Macbeth: When The Wood Moved

Macbeth: When The Wood Moved

Posted: March 2003
Title: Macbeth: When The Wood Moved
Author: BC
Type: RPS
Characters: Elijah/Orlando/Viggo
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: OK, I don't know these guys, they don't do these things, I am just writing about them to entertain some people. No money made etc. My deepest apologies to Shakespeare for using his marvellous words for my own darker purpose - well, maybe he would have liked it.
Author's Notes: That's my third fic, all somewhat Shakespearean, and after Hamlet and King Lear, on popular demand this time it's Macbeth, /..../ words taken from the play, sometimes altered a bit. Don't the Ents coming to Isengard in TTT remind you of the scene in the play /Macbeth shall never vanquis'd be until Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill shall come against him./ ? Thanx a million to AlexCat for the Beta. Whatever it takes to have a nice day.

Summary: Orlando is brooding - not for long.

*****

makeup barely covering the hint of beard
dark and raspy over olive skin
hiding behind the mask of eternal beauty
that isn't me in the mirror
they make it
every morning
new face, new me
for a couple of hours
later the face has become me
hard to change back to the mask under the makeup
not really me either

------------------------------------------------

Orlando was standing in his trailer, half in, half out of costume. Somehow he couldn't make himself step back into the normal world of this New Zealand Friday afternoon, not yet anyhow. Something held him back, something drew him to the imaginary world that they tried to create for some weeks now. It felt so pleasant not having to think about what lay beyond all that, beyond the colored leaves, the glittering swords, the smooth movements and words that were brought to life through him. But then came the sweat after a long day and the shower that washed away a long day's aches, washed away the ease that he had laid on himself as Legolas. After the shower, he was just Orlando Bloom, and sometimes he didn't know what that meant anymore. Drama School had been easy, simple tasks, well not that simple, but clearly mapped out for him, one week after another, year following year. Now thrown into this mad adventure, surrounded by actors that seemed so much more professional than even his slightest gesture, he doubted that his impulsive saying ‘Yes' to all this hadn't come out of a slightly overestimating part of his subconscious.

/Was the hope drunk wherein you dress'd yourself? Hath it slept since? And wakes it now, to look so green and pale at what it did so freely? From this time such account thy love. Art thou afeard to be the same in thine own act and valour as thou art in desire? Wouldst thou not have that which thou esteem'st the ornament if life, and live a coward in thine own esteem, letting ‘I dare not' wait upon ‘I would', like the poor cat i' the adage?/

No. To bloody hell with all that! Peter couldn't be that wrong and the scattered appreciating words of Ian also helped a lot - most of the time.

He stepped out of the trailer, sat on the stairs in the sun and opened the book he had grabbed from the little table besides the door. Too early to go home into this empty apartment he had rented for the shoot. Actually, he should have been grateful he thought, Peter letting them go at this hour of day, if it could still be called day, after they had finally finished the Council scene. Yes, this scene that had stretched over too many hours, days, until they could finally repeat all the other actor's lines as well as their own. During these hours of mostly sitting there graceful and looking like a messenger from a people almost gone from this world, he had had time enough to observe the others, totally in the world they shared for a couple of hours every day. He sighed, what a day. Following the lines of the book he had read so often, over and over again, he tried to forget this voice in the back of his head taunting him and concentrated on the play he wasn't part of.

"What are you reading there, Orli?" A voice startled him out of his dreams. He was not actually reading the book in front of him, he had, but abandoned the pages and he was again just sitting there, back to point one.
"Shakespeare, Macbeth to be precise. Kind of like it, a man with too many ambitions for his own good," he said thoughtfully.

The voice became a face and large blue eyes looked disbelieving into his face. "Can't imagine you're reading this just for fun. Or are you preparing for somethin' ?"

Orlando laughed, "Oh, no. It's just a thing I picked up a Drama School, Shakespeare is always good to distract your thoughts to something else. Just the right amount of intellectual challenge to keep you focused."

Elijah still looked not quite convinced, "Whatever it takes."

"Well, one of these smug love stories you're reading, if you're reading at all, would not be able to hold my attention for long. It needs something more than that." The usual smirk was back on his face, a bit more challengingly than usual. Elijah had startled him out of a chain of thoughts that better be left alone for a while. The presence of the younger man, now sitting down close to him, however, let his thoughts wander in a totally different direction.

"Been reading Viggo's new poems, if you call that smug then please. This way, you never get to read them, although I guess, you would find them quite interesting." Now it was Elijah's turn to grin and somehow his words seemed much more interesting than anything Shakespeare had ever written.

"How so?", Orlando tried to ask, seeming rather uninterested.

"Well, now you wanna know right?", Elijah was fairly enjoying the attention these brown eyes were signaling him. "If you're really interested, you should better ask himself. I dunno of I'm allowed to take any liberties with his unpublished work, telling everybody." His smile became wider.

"Well, you're taking liberties with some other things of his, if rumors aren't that misleading", Orlando replied taking up the challenge.

"That doesn't mean I am his only object of interest. Viggo is a man of many interests, as you know."

"Hell, how would I know, haven't talked to him that much." Orlando's voice almost betrayed him, sounding rather shaky at this last remark. Where was this whole thing leading anyway?

"Long enough, it seems to kindle some inspiration." Elijah stopped, pointed to another figure approaching. "You could ask him yourself, right now, if you want. Or should we leave you alone with your precious dead man here", he said, gesturing to the book that lay abandoned in Orlando's lap.

Orlando went pink around the ears, uncovered by elven prosthetics, but managed a doubtful smile. Viggo just nodded in his direction as he came closer, grabbed Elijah's shoulders to bring him up to his face and leaned in for long kiss. Who cared who was watching. Friday, nobody here anymore anyway and it just felt so good, lips pressing into lips, tongues exploring, heat rising.

As they let go of each other after what seemed ages, Viggo just remarked, "Very convenient such stairs, should keep that in mind." He smiled and looked at Orlando, eyes wide in disbelieve. "I thought rumors had spread that far as to not surprise you that much, elfboy."

"Knowing and seeing are two different things", Orlando managed to say, and catching his breath, he added, "What would I be interested anyway, what a filthy human is doing with an undersized hobbit?"

"Hey," said hobbit protested, "I am not undersized! Besides, how would you know?"

"Actually," the human voice tried to reason in this argument, "for a hobbit, or any other race, he is by no means undersized."

Elijah was beaming with pride. Viggo was turning to leave, as Elijah remembered their earlier discussion. " Orlando wants to read the new poems you've written. You know which ones, but he is afraid of asking."

"I am not afraid of anything", Orlando protested.

"Good to hear," Viggo said smiling, leaning forward to whisper in Orlando's ear. "So ask me then, and I might show them to you."

Show them, show what, show. Orlando's brain was almost unable to process the words that had been spoken to him. "I want to see them." Why was it suddenly so imperative to see these poems, the poems Viggo had written with his own hands, his hand, the same hand that was hiding now behind Elijah's back, sliding over unnecessary fabric, caressing hidden skin?

"I can show them to you at the little get-together we are having tonight, when we find a quiet moment, that is." He paused as if to add something, but just smiled again at Orlando, pushed Elijah slightly forward with his right hand that had been laying on the younger man's ass and they both walked slowly out of sight.

Orlando let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding, when the two men had crossed around the corner and he could no longer see them, leaning close together, talking.

/Why, so: being gone, I am a man again. Pray you sit still./

* * * *

As he entered the room, most of the others where already there, standing or sitting around, holding drinks in their hands, talking. One of those evenings, he thought, still sulking, eyes unusually dark. But as he spotted Dom in the crowd, arguing with Elijah over some or the other topic, gesturing widely with his hands, one of which contained a drink, which was nearly spilled on Billy, standing besides him, he had to smile. These two were always up to some lively discussion, seemingly unable to agree on the slightest point and Billy standing in between them, when one of these arguments became to heated. Turning to find himself a drink as well, he bumped into a figure that had apparently just materialised in front of him. He let out an almost inaudible curse, as he realised that the figure was Viggo. Should have known it, taken too much of the ranger he played, creeping out of the woods onto people to scare the living shit out of them. But not with this elf here.

"I would say sorry, but ‘cause you are the one that does not seem to see where he is going, I might leave the apologies to you," Viggo smiled at him, not moving one inch, so that their bodies were still touching slightly.

Orlando, almost reluctantly, stepped back one pace to bring a safe distance between them before he snapped back at Viggo, "Well, I am not standing plastered like a tree in other peoples' ways, deliberately inviting them to crash into me."

"If I was a tree, I couldn't be talking to you like I am right now, or moving." With the last word, he crossed the distance between them once more, so that their faces were so close that Orlando could feel the other man's breath slightly brushing his skin as he continued talking. "But I heard that Elves speak to the trees, sing for them, wander under their leaves. If you want me to be a tree, I could surely be one for you."

Orlando could only feel the grin that crossed Viggo's face, so much was he fixed on the other's eyes and the way his body was reacting to Viggo's so close to his own. Suddenly, his mouth became dry and every cocky answer was swallowed and joined the growing lump in his stomach.

As Viggo drew away from him and turned to leave, Orlando let out a small, nearly disappointed whimper, to which the older man responded with his smile growing bigger. "Whenever you feel like it, we could go on discussing trees, or maybe," a sultry look was shimmering in his eyes as he took a long look over Orlando's body, " something more along the lines of poetry, I hoped."

Orlando was swallowing hard, trying to ignore the turmoil in his brain, and his eyes followed Viggo walking over to Elijah, who was still talking with Dom and Billy. After the older man had seemingly decided the argument, he took Elijah's hand and led him to a couch nearby, where the two became absorbed in a conversation that led their eyes wander to Orlando every other phrase it seemed.

A drink was definitely needed now to calm down Orlando's nerves, this couldn't possibly happen. Viggo was not flirting with him, and bloody sure, he wasn't enjoying it. And those large, blue eyes of Elijah were not tormenting him, roaming over his body almost like a physical presence.

/Be Bloody, bold, and resolute; laugh to scorn the power of man, for none of woman born shall harm you./

Nothing would get to him, he wasn't going to give in to some stupid feelings, longings truly, that probably came out of too much work, and not enough sleep. Sleep, dreams, bed, white, crisp linens sliding over tanned skin, deeper, deeper, revealing whiter, softer, stop that line of thoughts immediately.

/Be lion-mettled, proud, and take no care who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are: you shall never vanquis'd be until great wood to high hill shall come against you./

* * * *

"You motherfuckin' ...."

Dominic interrupted Elijah challengingly, "At least I have a mother, you came crawling from under a cabbage, right? Or did the ‘Klapperstorch', what the fuck is that in English anyway, bring you?"

The answer came snarling, "Well, you better learn your language before insulting other people of their origin."

"Oh, fuck off," Dom chuckled. "Don't wanna tell me you call that language you are speaking there."

Elijah let out a growl and was actually pondering the slightly anger-fogged thought of slapping Dom, when Viggo came once more to rescue one of these futile arguments from becoming more than something that couldn't be mended the next morning. Definitely not a healthy way to let off steam, he mused. He knew a much better way to channel some of those energies if he had his way tonight after the last of crew and cast had seeped out of his place and he was finally alone with the two people he most wanted to be right now. Elijah and Orlando, what a wonderful promise this evening still held in store.

"I don't think one of you can convincingly argue about language, if you ask me," he said directed to Elijah, whom he was holding softly by his right arm, and Dom that stood opposite of him, trying a squirm, before he just shrugged his shoulders, murmured something like ‘never mind' into their direction and was about to leave. "Why do we always have to come back to such stupid discussions leading nowhere? I don't even enjoy them any more," he smiled heartily now at Elijah.

"Dunno, and right now, I really don't wanna think about it anymore. To late, to confused," he grinned and Billy and Dom, greeting them with a silent goodbye, were slowly heading into the direction of the main door.

As they were out of hearing distance, Elijah turned to Viggo smilingly, "Not too late for other things though. Where did Orlando hide from us?"

"I have no idea, have not seen him leaving, but after everyone else is gone, I hope he isn't scared to be alone with just the two of us," Viggo's voice became thoughtful.

"He is just a bit unsure of himself sometimes, movie, people, all. Doesn't know what he wants, but I guess we can help him there a little bit." Elijah turned to directly face Viggo and plant a kiss right onto his mouth, as he realised that Orlando was standing just a couple of steps behind them.

"When did you became so good in reading my thoughts, Lij?"

"It's not that difficult, considering that we all went through phases like that, doubts and stuff. But you'll be fine. You're are great actor, and to the rest, you will adapt."

Elijah's eyes couldn't be any more smiling like that, so reassuring like his words, a friend, something else. "But these are not the only things that are on my mind right now," some of the old spirit dripped back into his voice. "There is more," his eyes wandering from Elijah to Viggo, "More, I want," his voice almost challengingly.

"What did you have in mind?" Viggo stepped closer, Elijah following until they stood close on either side of Orlando. He could feel Viggo's hip pressing into him, moving slowly in circles, creating oh so sweet friction, while Elijah was letting his hands roam free over Orlando's chest and back. He closed his eyes, not sure if all that was truly happening. Elijah was now pulling at his shirt, letting his hand slide over naked skin, firm muscles. With a quick gestures, Viggo removed Orlando's shirt shortly followed by his own, stepping behind Orlando to embrace him tightly. Orlando gasped for air as he felt the older man's erection pressing into his ass, hands exploring, searching, slowly opening the buttons of his jeans, as if to wait for a protest that would never come. Elijah, in the meantime had found an occupation for his tongue, letting it wander down Orlando's neck, over his collarbone, placing kisses along the way, nibbling at tight skin. As Viggo's hand had found his way past the soft fabric of his underwear, closing around his hard cock, Orlando let out a soft sigh as he felt his knees give way to the sensations rowing through his body.

"Bed," was all he could manage to say and Elijah chuckled to the monosyllabic request of his otherwise so chattery friend.

How they had managed to find the way to the bedroom, onto the bed, entangled, finally naked, Orlando still in between Viggo and Elijah, never letting go of each other, was beyond his comprehension, but what mattered was that he now lay there, feeling naked, heated skin on his own. He opened his eyes as the caresses stopped, looking disbelievingly in a pair of eerie blue eyes over to one shadowy green.

"Are you sure you want to do this, elfboy", Viggo was grinning at him, his hand hovering only millimetres from Orlando's rigid cock, Elijah's body so close to his own that he just needed to move over a tiny bit that he was feeling again this wonderful sensation of skin rubbing against skin.

"Fuck. Just bloody fuck me, and stop playing with my dick, Vig." Orlando's eyes became small with frustration, "And will you finally kiss me Lij, you're driving me insane with that mouth of yours."

"Getting all demanding now, losing his grace," Elijah was chuckling, but leant over to place lips onto Orlando's, not moving, just pressing slightly. Orlando groaned, his tongue darting out to force Elijah's lips open, searching, exploring, meeting his tongue, dueling for dominance.

Totally entranced in trying to place Elijah's taste, Orlando nearly bit his tongue, as he felt hands spreading his legs and slick fingers trailing down his cock, balls to be placed over his tight pucker, demanding entrance. Moaning into Elijah's mouth as one finger slipped past his resistance, he opened his eyes. Elijah's weight was pressing on his chest so he could barely see Viggo between his legs, preparing him, spreading, massaging, two fingers, three. Viggo smiled as his gaze met Orlando's eyes. Elijah had moved slightly to enjoy the view as well, following Viggo squeeze more lube on his right palm, spreading it over his hard cock. Orlando shivered in expectation, wood-hard, coming to him, Viggo, Elijah, he chuckled, Wood, how could he have missed that, great wood, trees, moving, coming, eyes dark from lust, skin flushed pink, not of woman born, angelic, descended right from heaven, although it was definitely not heavenly what he did with his nipples right now, circling them with his tongue, biting slightly. He moaned in response trying to not close his eyes again, grabbing Elijah's cock instead to keep whatever focus he had to give some of his pleasure back, sliding up and down the length of it, pressing, rubbing.

He felt the head of Viggo's cock press into his tight entrance.
/ I will not yield, to kiss the ground before their feet/
Pausing for an instance to let Orlando feel, anticipate.
/and to be baited with the rabble's curse./
Viggo slid into him with one deep thrust.
/Though great wood be come to me,/
Not letting Orlando regain his breath, he started a steady, almost tormentingly slow rhythm.
/and though opposed, being of no woman born,/
Elijah's mouth was closing over his almost painfully hard cock, swallowing, taking in. Orlando was adjusting to the new position, never letting go of the younger man's dick in his hand, squeezing slightly, steadily moving.
/yet I will try the last./
Elijah's tongue was circling velvety flesh, humming, caressing.
/Before my body I throw my warlike shield:/
Viggo, plunging into him, hitting this spot deep inside of him that send ripples of bliss through his body, drew Orlando even closer to his climax.
/Lay on, my friends,/
He did not know were the sensation ended and his body began.
/and damn'd be him that first cries "Hold, enough!"/

He closed his eyes, letting out a cry that seemed a combination of both his lover's names and gave himself over to the orgasm that flooded his body, spilling himself into Elijah's eager mouth. As his whole body tightened in ecstasy, Orlando's fingers clenched almost too tight, Elijah let out a small, ‘Oh', released himself over Orlando's hand and Viggo cursed in whatever language he knew as his own climax was ripped from him.

As their heartbeat had slowed down to pre-marathon conditions, and fatigue was crawling slowly over them sprawled over the disorderly bed, Orlando managed to raise his head to look over to Viggo, remarking, "I still haven't seen those ominous poems of yours Elijah was bragging about."

A sleepy voice was coming from the other side of the bed. "You are much better than the poems," was all he got out of Viggo this night, but he could wait till morning to go on exploring. He smiled. Warmth spread through his entire body, leaving all the darkness that had lingered there for so many days it seemed. He felt content for the first time in a long while, more than content actually, but he was too drowsy right then to place this feeling exactly anywhere between exited and anticipatory. As he drifted off to sleep, it seemed as if the wrinkles crowding his forehead finally vanished.

/Show his eyes, and grieve his heart; come like shadows, so depart!/

*****

THE END

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