Conversion

Thank you for the reviews from all of us four!


@ Ash - Damn stupid waiter ;-)


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


[Viggo]

Here we go. The train station. Pretty big, really, but what else to expect in the capital of Germany? I look around, trying to get a glimpse of Orlando. I know what to expect... Jeans, a loose Tee, and surely quite an annoyed look on his face... Gee, that guy is driving me nuts! Always late, always looking for special treatment. Not that I would mind, really. But still. Why didn't he catch the earlier flight? He knows damn well that we are waiting for him, in this gorgeous city full of things to see, places to go, shows to attend. Shows. Everything your heart desires. Plays, movies... - culture! This place is so full of culture, it almost lets me forget why we are here. Dammit.

I turn to Lij, trying to find out whether he has already spotted him. But no. A look of disappointment on his youthful face. A rather pretty face, I must admit. But hell, where are my thoughts? We need to find Orlando. Orlando. This unbelievably good-looking actor, with his boyish grin, of which he knows just too damn well how cute it is. And it IS cute... the whole guy is cute. Too cute. But heck, he's into women, isn't he?

While I'm trying to spot him in the crowd that is getting off the train, my mind goes off wondering about what might have been if it were different. If he were different. So many times, we have spent long nights filming side by side, standing close together, sharing moments of joy, and, of course, of exhaustion. Especially the weeks of filming the battle of Helm's Deep. A smile comes to my face as I remember standing beside him, soaking wet, marvelling at his beautiful features. Features I could die for.

"Viggo - there he is." Lijah's voice brings me back to reality.

"Where?"

I follow his motion, and then I see him. He has just got off the train, tired, worn out and rather... messed! Yeah, messed seems to be the appropriate word for his condition. Well, it is a night train, isn't it, but he doesn't look like he's got much sleep, really. I turn to Lijah. He, too, seems to notice, but as always, he remains silent. He wouldn't lose a single bad word about him, but I can read it in his face. He is worried.

"Hey, guys!" Orlando walks over to us, a weary smile on his face. Messed, yeah. Unshaven, as well. Also, definitely suffering from a major hangover. And... there is something else about him. But I refuse to trust my senses right now.

"Orlando." I greet him, "How was the trip?"

"Oh... em..." he smirks, "good, actually."

"Good?" Lijah's response sounds a little too cynical for my taste.

"Yeah, good." insists the boy from Kent.

"Well, then, come on, we gotta go."

"Where are the others?" Orlando asks, as we exit the station heading for our rental car.

"Waiting for us, at the hotel." I tell him matter-of-factly, still trying to make sense of what he might have been up to in the train.

But the more I think about it, the more I realize, that I already know. That smell I noticed earlier... sweet and too damn treacherous. He's been fucking around. Now, why doesn't that surprise me?

Suddenly, I feel the urge to slap his pretty face rising inside of me. But I resist. Not the right time... yet. After all, he is a grown-up man, and can do whatever he pleases. As long as nobody gets hurt. But still. What I have learned from him until now, he is not really a British gentleman when it comes to women. He knows too damn well that all he needs to do is wink and they all fall for him.

"Hey, Vig, what's wrong?"

He turns to me. I just smile and shake my head, like I always do when I don't want him to know about my thoughts. He smiles back, but I can see that he doesn't really believe me.

[Orlando]

Late. This fucking train arrives too late. The damn station is too big. Always the same. The hundred times I arrived here to visit Atti - no difference. Nothing has changed.ean ean to jump out of the train as soon as it stops. Cool as hell, but all I manage to do is to drag myself out of the train. Fuck. How old am I??

I know Lijah is here to pick me up and I'm pretty sure that Viggo joins him. Waiting for me. Annoyed. I know all the stuff which must make his heart beating faster... museums, galleries, theatres. Uh yeah. I know that. One reason why I didn't call him that I will be late. Can't prevent but smirk. I know there will be a "damn fool - got the point?" message to my address from Mr. Poetry. Fuck. I'm happy to be here. To see them all again and what the hell do I think? What's going fucking wrong? I know it but don't want to see it. That's it. So stop thinking, Orlando Bloom. Just go on and show them your cutest smile. It always works. All I earn from them are strange looks when they see me. They know it. The words are hammering in my head. They know exactly what happened that last night. I look around nervously. Is this stupid chicken somewhere around here? When I woke up in the morning she left already. No big surprise. I did not lost a single thought on her. Who gives a shit. Was probably the best sex she ever had and will ever have. So go home and shut up, bitch.

I go ahead smiling but something tells me that it doesn't work as normally. Not so good, not so convincing. I see Elijah. He looks at me, silent, without a single word. Just those big blue eyes rest on me. Look over me. Knows. Fuck. I glance over to Viggo. He knows it too. Of course he knows it, you bloody bastard. He knows you pretty well while filming all the long night and battle scenes of Helm's
Deep. Shit. Can't help but say:

"Why is Viggo here, Lij? Were you frightened to pick me up yourself?"

At the very same moment I see their surprised and asking glances, begging for questions. I was
never ever disappointed to have Viggo around me. So this comment must make them sceptical of me. Great. Exactly what you need now, idiot. Start thinking before you talk.

Both of them ignore my question. They know it. Well, probably not what happened exactly but they know that *something* happened. Lijah never sounds so cynical normally and he never doubt of what I say. Sounds different today. And Viggo... I shiver slightly when I hear him calling me "Orlando".
He never does so except he is angry with me. I swallow hardly and decide to keep silent for the moment. Viggo's icy voice in the car makes me angry. Why the hell is he doing this? I tell myself to stay cool. He can't know what happened in the train last night. He can't. he was fucking not there. Right? It was just me and this woman. So if there is a problem, old man, tell me straight away, but *tell* me. Damn, I hate this silence. They can't know anything, I remind myself. So I have nothing to loose.

"Hey, Vig, what's wrong?"

Cool down, Orlando. Just easy. I see Viggo's smile when he shakes his head. I have seen this so many times before. Nothing special and no big gesture but today it makes my heart jump. I know it should tell me that nothing is wrong but this time it is ... different. There is something in it which assures me that I should not believe the message.

[Ian]

I sit on the sofa in my hotel room and read the latest poems of Viggo. He handed them over to me this morning and asked me to advance my opinion. Quite concerned I put the first poem a It It is dark, sad and aggressive. Also the title of the next one is of a similar type. 'Anger' he called it and this name really matches. Something is going wrong with Viggo and I decide to talk to the young man during the next days. Talk seriously with him.


"Hey, that is fuckin' cool!"
I heard Dom's voice and look up, smiling. The two Hobbits found out that I have a website to communicate with my fans. They take my laptop and convince me to show them the website. Honestly I have to point out that I love to explain everything to them as I am quite proud of the site. The two Hobbits enjoy themselves.

"Ian!" Billy shouts in his headstrong Scottish accent and both of them turn around to face me. "Make Magneto for us!"

Ah, so the two of them finally look at the X-men site. I stretch my hand and stare at them with my
patented, evil Magneto gaze. Dom giggles and Billy holds his heart in a theatrical gesture.

"Uh, uh... my pace maker... aaargh."

I turn around still laughing and read the poem in front of me. The poems I promised to read make me sad and although the two giggling Hobbits are with me I feel lonely now. I put them away and go to the next room where I take the telephone receiver and dial a number. Just moments later I heard the well known and longed for voice.

"At Ian McKellen's place."

"Hello Nick, did I tell you already today that I love you?"

[Woman]

All in a row. Like little soldiers. Nothing out of the ordinary, all is nice and clean and tidy. I array the water bottles. One next to the other. Nice, shiny blue little bottles. Next to them the bottles with orange juice. Lime juice. Lime fruits and citrons. And oranges. Salt. Tequila. A knife for the fruits. Bacardi. Campari. Vodka. No, all the alcohol in one corner, non-alcohol in the other. Yes, that's nice. Now the glasses. All in a row. The fruits. Oh, I forgot the coke. That's non alcoholic. Left of the glasses. The syrups next to the shaker. Oh, more alcohol. I'll need an extra table for it. My, I never thought, there could be so many different alcohols. Can't line the bottles. Why do they have to be in different shapes, sizes and colours??? No, don't start crying. No tears, everything is all right. Nothing out of the ordinary. I like the glasses. I can line them up. Next the water. Orange juice. Lime juice. Coke. Coke light. 7up. Fanta .... Melon?? Who invented that one? Who drinks something like that? Napkins. The bowl with the fruits. Knifes. I step back. Collide with Kat. She's doing the buffet. Looks nice. Nice and neat and orderly. Like my little bar. Oh, forgot the wine glasses. I hear voices. Probably Tim and Andi. They're installing the PS2. I'm wondering what the guest wanted that for. The door opens. Can't see, who's coming in, got my back to it. Kat's apologising. Says, we'll be gone in a minute. Must be the guest. I turn around. The glasses slip from my fingers.

[Viggo]

I laugh as I enter the room. That was funny. I remember Ian telling lots of funny stories, but this particular one was hilarious! I'm sure he has just talked to Nick... he is always like that after he has talked to him. Easy going and in such a good mood. I still smile when I hear the sound of breaking glass. Immediately, I have spotted the girl, face turned completely white, hands still in the position as if she was still carrying the glasses. She stares at us. Man, has she never seen someone famous before? But wait... she is not staring at us... she's staring at Orli. And that look on her face... like she has just seen a ghost. A horrible, mind-freaking ghost.

I turn my head to look at him. Ian's facing him, too, but Orli just shrugs his shoulders and keeps on walking into the room. Straight to the bar, where the girl is standing, still staring at him. I don't have to look back at her to know that she is horrified.

"I'm sorry, can I help you?"

Ian's voice reminds me of what happened, and I force myself to take my mind off Orli and help Ian pick up the broken glass.

"Oh... thank you sirs..." Just a shadow of a voice. "But I can do it... I.. I am fine."

"No, you're not."

Ian helps her to the next table and convinces her to sit down. As he talks to her, tells her that it's okay, and she should not worry about it, I glance back at Orlando. He is puzzled. He is desperately trying to remember something, I can tell from the frown he is wearing. But he can't seem to find the missing
link to where he has seen the girl before. - But I can. The train! It's all too clear now. He has done it again. Fuck him. But why? This girl doesn't look like she wanted it! Like she asked for it... Nope. That girl looks like he has scared the shit out of her! Like he hurt her. And maybe it's about time that he is paying for it.

Again, I feel the urge to slap him, to make him feel bad, just as bad as he has made her feel. And this time, a thought comes to my mind, a thought paired with lust. Evil lust, dark lust... and hell yes, he IS going to pay...!

"Viggo..." Ian examines me closely, his grey eyes apparently catching my every thought.

I smile at him, as I stand up and walk over to the table. "Is she alright?" I ask casually, pushing away the pictures in my mind.

"Yes, she is. But are you?"

"Sure."

He mustn't know. Pull yourself together, Viggo, you're an actor! So act! "I was just worried about her."

I turn to the girl. She is still staring at Orlando, who has helped himself to a glass of whiskey and is desperately trying to look cool over there.

"I'm fine." she insists, but neither Ian nor I really believe her.

Nevertheless, she gets up and walks over to the older girl, who has just finished picking up the shards. Like some kind of puppet, she continues with her job, preparing the bar, lining up the bottles and glasses. She is rather pretty, I must admit. But still, no reason to take advantage of her. No reason at all.

"Alright, then let's sit down and talk about your poems, shan't we?" Ian's voice brings me back to reality.

Poetry, yes. He wanted to talk to me about it. I grab a chair and face the grey haired man, but it seems like every word he utters slips right through my head without even touching any nerves so that I would be able to hear them. I see his lips moving, telling something about my poems being rather dark lately, but all I can think of is Orlando, right there in the train, with this girl.

[Orlando]

I hear Ian's story and Viggo's laughing but I'm still to tired from this night in the train. I try a smile at least but I'm sure they can see it is not my prettiest one at all. I'm desperately in need for a drink, to get all this shit out of my mind. I still wonder why Lijah didn't want to come and join us.

I hear the sound of breaking glass. I know this sound very well and from several times: when I got drunk with Atti in a bar and we enjoyed our self too much... when girls where annoyed and angry with me... when I'm too tired and my hands don't do the job they should... Breaking glass means always problems.

I see the young woman staring at me. Hell, a lot of young girls are staring at me, nothing new. I got used to it. But this woman is not 14 anymore and still she is staring. What does she think I am? I shake my head wonderingly and try af hef hearted smile to show her that also Orlando Bloom, the noble elf is not a God. Wait... fuck, there is something alarming in her look which let me freeze. What does she think?? I try to remember if I should know her, try to remember anything of her but I fucking can't. Nope, don't know her and I'm happy that I don't.

And shit, what is this? Ian and Viggo are also staring at me. Hello, guys? It's just me... I wonder why three people keep staring at me as I would be a damn ghost or something. Would be funny to say "boo". A laugh climbs up my throat while I shrug my shoulders and finish the way to the bar. And what
are they doing now? They help to pick up the pieces of glass. Bloody hell, guys... perfect gentleman, eh? I'm pissed off. I want a drink. Now. I don't come down here to sit around like a fool or do charity jobs.

"Hey fellows, I'm waiting for you. The idea was to drink something, wasn't it? So could you probably come here and join me so that we can drink something? Now. Please?"

I know, my voice sounds impatient and my "please" was not very polite at all. It was just the word but not spoken honestly. Who wonders? I want this fucking drink now. All I get is some more staring looks.

Again I face her. There is something... on her face... in her eyes. A picture of shimmery eyes full of fear cross my mind but I can't keep it. Fuck. This were really bad 24 hours. Should go an get some rest to forget staring mates aysteysterical women. Or better: a drink but this chicken is still not behind the counter to serve something.

I'm really nerved and on the edge, so I help myself for a drink. Damn, that's not my fucking job. So come on, honey, stop staring like a fool and do your bloody job. I fill the glass with Whiskey. I don't care what it is exactly, just alcohol, and down it in one go. I refill the glass and see Viggo and Ian sitting down at a table and start discussing Vig's poems.

I don't know anything about poetry. In a long and bored night down in New Zealand I read some of Viggo's poems. I wanted to know what he writes. After two poems I put them aside. I didn't understand him or the meaning of the poems. Not my world. So I decide to stay at the bar and finish my second
Whiskey. Need another one.

"Hey, sweetheart, alright again? Enough o soo some work... need another drink. Whiskey. On the rocks. Or wait... better, give me a double one, eh?"

hav have to get bored while both men are talking about poetry I want to get bored and drunk.


[Ian]
"Viggo, your poem is wonderful. The assembly, the artificial language. It is one of your best poems but I do not like the tenor. Your last poems are a bit dark recently. What is going wrong, mate? Viggo, do you listen to me at all?"

My friend looks at me terrified.

"Sorry... what?"

I just raise an eyebrow and view him wonderingly.

"I'm sorry. I dis distracted."

"Orlando?"

All I get is a nod as answer.

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"No. Alright, so what do you think about my poems?"

"Tviewview it in a short version: the nicanical side is great, the terror is scary. Do you have problems Viggo? Why those dark feelings? Are you mad at someone?"

Viggo just shrugs and stares into his glass.

"Those feelings are not good, my friend. You know, that you can talk about it with me whenever you want and there is no shame in asking forfessfessional help if necessary. Sort it out. Imagine what will happen if those feeling come through when Henry plays up."

"I..."

With one movement of my hand I stop him. "Just think about it, Viggo. It seems I have to talk to Orlando as well but again, you know that you can count on me whenever you would like to talk."

"Yeah, I know, fellowship daddy." I laugh about the nick name which I got from Sean Bean at the very beginning of the shooting but in a special manner that is what I am.

"That is enough for today, boy." I look at the remains in the glass in Orlando's hand.

"That's my..."

"Orli, what number of drink is this one?"

"Fucking don't know."

[Orlando]

I'm watching Ian in disbelief as he took the glass off of my hand. Fuck, it was nearly full! What does he think he is? My dad? No need, thank you. Didn't have one for the last 15 years so don't need one now. I can see the blame in his look. I know he hates it when I use the word 'fuck'. Hell, such a bloody perfect English gentleman, eh? Something of this thought drives me crazy and all I can feel is the urge to hurt him, to hurt him with words and actions. Damn. I don't even think about it to hit him. No. I can see Viggo still sitting at the table watching me. I would be a dead guy from Canterbury.

"This is my fucking drink, Ian, so let me do why I came down here and let me drink it, alright? It's not up to you to save me from anything. I'm old enough to deal with everything. I'm not a damn child anymore. Got that? And who the fuck cares how many drinks I have? I can take it don't worry as in
contrast to an old man who can't deal with alcohol and his lover anymore."

Strike! I can see it in Ian's eyes but I can see more than this. I can also see Vig's gaze full of anger, wildness and dark harassment.

I fetch back the glass and before Ian has the possibility to do or say anything again I down it in one go, ordering another one with an easy-going nod from this prissy girl. Probably she stops staring at me when I'm ordering enough drinks. Stupid. All of them are stupid. What a shame that Atti is not in Berlin. Would love to call him and have fun. Have real fun. He's the only one who knows me and understands me. He never ever tries to change me or tries to stop me drinking. Real friend you are, Atti. Cheers!

So what a great day. I'm sitting in a bar and have three people staring at me. Just leave me fucking alone, folks.

--- TBC in part 3 ---

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Don't give up... will turn into slash soon... promise!