Stewardess Fanfiction

Title: Stick To The Script
Author: stewardess
Fandom: LotR RPS
Pairing: Viggo/Sean
Rating: PG-13
perseph2hades shared with us a few scenes from the never produced 1972 John Boorman script for LotR. A bunny bit me; the Toronto International Film Festival photos turned it into a killer rabbit. Refers to the History of Violence press conference video captured by Serein. Word count 1,900. Beta by perseph2hades.

Toronto fic for mrkinch <3

Stick To The Script



"What the hell was Ed Harris on about?" Sean asked.

Viggo smiled crookedly.

"He wishes he had made the movie," Sean guessed.

Viggo guffawed.

His jacket and shoes off, Sean was lying on his hotel bed. Viggo was sitting cross-legged and bare-footed in a nearby armchair.

Sean had nearly forgotten how good he felt around Viggo. But it wasn't just the booze earlier and the excellent company filling him with warmth. Since Return, Viggo hadn't had a critical success. A History of Violence proved again his good friend was a phenomenal actor.

"You should come stay with me in India," Sean said. "While I'm doing Sharpe."

Viggo was still smiling about Ed Harris. "I'm taking a break from filming. And travel. I need some down time."

"India is great for down time," Sean said. "There's nothing but."

Viggo picked up his tobacco and cigarette papers off a side table.

"A year and a half is too long to not see you again," Sean said.

"Shit. I'm out of Zig-Zags."

"Never mind," Sean said. "You're going to get an offer after this that will be too good to turn down. Would a coffee filter work?"

Viggo gave him an Are you crazy? look. "Do you have a pipe?"

"Of course I don't have a bloody pipe. Try Elijah." Damn it. He didn't want Viggo to leave in search of cigarette papers. Time for a diversion. "See my briefcase on the desk? There's a script I want you to see."

"A fucking script? Not you, too."

Sean fought back a laugh.

Viggo unwound himself, walked to the briefcase, lifted out the only stack of paper thick enough to be a script, then sauntered back to the armchair. Sean watched. Viggo still moved the way he had when he was twenty. How did he bloody do it? He didn't do yoga or any of that crap.

"I've stuck post-its on the best bits," Sean said.

"The Lord of the Rings by John Boorman. 1972. Where the hell did you get this?"

"From Jon Voight, when we were shooting National Treasure. He got it from Boorman when they made Deliverance. Jon was going to be Legolas."

Viggo turned to the first post-it. It was a while before he could speak. He wiped his eyes. "A musical skit in Rivendell, starring Sauron. With a dancing dog?"

"It gets better. I mean worse."

Viggo turned to the next post-it, grinned, then read aloud from the script.

The Fellowship camping, during the journey south.

A dim fire of dying embers. All are asleep, but a few paces off Boromir and Aragorn converse earnestly in low voices. Frodo awakes and strains to catch their words.

BOROMIR
Aragorn, give it to me. Let me take it to Minas Tirith and reforge it. For the great sword of Elendil would be a scourge to the enemy and give hope to our people.

ARAGORN
I cannot give it except to the rightful King. For it is written, that when the king returns to Minas Tirith he shall be known by many signs and will reforge the Sword-that-was-broken.

"Then let force of arms decide," Sean said.

"You've memorized Boromir's lines?"

"Yeah."

Viggo read on.

Boromir snatches one half of the Sword from Aragorn's belt and Aragorn angrily draws the other – they match up to each other and at the first clash, there is a flash of light. They stop, momentarily blinded. Arwen appears between them. She holds out her hands, touching their foreheads. They bend their knees and bow their swords in homage to her.

Viggo laughed. "One thing's the same. More screen time for Arwen." He continued.

ARWEN
Peace. The Quest must not fail in the quarrels of the Fellowship. Each of you shall bear one half of the Sword-that-was-broken.

Boromir and Aragorn bend the two sword-halves to her. She kisses each blade on their keen edges. She looks up and there is blood on her lips. She goes first to Aragorn and kisses his mouth, then to Boromir and kisses his. Her blood is on their blades and on their mouths.

ARWEN
Aragorn and Boromir. I bind you in brotherhood with my blood.

The two Men bend their knees and kiss the thighs of her dress. They are both deeply moved. Boromir weeps openly and a tear starts out of Aragorn's grey eyes. They rise up and Boromir kisses Aragorn's mouth.

They turn back to Arwen but she is gone.

Frowning, Viggo put down the script.

Sean leered. "You and me kissing Liv's thighs. At the same time. You know what that would look like?"

"It's all wrong."

"I think it's all right," Sean said. "In a psychedelic 1970s way."

"Aragorn and Boromir blood brothers. It makes Boromir trying to take the ring much worse. It makes it unforgivable."

"Maybe," Sean said.

"Let's do the scene," Viggo said. "Now."

Sean sighed in resignation. Viggo was going into manic mode. "As long as I don't have to get up."

"We need acid to do this right."

"I've got some grass," Sean said, remembering suddenly. "I took it off Elijah."

"Why'd you do that?"

"You ever see Elijah and Orlando stoned? Together?"

Grinning, Viggo stood up.

"Over there." Sean pointed. "Matchbox in the bottom drawer. Under my jeans."

Viggo found the matchbox and slid it open. "One bud?"

"Fucking hell. You're out of Zig-Zags anyway."

"Got any foil?"

"There's foil around the coffee packets," Sean said doubtfully.

He smiled as he watched Viggo construct a pipe out of a cardboard toilet paper tube and the foil. He had forgotten Viggo could do anything.

"I haven't smoked pot for years," Sean said.

"I haven't smoked pot for months." Viggo sat on the bed next to Sean and filled the pipe bowl with half of the bud.

"No laughing until after," Viggo said, but he was laughing as he lit the pot and took a deep drag. He immediately handed the pipe to Sean.

Sean had forgotten pot didn't stay lit for long. He sat up in a hurry, took the pipe, and sucked awkwardly on the cardboard tube until his lungs itched crazily. He coughed the smoke out, hard.

Viggo took the pipe from him, then rubbed his back. "Try again."

Sean held the pipe to his lips while Viggo applied a lighter flame to the pipe bowl. He managed to draw in a lungful and hold it for at least fifteen seconds.

"Shit," Sean said, dazed. He reclined again and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I like the Sharpe hair," Viggo said, touching it.

Sean closed his eyes. Several minutes or several hours went by while Viggo played with his hair.

"We might as well smoke the rest," Viggo said.

They did, then lay back on the bed. Viggo silently read the script, memorizing the lines, while Sean smoked a cigarette.

"Liv would look great doing that scene," Sean said. "In her see-through dress. Was that real?"

Suddenly thirsty, he got off the bed and rummaged through the bar fridge, pulling out an Italian orange soda. As soon as he sat back on the bed, Viggo took it from him and drank half.

Sean downed the rest. "Have your lines yet?"

"Think so. Yeah. Let's do a run through."

Viggo got off the bed and picked up Sean's shoes. "These are the sword that was broken." He set the shoes on the bed, then wrestled a wooden valet stand into the center of the room. "This is Liv."

Sean laughed until he coughed.

Viggo draped Sean's jacket over the stand. "Man of the South. Get up."

"Can't I do this lying down?" Sean said.

"Not if you want to kiss her thighs."

What about kissing you? Sean got off the bed and faced Viggo, who was now holding Sean's shoes. Barefoot, they were exactly the same height.

Viggo unbuttoned his shirt and yanked on its tail until it resembled the shirt he had worn in Return.

"Action." Viggo smiled crazily.

Sean felt like an idiot for four seconds, then knew how to do the scene: Boromir on Amon Hen, pleading with Frodo.

"Aragorn, give it to me." Sean grabbed at Viggo's belt. "Let me take it to Minas Tirith and reforge it. For the great sword of Elendil would be a scourge to the enemy and give hope to our people."

"I cannot give it except to the rightful King. For it is written that, when the king returns to Minas Tirith, he shall be known by many signs and will reforge the Sword-that-was-broken." Viggo said the lines as Aragorn would have before Helm's Deep: subdued, unsure of himself. His tone of voice did not match the glint in his eyes.

"Then let force of arms decide." Sean snatched a shoe away from Viggo.

They clashed shoes. As usual, Viggo went all out during the fight scene and nearly knocked Sean over. They froze, breathing hard, staring at each other.

"Cut." Sean burst out laughing. Fucking stoners. All this work on the props, and they had forgotten to assign Arwen's lines.

Sean picked up the script and read the lines in Liv's deep Arwen voice. "Peace. The Quest must not fail in the quarrels of the Fellowship. Each of you shall bear one half of the Sword-that-was-broken."

The blood, Viggo mouthed.

"No blood," Sean whispered, then made lip-smacking sounds to signify Arwen kissing them. "Aragorn and Boromir. I bind you in brotherhood with my blood."

Viggo bowed his head.

Dropping the shoes, they knelt in front of the valet stand and solemnly kissed the jacket's breast pockets. As Sean had visualized when reading the script, they were pressed against each other, practically occupying the same space.

Unexpectedly, Sean felt tears form in his eyes. Boromir tried, poor bastard. He turned to look at Viggo, but Viggo's eyes were closed.

As they stood, Viggo clutched his hand, then pressed it tightly against his chest. Sean watched in stoned shock as Viggo cut the tip of his index finger with a small pocketknife.

Viggo moved Sean's finger to their mouths, spreading the blood. The heat of Viggo's lips made the shallow cut sting fiercely.

Sean had missed the parallel. In the movie, Boromir, not Arwen, had been cut by Aragorn's sword. It hadn't gotten past Viggo. Sean re-imagined the scene in Rivendell: his cut finger on Aragorn's lips, on his own lips, Aragorn kissing him.

"We are sworn blood brothers. You can no longer betray the quest," Viggo said softly.

"I can't improvise right now," Sean said. He was too stoned. Too horny. Too hopeful.

"This means you cannot leave your King," Viggo said. "In peace or in war. Living or dying. Through Flanders, Portugal, and Spain. Maybe even India."

India!

"Stick to the bloody script," Sean said, and kissed Viggo's mouth.

---

Thanks to cesare for the watercolor tutorial, and to viggopicspam for the image.

I made up the bit about Jon Voight being Legolas. Everything else is true.