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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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