The dreaded confrontation came sooner than he would have wanted.
The next morning, shortly after six a.m. Viggo stumbled into the make-up trailer, still feeling exhausted.
"Huh, Joan, I'd give the world for a cup of strong coffee," he mumbled, rubbing his aching forehead with one hand.
"She'll be back in a minute," a cool voice answered him from across the mirror. Orlando, already in full Elven outfit, wig, contact lenses and all.
Viggo turned around, startled. "Orlando, I can't say how sorry I am about yesterday evening," he said hoarsely.
"I guess I have to be thankful you broke it off in time," Orlando replied scathingly. "Just imagine how sorry you'd be this morning if we had gone through with it."
Abruptly, Orlando got up. "Will you please excuse me? I've got a shoot scheduled right now."
"You've misunderstood everything," Viggo started again helplessly.
"No, I think I understand perfectly. Further explanations are definitely not needed."
A cold blue regard shot at him. Those strange, crystal blue eyes never failed to amaze Viggo. They were so different from Orlando's real eye colour, a deep chocolate brown. It was as if somebody else was speaking to him. That cool hostile voice was not Orlando's: it could have been the elf's, proud and aloof.
Viggo opened his mouth again, but closed it instantly under that menacing gaze. And before he could think of anything else Orlando had walked out of the trailer leaving Viggo to collapse on one of the stools before the make-up desks, shaking his head, both desperate and annoyed.
How would Viggo have reacted had he noticed that only a short while later Orlando broke up his shoot?
"I'm sorry, Peter. I need a break. These damned contact lenses!", he cried, running off the set. "My eyes ..."
But the contact lenses were not the reason why his eyes were red and watery.
"Don't be stupid," he groaned, leaning against a tree as soon as he was out of sight. Trying to wipe off the tears he realized he was completely ruining his make-up. Cathy, their make-up artist, would surely scold him afterwards and, what was worse, she would ask him all sort of questions, questions he wouldn't want to answer at all.
"Stop it," he told himself, banging a fist against the tree. "That guy's not worth it!"
***
Days passed. Weeks passed and the shooting continued. Orlando's one-time lapse never repeated itself. Obviously, he had found lenses that better agreed with him and all agreed that he was simply perfect in his role.
Apart from that, Orlando seemed to be having a good time, spending almost all his spare time on wild escapades with the hobbits. Mountain-biking, canoeing, bungee jumping, raiding the local pubs with them whenever they had a free evening. If someone had looked a little closer, however, they would have noticed that Orlando was not as cheerful as before. That his laughter was always a tad too shrill to be sincere and that he was drunk far too often.
And Viggo? Nobody took any notice of Viggo, who had joined the cast later and had been an outsider right from the start. It only seemed natural that he separated himself from the others, often writing or making sketches in the blue notebook he always carried with him. Taking photos on and off the set or painting at his house where he had set up a little studio, Viggo seemed to be content without anybody's company.
And Peter couldn't complain about Viggo either: he threw himself into the role of Aragorn with verve, often wearing his ranger's gear off the set, too. Sometimes he even slept out in the forest in those worn and dirty clothes. "It's only to get into the role," he would answer when questioned about it. And that he was obviously as brooding and distant as Aragorn only seemed to be fitting.
***
Some minor incident happened three weeks later, but again no one was there to watch it. They were preparing the fight scenes in the Mines of Moria. Bob, their Sword Master, had been exercising with them the whole day until they were completely exhausted. Sean and John had already left the training ground together with their sparring partners. And suddenly Viggo and Orlando found themselves alone in the middle of a clearing in the forest.
The sun was already low in the west, but Viggo's enthusiasm was still unbroken. "I'd like to go through this one more time," Viggo called over to Bob. "Too bad that the goblin stand-in has gone already."
"No prob," Bob answered. "We'll get him for you. I think I've seen him over there at the catering trailer."
"I don't mind being your sparring partner," Orlando calmly remarked as soon as Bob had walked off.
"But you don't know the steps and passes. Besides, don't you use bows and arrows for most of this sequence?"
"Yeah, but I've done a lot of sword training as well. Come on, Ranger. I'd love to have a good fight with you."
Something completely uncontrollable sparkled in Orlando's eyes. Fury. Passion. Viggo never found out exactly what it was because the other man's attack came so quickly that he could only strike back by pure instinct.
Their swords clashed fiercely. Due to all that training, both of them had become excellent fighters, striking at each other furiously . Viggo was stronger, but Orlando made up for that with agility and vigour. It was as if a dam had suddenly broken and now Orlando's pent-up anger and frustration of the past weeks were coming out. This fight was definitely not for training purposes. It was about them. And they were both deadly serious about it.
But the struggle didn't last very long. When retreating from Orlando's violent dashes Viggo stepped backwards and stumbled over the roots of a tree. Without being able to prevent it he fell flat on his back. Quick as lightning Orlando was upon him, straddling him and pointing his sword at Viggo's chest. Both were breathing heavily.
"Now what's next, Orlando?" Viggo said quietly. "Do you want to stab me? That's not necessary. You've pierced my heart already."
Again Orlando's expression was unreadable, but then he got up quickly. "Damn you, Viggo! You and your completely exaggerated sense of melodrama!"
Angrily, the younger man threw his sword to the ground. "All the time it's only about you!. It's as if all the time the whole world was only revolving about Mr. Viggo Mortensen, actor and artist extraordinaire. And about nothing else! My, you're so bloody sensitive it makes me sick!"
And with that he stormed off, past by a bewildered Bob who had just returned with the goblin stand-in.
"Hey, Viggo. What's the matter?"
Viggo looked up, trying to act as if nothing had happened. "Sorry for troubling you. But I think I've had enough for today, Bob," he remarked casually while wiping off the leaves and dirt from his clothes. "Orlando just reminded me that sometimes one shouldn't overdo it!"
And that was true. It was as if a switch had been flipped the moment he had seen the rage flashing up in Orlando's eyes. All the time he had only been thinking of himself. Had been so afraid that the object of his adoration might not be worth it. So in love with the idea of being in love with Orlando that he had completely forgotten about the man himself. He had not even tried to get to know him better, he had only judged him from the distorted image he was harbouring in his heart.
Apparently, Orlando was not so indifferent to all this as he would have liked to make Viggo believe before. Otherwise, he wouldn't have acted this way.
There was still something between them. So perhaps, against all odds, there would be a second chance, too. This time, however, he must do better, mustn't try to run before he could walk. Trying to establish a conversation and sorting out the many misunderstandings between them would perhaps not be such a bad way to start off again.
Good intentions. Best-laid plans. Viggo couldn't know how difficult it would be to put them into practice.
