Pretty Elf

Orlando Bloom sprinted across the lot, blond elf hair streaming behind him, dodging speeding carts, studio staff, and costumed actors. He was five minutes late and counting for the informational meeting for the primaries of Black Hawk Down. PJ had promised that reshoots for the day would be finished before the meeting, but Orli had learned that call times always started on schedule yet inevitably ended late. In fact, the current reshoot for Lord of the Rings hadn't finished when Orli had to leave, and he was to return to the set once his meeting was over to complete the day's shoot, which was why he was still in full costume: elf ears, wig, contacts, and all.

Peter Jackson had phoned Orli at the beginning of the month, regarding the need for a few blue screen reshoots of Lord of the Rings. Orli had immediately informed the director of his obligation to attend the Black Hawk Down informational meeting in Los Angeles. PJ had said it wasn't a problem, that he planned to film in LA anyway, since most of the Fellowship was currently in the States. True to his word, the reshoots were being filmed in a rented studio on the same lot Orli's meeting was to be held. The meeting he was now seven minutes late for.

Orli entered one of the office buildings on the studio lot and darted down the cream-colored halls. He'd made certain he knew in which conference room the meeting was to be held and how to get there, just in case something like this happened. Being lost on top of being late would have been hell on his nerves, and the non-smoking building meant there was no way to relax.

His tread was light on the beige carpeted floor, and he came to a sudden stop like a cat -- or an elf -- in the open doorway to the conferencce room. His blue contact-covered eyes flitted nervously over the roughly thirty occupants in the pale salmon-colored room. He recognized a few faces: Ewan McGregor, Josh Harnett, Tom Sizemore, though he never met any of them. At the front of the room, the director, Ridley Scott, leaned casually against a faux wood table with neat piles of paper on it. Two other men, the assistant director and a hard-looking older man, sat behind the table. Everyone was dressed comfortably in jeans and other casual wear. Orli felt extremely conspicuous suddenly, in his tunic, breeches, and high boots in various shades of brown and green.

Ridley was the first to notice Orli in the doorway, and the smirk that appeared caused the cast to slowly fall silent. They turned to look at what had bemused the director. Orli knew he was blushing, but held his chin high as he fully entered the room.

"My apologies for my tardiness," he said, choosing a cushioned folding chair at the end of one of the rows. He sat primly. "As you can plainly see, I was otherwise occupied and had difficulty breaking away."

"Mr. Bloom, I gather," Ridley presumed dryly. "You look nothing like your picture."

Orli's blush darkened as the other men laughed, but he replied blithely, "It is a marvel what they can do with a computer these days, is it not?"

The laughter grew, Ridley nodded touche, and Orli smiled faintly. He realized he had spoken like Legolas, his tone light, melodic, and a bit arrogant. He silently chastised himself. He was not Private First Class Legolas and he needed to shed character so as not to alienate anyone.

The meeting began. Stapled packets were handed out, regarding the tentative overall timetable, information regarding Morocco, and a list of things required -- including blood tests and vaccinations -- for filming in Africa. Ridley gave an overview of his vision for the film and shared that actual military personnel would be on location to assist, as well as Matt Evermann, who had been involved in the actual events that occurred at Mogadishu, Somalia, in the early 1990's.

When Ridley finished, he introduced the hard-looking man. Captain Dale Dye ran a boot camp for actors, which everyone was required to attend. It was a two-week crash course in the military, where the actors would learn everything from how to stand to how to fire various weapons. Heavy physical training would be included and, of that, Orli was not concerned. He was in superb condition from being an elf for well more than a year.

"Except for having to get up at five-fucking-o'clock every morning, it's not that bad," said Tom Sizemore about the boot camp. "I went through it once before, for Saving Private Ryan, and it was a fucking hoot."

Questions immediately bombarded Tom, and Dale and Ridley let them run on. The floor slowly opened to questions and answers for both Ridley and Dale. Scripts, costumes, props, and even the Moroccan weather, were discussed. Ridley almost vibrated with excitement over having obtained four actual Blackhawks to use in the film.

The meeting eventually degenerated into knots of conversations between the actors, a sort of informal meet-and-greet. Orli stood speaking with Ewan McGregor, who had attended the same school as him years ago.

The sound of his name caught his attention. Pivoting slightly, Orli saw Viggo Mortensen stride into the room in full Aragorn regalia: scruffy beard, straggly hair, beaten leather armor, and worn garments. Anduil hung from her scabbard on his belt. By the way he carried himself and greeted Ridley, Orli could tell he was still somewhat in character. Viggo, himself, was shy and soft-spoken; Aragorn son of Arathorn, was not.

Orli's heart jumped, like it did every time the older man entered the room.

"Viggo Mortensen! Hello!" Ridley greeted with a firm handshake. "It's been a long time."

"It has," Viggo agreed. He extended his hand to Dale. "Dale, it is a pleasure to see you again, as well."

Orli was curious. He didn't know Viggo knew Ridley and Dale. He excused himself to Ewan and joined the small group of people around the director, sidling silently up beside Viggo.

"I wish I could stay and chat, but there is still more work to be done tonight," Viggo said. "I have only come to say hello and collect my elf."

Orli felt Viggo's hand press against his lower back with the proprietary words. Roses of color blossomed on his cheeks. He knew he shouldn't read into the gesture, but his long-standing adoration of the older man had returned full force when they started reshoots at the beginning of the week.

They had a relationship during the long months of filming Lord of the Rings, as had many of the cast and crew, and Orli had been wholly in love with Viggo. The sex had been fabulous, but surreal; it was hard to differentiate when it was Legolas and Aragorn, or Orli and Viggo, making love. It was Middle-earth, not New Zealand, and when filming ended so did their relationship.

Orli had been saddened greatly by the end, but understanding. Promises were never made; feelings never revealed. Distance and other obligations were pressing. Orli had to suffice with nothing more than remembered dreams of the time spent with Viggo, and did not let his bruised heart show.

The Fellowship was back together, though, for a week. The hobbits were once again a single entity, with four heads, eight arms and legs, acting as if they'd never parted. Ian was butting his nose in everywhere, offering such sage advice as: "If you're going to stay in the closet, it's best to have a friend... and plenty of lubricant." Sean Bean had been there for a day, and he'd kissed Viggo in greeting in a way that made everyone wonder, especially since they knew Orli and Viggo had been supposedly exclusive in Middle-earth.

The hand on Orli's back was actually the first overture Viggo had made physically towards Orli. He'd been distant the entire week of filming, seemingly not comfortable with the group as he'd once been. Even John had noticed, and he was on the fringes of their Company. Orli had asked Viggo one time if something was wrong, but the older man had brushed him off, and Orli took that as a hint that their relationship would not be rekindled during the reshoot.

Viggo said something to Dale and both men laughed. Orli felt his mouth curve in a smile. Viggo had such a great laugh. He'd missed it.

"I have seen the script and wondered why Orli must participate in boot camp," Viggo commented to Dale.

"He's very pretty," Dale replied. He grinned wolfishly.

"Yes, my elf is very pretty," Viggo agreed, thumb lightly stroking Orli's back. "And Orli is even more so."

It was a sideways compliment that Orli almost missed. Almost. Flustered, his breath hitched and he ducked his chin, long hair falling like waves around his face. Hidden from view, a bashfully pleased smile bloomed on his lips.

"Come, Legolas, we have more to shoot and the little ones are probably restless," said Viggo. "It was good seeing you again, Dale."

"The same," Dale said. "Mr. Bloom, I'll see you on the twenty-fourth."

Orli raised his chin and nodded shyly. He had become an actor because of his innate shyness, and normally he could play the role of a confident and easy-going Orlando Bloom, but Viggo had thrown him off his mark. It was amazing that Orli and Viggo had gotten together at all, with both of the 'real' versions of themselves being as shy as they were. Then again, they were Legolas and Aragorn at the time.

They said goodbye to Ridley and made their way from the conference room. Viggo was quiet as they strode down the cream-colored hallways, though his presence was still commanding. Other people traversing the halls stepped to the side as Aragorn son of Arathorn approached. Orli was silently trailing behind, feeling coltish rather than elvish, in his shadow.

Without warning, Viggo latched onto Orli's arm and dragged him into an empty conference room. Viggo shut the door, and bodily pressed Orli up against it. "Others may call you pretty," Viggo growled, face inches away, "but, remember, you are mine."

The kiss was hot, hard, and possessive. Viggo branded Orli with his lips, teeth, and tongue. Orli felt owned, desired. Wanted above all else. His heart hammered against his breast, loud enough to hear. He melted into the kiss, submitting himself to Viggo's proprietary actions.

Viggo broke away with a ragged snarl. His dark eyes pierced Orli's. "You are mine, Orlando Bloom. I will not let you go again."

Orli was swept into another kiss that curled his toes inside his boots. He clutched helplessly at Viggo's shoulders. His brain turned to mush, and when Viggo released him again, he couldn't form a coherent sentence. "What... why you... I..."

Viggo laughed softly and traced a finger along Orli's jaw. "I missed you, too much."

"But you haven't said two words to me all bloody week!" Orli blurted.

"You haven't really said anything to me, either," Viggo pointed out, "and you've been practically glued to the hobbits since day one."

"And you've been with Sean," Orli said, jealousy coloring his words.

"Talking about you, mainly," Viggo said. He brushed his thumb across Orli's lower lip. "Sean's threatened to skewer me with Anduil on several occasions, if I didn't change the subject."

"Then, why--"

"Shh. Enough." Viggo covered Orli's lips with his finger, then with his mouth in a short, gentle kiss, full of promise. "We must get back; the others are waiting. We'll talk later."

Orli nodded and sighed. "Very well." He'd waited this long for his heart's desire, another few hours wouldn't hurt him.

"Good." Viggo stepped back and straightened his costume. Orli did the same and, with a goofy smile, opened the conference room door.

Orli bounced back to the studio PJ had acquired, with Viggo walking more sedately beside him. They entered the building, and Orli immediately started for the others gathered on the make-shift blue screen set. Viggo's hand on his arm stayed him.

Orli looked at Viggo questioningly. Viggo cleared his throat nervously, glanced past Orli a moment, before he said quietly, "You do know that I am yours, too."

"No," Orli smiled brilliantly, his heart near bursting, "but now I do."