, before the shell, and he was vulnerable.
Over months spent filming, the shell weakened, the blue and platinum and grey fading from brittle brightness to soft faded denim blends, and then to pastels, and then to nothing. Billy shivered all day when Viggo invited him in to the Cuntebago, where he saw the wall plastered with photos, scribbles of poems, and a pair of paint-spattered jeans on the chair in the middle of the miniscule kitchenette. When he got back to his own apartment, he pulled on two pairs of socks and a sweater that his gran had knit, and sat in silence, contemplating his timidity in the face of Viggo. The next day he wore blue jeans and a grey shirt to the set, and he looked away when Viggo approached. He might be intimidated, but he’d be damned if anyone else would know.
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Very nice!!
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Brava!
namaste nancy
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and speaking of intimidated...must go poke stupid viggo/karl fic with a stick. oy.
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I felt in a colourful mood today. It wormed its way into the story. I'm just a writer, the story kinda leads me where it wants to go. *shrug* I do what I can.
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sorry for the one-liner, but I have no other words...