![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
vbmods.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
wordsontongueTitle: May I Join You?
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
j_flattermann
Rating: gen
Warnings: None
Beta:ingrid44
Request: Genres - fluff, au, h/c, resolved angst, happy endings; Ratings - G, PG, R; Prompt(s) or general mood(s) - silence, left of center, periphery
Prompt(s): (for drabbles/ficlets) silence, left of center, periphery
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. It's make believe and completely untrue.
Author's Note: inspired by "Unexpected Company" by Foxrafer
There were just a few more steps before we reached the ski lift. It was then his foot hit an icy spot and he lost his balance sliding right into my open arms. He blushed, embarrassed, the blond hair now ruffled was dark and hung limp glued to his sweaty forehead. An impatient hand tried to wipe the strain out of a heated face.
I had had no knowledge of his flight fear. Was utterly unaware of him hiking up the mountain to the location of the shoot. I was blind to this until the others in the helicopter pointed him out laughing at his "silly" fear. I looked down at the small dot of a man waving back to us before turning to climb the last few yards. Wondered how he could go through the important scenes we were filming after such an exhausting steep climb wearing his costume. But he nailed the shot every time we were asked to repeat it. So during our lunch break on the mountain I went over to him and asked how he could block it out. He confessed to an inability to do so and I was even more astonished. I tried to compare to my own working style to his and knew that I would never have been able to do the scene under such conditions. I simply had to admire him for his stamina and talent.
So when we finished for the day my mind was made up. I decided to join him on his hike back down the mountain.
I asked him if he'd minded and he welcomed my company. We had to hurry as evening was approaching and the light was steadily fading. The descent was more difficult than I had expected. I tried to envision how it must have been to climb this mountain in the heavy coat and attire he was wearing. He had even been carrying his armour, the sword and shield. Madness. And still in the same outfit he now climbed down only a few steps behind me. It was then that I noticed that I too still wore the clothes of Aragorn but then that was what I usually did. Nobody was worried about that, but when he wore his costume everybody wondered. I rambled on about the shoot and I don't know what. Stupid unimportant things. Not what I really wanted to say. I was too afraid. Afraid that he would pull back. Afraid to scare him away for being to pushy. And to make things worse suddenly this little voice in the back of my head started saying: 'he wanted to be alone and you spoilt it for him. He wanted to be alone to strip Boromir off. He needed the solitude of the climb down to become himself again and now you have ruined it.' But I kept on chatting. On how amazing he had been in the scenes and how easy it all looked when he was doing it. How hard I had to fight to get in character and how afraid I was to let go for fear I might not find Aragorn again.
He on the contrary seemed to slip into the character of Boromir as soon as he put his costume on. And with the same ease I thought he would slip out of him. Now I realised that getting rid of Boromir took him longer than I had estimated. However each evening I had found only Sean the British actor instead of Boromir the Captain of Gondor. Whilst I was forced to remain in character staying Aragorn for the remainder of the filming. He didn't seem to mind or even notice when we met in the evening at the bar of the hotel. Aragorn or Viggo, was it all the same to him? Had I made any impression on that shut closed clamshell of a man? I wondered at times if his thoughts ever circled around me even half as much as my thoughts were concentrated on him. I wanted him to acknowledge he liked me, at best all the while hoping it would turn into more, friendship possibly love. But he was so hard to read in his shyness. Keeping himself to himself most of the time. Had I blown my chances with him on our first encounter? I remembered his astonished face when on our greeting I rugby tackled him. He hadn't expected anything like it. Well, how could he? Had it been a mistake to ask to accompany him?
I tried to sneak a glance back at him. He looked down checking his footing in the fading light as the last rays of sunshine cast a halo around his blond locks. I held my breath for a split second. He noticed I had stopped walking and looked up. "What?" he said. I had to shake my head to bring myself back to reality. "Oh, nothing. I think we should speed up a bit. The sun is almost gone." I turned around looking downhill where the ski lift waited for us, already hidden in shadow. "When did you say the last car would leave?" He didn't answer but just walked past me. So I picked up my pace again and caught up with him.
Every now and then I tried to steal a glance at his profile, his shape. Tried to imagine what lay beneath the layers of cloth. I could hardly bear to look at him and then again couldn't bring myself to stop looking. Tears welled in my eyes and I rushed forward to pass him so he couldn't see.
With the ski lift drawing closer with each step I painfully realised that during our hike down the mountain he had scarcely spoken a word. 'He must think me a right prat. Rambling on like this all the way down.' His silence made me painfully aware of the fact that I hadn't stopped talking since we had started. And under extreme torture I would not be able to recall what I had said. I had hoped to get to know the man better but now almost down I had to declare defeat. I was none the wiser.
Finally we reached the ski lift. And there just a few steps to the hut he slid right into my arms. If I had read this scene in a script I would have rejected it as being much to cheesy. But there it was. A small patch of ice hidden in the shadow of the setting sun. He waved his arms to steady his balance while he picked up speed on the slope. All I had to do was open my arms and catch him. He landed against my chest with an expression of worry and astonishment clearly printed on his face. The sweaty hair pinned to his forehead. Waves of heat radiating off him from the steep climb. Good honest sweat wafting from his body. His hands at my shoulders, my arms around his waist. He took a moment to steady himself before breaking the embrace. These few moments were an eternity and yet so short. I cherished every one. His smell in my nostrils. His blushing on the impact. There and then it happened, I knew it. I was lost, lost forever.
There inside the cabin suspended between heaven and earth he admitted to his irrational fear of flying. I heard him take a deep breath and then sigh in relief as he sat down. It was then I realized why he hadn't spoken while climbing down to the ski lift. He was totally concentrated on the climb. His entire being focused on avoiding a mis-step. A fall resulting in a sprained ankle or worse a broken leg would be calamitous to the film. Blame would land squarely on his shoulders and all caused by his irrational fears.
There in the cabin on the way down he couldn't stop talking. He spoke until we nearly reached the base station. He sat opposite staring at his hands and with one shy glance at me said: "I hadn't expected company."
He looked down again and smiled at his hands not saying another word.
Author:
j_flattermannRating: gen
Warnings: None
Beta:
ingrid44Request: Genres - fluff, au, h/c, resolved angst, happy endings; Ratings - G, PG, R; Prompt(s) or general mood(s) - silence, left of center, periphery
Prompt(s): (for drabbles/ficlets) silence, left of center, periphery
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. It's make believe and completely untrue.
Author's Note: inspired by "Unexpected Company" by Foxrafer
There were just a few more steps before we reached the ski lift. It was then his foot hit an icy spot and he lost his balance sliding right into my open arms. He blushed, embarrassed, the blond hair now ruffled was dark and hung limp glued to his sweaty forehead. An impatient hand tried to wipe the strain out of a heated face.
I had had no knowledge of his flight fear. Was utterly unaware of him hiking up the mountain to the location of the shoot. I was blind to this until the others in the helicopter pointed him out laughing at his "silly" fear. I looked down at the small dot of a man waving back to us before turning to climb the last few yards. Wondered how he could go through the important scenes we were filming after such an exhausting steep climb wearing his costume. But he nailed the shot every time we were asked to repeat it. So during our lunch break on the mountain I went over to him and asked how he could block it out. He confessed to an inability to do so and I was even more astonished. I tried to compare to my own working style to his and knew that I would never have been able to do the scene under such conditions. I simply had to admire him for his stamina and talent.
So when we finished for the day my mind was made up. I decided to join him on his hike back down the mountain.
I asked him if he'd minded and he welcomed my company. We had to hurry as evening was approaching and the light was steadily fading. The descent was more difficult than I had expected. I tried to envision how it must have been to climb this mountain in the heavy coat and attire he was wearing. He had even been carrying his armour, the sword and shield. Madness. And still in the same outfit he now climbed down only a few steps behind me. It was then that I noticed that I too still wore the clothes of Aragorn but then that was what I usually did. Nobody was worried about that, but when he wore his costume everybody wondered. I rambled on about the shoot and I don't know what. Stupid unimportant things. Not what I really wanted to say. I was too afraid. Afraid that he would pull back. Afraid to scare him away for being to pushy. And to make things worse suddenly this little voice in the back of my head started saying: 'he wanted to be alone and you spoilt it for him. He wanted to be alone to strip Boromir off. He needed the solitude of the climb down to become himself again and now you have ruined it.' But I kept on chatting. On how amazing he had been in the scenes and how easy it all looked when he was doing it. How hard I had to fight to get in character and how afraid I was to let go for fear I might not find Aragorn again.
He on the contrary seemed to slip into the character of Boromir as soon as he put his costume on. And with the same ease I thought he would slip out of him. Now I realised that getting rid of Boromir took him longer than I had estimated. However each evening I had found only Sean the British actor instead of Boromir the Captain of Gondor. Whilst I was forced to remain in character staying Aragorn for the remainder of the filming. He didn't seem to mind or even notice when we met in the evening at the bar of the hotel. Aragorn or Viggo, was it all the same to him? Had I made any impression on that shut closed clamshell of a man? I wondered at times if his thoughts ever circled around me even half as much as my thoughts were concentrated on him. I wanted him to acknowledge he liked me, at best all the while hoping it would turn into more, friendship possibly love. But he was so hard to read in his shyness. Keeping himself to himself most of the time. Had I blown my chances with him on our first encounter? I remembered his astonished face when on our greeting I rugby tackled him. He hadn't expected anything like it. Well, how could he? Had it been a mistake to ask to accompany him?
I tried to sneak a glance back at him. He looked down checking his footing in the fading light as the last rays of sunshine cast a halo around his blond locks. I held my breath for a split second. He noticed I had stopped walking and looked up. "What?" he said. I had to shake my head to bring myself back to reality. "Oh, nothing. I think we should speed up a bit. The sun is almost gone." I turned around looking downhill where the ski lift waited for us, already hidden in shadow. "When did you say the last car would leave?" He didn't answer but just walked past me. So I picked up my pace again and caught up with him.
Every now and then I tried to steal a glance at his profile, his shape. Tried to imagine what lay beneath the layers of cloth. I could hardly bear to look at him and then again couldn't bring myself to stop looking. Tears welled in my eyes and I rushed forward to pass him so he couldn't see.
With the ski lift drawing closer with each step I painfully realised that during our hike down the mountain he had scarcely spoken a word. 'He must think me a right prat. Rambling on like this all the way down.' His silence made me painfully aware of the fact that I hadn't stopped talking since we had started. And under extreme torture I would not be able to recall what I had said. I had hoped to get to know the man better but now almost down I had to declare defeat. I was none the wiser.
Finally we reached the ski lift. And there just a few steps to the hut he slid right into my arms. If I had read this scene in a script I would have rejected it as being much to cheesy. But there it was. A small patch of ice hidden in the shadow of the setting sun. He waved his arms to steady his balance while he picked up speed on the slope. All I had to do was open my arms and catch him. He landed against my chest with an expression of worry and astonishment clearly printed on his face. The sweaty hair pinned to his forehead. Waves of heat radiating off him from the steep climb. Good honest sweat wafting from his body. His hands at my shoulders, my arms around his waist. He took a moment to steady himself before breaking the embrace. These few moments were an eternity and yet so short. I cherished every one. His smell in my nostrils. His blushing on the impact. There and then it happened, I knew it. I was lost, lost forever.
There inside the cabin suspended between heaven and earth he admitted to his irrational fear of flying. I heard him take a deep breath and then sigh in relief as he sat down. It was then I realized why he hadn't spoken while climbing down to the ski lift. He was totally concentrated on the climb. His entire being focused on avoiding a mis-step. A fall resulting in a sprained ankle or worse a broken leg would be calamitous to the film. Blame would land squarely on his shoulders and all caused by his irrational fears.
There in the cabin on the way down he couldn't stop talking. He spoke until we nearly reached the base station. He sat opposite staring at his hands and with one shy glance at me said: "I hadn't expected company."
He looked down again and smiled at his hands not saying another word.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-08-01 06:59 pm (UTC)I truly think that he entirely acted on impulse there.
no subject
Date: 2011-08-01 08:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-01 09:11 pm (UTC)And with Viggo chatting away like crazy seemingly not watching his steps Sean must have been in right torment. I think that was one of the reasons for him being so tongue tied and only when they sat down in the cabin to be lifted back down he could sigh his relief and loosen up.
no subject
Date: 2011-08-02 05:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-02 10:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-02 11:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-02 11:36 am (UTC)