Fic: "Really Actually Finally", Lotrips
Title: Really Actually Finally
Author: kaydee falls
Fandom: Lotrips
Pairing: Elijah-centric, implied EW/Josh Hartnett, EW/SA
Rating: PG-13
Feedback: would be loverly
Disclaimer: None of this happened. I don't know the sexuality of anyone involved.
Notes: Improv fic for ContreLaMontre. "World at its knees" challenge. 60 minutes.
There's something to be said for standing alone in the rain at night. Even when it's so cold that you're almost surprised that it's rain and not sleet or snow, and the street is slick and icy and forbidding, and it's a long walk back to the hotel but you probably won't find a taxi on a night like tonight.
Still, there's something to be said for it.
Because you've just finished your last day of reshoots for Return of the King, and you and Sean went to the local pub and got yourself moderately smashed (Dom and Billy and most everyone else finished up almost a week ago, long gone, but a Ringbearer's work is never done), and now you're standing in the freezing rain and you know that in two minutes Sean will come out and yell at you and say you'll catch your death of cold but for now you're here. In the rain and darkness. Alone.
It's cold, and uncomfortable, and unbearably clean.
Tomorrow morning you'll be on a plane, back to the U.S., and maybe then it'll finally sink in that it's over. Like really, actually, finally over. No more Rings. No more Frodo. Done. Finished. Over.
On your last night home before leaving for New Zealand, you found yourself calling Josh. You hadn't seen him since the Faculty premiere, but your fingers dialed his phone number automatically, like some freakish form of muscle memory. You couldn't have recited the numbers if you tried, but your fingers remembered. Weird. Whatever.
"I'm really leaving," you said into the receiver, unconsciously picking at a cigarette, worrying the paper. "Like really, actually, finally leaving. New Zealand, man."
"Congratulations," Josh said sardonically. "Shall I airmail you a medal?"
"Fuck you. You know, I feel like I should be excited, and I am, but I'm kinda scared as shit."
"Wuss," Josh laughed. "Some hero you'll be. Scared to leave your mama's house, is that it?"
You would have glared at him, but glaring at a telephone is thoroughly unsatisfying. You chose to ignore his comment instead. "It's like, going off to college, or something. You know, stuff kids my age are supposed to be doing. Except it's New Zealand, thousands of fucking miles away, and instead of studying for exams, I'll be, like, being Frodo."
"Epic Film Trilogy University," Josh said. "No better education on Earth. Fight monsters, carry rings, do badass shit. Do you get to do any badass shit, Frodo?"
"Um." You've read the books. Really you have. Mmhmm. "I don't know yet. Maybe. Probably." You'd forgotten about the cigarette until you actually ripped it apart and found your lap covered with tobacco flakes. "Shit!"
"What?"
"Nothing. Never mind."
You could practically feel Josh rolling his eyes. "Whatever. Look, Elijah, just don't think about it too much. You're really fucking lucky, you know that? Most actors would kill for a chance like this. You get to go off and really start a new life and be a major blockbuster star and kick ass. You're gonna bring the world to its knees, man. Just, like, go for it."
"Yeah," you murmured. "Thanks." You almost said 'Love you,' but didn't. You were leaving, for real, and a good way to start a new life was to lose old pathetic adolescent crushes.
"Look, I gotta go, Elijah. Good luck, man."
"Bye, Josh."
As you hung up the phone, you glanced out the window. Rain was beating against the glass, invisible but for flashes of silver against the night sky.
"Elijah?"
You don't want to turn, don't want to acknowledge anyone else's presence yet. Maybe if you just stand here silently and don't look over your shoulder, he won't see you. The rain falls a little harder, a little colder.
"Elijah." Sean's hand is on your shoulder. You can't very well ignore him now.
"Sean."
"What are you doing out here?" Sean asks, a little frown forming between his eyebrows. "It's freezing and wet, you'll catch your death of cold."
You smile mirthlessly. Good old Sean. So predictable.
He'll be gone in the morning, too, won't he? Just like the movie. Just like New Zealand. Four years of your life, gone, just like that. Finished. Over.
"It's over," you say. You try to wipe the water off of your face-kinda pointless, really, since it just keeps raining. "Really over, I mean."
Sean's eyes are hard to make out through the wet and the cold and the mist your breath makes when you speak. "Yeah, I guess it is."
"What do we do now?" Your voice sounds impossibly small, even to you. Like you've suddenly jumped back four years, a scared kid not ready to leave his mama's house.
Sean's hand finds yours, and it's a tiny spot of warmth in a wide dark cold rainy world. "Now we finish this movie, and we bring the world to its knees."
You smile at the joke Sean doesn't know he made. "Yeah," you whisper. "And then?"
"And then we move on."
'I don't want to move on,' you don't say. The scared kid. The pathetic adolescent crush. You just look at him, memorizing every blurry feature through the rain, until he lets go of your hand and pulls away.
"Come on, Elijah," he says. "It's raining."
The only thing you remember about your first day in New Zealand was that it was raining. A gentle rain that would have been pleasant if it were just a little warmer.
You stood in the rain outside your hotel for a few minutes, getting your bearings, trying to force your body to adjust. New country. New people. New life.
Yeah, you were ready.
The first person you saw when you came into the hotel lobby, dripping wet and nervous as all hell, was a short, friendly-looking man who you were sure you'd seen in a magazine or a movie or-
He looked over and recognized you just as you recognized him, and before you knew it, you were caught up in a huge hug. "Elijah Wood, isn't it? Mr. Frodo!" he said, grinning.
"Yeah," you replied, matching his grin with a brilliant one of your own. "Sean Astin, right?"
Your clothes were soaking wet from the rain, but he didn't seem to mind at all.
"I'm right behind you," you tell him. He gives you a concerned look, then shrugs and turns.
You don't follow him immediately. The cold seeps through your jacket and jeans, laying icy fingers across your arms and chest and legs. You lift your head, looking up at the sky, letting the rain dance across your face and fill your eyes and leave you cold and breathless and clean. 'The end,' you think, like life is some kind of story and you could actually write it down and that was the end of a chapter or something clichéd and pathetic like that. Like you've just graduated from Epic Film Trilogy University and it's time to start life for real.
Then, shivering, you jog after Sean. Not to spoil the dramatic effect of the moment, or anything, but while there's something to be said for standing alone in the rain at night, there's also something to be said for being warm and dry. And it's really, actually, finally over, and it's time to really, actually, finally move the fuck on.
*
Author: kaydee falls
Fandom: Lotrips
Pairing: Elijah-centric, implied EW/Josh Hartnett, EW/SA
Rating: PG-13
Feedback: would be loverly
Disclaimer: None of this happened. I don't know the sexuality of anyone involved.
Notes: Improv fic for ContreLaMontre. "World at its knees" challenge. 60 minutes.
There's something to be said for standing alone in the rain at night. Even when it's so cold that you're almost surprised that it's rain and not sleet or snow, and the street is slick and icy and forbidding, and it's a long walk back to the hotel but you probably won't find a taxi on a night like tonight.
Still, there's something to be said for it.
Because you've just finished your last day of reshoots for Return of the King, and you and Sean went to the local pub and got yourself moderately smashed (Dom and Billy and most everyone else finished up almost a week ago, long gone, but a Ringbearer's work is never done), and now you're standing in the freezing rain and you know that in two minutes Sean will come out and yell at you and say you'll catch your death of cold but for now you're here. In the rain and darkness. Alone.
It's cold, and uncomfortable, and unbearably clean.
Tomorrow morning you'll be on a plane, back to the U.S., and maybe then it'll finally sink in that it's over. Like really, actually, finally over. No more Rings. No more Frodo. Done. Finished. Over.
On your last night home before leaving for New Zealand, you found yourself calling Josh. You hadn't seen him since the Faculty premiere, but your fingers dialed his phone number automatically, like some freakish form of muscle memory. You couldn't have recited the numbers if you tried, but your fingers remembered. Weird. Whatever.
"I'm really leaving," you said into the receiver, unconsciously picking at a cigarette, worrying the paper. "Like really, actually, finally leaving. New Zealand, man."
"Congratulations," Josh said sardonically. "Shall I airmail you a medal?"
"Fuck you. You know, I feel like I should be excited, and I am, but I'm kinda scared as shit."
"Wuss," Josh laughed. "Some hero you'll be. Scared to leave your mama's house, is that it?"
You would have glared at him, but glaring at a telephone is thoroughly unsatisfying. You chose to ignore his comment instead. "It's like, going off to college, or something. You know, stuff kids my age are supposed to be doing. Except it's New Zealand, thousands of fucking miles away, and instead of studying for exams, I'll be, like, being Frodo."
"Epic Film Trilogy University," Josh said. "No better education on Earth. Fight monsters, carry rings, do badass shit. Do you get to do any badass shit, Frodo?"
"Um." You've read the books. Really you have. Mmhmm. "I don't know yet. Maybe. Probably." You'd forgotten about the cigarette until you actually ripped it apart and found your lap covered with tobacco flakes. "Shit!"
"What?"
"Nothing. Never mind."
You could practically feel Josh rolling his eyes. "Whatever. Look, Elijah, just don't think about it too much. You're really fucking lucky, you know that? Most actors would kill for a chance like this. You get to go off and really start a new life and be a major blockbuster star and kick ass. You're gonna bring the world to its knees, man. Just, like, go for it."
"Yeah," you murmured. "Thanks." You almost said 'Love you,' but didn't. You were leaving, for real, and a good way to start a new life was to lose old pathetic adolescent crushes.
"Look, I gotta go, Elijah. Good luck, man."
"Bye, Josh."
As you hung up the phone, you glanced out the window. Rain was beating against the glass, invisible but for flashes of silver against the night sky.
"Elijah?"
You don't want to turn, don't want to acknowledge anyone else's presence yet. Maybe if you just stand here silently and don't look over your shoulder, he won't see you. The rain falls a little harder, a little colder.
"Elijah." Sean's hand is on your shoulder. You can't very well ignore him now.
"Sean."
"What are you doing out here?" Sean asks, a little frown forming between his eyebrows. "It's freezing and wet, you'll catch your death of cold."
You smile mirthlessly. Good old Sean. So predictable.
He'll be gone in the morning, too, won't he? Just like the movie. Just like New Zealand. Four years of your life, gone, just like that. Finished. Over.
"It's over," you say. You try to wipe the water off of your face-kinda pointless, really, since it just keeps raining. "Really over, I mean."
Sean's eyes are hard to make out through the wet and the cold and the mist your breath makes when you speak. "Yeah, I guess it is."
"What do we do now?" Your voice sounds impossibly small, even to you. Like you've suddenly jumped back four years, a scared kid not ready to leave his mama's house.
Sean's hand finds yours, and it's a tiny spot of warmth in a wide dark cold rainy world. "Now we finish this movie, and we bring the world to its knees."
You smile at the joke Sean doesn't know he made. "Yeah," you whisper. "And then?"
"And then we move on."
'I don't want to move on,' you don't say. The scared kid. The pathetic adolescent crush. You just look at him, memorizing every blurry feature through the rain, until he lets go of your hand and pulls away.
"Come on, Elijah," he says. "It's raining."
The only thing you remember about your first day in New Zealand was that it was raining. A gentle rain that would have been pleasant if it were just a little warmer.
You stood in the rain outside your hotel for a few minutes, getting your bearings, trying to force your body to adjust. New country. New people. New life.
Yeah, you were ready.
The first person you saw when you came into the hotel lobby, dripping wet and nervous as all hell, was a short, friendly-looking man who you were sure you'd seen in a magazine or a movie or-
He looked over and recognized you just as you recognized him, and before you knew it, you were caught up in a huge hug. "Elijah Wood, isn't it? Mr. Frodo!" he said, grinning.
"Yeah," you replied, matching his grin with a brilliant one of your own. "Sean Astin, right?"
Your clothes were soaking wet from the rain, but he didn't seem to mind at all.
"I'm right behind you," you tell him. He gives you a concerned look, then shrugs and turns.
You don't follow him immediately. The cold seeps through your jacket and jeans, laying icy fingers across your arms and chest and legs. You lift your head, looking up at the sky, letting the rain dance across your face and fill your eyes and leave you cold and breathless and clean. 'The end,' you think, like life is some kind of story and you could actually write it down and that was the end of a chapter or something clichéd and pathetic like that. Like you've just graduated from Epic Film Trilogy University and it's time to start life for real.
Then, shivering, you jog after Sean. Not to spoil the dramatic effect of the moment, or anything, but while there's something to be said for standing alone in the rain at night, there's also something to be said for being warm and dry. And it's really, actually, finally over, and it's time to really, actually, finally move the fuck on.
*