Work Text
They had orders not to interfere. Be silent watchers only. Somehow, these watchers had a feeling this was not part of the plan. For surely, not even the Valar would be as cruel as to condemn them to such a fate. There was just too much, too soon. After all that they had been through; wars and deaths, life and rebirth, the thoughts of having to know and see those they had loved for so long, lost so long ago, and yet not tell them who they are, not being recognized. Nay, that was too much for them
There had to be some other choice, some other explanation, yet it did not seem so. After all, it’s kind of hard to stay silent, to stay in the background and watch with cold careless eyes, calculated as usual, when those that were bound to their very soul, their very fёa, had returned after so many millennia. Ages had passed, and now they were supposed to stay away from those they had loved, and lost. What were they to do? I guess this was a new age. A new dawning had arose. It was time for the silent watchers of the long forgotten past to remember, to join, to try to control that which the Valar had not known.
Old guardians had been lost, trapped in the endless cycle of death and loss. Yet a few, brilliant pinpoints of starlight remained, bright in the ever glowing darkness of this new world, the new Earth. The guardians would watch, and aide. For after all, they give hope to men, yet keep none for themselves.
This is their tale; the tale of those long thought of as mere myths and legends, as they reclaim old family, and being anew in this new realm.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“They don’t remember.”It was a statement, purely and simply murmured. The tone, however, was so laden with misery and heartbreak that the fellow conversers felt tears pool in their own eyes as they took in the slumped form of their beloved friend.“They don’t,” Another sighed, placing a hand consolingly on the deceptively slender shoulder. Deep, mercurial eyes met astonishing crystalline sapphires, offering comfort and solace to the morose other. A small, crooked grin briefly crossed the dejected one’s beautiful face, before quickly fading once more, his sorrow too strong to stay hidden in the recesses.With a sigh the youngest of the three stood and bowed to the elders, fist clenched over heart before walking from the trailer, his normally graceful movements shifting to be that of awkward adolescence. Previously submerging waves of sorrow ceased as long years of practice took over, bottling the feelings inside where none but a select- very select- few would ever see.The mercurial-eyed one watched the retreating figure with barely concealed concern, tension radiating from his barrel-chested form. A calloused, porcelain-white hand suddenly descended onto one shoulder, startling the man into jumping while mentally ranting at himself for letting his guard down. Spinning around the man slid into a familiar crouch, only to come face-to-face with luminous blue orbs filled with understanding and pain.A sigh escaped the last companion, even as the elder stood back upright. A sad smile tilted the corner of lush lips as he murmured softly, “He is not coping too well with this, is he?”A solemn shaking of the head was his only reply.~O~O~ Scene Change ~O~O~“And cut! That’s a mark. Take a tea break, everyone” Peter Jackson’s firm voice called out, bringing both Cast and Crew to a momentary standstill.Action returned in a boom as crew members around the stage hustled about, resetting and moving the equipment back to their start positions, ready for Peter to ask for another take. The actors, on the other hand, merely collapsed into boneless piles of skin and bone onto their chairs. Many ‘surreptitiously’ snuck a few headache relief tablets with their beverage of choice. The Council of Elrond scene was everything and more than they had expected it to be. Or, in other words, completely chaotic and long-winded, hence headache meds.It often surprised people just how chaotic a scene for Lord of the Rings could be. With cameras popping out like the hobbits from the woodwork one never truly knew where it was safe to look. Thankfully, no Behind-the-Scene camera was in view, and so the cast were taking full advantage.“Hey, Orlando,” Pete’s voice called across the set suddenly, startling the reclining actors slightly.Attempting to slink further in his chair in a distinctly un-elflike manner, Orlando’s voice replied sheepishly with a, “Yeah, Peter?” Said director merely waved the young elf over, causing the princeling to slouch even further as he made his way rather sulkily over to the man tucked behind all the different cameras, much too the amusement of the hobbits.Softly, in a vain attempt to not be overheard, Peter questioned softly, “It’s your back, isn’t it?” Orlando automatically flinched, hand unconsciously giving away the topic of conversation by momentarily flitting to his back before returning to his side. “It’s not that bad.”“Enough,” Peter interjected, smiling softly at one of his youngest cast. “Just take your meds. Fran had a feeling something like this would happen.”“Thank you, sir.” A beautiful smile curled the young Brit’s lips, making many a crew member swoon lightly. A nod, and a rather fond look of exasperation from the director later, and the youth turned on his heels to make his way to the grinning Fran.The remainder of the cast, eavesdropping like any proper acting group, exchanged worried grimaces. Sure, they’d heard the story- some had even seen the scar- but all of them had developed a soft spot for the mix-matched youth. It was hard to even think about, let alone imagine what he’d had to go through.Rising it was Hugo, tall and noble in his Elf-Lord regalia, that murmured a brief “Excuse me” before making his way swiftly to the young actor’s side. Orlando’s back was turned when the older actor approached, so when that strident voice queried from behind, “Are you alright, Orlando?” the younger felt that his jump was completely earned. Of course, the startled-rabbit look on his face when he turned to face Hugo merely made the watching cast (and quite a few crew) burst out into laughter.Orlando shot what not even he could deny of as a pout around the snickering set, before turning his currently-blue eyed gaze back to the patient Hugo. With a sheepish grin the cloaked elfling replied, “I’ll be fine, Hugo. Don’t worry about me.”None of the watching others saw the sudden flash of brilliant silver that crossed the elder’s eyes, nor the responding beam of intense sapphire that glowed past the slightly duller contacts. The silent message exchanged the two headed back to the set, just in time to hear Peter call out “Alright everyone, back to work. One more take, then it’s lights out and back here tomorrow.” The director pretended not to hear the groans that this statement received from the cast of well-known actors currently acting like school children told they had a surprise algebra exam.The glances of amusement passed between the returning elves was lost in the chaos of returning to certain marks, a single thought left running through the minds of the two simultaneously.
‘I don’t recall the Council being this tedious the first time around!’
~O~O~O~ End Chapter ~O~O~O~
TBC…
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Work Text Since the Formatting Hates Me:
Like many nights during filming the Lord of the Rings, it appeared that the Writers (aka the Powers Over the Amount of Sleep You Might Possibly Receive) were hard at work. Filming for the day had ended at 5 by some mercy. Add another 1-3 hours for de-charactering, it was well getting dark by the time the weary actors drug exhausted bodies from set and out to their trailers. None of the exhausted actors even bothered to entertain the idea of driving to any of their houses, from both fear of falling asleep behind the wheel as well as of the 4 am-or earlier if you were a hobbit- call time in the morning. By 10:30, Viggo’s trailer had become ‘storage’ as the majority of the cast crashed in convenient corners and floor spaces, reviewing the 3rd revision of their script and running their lines past one another (except for Ian, who while not a part of the scene the next day was tired enough to enjoy the momentary relaxation before heading to a trailer shared with hobbits). A pleasant scent came wafting through the room, denoting the existence of one of Viggo’s natural scent candles, cleverly placed in an areas to have the most coverage while not running the risk of getting knocked over by any overeager hobbit or elf. Said Dane was himself tucked in-between two hobbits, an elf by his feet and a dwarf and wizard occupying the couch directly across. The remaining two hobbits and man were in their own trailers, grabbing some beverages for those not interested in Viggo’s lemon and ginseng white tea. Therefore, a drink for all the Fellowship sans Viggo and, to the surprise of many, Orlando. The youth had merely stuck his tongue out at the questioning looks before flouncing from the kitchen, cup of tea firmly in hand.
With the clock nearing 11, and the missing members of the ‘Fellowship’ lounging once more in Viggo’s trailer, everything was just settling down. So, naturally, a resounding knock was heard from the front door. Sighing, Viggo drug himself to his feet and began the arduous task of heading to said door, a feat that included the skill of elf-hopping, man-leaping, and hobbit-dodging.
Upon the opening of the door, a rather depressing sight was seen. There, hefty stack of new script revisions in hand, stood Peter. Sheepish grin in place the director held the stack out and apologized, “I’m sorry about this, guys. There was just something that wasn’t working right. This should, however, be the last one for this shot.” The groans and exclamations of disbelief from inside the trailer let all and sundry know what the actors thought of that idea.
Viggo shot Peter a small smile before replying. “It’s alright, whatever’s needed for the movie.” A declined offer for the man to join them latter and Viggo closed the door, resigned to the task of handing out the newest version of the script, one that they all knew would most assuredly be changed by morning.
“Oh look,” Billy exclaimed excitedly, already several pages in to the revisions. “They’ve cut out that one scene. Ya know, the one that we were having problems trying to figure out!” A chorus of ruffling pages was the answer as each actor searched for the mentioned scene, Ian merely looking on in amusement. Perhaps as a testament to their exhaustion, and relief, the hobbits literally let out a whoop of joy that could be heard six trailers down, promoting grumpy cast and crew to roll over and stuff pillows over exhausted heads.
“Hey, hold on a second,” Orlando suddenly popped up, head tilting to the side as his doe-brown eyes narrowed at the script currently being rotated in his hands. “What’s up, elf-boy?” Sean Bean’s brogue questioned, eyebrow rising in question. With a look of confusion and, dare they say it, embarrassment, on his face, the younger Brit turned the slowly-being-mangled (like usual) script in his hands towards the man lounging on the floor in front of him and asked, “Am I reading this line right? It’s not making sense.” Looking over the mentioned lines that detailed their basic movements the elder easily read out the set directions.
“Oh.” A brilliant, crimson blush overtook the pale complexion of their young friend. As if some sort of switch had been flicked all the energy the youth unconsciously surrounded himself with dissipated, leaving a practically visible hole in the energy of the trailer where Orlando slouched on the floor.
“Orli?” Viggo questioned softly, foot lightly nudging the elfling by his feet. To everyone’s surprise the young Brit merely shook his head before dragging himself to his feet. With clumsy movements Orlando pressed one slender hand to his head even as he made his way to Viggo’s door. Mumbled apologies fell from full lips as the youth babbled a quick, “I just need some clean air for a bit, clear the head ya know? See ya!” And, without looking back, the youth flung open the door and fairly ran out into the night, leaving a trailer of confused actors in his wake.
~O~O~10 Minutes Later ~O~O~ Scene Change ~O~O~
Orlando dug the palms of his hands deep into his eyes as he meandered between the rows of trailers. Images of the script passed through the darkness beneath nearly translucent lids, even as the letters and words seen flashed and shimmered. Positions of letters, and even words themselves, twisted in angry snarls of jumbled confusion. What was once recognizable English now no longer made any sense to the youth. From a very young age, he’d had problems reading. When the young(er) Orlando had told his teachers about how words would twist out of form, they’d talked to the doctors and labeled the fact that his mind was having problems understanding written English as dyslexia. Now, at fresh out of Guild School, Orlando really wanted to tell the doctors to shove their diagnosis where the sun doesn’t shine.
“I know that look.”
The squeak that escaped the British actor earned deep, resounding chuckles from the shadowed form sitting on the top step to one of the trailers. Lighter laughter came from the figure sitting on the lowest step joined in, harmoniously blending with the elder of the three. With a gentle smile Hugo gestured the younger actor to join him and his companion on the steps, even as he repeated, “I know that look. What troubles you, tithin pen?” Be it the light cajoling tone, or the affectionate nickname, Orlando soon found himself tucked between two solid bodies, being led into Hugo’s trailer.
With swift, effective movements born of a familiarity that most would not expect the three to possess, each was soon situated around a small table, cups of warm tea in hand and a pot of light soup on the stove simmering. A crooked grin suddenly curled around Orlando’s lips, the first sign of the usually engaging youth, as he questioned Hugo, “Where’s Marton? I thought you were stuck sharing a trailer.”
“He’s in mine for the night,” The previously silent companion explained, before swiftly smacking the smirking Orlando around the back of the head and adding, “NOT in that way, you silly child! He had a late flight and didn’t want to wake Hugo!” Chuckling Orlando stuck his tongue out at the glowering man before leaning towards Hugo and ‘murmuring’ “Not that he’d complain if Marton was there for that reason, though.” This time it was Hugo (hiding a grin behind his mug) who gave him a light smack around the back of his head, earning a muffled snort from the youth and a relieved stare from their blushing companion.
Getting serious once more Hugo redirected the conversation back to what they’d brought Orlando in for and once more asked, “What is the matter?” Unlike the previous times, this inquiry had a raised eyebrow accompaniment, a tried and tested method for getting most beings to do what they have been told. Needless to say, Orlando didn’t stand a chance against the eyebrow-that-could-send-numerous-beings-to-Mordor-on-foot-without-complaint.
Looking for all the world like a kicked puppy the Woodland Prince once more resumed the position of having his palms attempting to mash his eyes back into his skull. With a light grimace of pain brilliant sapphires peeked through slender flingers before the familiar, ethereal voice of their friend softly stated, “I hate healers.” This unexpected statement earned surprised, and completely un-elven snorts from his two companions, as memories of long forgotten and generally misbegotten trips to a healer, the one sitting in the trailer included, passed through their minds. Much like dogs coming in from the rain all three simultaneously shook their heads in highly vain attempts to clear their heads from the memories of a time long since forgotten.
Long, slender fingers suddenly knotted themselves in the head of suddenly regrown curls, twining and twirling in the chocolate locks as their owner easily slid himself closer to the youngest of the three. Enchanting eyes of a brilliant azure met Orlando’s crystalline sapphire gaze, silently offering support even as he continued his soothing motions, easing the headache that was clearly visible in the lines of pain marking the beautiful face of the other. Lips curling in a faint, grateful smile Orlando continue to explain, briefly going into detail on the different revisions (the azure glare that was shot at the satchel in the corner clearly explained that their companion, too, had received the newest revisions for the Lothlorien shoot tomorrow) before, in halting sentences, explained how the words had begun to mutilate, switching around and making it impossible to read his script.
Looks of understanding suddenly made their way across the others’ faces as connections were made. With a sympathetic grimace Hugo easily pulled the youth into his arm, eyes flashing back to their mercurial form as he cradled the delicate skull in one hand. Their companion silently slide to the floor, arms wrapping themselves around the two even as he laid his head against Orlando’s hip.
Several minutes passed in that position before Hugo slowly pulled back enough to gaze at the drowsy princeling resting on his chest. Gently carding his fingers through the youth’s hair Hugo stated, “I take it you love the scenes you get to speak Sindarin, don’t you?” The bright, musical laughter this startled out from Orlando brought small smiles to the faces of his friends.
“Come on,” a laughing, azure-eyed friend started, smirking playfully at the young Brit as he rose to his feet. “Let’s go over the script together. That way, if either of us has a relapse,” cue random eye roll, “we can at least read it out in the translated sindarin and be able to return it to English.”
A grimace crossed Orlando’s face even as he picked up his script, moaning, “I hate modern English. I’ve already got Sindarin, Westron, a smattering of Kuzhdul, and ye olde English stuck in my brain-
“-Must be why you have no room for actual thought-”
“-AND,” Orlando spoke over his laughing friends, sending a momentary pout at the pair. “I also have French in my brain now as well. Modern English makes no sense!”
Grinning unapologetically Hugo merely stood and went over to the stove, ladling the soup into three bowls before saying over his shoulder, “That, my dear elfling, is a statement nearly 80% of the world can agree with you on, and they don’t have ‘fictional’ languages as a default.”
Each accepting a bowl gratefully the two actors who’d be drug on set the next day settled on the floor, Hugo merely rolling his eyes at the pair and grumbling about “the antics of youth” as he regally lounged on his couch. Nearly an hour passed like this, broken only by the reading of lines and the occasional slip into an elven language, before Orlando suddenly moaned as a thought came to him.
At the worried looks a pout, full-fledged and very kicked-puppy in appearance made its ways across the dejected Orlando’s face as he stated, a despairing whine clear in his voice, “I’m going to have to shave my head again!”
The other two’s laughter could be head all the way back at Viggo’s trailer.
~O~O~O~ End Chapter ~O~O~O~
TBC…