Of Myth and Medicine
title: Of Myth and Medicine
by: wynterhawk
fandom: LOTRips RPS
characters: Orlando Bloom, Sean Bean, Viggo Mortensen
rated: R
for: some graphic imagery
prompt: Myth
disclaim: none
notes: Some say that it's just a myth that there is life after death. A young doctor intends to find out.
Orlando Bloom preferred to walk. He preferred to use the very elements of forward motion that God had given to him in order to travel from place to place and he abhorred the noisy clack of shod hooves and the rickety sounds of wobbling wooden wheels as people went about their daily business in Edinburgh. Orlando stood with his back to the butcher’s shop, disdainfully watching people bustle to only they knew where and he hated it. He hated the whole lot of them. The tight burgundy leather of his gloves creaked in protest as he balled his cold hands into fists. He needed to get away.
The only bright spot in his morning was the note he’d received from Dominic asking to meet with him for brunch at one of the gentlemen’s clubs. Dom was an adventurer at heart and was never in one place for very long which was why it was always a delight to hear from him.
Adjusting the collar and cravat that had been bothering him ever since he rose and dressed that morning, Orlando hastily crossed the busy thoroughfare. Deftly avoiding unsightly piles of horse droppings as well as the very unwanted attentions of a one Miss Tartington, who, by the looks of her basket, as at the end of her shopping morning, Orlando cleared the low kerb. And with hand outstretched to grasp the wood door handle of his destination a voice calling out to him stopped him cold in his tracks.
“Mister Bloom!”
Like nails on a chalkboard her voice was, but pasting a smile onto his face, Orlando turned to face Miss Tartington. She was decked out in cream and lace with a small broad brimmed hat sitting like a cherry atop her mounds of frothy red curls.
“Oh,” she murmured with false modesty and putting a delicately gloved hand up to her rosy mouth. “I’m sorry. It should be Doctor Bloom. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes, Miss Tartington. It is, but please, it’s Orlando.”
A blush came to her pale cheeks and she looked genuinely coy. Orlando softened a bit.
“Orlando, then,” she said with a yielding smile.
“Miss Tartington, if you would excuse me I-“
“My parents are having a dinner party next weekend. I would be pleased if you could attend.”
A dull high pitched ringing sounded in his ears and Orlando stared dumbly at her for a moment. His mind raced through all the polite possible excuses he could tell her before settling on something that was close but not quite the truth.
“Next weekend? Oh, no. Thank you, but I’m sorry for I will be out of town and not back for weeks.”
“Then perhaps this weekend. Are you free then?”
When did these young women grow so bold, Orlando wondered and then perked up at the sound of someone calling his name.
“Orlando! There you are. Did you forget about our little meeting?”
Looking fresh and pink cheeked, Dom wove his way through the midday crowds and reaching Orlando’s side, he clapped a friendly hand against his shoulder.
“Oh, and pardon me,” he said, sounding a bit cheeky as he extended his hand towards the woman. “I did not mean to interrupt. I’m Dominic Monaghan.”
“Miss Tartington,” she answered letting Dom both take and kiss the back of her hand.
“Lovely to meet you,” he gushed theatrically. “Now, please excuse us, for I must steal Bloom here away for a moment.”
Miss Tartington gave the two men a small slip of a smile before bidding them a good day and turning to walk off.
“My God, Dom,” Orlando sighed when Dom guided him back towards the club’s doors. “You are a life saver.”
“I had grown bored with the show, so I decided to come and save you.”
“What show?”
With a jerk of his thumb over his shoulder to show the doorway where he’d been standing for the last 15 minutes, Dom grinned.
“I saw you crossing the street and was about to greet you before you were waylaid by your lady friend.”
Catching his meaning, Orlando shook his head.
“You are positively horrible,” he said but Dom merely laughed. “Now, what is this note you sent to me all about?”
“My dear Orlando,” Dom whispered as they entered the dim quietude of the main sitting room. “I have found the perfect thing.”
“What is it?” Orlando asked taking a free seat near to the fire in the hearth.
There were a few other men and some women already there, reading the daily newspaper and enjoying tea. Dom sat across from him and Orlando watched the firelight play across his friend’s excited face.
“I cannot tell you here,” he said secretively. “But, I will give you the name of a man who will get you to York.”
Orlando frowned and a painful twinge of anxiety brightened in his chest.
“Why am I in need to go to York?” he breathed.
Was he in some sort of trouble?
Orlando lowered his eyes and self consciously studied his bare hands.
“My experiments are nothing but…” Orlando started to explain but Dom interrupted.
“Your experiments,” he said in a low sardonic voice. “Your experiments, Orlando. Are going to make you famous and me extremely wealthy.”
Orlando sighed with relief and slouching in his chair he glared morosely at Dom.
“My experiments,” he stressed, “are for the good of mankind. Not for profit.”
Dom tried not to laugh aloud. Surely Orlando was putting him on. There was no way that he was quite that naïve. But declining to express his thoughts, he tried another tactic.
“Listen to me, Orlando. If your… suppliers find themselves out of work, what will you do? Raid the refuse of the gallows? Wait around the back of the Pensioner’s home?”
“Is there something that I should know, Dom?” he demanded leaning forward in his chair. “If there is, I demand that you tell me.”
Dom glanced around and raising his hands, he made a small hushing motion. Realizing his mistake, Orlando sat back and clenched his hands across his belly. He watched Dom’s eyes gleam wickedly in the firelight.
“I will do more than tell you. I will show you. Something very special that I think will be right up your alley.”
**
Orlando shifted uncomfortably upon the cushioned carriage bench and tried to occupy himself with staring at the wintry landscape outside the small heavily curtained window. He really did prefer to walk, but York was much too far away for that trip to be feasible on foot. But it wasn’t to say that he wasn’t immensely grateful to be able to step out of the coach and plant his feet on solid snow covered ground. At the small lonesome station, there was a tall dark man waiting for him. Clad in long black coat, woolen scarf, bare hands and a shock of shaggy black hair, he came forward and reached out to shake Orlando’s hand. With surprisingly soft dulcet tones, he spoke to Orlando.
“My employer is pleased that you have decided to come, Doctor Bloom. He believes that you share his particular inclination and hopes that perhaps you would be willing to collaborate upon a project he’s forming.”
Orlando frowned a bit but said nothing. Seemingly not needing an answer, the man turned and walked away. Orlando paused and then with his booted feet slipping in the muddy, slushy snow, he scrambled after the man. Several yards behind the station, right at the break line of the forest, was a narrow passageway that led straight into the heavy old growth woods. Orlando paused again and feeling a rise of apprehension swell in his gut he surveyed his surroundings. For miles around it seemed there was nothing but dusky woods shrouded with dense fog and swirling snow.
The man didn’t wait for him as he took the trail and not wanting to be left behind, Orlando moved to catch up. After losing his balance more than once and sliding backwards on the ever increasing upward angle of the wooded trail upon which the man was leading him, Orlando stopped again, righted his top hat, adjusted his heavy coat and called out,
“How much farther!?”
Without a pause to see if the doctor was still on his feet, the man said over his shoulder, “Not far.”
Orlando huffed a breath of annoyance.
“How far is “not far”?” he asked.
“Not far,” repeated the man and continued to walk.
Orlando scrambled to keep up.
Finally the trail widened, leveled off and there trees were not as dense. It was getting harder to see in the deepening dark but in the distance Orlando could see fog dimmed lights. They continued to walk. The man led him right up to a single gate of a wire fenced in area. Over the fence, Orlando looked up at the house on the hill and then turned to the dark man.
“I am Karl,” he said quietly. “My employer is waiting for you.”
“Thank you, Karl.”
The man gave him a slight smile and peered into his face for a quiet moment. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but then closed it, choosing not to speak. Then with a tilt of his head, he left Orlando standing at the gate.
The wind kicked up a little more than comfortable and Orlando clutched at the front of his coat. He turned his back to the fence and folded his arms.
This was a mistake, he thought.
A mistake, a very grave mistake and part of him was tempted to return to the coach and go back to Edinburgh. But the sound of footsteps crunching through the icy crust of snow distracted him and Orlando turned towards the noise. There was a man coming up towards him along the outside of the fence, but it was not Karl.
“Doctor Bloom?”
“Yes?”
“Please. Come with me. I am Doctor Viggo Mortensen and I believe I have possession of something you might want. You see, you and I have the same particular goal in life.”
“And what is that?” Orlando wanted to know as Mortensen gestured that they walk.
Mortensen chuckled indulgently, but did not explain until they came upon what looked like a large garden shed. Mortensen opened the door and waited for Orlando to go inside. The room was broad and dim, lit only by a few burning torches and right in the center of the room was a wide table upon which sat a long wooden box.
“Why, the pursuit of life, Doctor Bloom. Life after death.”
Orlando felt flayed and an uncomfortable heat flared in his face.
“I-I think you’ve made a mistake,” he stammered impotently.
“I haven’t, Doctor Bloom. I believe you know exactly what I’m talking about. Please… come closer and see the gift I have for you.”
Orlando bit his bottom lip, unsure as to how to proceed, but tingling with fright and excitement, he managed to make himself approach the table.
“My God,” he moaned laying eyes upon the body in the box.
Orlando lost himself completely and the truth burbled to his lips.
“He’s perfect.”
Mortensen pressed a friendly hand to Orlando’s shoulder.
“He’s yours.”
Orlando was absolutely dumbfounded with such an offer!
“How can you--?”
Viggo smiled and let the hand he had on Orlando’s shoulder slip down to cradle the small of his back.
“Let us just say that since we share a common interest that you will keep this gesture in mind. In case I am in need to call upon you.”
Understanding, Orlando smiled a little in return and reached into the box to touch the man’s corn silk blonde hair.
“Just perfect…” he murmured to himself. “Have him prepared for my trip back.”
“Leaving so soon?” Viggo asked. “I had hoped that we would have some private time together. Surely you can stay and have dinner.”
“I believe I can, Doctor Mortensen,” Orlando agreed readily.
Pleased with the promise of such unusual and rather beautiful company, Viggo nodded in response.
“Excellent. Come up to the main house with me. I’m sure we can find something to eat.”
**
The long trip back to Edinburgh was intolerable. But, finally arriving home, Orlando wasted no time having the baggage men help him put the strange box in his secret laboratory. For weeks nothing could rouse the young doctor from his lab nor tear him away from his Machine. He slept there, ate his meager meals there and worked until the wee hours of the morning until finally on one rain soaked night he was ready.
A rolling thunder rumbled over the house and looking up at the shimmying rafters of the lab, Orlando rubbed his tired eyes. He was close. So very close. Nothing could stop him now. Orlando stood by the machine’s switch. He wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers and taking in a long deep breath, he threw the switch. At first nothing happened, but then a burst of electricity rippled through the corpse on the examining table, stretching out the limbs in a jittery macabre dance.
It took some effort to pull the switch away from its terrible electrical pull, but when he did, the body ceased to move. A faint stream of smoke rose from the man’s tattered clothes and biting his bottom lip, Orlando approached the table hesitantly.
Leaning over him, he studied the smooth pale face.
“Hello?” he asked.
There was a slight flicker of the eyelids and Orlando sucked in a surprised breath. The excitement was hot and slippery inside him and he leaned closer.
“Hello?”
Dark jade eyes blinked open and tried to focus on his face. Sucking in loud shuddering breaths, as his lungs struggled to work, the man’s eyes rounded with fear.
“You… you are. My God! It worked!” Orlando cried. “You’re alive!”
The man’s lips moved slowly to form the sounds coming out of his throat, but he seemed to be having a terrible time of it.
“O-or-Orlando.”
“Sean,” he reassured him and bending over him, Orlando placed his head upon Sean’s trembling chest. “You don’t know how long I’ve searched for you. I thought I’d lost you.”
A clumsy hand dropped heavily into his hair in an awkward imitation of a caress.
“You came back for me,” he groaned, his voice thick and raspy from months on disuse.
“We’re together now,” Orlando whispered and happily closed his eyes. “Now you need to rest and recover your strength.”
“Yes,” Sean answered quietly and closed his eyes. “Yes… rest.”
end
by: wynterhawk
fandom: LOTRips RPS
characters: Orlando Bloom, Sean Bean, Viggo Mortensen
rated: R
for: some graphic imagery
prompt: Myth
disclaim: none
notes: Some say that it's just a myth that there is life after death. A young doctor intends to find out.
Orlando Bloom preferred to walk. He preferred to use the very elements of forward motion that God had given to him in order to travel from place to place and he abhorred the noisy clack of shod hooves and the rickety sounds of wobbling wooden wheels as people went about their daily business in Edinburgh. Orlando stood with his back to the butcher’s shop, disdainfully watching people bustle to only they knew where and he hated it. He hated the whole lot of them. The tight burgundy leather of his gloves creaked in protest as he balled his cold hands into fists. He needed to get away.
The only bright spot in his morning was the note he’d received from Dominic asking to meet with him for brunch at one of the gentlemen’s clubs. Dom was an adventurer at heart and was never in one place for very long which was why it was always a delight to hear from him.
Adjusting the collar and cravat that had been bothering him ever since he rose and dressed that morning, Orlando hastily crossed the busy thoroughfare. Deftly avoiding unsightly piles of horse droppings as well as the very unwanted attentions of a one Miss Tartington, who, by the looks of her basket, as at the end of her shopping morning, Orlando cleared the low kerb. And with hand outstretched to grasp the wood door handle of his destination a voice calling out to him stopped him cold in his tracks.
“Mister Bloom!”
Like nails on a chalkboard her voice was, but pasting a smile onto his face, Orlando turned to face Miss Tartington. She was decked out in cream and lace with a small broad brimmed hat sitting like a cherry atop her mounds of frothy red curls.
“Oh,” she murmured with false modesty and putting a delicately gloved hand up to her rosy mouth. “I’m sorry. It should be Doctor Bloom. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes, Miss Tartington. It is, but please, it’s Orlando.”
A blush came to her pale cheeks and she looked genuinely coy. Orlando softened a bit.
“Orlando, then,” she said with a yielding smile.
“Miss Tartington, if you would excuse me I-“
“My parents are having a dinner party next weekend. I would be pleased if you could attend.”
A dull high pitched ringing sounded in his ears and Orlando stared dumbly at her for a moment. His mind raced through all the polite possible excuses he could tell her before settling on something that was close but not quite the truth.
“Next weekend? Oh, no. Thank you, but I’m sorry for I will be out of town and not back for weeks.”
“Then perhaps this weekend. Are you free then?”
When did these young women grow so bold, Orlando wondered and then perked up at the sound of someone calling his name.
“Orlando! There you are. Did you forget about our little meeting?”
Looking fresh and pink cheeked, Dom wove his way through the midday crowds and reaching Orlando’s side, he clapped a friendly hand against his shoulder.
“Oh, and pardon me,” he said, sounding a bit cheeky as he extended his hand towards the woman. “I did not mean to interrupt. I’m Dominic Monaghan.”
“Miss Tartington,” she answered letting Dom both take and kiss the back of her hand.
“Lovely to meet you,” he gushed theatrically. “Now, please excuse us, for I must steal Bloom here away for a moment.”
Miss Tartington gave the two men a small slip of a smile before bidding them a good day and turning to walk off.
“My God, Dom,” Orlando sighed when Dom guided him back towards the club’s doors. “You are a life saver.”
“I had grown bored with the show, so I decided to come and save you.”
“What show?”
With a jerk of his thumb over his shoulder to show the doorway where he’d been standing for the last 15 minutes, Dom grinned.
“I saw you crossing the street and was about to greet you before you were waylaid by your lady friend.”
Catching his meaning, Orlando shook his head.
“You are positively horrible,” he said but Dom merely laughed. “Now, what is this note you sent to me all about?”
“My dear Orlando,” Dom whispered as they entered the dim quietude of the main sitting room. “I have found the perfect thing.”
“What is it?” Orlando asked taking a free seat near to the fire in the hearth.
There were a few other men and some women already there, reading the daily newspaper and enjoying tea. Dom sat across from him and Orlando watched the firelight play across his friend’s excited face.
“I cannot tell you here,” he said secretively. “But, I will give you the name of a man who will get you to York.”
Orlando frowned and a painful twinge of anxiety brightened in his chest.
“Why am I in need to go to York?” he breathed.
Was he in some sort of trouble?
Orlando lowered his eyes and self consciously studied his bare hands.
“My experiments are nothing but…” Orlando started to explain but Dom interrupted.
“Your experiments,” he said in a low sardonic voice. “Your experiments, Orlando. Are going to make you famous and me extremely wealthy.”
Orlando sighed with relief and slouching in his chair he glared morosely at Dom.
“My experiments,” he stressed, “are for the good of mankind. Not for profit.”
Dom tried not to laugh aloud. Surely Orlando was putting him on. There was no way that he was quite that naïve. But declining to express his thoughts, he tried another tactic.
“Listen to me, Orlando. If your… suppliers find themselves out of work, what will you do? Raid the refuse of the gallows? Wait around the back of the Pensioner’s home?”
“Is there something that I should know, Dom?” he demanded leaning forward in his chair. “If there is, I demand that you tell me.”
Dom glanced around and raising his hands, he made a small hushing motion. Realizing his mistake, Orlando sat back and clenched his hands across his belly. He watched Dom’s eyes gleam wickedly in the firelight.
“I will do more than tell you. I will show you. Something very special that I think will be right up your alley.”
**
Orlando shifted uncomfortably upon the cushioned carriage bench and tried to occupy himself with staring at the wintry landscape outside the small heavily curtained window. He really did prefer to walk, but York was much too far away for that trip to be feasible on foot. But it wasn’t to say that he wasn’t immensely grateful to be able to step out of the coach and plant his feet on solid snow covered ground. At the small lonesome station, there was a tall dark man waiting for him. Clad in long black coat, woolen scarf, bare hands and a shock of shaggy black hair, he came forward and reached out to shake Orlando’s hand. With surprisingly soft dulcet tones, he spoke to Orlando.
“My employer is pleased that you have decided to come, Doctor Bloom. He believes that you share his particular inclination and hopes that perhaps you would be willing to collaborate upon a project he’s forming.”
Orlando frowned a bit but said nothing. Seemingly not needing an answer, the man turned and walked away. Orlando paused and then with his booted feet slipping in the muddy, slushy snow, he scrambled after the man. Several yards behind the station, right at the break line of the forest, was a narrow passageway that led straight into the heavy old growth woods. Orlando paused again and feeling a rise of apprehension swell in his gut he surveyed his surroundings. For miles around it seemed there was nothing but dusky woods shrouded with dense fog and swirling snow.
The man didn’t wait for him as he took the trail and not wanting to be left behind, Orlando moved to catch up. After losing his balance more than once and sliding backwards on the ever increasing upward angle of the wooded trail upon which the man was leading him, Orlando stopped again, righted his top hat, adjusted his heavy coat and called out,
“How much farther!?”
Without a pause to see if the doctor was still on his feet, the man said over his shoulder, “Not far.”
Orlando huffed a breath of annoyance.
“How far is “not far”?” he asked.
“Not far,” repeated the man and continued to walk.
Orlando scrambled to keep up.
Finally the trail widened, leveled off and there trees were not as dense. It was getting harder to see in the deepening dark but in the distance Orlando could see fog dimmed lights. They continued to walk. The man led him right up to a single gate of a wire fenced in area. Over the fence, Orlando looked up at the house on the hill and then turned to the dark man.
“I am Karl,” he said quietly. “My employer is waiting for you.”
“Thank you, Karl.”
The man gave him a slight smile and peered into his face for a quiet moment. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but then closed it, choosing not to speak. Then with a tilt of his head, he left Orlando standing at the gate.
The wind kicked up a little more than comfortable and Orlando clutched at the front of his coat. He turned his back to the fence and folded his arms.
This was a mistake, he thought.
A mistake, a very grave mistake and part of him was tempted to return to the coach and go back to Edinburgh. But the sound of footsteps crunching through the icy crust of snow distracted him and Orlando turned towards the noise. There was a man coming up towards him along the outside of the fence, but it was not Karl.
“Doctor Bloom?”
“Yes?”
“Please. Come with me. I am Doctor Viggo Mortensen and I believe I have possession of something you might want. You see, you and I have the same particular goal in life.”
“And what is that?” Orlando wanted to know as Mortensen gestured that they walk.
Mortensen chuckled indulgently, but did not explain until they came upon what looked like a large garden shed. Mortensen opened the door and waited for Orlando to go inside. The room was broad and dim, lit only by a few burning torches and right in the center of the room was a wide table upon which sat a long wooden box.
“Why, the pursuit of life, Doctor Bloom. Life after death.”
Orlando felt flayed and an uncomfortable heat flared in his face.
“I-I think you’ve made a mistake,” he stammered impotently.
“I haven’t, Doctor Bloom. I believe you know exactly what I’m talking about. Please… come closer and see the gift I have for you.”
Orlando bit his bottom lip, unsure as to how to proceed, but tingling with fright and excitement, he managed to make himself approach the table.
“My God,” he moaned laying eyes upon the body in the box.
Orlando lost himself completely and the truth burbled to his lips.
“He’s perfect.”
Mortensen pressed a friendly hand to Orlando’s shoulder.
“He’s yours.”
Orlando was absolutely dumbfounded with such an offer!
“How can you--?”
Viggo smiled and let the hand he had on Orlando’s shoulder slip down to cradle the small of his back.
“Let us just say that since we share a common interest that you will keep this gesture in mind. In case I am in need to call upon you.”
Understanding, Orlando smiled a little in return and reached into the box to touch the man’s corn silk blonde hair.
“Just perfect…” he murmured to himself. “Have him prepared for my trip back.”
“Leaving so soon?” Viggo asked. “I had hoped that we would have some private time together. Surely you can stay and have dinner.”
“I believe I can, Doctor Mortensen,” Orlando agreed readily.
Pleased with the promise of such unusual and rather beautiful company, Viggo nodded in response.
“Excellent. Come up to the main house with me. I’m sure we can find something to eat.”
**
The long trip back to Edinburgh was intolerable. But, finally arriving home, Orlando wasted no time having the baggage men help him put the strange box in his secret laboratory. For weeks nothing could rouse the young doctor from his lab nor tear him away from his Machine. He slept there, ate his meager meals there and worked until the wee hours of the morning until finally on one rain soaked night he was ready.
A rolling thunder rumbled over the house and looking up at the shimmying rafters of the lab, Orlando rubbed his tired eyes. He was close. So very close. Nothing could stop him now. Orlando stood by the machine’s switch. He wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers and taking in a long deep breath, he threw the switch. At first nothing happened, but then a burst of electricity rippled through the corpse on the examining table, stretching out the limbs in a jittery macabre dance.
It took some effort to pull the switch away from its terrible electrical pull, but when he did, the body ceased to move. A faint stream of smoke rose from the man’s tattered clothes and biting his bottom lip, Orlando approached the table hesitantly.
Leaning over him, he studied the smooth pale face.
“Hello?” he asked.
There was a slight flicker of the eyelids and Orlando sucked in a surprised breath. The excitement was hot and slippery inside him and he leaned closer.
“Hello?”
Dark jade eyes blinked open and tried to focus on his face. Sucking in loud shuddering breaths, as his lungs struggled to work, the man’s eyes rounded with fear.
“You… you are. My God! It worked!” Orlando cried. “You’re alive!”
The man’s lips moved slowly to form the sounds coming out of his throat, but he seemed to be having a terrible time of it.
“O-or-Orlando.”
“Sean,” he reassured him and bending over him, Orlando placed his head upon Sean’s trembling chest. “You don’t know how long I’ve searched for you. I thought I’d lost you.”
A clumsy hand dropped heavily into his hair in an awkward imitation of a caress.
“You came back for me,” he groaned, his voice thick and raspy from months on disuse.
“We’re together now,” Orlando whispered and happily closed his eyes. “Now you need to rest and recover your strength.”
“Yes,” Sean answered quietly and closed his eyes. “Yes… rest.”
end