Then
Then it was only three weeks or so before they were as comfortable as family together: beloved uncles, cool older brothers, favorite cousins. For his first time away from England, Orli couldn't have asked for a better group of friends. He could open himself up, never censor what his mind thought or his body did, and there was, then, affection and acceptance.
They touched so much because of the costumes, Orli thought later. Everyone wore something: woolen tunics and cloaks, big hairy feet, pointy ears, fake beards, and wigs -- everyone had a wig. So when they shed their costumes at the end of the day, they were different people, and every night was new. It was comfortable to touch, as much a part of becoming friends as hearing stories and confessing dreams.
One long day's night, Sean led Orli out of the pub, into the park, just to touch. He cradled Orli's face, ruffled his short hair, traced his no-longer-pointy ears. "You're like nothing I've ever known before," Sean whispered.
Orli knew then what he wanted, but he waited for Sean to decide. Orli opened himself up as he never had before and offered. Sean waited a week, two, then came to Orli again. Orli loved Sean's shy inexperience and knelt to take him in his mouth slowly and gently, in deference to Sean's first time. After, as he shuddered and held Orli tight, Orli thought Sean might be hiding tears, but Sean wouldn't let go, so Orli was never sure.
After that, Sean became Orli's touchstone, his frame of reference, his standard against which all else was measured. Sean loved everything that Orli taught him, seemed to think that Orli invented touches to make Sean moan and pant and clutch the sheets, arching and writhing and begging. For his part, Sean treated Orli like Boromir would revere the Ring, if it was good and not evil. Orli was loved and cherished and perpetually sated.
Then came Amon Hen and heroic attempts to make the best use of every moment remaining to them. Sean was in turn tender and desperate and forlorn, then he was gone.
The world changed then.
Now
Now he's here, not Middle-earth New Zealand, but close enough. The gang is not as big as the Fellowship but big enough for camaraderie. Orli thinks he will find happy companionship again, but not Sean-type companionship, because he's no longer looking.
"It's not like that here, mate," Heath says, shrugging off Orli's embrace and very deliberately hugging Naomi tight. "We need time away from each other, got to keep it fresh, can't be together all the time. See you in the morning."
But Ned and Joe were together all the time, Orli protests silently, they were comrades, fellow travelers, on a journey together. Method acting and all would require that we at least have a drink or two after work.
Orli looks east now toward New Zealand.
Now he's here, not Middle-earth New Zealand, not by a long shot, but it's warm and sunny and a pirate crew will do.
Johnny gives Orli a brief hug and that Gallic kiss on each cheek. Orli thinks maybe he'll find fellowship here, with Johnny and Geoffrey, who tells stories like Ian did. But Johnny hies off to a beautiful French actress without a backward glance, and Geoffrey heads into town for fruity drinks and coconut chicken without asking if Orli wants to go.
Orli, now homesick, longs for England.
The world is changing now.
Later
Later he will hear that Ian and Nick are no more. Secretly, no one thought that it could last; Nick was never fully committed but Ian was happy and Orli believes in true love at first sight, so he will be shocked and saddened. He will remember the night Ian stroked his face and called him "a radiant study of light and shadow, worthy of Caravaggio." Ian had that cultured way of speaking and Orli, embarrassed, never admitted to not knowing who Caravaggio was and asked Sean later. But he thought Ian sussed it out because he soothed it away with a wink and a kiss.
Dom and Elijah will take great pleasure in sending him e-mails full of images of Viggo and Karl hugging, happy, in bed. They will include one that Orli just knows Dom photo-shopped, because there is no way Karl -- or Viggo -- would be so careless. And he doesn't think Karl wears white underwear.
Billy will invite Orli to visit him in Mexico and Orli will consider it, missing the Fellowship as he does. He'll watch the interviews on extended DVD (secretly, late at night) and will remember that Billy was so very subtly funny and warm and kind. A surge of love will nearly capsize Orli's heart and he'll have to squeeze his eyes tightly to keep that feeling from spilling over.
Within a week Orli will receive a MacBeth playbill from London with this message on the cover: "Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, creeps in this petty pace from day to day. I count the hours, Orlando." And a more cryptic one tucked inside: "Thyself thou gavest, thy own worth then not knowing, or me to whom thou gavest it... thy great gift."
Orli will touch himself then, more in comfort than in seeking release, remembering Sean, longing for his warm, solid body and comforting presence, for someone who knows what fellowship is and how it works and when to hug. Tomorrow he'll call, damn the expense and time zones, and remind Sean of his promise that they would work together again. Sean will laugh and promise again, and give Orli his flight information.
For the rest of the day, Orli will walk about in a daze. He'll think about changing sheets and going to the market and how Sean gasps when Orli's mouth touches him. His preoccupation will provide much entertainment for the film crew and royally piss off Geoffrey.
Sean hates to fly and climbs mountains to avoid it clashes mightily in his mind with Sean is flying here because I need him, want him, love him.
Later, he'll realize, the world has changed.
|
