The waters of the Pacific Ocean sparkle a brilliant blue thousands of feet below us, and I wonder if anyone would mind if I jumped out of the plane and plummeted into them. Okay, maybe I'm being a bit melodramatic here, but I don't exactly feel very cheery at the moment. I just left New Zealand this morning and am flying to Los Angeles with a number of my castmates, most of whom will then catch a connecting flight to London with me. Usually, a twelve-hour flight with Dom, Billy, Ian, Beanie, and John would be pretty fun, except that Viggo's journey stops in L.A., and I'm continuing on my own.
Believe me when I say that I've tried not to dwell on this. I've tried to think of things other than the fact that my relationship with Viggo is changing and I'm going to be thousands of miles away from him, but every time I look at him, my brain stays on its one-track course. Sure, I miss London. I miss hanging out with Atti, and going to see my mum, and all of that, but I'd give it up in a second to go live with Viggo. But he's not ready for what that entails, and I know I can't push him.
I turn my gaze from the window to see Viggo fast asleep in the seat next to me, his face the picture of serenity. Apparently, I have a dopey, lovestruck look on my face, because I can hear Lij murmuring "aww" from his seat across the aisle. I give him a glare, and he and Dom both laugh.
Thanking the powers that be for the airline blankets that are covering us, I slip my hand into Viggo's and lean back in my seat. He stirs a minute later and looks at me. "How long did I sleep?" he asks, untangling his hand from mine so he can brush the hair out of his eyes.
"Dunno. Maybe about an hour or two. We're only about forty-five minutes from landing."
"Shit." He sits up all the way and stretches his arms. "What have you been doing?"
"Just thinking. And glaring at some unruly hobbits."
"He had a sappy look in his eyes!" Lij protests at my words.
Viggo fixes Lij with what I've termed his Aragorn-kicking-butt glare, and the Ringbearer shuts up (Dom doesn't even dare to open his mouth). Looking up and down the first class aisle to make sure there are no prying eyes, he says in a low voice, "if you start torturing my elf again, you'll regret it."
Having sufficiently terrorized Lij and Dom for the moment, Viggo settles back into his seat and looks at me with a funny expression on his face. "What?" I ask.
"Nothing. Just . . . nothing." His blue eyes are sad, and I'm sure mine aren't any better. I honestly don't know how I'm going to find the strength to walk onto that second flight.
*****
"I'm home!" Lij exclaims as we walk off the plane into the Los Angeles airport. "Smell the smog, baby!"
"You missed the smog?" Billy asks disbelievingly.
"Not really the smog per se, but . . ."
My friends' banter fades into the background as I look at Viggo. "Aren't you going to go find Henry and Exene?"
"I told them not to meet me," he says. "I'll pick up Henry on my way home from the airport."
"Why did you tell them not to be here?" I ask with confusion.
"I want to go with you to your connecting flight. It's not fair to make them wait for me."
Dom breaks our conversation by clapping Viggo on the shoulder. "So is this it, mate?"
"Nah, I'm gonna walk the prissy elf to the gate," he jokes, but the sad look on his face belies the humor of his words.
"Okay, well we're all going in a few minutes. Just tag along."
Viggo nods and looks at me again. "You don't mind that I'm going to the gate with you, do you?"
"Of course not, Vig." I kiss him on the cheek, nothing blatant or suspicious, just some much-needed contact. "But we should say goodbye to Lij and Sean before they leave."
Along with farewells, we all give Lij and Sean solemn promises to call within the next few days, and they threaten us with dire punishments if we don't come and visit them soon. The UK contingent of the Fellowship, along with Viggo, catch a shuttle to the international terminal and Viggo and I indulge our friends by engaging in some mindless chatter on the way.
When we get to the gate, everyone looks at us warily. "Oh, for God's sake," I laugh. "We're not going to start sobbing or anything."
"Okay," Ian says. He hugs Viggo goodbye, which begins another round of farewells.
"I'll meet you guys on the plane," I tell them. They all nod and start boarding, leaving me and Viggo standing together. "Well, I guess this is it."
He nods. "There's something I want to give you before you go." Opening his carry-on knapsack, he pulls out a blank journal and hands it to me. "I bought one for myself, too. It's a relationship journal, although that sounds like a corny name. Basically, we can write in this about how we miss each other, or what we're doing, or just anything at all. Then when it's full, we'll send them to each other so we don't feel so far apart. It's just a little idea of mine to make this easier."
"I don't know what to say," I murmur. "This is so wonderful, Viggo. It *will* make this easier."
"Thanks." The PA announces my flight again, and a pit of dread settles in my stomach. "You have to go, Orli," Viggo tells me gently.
"Yeah." I look down at my trainers, shifting from one leg to the other.
"I'm going to see you in a few weeks," he reminds me. "For your birthday." He places a finger under my chin and tilts my head up. "This isn't goodbye, Orli."
I wrap my arms around him and he holds me close. It's an airport, so everyone is engaged in their own little world and no one pays us much mind. Viggo presses a swift kiss to my cheek when we break the embrace, and it's almost enough to make me cry. "I love you," I whisper.
"I love you, too," he says softly. "Call me when you get to London."
"It'll be the middle of the night."
"That doesn't matter. Just call me." I nod my assent, unable to say anything else. "Love you, elf boy."
"Filthy human," I laugh.
I turn and walk onto the plane, giving him one last smile.
When I sit down next to Ian, I can feel the tears finally beginning to
prick my eyes. Ian instantly puts his hand over mine. "This
isn't the end of everything," he says sympathetically.
"Yeah, I know. It still hurts, though."
A few minutes after takeoff, I pull out a pen and open the relationship journal Viggo has given me. I'm going to fill it up as quickly as I can, with every single thought and event that I can relate to him. Now is as good a time as any to start.
"What's that?" Ian asks.
"It's Viggo's idea. He calls it a relationship journal; something that we can write in and then send to each other so we don't feel so far apart."
Ian smiles and shakes his head. "You're a lucky boy, Orlando."
"Believe me, you don't have to tell me that."
"Well, he's pretty fortunate as well. If I didn't adore both of you, I'd be sickened by how perfect you are for each other." He winks and then begins reading a magazine, leaving me to write. I chew on the pen for a minute, wondering how best to begin this journal. Finding an idea I like, I go to work.
'I love you. Just had to get that out of the way. We're
flying out of L.A. right now, and my cheek is still warm from where you
kissed me. I know you're coming to see me in three weeks, and believe
me when I say I'm counting the minutes. Have I said yet that I love
you? Well, I'll say it again. In fact, I'll say it as often
as you need me to. I love you . . .'
