TITLE: Shelter From the Storm (1/?)
AUTHOR: Elizabeth (sef7881@aol.com)
WEBSITE: https://www.angelfire.com/scary/randominsanity/RandomInsanity.html
PAIRING: Viggo Mortensen/Orlando Bloom
RATING: PG-13 for this part
SUMMARY: Finding hope in the darkest times
FEEDBACK: It's the highlights in my hairdo, the extra arms on Vishnu
WARNINGS: AU, references to war and violence throughout the fic
DISCLAIMER: This story is solely a product of my twisted imagination
ARCHIVE: Help yourself, just drop me a line so I can brag to my friends
The rain was the last straw. For weeks, Orlando had been pushing himself to keep going regardless of the weather, the hunger, the heartache, but he just couldn't go any further tonight. Cold water seeped through the too-thin material of his boots and made his toes feel like they were frozen. He had to stop running, if only for tonight.
Orlando had made it to Copenhagen, and tomorrow he would inquire about passage on a ship to Norway. He knew that the Reich had extended its reach into Denmark, but he was unclear as to how firm its grip was on the small country. With any luck, he would be able to flee to Norway, and from there find his way back to England. But his good luck had been nonexistent lately, and he felt as if he was hoping against hope.
Crouching in the doorway of a small apartment building, he slid to the ground and opened his sack. He knew there would be no food in the sack but rummaged through it anyway, just to be sure. There was the small loaf of bread, but that could not be eaten. That was where he kept the valuables he would need to pawn in order to pay for passage on a boat. Orlando almost laughed at the absurdity of it all -- his most treasured possessions were hidden away inside a hollowed-out loaf of bread.
The sound of footsteps through the nearby puddles made him look up sharply. It was too dark to tell if the man who was approaching was a policeman or Nazi officer, and he sent a silent prayer for the man to simply leave him alone. But to Orlando's dismay the man walked up to him and began speaking to him in Danish, not that Orlando could understand a word of it.
"I-I'm sorry," he croaked, feeling like a fool. "I don't speak Danish."
"You speak English?" the man asked, his accent different than the other Danes Orlando had encountered. He was thankful that the man spoke English, and hoped that was a good sign.
"Yes."
"I asked if you needed shelter from the storm. You will get sick if you stay out in the rain; it's even cold enough that you could get pneumonia or frostbite. Do you have a place you can go?"
"No, I don't."
"I have a spare room in my apartment upstairs where you can stay tonight. I know it's a strange invitation, but I can't let you stay outside like this." The man smiled, or at least Orlando throught he did; it was hard to tell between the rain and the darkness. "Please, I promise I won't hurt you."
What choice did he have? While Orlando knew the dangers of staying with a complete stranger, the alternative was being stranded in the cold rain and running the risk of attracting the attention of the police. Besides, something about the man made Orlando feel that this stranger wouldn't harm him. Maybe all that praying had paid off and he would have a bed to sleep in, even if it was just for one night.
"Alright."
"Good. Come on inside."
