TITLE: Heart and Shoulder (1/22)
AUTHOR: Elizabeth (sef7881@aol.com)
PAIRING: Viggo Mortensen/Orlando Bloom
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: Coming out (Orli's POV)
FEEDBACK: Please! It keeps me going!
WARNINGS: None
DISCLAIMER: I made this all up in my crazy little head. It's
FICTION
ARCHIVE: I'd be honored, just let me know where it's going
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is the fifth series in "The Viggorli Chronicles"
(following "Fumbling Towards Ecstasy", "Remember To Breathe", "Some Kind
of Heaven", and "Pretty Good Year"). Once again, be prepared for
smut, sap (combined for smap!), and angst . . . And thanks to Tracy
and Losti for their help with this chapter!
DATE WRITTEN: January 1st, 2004 -- Happy New Year!
This is perhaps the most exhilarating, freeing, and slightly terrifying
experience of my life.
Viggo and I have been here for all of twenty seconds, but it feels
as if everybody's eyes are glued to us. Hell, everybody probably
*is* staring at us. But somehow, I'm not really bothered by the stares
because for the first time in our relationship, I have the ability to hold
Viggo's hand tightly in mine and beam with pride.
Any minuscule fears I had about my boyfriend losing his nerve at the
last minute are erased as I look at the serene smile on Viggo's handsome
face. His thumb subtly caresses my wrist in a gesture of love and
comfort, and the part of me that feels slightly terrified right now slips
away as I remember what really matters tonight. Tonight isn't about
other people's reactions, whether they stare at us or simply don't care
one way or the other, but instead it's about the two of us having the freedom
to be together in public without worrying about the consequences.
Flashbulbs pop around us, and photographers begin to shout our names
as we make our way down the red carpet with our hands firmly entwined.
After a minute, my hand slips out of his and slides around Viggo's waist,
pulling him closer to me. If there were any way that people could
have looked at us and thought that we weren't a couple when we were holding
hands, I imagine that the sight of us with our arms around each other's
waists and matching brilliant smiles on our faces would convince even the
most skeptical of observers.
Sure enough, the calls for us to turn and face the cameras now get
even louder. Knowing how the game is played, we oblige them by stopping
for a few moments to allow some pictures to be taken. From somewhere
in the mass of paparazzi, I can hear an obnoxious voice yell, "Orlando,
are you two together?" Viggo lets out a gentle laugh that's just
loud enough for me to hear, and we keep smiling.
As we parade further down the carpet, it becomes a veritable traffic
jam of stars. I'm keeping my eyes peeled for anyone in our 'Lord
of the Rings' family, since they're the only people here who aren't surprised
that Viggo and I are here together. That kind of familiarity would
be nice at a bizarre time like this. But as I scan the zoo of celebrities,
no hobbits, dwarves, fellow elves, Rohan warriors, or Kiwi directors catch
my eye.
One person who does draw my attention is Nicole Kidman -- mainly because
she's making a beeline right towards me and Viggo. I suddenly have
this terrible thought that maybe this Hollywood mega-goddess is coming
to tell me that my fly is unzipped or that I have a piece of vegetable
lodged in my teeth, but she simply gives Viggo a warm smile and a quick
hug. A hug? Oh yeah -- they worked together on a film.
Still, she should keep her paws off of my man.
"Viggo, it's wonderful to see you! I haven't seen you in *ages*,"
she says to him. "I'm so thrilled that you're finally getting some
recognition for all the work you've done."
"It's great to see you, too," Viggo tells her honestly, blushingly
avoiding comment on the second part of her greeting.
Nicole (wow, am I on a first-name basis with her?) extends her smile
to me as well. "Orlando, how are you?" We'd met once before
at a post-Oscars party two years ago, but I'm amazed that she remembers
me.
"I'm doing wonderfully." I really am, especially since a huge
star saw me with Viggo and went over to talk to us instead of treating
us like pariahs. Feeling even more relaxed, I give Viggo a little
squeeze.
"Both of you were absolutely terrific in the film," she gushes.
"My daughter is a huge fan of the trilogy, and I think I've seen each movie
about ten times. Viggo, good luck tonight -- you deserve to win as
much as anyone, and this is all long overdue."
"Thank you so much, Nicole. Good luck yourself," he says to his
fellow nominee.
"Thanks. And, well, if my film *has* to lose the big award, I
pray that your film is the one that beats us. It's an absolute marvel,"
Nicole says in her lilting, accented voice.
"That praise belongs to Peter Jackson," I demur.
"Very true," she acknowledges. "Well, at this point, I suppose
all we can do is wait for the winners to be announced -- which is what
makes these things so exciting for me. That, and the fact that I
get to catch up with so many different people."
"Yeah, everyone seems to be here," I comment, scanning the throngs
of stars again for our 'Rings' cohorts but with no success.
"I suppose I should leave you two to mingle with the rest of the hordes,"
Nicole offers. "I'm sure you have a lot of people you want to talk
to, and I don't want to keep you, but I just *had* to say a quick hello."
"Well, I'm very glad that you did," Viggo says. "It's always
nice to see a friendly face at these kinds of events."
She smiles again, wishes us well and turns to disappear into the sea
of well-dressed (and not-so-well-dressed) famous people. It hits
me as we continue our journey down the red carpet that she didn't once
comment on my being with Viggo, or even so much as bat an eye at the fact
that we're together. I suppose that would strike me as odd if it
weren't for the fact that Nicole Kidman is someone who's used to having
her own life dissected every which way by the press and her every move
photographed, so she probably just decided to let our own personal life
stay personal and not intrude. If only everyone were so gracious.
We're about halfway down the carpet when I catch sight of a hobbit.
More precisely, I spy Sean and Christine. Sean was absolutely *robbed*
of a Globe nomination, but he's smiling cheerily as if he hasn't a care
in the world as he poses for a picture with his lovely wife. As soon
as the two of them are done standing for the photographer, they spot me
and Viggo and head over to us.
"I've been looking all over for you two," Sean tells us with a grin.
"How's it going?"
"Wonderfully," I confide as Viggo and I break our contact just long
enough to give hugs to them. "I'm not really sure what I was expecting
to go wrong, if anything, but it's been smooth so far."
"Have you spoken to any reporters?" Christine asks, her voice low enough
so that no one would overhear.
Viggo shakes his head. "Not yet; they're all at the other end
of the carpet, practically blocking people from getting into the theater."
"Yeah, well if I were you guys, I'd start getting ready for my close-up,"
Sean advises. "The moment you hit the reporter convoy, you'll be
the most in-demand interview in this whole place."
"Hobbit, man, elf," declares John as a way of greeting as he strides
up to us, weaving his way through the crowd. "And of course, Christine,"
he adds, acknowledging Sean's better half.
"I can't believe that you guys still refer to each other by your Middle
Earth races," Christine laughs half-incredulously while John embraces her.
"Of course we do, sweetie," Sean tells her. "We always will."
"Yeah, one of Viggo's nicknames for me is elf boy," I inform her.
Christine snickers. "That's really cute, Viggo."
My boyfriend coughs politely and blushes a little. "Well, he
was adorable with the pointy ears," he explains. "The nickname kind
of presented himself."
"Hmm, Sean was pretty sexy with those furry feet," Christine muses.
"Maybe I should start calling him 'Hobbit Hunk.'"
"Please don't," Sean groans.
"You know, standing around and talking with friends is wonderful, but
Orli and Viggo should probably keep moving," John suggests. "After
all, I'm guessing that virtually every reporter here tonight wants to talk
to them, and that does take up some time."
"Excellent point, Master Dwarf," I say. Bidding our friends a
temporary farewell (since we'll be sitting with them inside the theater),
Viggo and I continue our journey.
The people we walk past blur into each other as I'm unable to concentrate
on anything other than the man standing next to me and the butterflies
that are flitting around in my stomach. Nervousness creeps into me
again, which is a bit ironic when you consider that hundreds of photographs
have probably already been taken of me and Viggo together tonight.
Still, talking to a reporter about our lives is something different entirely,
and with my luck I'll probably fuck the whole thing up. Maybe I should
just let Viggo do all the talking before I embarrass us both on a telly
program that will be broadcast and re-broadcast worldwide.
But then I sneak a glance at Viggo and see the effortless calm and
joy on his face, and mentally smack myself for being such an idiot.
What am I really worried about? It's like Henry said to us before
we left the house tonight -- whatever happens, Viggo and I will still have
each other. Besides, I've gone over what I want to say so many times
in my head that I could say it in my sleep if I wanted to. As long
as I don't accidentally curse, snort while laughing, burp, fart, or fall
down, I should be fine. And even if those awful things *do* happen,
I know that my boyfriend would simply chuckle and keep standing by me.
"There she is," Viggo whispers, nudging me gently.
"Who?" I crane my neck and look all around to try and catch a
glimpse of whoever he's talking about.
"Joan Rivers, the ruler of the red carpet." He gestures very
subtly with the hand that's not wrapped around my waist to a small podium
where the outspoken Queen of the microphone-holding maggots is interviewing
Ben Kingsley, who looks like he's being tortured by electric eels.
"Ah, so *that's* the reason you never go to these events," I tease.
"I've never had the pleasure of being interviewed by her," he admits.
"But I'm guessing that we might be on her list tonight."
"It's a safe bet," I agree. "She usually wants to talk with anyone
well-dressed, beautiful, nominated, and causing a stir. Tonight,
you're four-for-four."
"What about you?" he laughs.
I grin. "I'm just the eye candy hanging on your arm for the night,
Mr. Mortensen."
A moment later, a man with a headset walks up to us. "Excuse
me, Mr. Bloom and Mr. Mortensen. Joan Rivers from E! Television would
like to interview both of you for a few minutes. Do you have the
time to do that for her?"
Viggo smiles at the young lackey. "Of course we do."
"Wonderful," the man enthuses. "Alright, just step right over
to the podium and she'll be with you in a moment."
"Now I know how Frodo and Sam felt walking into the heart of Mount
Doom," I whisper to Viggo as we approach the podium and wait for our turn
to be interviewed.
"What, Joan Rivers is the One Ring?" he says softly, trying to contain
his laughter.
"Or Sauron," I shrug.
"Oh come on, she could be perfectly nice to us."
"Well, it's our first interview; I just hope everything goes well."
"Relax, love. It'll be fine."
Finally it's deemed to be time for our interview. As Queen Joan
bids farewell to Halle Berry, one of her handlers motions for us to ascend
the steps to where she's standing on top of her small podium. "I
guess it's showtime," I tell Viggo with a grin.
He nods and returns my smile. "Let's do this," he says.
Joan Rivers is wearing some hideously tacky dress (which makes me wonder
how she's qualified to comment on other people's wardrobe selections),
and looks as if she's had so many facelifts that she appears to be made
out of Silly Putty. She feigns surprise when we arrive on the podium,
as if she didn't request the interview. "Oh, and here's Viggo Mortensen
and Orlando Bloom from 'The Lord of the Rings'!" she exclaims.
"Hello Joan, how are you?" asks Viggo, ever the polite gentleman.
Realizing the importance of diplomacy (especially in this interview), I
extend my greetings as well and flash her a smile.
"I'm wonderful now that you two are here," she says. "Look at
this, will you?" she asks her cameraman/audience. "Two handsome hunks
from one movie, here together next to me! I think I'm the luckiest
woman in the world. Boys, could you each give me a little smooch
on the cheek?"
Dear God, the things that this business forces you to do . . .
"We'd love to," I lie, leaning forward with Viggo to brush her cheek as
briefly as possible with my mouth.
"First of all, congratulations on the *enormous*, out-of-this-world
success that 'Return of the King' has had," Joan tells us. "I mean,
the films have made an absolutely ridiculous amount of money!"
"Well, we're just happy that the fans stayed with the trilogy through
to the end," I say modestly.
"How could they not? It was an amazing trilogy! And both
of you were beyond fantastic."
"Thank you very much," Viggo says, smiling graciously.
"Of course, you're nominated for Best Actor," Joan tells Viggo.
"You're up against some *very* tough competition, but a lot of people still
think you have a good chance of winning. What do you think your chances
are?"
He shrugs and keeps grinning. "I'm thinking more about the movie's
chances for winning, to be honest. If I won any kind of award, that
would just be a bonus. It may sound like false modesty, but that's
really the way I'm looking at it."
"It doesn't sound like false modesty, darling," she laughs. Darling?
Nobody gets to use terms of endearment for Viggo except for me! Well,
and maybe his mum. "And Orlando, you had a wonderful year with both
this film and 'Pirates of the Caribbean'. Which did you have more
fun making?"
Is this woman daft? "Well, 'Pirates' was so much fun to make,
and it was a wonderful film, but nothing could compare to the experience
I had making the entire 'Lord of the Rings' trilogy. Just the scope
of the story and how Peter brought it to life, and the commitment that
all of these brilliant actors contributed made it such an amazing film,
and I know that I'll never work on another project like it again."
"Okay, now enough about movies and acting and awards for the moment.
Can we talk about something that's really important?" I know where
this is heading . . .
"Sure."
"Tell me, and everyone who's watching, what is going on with the two
of you. I knew that the cast of 'The Lord of the Rings' are supposed
to be good friends, but you guys look like more than that tonight.
So tell us the truth: are you a couple?"
"Yes, we are," Viggo says, his smile as wide as I've ever seen it.
"We're very, *very* happy together."
"Congratulations!" Joan exclaims.
"Thank you," I tell her, not knowing what else I should be saying.
"I didn't even know that you two were gay!"
"Well, that's why we're coming out," I say, refraining from rolling
my eyes.
"Do your friends and family know that you're coming out tonight, or
are they as shocked as we are?" she asks.
"No, they all know," Viggo laughs. "I think that they've been
waiting for this for a long time. We're lucky to have the support
of everyone, from Orlando's mother and sister, to my parents and brothers,
to my son and ex-wife, to all of our friends from 'Lord of the Rings'.
They've all stood by us."
Joan frowns. "How can you have a son and ex-wife if you're gay?"
My boyfriend somehow manages to not look very annoyed. "Well,
I've had relationships with both men and women. What matters to me
is that Orlando is the man I'm in love with, and if that makes me gay or
bisexual or whatever, then so be it. I just try not to categorize
myself that way; neither of us do."
"Now, how long have you been together?" she presses on, oblivious to
her little gaffe.
"Four years, two months, and thirteen days," I recite.
"And you've kept it secret all this time? That's unbelievable!"
she says. "Why are you coming out now?"
"Because we felt the time was right for us, and we're ready for this
step in our lives," Viggo explains.
"It wasn't an easy decision," I add. "But we're thrilled to finally
be honest about our relationship."
"Are you afraid of the effect that this could have on your careers?"
"Not enough to deter us from showing up together tonight," I tell her
firmly.
"Well, I certainly wish you the best of luck, although I doubt that
you need it," she says. "And if anything happens to your film careers,
you can now join the cast of 'Queer Eye For the Straight Guy'." I
groan inwardly at her sense of humor, hoping that the next reporter we
talk to won't feel compelled to make similar stupid quips.
"I'm hoping it won't come to that," Viggo says good-naturedly.
She leans in to kiss us each on the cheek, wishes Viggo luck for tonight,
and then we say goodbye. The interview is officially over, and we're
still intact. And for the record, I did not accidentally curse, snort
while laughing, burp, fart, or fall down. Go me!
"We just came out!" I say excitedly as we're ushered over to wait for
another interview. "I mean, officially and everything!"
"I know we did," Viggo laughs, although I can see his own excitement
and relief shining in his eyes. This was such a big deal for both
of us; it has been for what seems like forever, and now the monkey is finally
off of our backs. We're out, it's over. Okay, not over -- I
know that there'll be some fallout, but it's nothing that I can't handle.
Because standing here with my gorgeous guy next to me, his arm around
my waist for all the world to see, this is truly all that I need to be
happy.
Heart
and Shoulder Part 2
More
Viggorli
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