The next day, Elijah was back to his old self, which was a relief to
many people, not least of all Peter, who was under more stress than
anybody could imagine. The last thing he needed was his Frodo going
off in some kind of daze.

As a result, he worked Elijah hard the whole day, moving from close-
ups to group shots, and even throwing in a bit of blue screen, just
to make the most of him. At the end of a fourteen hour day, Elijah
was so tired he could hardly stand up, and when Peter finally called
it a day, all he wanted to do was curl up and cry himself to sleep.

"Come on." Sean's familiar and comforting arm slipped around
him. "Let's get you into Feet, and then get you home. I've never
seen Pete work anybody so hard."

"S'all right," Elijah muttered, his feet dragging on the floor as he
walked, causing him to stumble as the prosthetic caught in the rough
ground. "I wasn't really with it yesterday, and I think this was his
way of showing me that he wasn't thrilled."

"Sean…" Elijah felt Sean stiffen and turn at the sound of Ian's
voice, but he could hardly bring himself to react. It would be nice
to fold into those arms and sleep, though.

"Hey, Ian. What can I do for you?"

"Not for me, my dear. Your good lady wife is on the telephone, and I
was the one walking past at the time and so was entrusted with the
message. Apparently your mobile - so sorry, `cell' - isn't switched
on."

"That's because hobbits don't have them," Sean said, amusement
showing clearly in his voice. "Could you guide this hobbit to safety
for me?"

"Good grief, what a myriad of tasks I'm being entrusted with today."
Elijah felt himself being transferred from one set of arms to
another. "Of course I will. Give my love to your wife."

"Get home, Lij. Sleep tight." Elijah listened to receding hobbit
footsteps.

"You look dreadful, Elijah." Ian's voice was completely different
now, the amused, slightly world-weary tone replaced by real
concern. "Did Peter ask too much of you today?"

"No, honestly, I'm fine," Elijah said, giving the lie to the
statement even as he said it, sagging gratefully into Ian's
arms. "It's just a combination of a late night and a long day. I'm
fine." He struggled out of Ian's arms, slightly embarrassed at being
tended to by somebody so much older than he was. If Ian could finish
a day still sprightly and good natured, then he sure as fuck wasn't
going to slide to the floor and stay there until spring, even if
that's what he felt like doing.

"There's no shame in being exhausted," Ian's voice was kind and
understanding. "You work hard at this, Elijah, and you have the
thought always in the back of your mind, don't you? The thought that
this film falls or stands with you. That takes it out of a person."
He put his arm back around Elijah's shoulders. "Come on, let's do
what Sean told us, or we'll both be for the high jump."

"And that would never do," Elijah said seriously. "I have no idea
what it means, but it sounds bad, and possibly painful."

Telling himself that it was to stop them both having to high jump,
Elijah let himself be steered into Feet where he dozed off and on for
the best part of an hour, listening to Dominic and Billy bickering
gently over nothing in particular. Now he had seen them together,
seen how good they were, Elijah found himself fascinated by the tone
of their argument, listening to it with a new appreciation. Although
he had known that they were an item for some time, actually
witnessing it made it more immediate somehow, and he smiled at the
old married couple tone they sometimes adopted.

"Okay, that's you done." Elijah was startled out of his half doze as
the person he privately thought of as `my foot fetishist', patted his
ankle and stood up, gathering together all the disgusting tools of
his trade. "Go home, Elijah. Sleep tight."

"What is this?" Elijah pushed himself to his feet and stretched
hugely. "People keep telling me to sleep. Do I look that bad?"

"Put it this way," said Dominic. "If Pete wants to film Tortured and
Close To Death Frodo tomorrow, then you won't need much in the way of
make-up."

"Bleurgh," Elijah replied wittily. "I'm going home to sleep then.
Wake me up next year."

Getting changed as quickly as was possible with fingers that refused
to co-operate, Elijah made his way out of his trailer and headed for
where his car should be parked. Except it wasn't. Elijah blinked
a couple of times and then looked again, just in case it was covered
in some mysterious cloaking device, but still nothing.

He sighed, and bit his lip, so ridiculously close to tears that he
was beginning to wonder if he wasn't just slightly hormonal, when
Ian's voice cut through the confused fog of his brain.

"Come along. I sent your driver home. No point in his being here
when you're coming back with me."

"But.." Elijah tailed off, and officially gave up. He had reached
the stage of not really caring where he went, as long as there was a
bed when he got there. Instead of arguing, he simply climbed into
the back of Ian's car and closed his eyes.

Ian was more than slightly worried about Elijah. Yes, he had
undoubtedly worked hard, both physically and more importantly
perhaps, emotionally, but as he glanced over, he thought he had never
seen anyone look so completely drained. He longed to reach out and
hold him, try and bring some of that bright energy back, but one look
at his driver made him realise what a foolish move that would be. It
would be all over the set tomorrow that they had gone home together;
why add fuel to the fire by touching Elijah, holding him as he so
badly wanted to.

The journey to Ian's house passed in a heartbeat for Elijah; one
second he was climbing into Ian's car, the next he was being shaken
gently awake by Ian, clambering out of the car, ungainly in his
tiredness, and being chivvied into Ian's house, where he stood,
uncertain and ragged, in the kitchen.

"Do you want something to eat?" Ian asked, automatically switching on
the kettle. "I don't have much, but I'm sure I could rustle
something up."

"Are you eating?" Elijah asked, amazed to hear how dull his voice
sounded. "Well I won't either," he continued when Ian shook his
head. "D'you think I could just have a shower?"

"My home is your home, Elijah. You should know that by now."

As soon as he heard the water start running, Ian picked up the phone.

"Peter. Would you care to tell me just what you've done with
Elijah? The only one I've seen today is a shadow."

"I know he's tired, but I'm sure he's at home having a good night's
sleep." Peter sounded alive and energetic, as if a good night's
sleep was the last thing on his mind, even after putting in a 20 hour
day. "We had to shoot some of the Cirith Ungol scenes today, and it
took more out of him than he expected, I think. He's a good little
actor, Ian. He feels it right down inside."

"Yes, you're right," Ian said, nodding even though Peter couldn't see
him. "Thank you, Peter. I was just a little concerned when I saw
him earlier. I know he tends to burn the candle at both ends and I
thought perhaps he had over-reached himself."

"He bounces," Peter assured him blithely. "Tomorrow he'll be fine
again. Just as well, since he's going to spend most of the day
having his finger bitten off."

"I'm sure he can hardly wait." With that, Ian bid Peter goodnight
and hung up the phone. Picking up his cup of tea from the counter,
he made his way upstairs. The shower was still running when he
reached the bedroom, and he prevaricated for a long moment, trying to
decide whether he would be welcome to go in, or whether he should
stay where he was.

The decision was taken out of his hands when the water was turned
off, and after a minute, a damp, pink Elijah appeared, swathed in a
bath sheet big enough for him and several friends.

"This is so big I can practically pleat it," he said. "I know people
who would wear this to go out."

"Well, I'm not one of them." Ian perched on the edge of the bed and
beckoned Elijah to join him. When Elijah had obeyed, Ian took a
corner of the huge towel and began to rub at the dark hair until it
was nothing more than damp.

"That's better," he said finally, dropping the towel and letting the
tips of his fingers rest lightly on the damp skin just below Elijah's
hairline. "How do you feel now?"

"Tired." Elijah's voice was flat and nasal, most unlike his usual
self, and Ian slid off the bed until he was on his knees in front of
Elijah, small hands clasped firmly in his own. Elijah looked at him
and blinked once or twice, stupid and dizzy with exhaustion.

"You've had a hard day," Ian said softly. He reached up with one
hand and rubbed at the faint frown mark between Elijah's
eyebrows. "I was hoping tonight would be our night for doing a
little talking, but you're dead on your feet, aren't you?"

"No, I'm fine." Elijah sat up a little straighter, shaking his head
to try and clear the fuzziness. "We can do as much talking as you
like."

"Into bed," Ian ordered. "We shall talk, my love, but we shall only
do so until you fall asleep." He looked at Elijah. "Five minutes,
unless I miss my guess."

Feeling ridiculous, Elijah swallowed hard past a lump in his throat.
He was tired, that was all. Tired and drained after a day of putting
his heart and soul into those horrible scenes, of being prodded and
knocked about by those fucking orc actors, who took their roles way
too seriously. And if that hadn't been bad enough, hours spent
having to react to Sam finding him, scenes when his emotions had been
running at a high, intense level all day. And that was why he had a
lump in his throat now, not because of some silly term of endearment,
which had no doubt slipped almost unheeded from Ian's lips.

Doing as he was told, he crawled into the bed, unwrapping himself
from the towel at the last minute, his body actually sagging with
relief as it was finally allowed to relax.

"Now, I'm just going to have a quick shower, and then I'll be back.
Don't try and stay awake just because you feel you should." He felt
Ian's lips soft against his temple, and listened to him bustle around
the room, quietly opening drawers and gathering whatever it was he
needed.

Elijah was convinced he would be asleep as soon as his head touched
the pillow, but although his body was practically screaming for rest,
his mind had decided to go into high gear, with the result that when
Ian came out of the shower as quietly as possible so as not to
disturb what would no doubt be a fast asleep Elijah, he was met with
the sight of said Elijah curled up in the bed, eyes wide open and
staring at nothing.

"Elijah?" Ian slid naked into the bed and put a hand on Elijah's
shoulder. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing." Elijah turned over and practically launched himself into
Ian's arms, and Ian was even more concerned when he felt the tremors
running through the slender body.

"What's wrong?" Ian tried again, his fingers pulling gently at
Elijah's hair. "You looked fit for nothing but sleep when I left
you."

"Happens sometimes," Elijah said, his face buried against Ian's
shoulder. "I get over tired, apparently. Mom used to say that I
always tired my body out before my mind, and this was my mind's way
of getting back at me. I'm sorry."

"Don't be silly." Ian moved his hand so that his fingers were
stroking down Elijah's warm, naked back. "Was today truly awful for
you?"

"Not awful, no. Just … so hard, I suppose. I didn't expect it, you
know? I guess that sounds stupid to you, right?"

"Again, no. You have to go through a lot in this film, Elijah,
nobody goes through more, and it's bound to take it out of you." Ian
paused. He wanted to ask what had been so bad, but if he mentioned
Cirith Ungol, then Elijah would want to know how he knew, and for
some reason Ian didn't want to name, he wasn't ready for Elijah to
know that he had been almost checking up on him.

The opportunity, however, presented itself only a few minutes later
when Ian's gentling fingers stroked their way lower down Elijah's
back, and unexpectedly Elijah flinched against the touch, trying to
pull away. He stilled immediately, and looked up at Ian somewhat
guiltily.

"What?" Ian asked. "What's the matter?" He propped himself up on
one elbow and, holding Elijah in place with one hand, leaned over
until he could see what had caused the reaction. His breath caught
and he looked at Elijah almost accusingly. "And when were you going
to tell me about this?"

A bruise was spreading across Elijah's lower back, almost from hip to
hip, and as Ian brushed his hand across it, he again felt Elijah
flinch.

"It's nothing," Elijah said. "Those orcs, y'know? Vicious
bastards. And the guys playing them aren't much better." He tried
to make light of it, but as he watched Ian's face knew that he had
failed miserably.

"Honestly, it's nothing," he said again. "They're big guys and they
were supposed to be pushing me around. I just hit a wall harder than
anybody intended." He lowered his head and scrubbed his face against
Ian's chest. "Doesn't matter."

"No, it doesn't," Ian agreed lightly. "It's just a risk we
occasionally take." He pulled Elijah close and kissed him
lightly. "But it would be nice if you felt you could trust me enough
to tell me."

"It's not that!" Elijah looked up again, horrified. "It happened at
the start of the day; I'd honestly forgotten about it."

"You're not a good liar," Ian answered. He paused, and then jumped
straight in. "It's not the physical hurt, is it? It's the emotional
toll this kind of thing takes. It must be about time for you and
Sean to shoot Cirith Ungol, yes? Certainly the mention of our orc
friends makes me think that. You must have spent a lot of the day
suffering as poor Frodo suffered, being made to feel small and
vulnerable, and I already know how much you hate that." He put a
finger under Elijah's chin, and tipped his face upwards. "Tell me,
my heart, does it hurt inside?"

And that was what Elijah either needed, or didn't need, depending on
the point of view. In a startlingly short space of time, he reverted
to a little hobbit who had been pushed around and abused. A whole
day spent in Frodo's mind, trying to come to terms with the loss of
the Ring, the loss of Sam, and then the reunion with Sam; the orcs
threatening him and wanting to hurt him - it had knocked his own
defences down to practically zero, and it was an odd mixture of
hobbit and boy who cried himself out, held safe captive in Ian's arms.

"Oh god, I'm sorry," he spluttered as soon as he was able to
formulate a sentence. "I don't know why that happened." He rubbed
his nose with his forearm, looking about twelve. "I've been feeling
very girly these past few days. Must be my hormones."

"Time of the month," Ian agreed gravely, smiling as Elijah giggled at
the thought. "It's all right," he said softly, his finger tracing
the soft curve of Elijah's lips. "It gets to us all at some point,
and you are so young…" His voice trailed off into a half-formed gasp
as Elijah parted his lips, letting Ian's finger slide into the wet
cavern of his mouth.

After a long minute, Elijah pulled back, very slowly, letting Ian's
finger slide from his mouth with an obscene popping sound. "Not so
young," he said. "Not really." He smiled. "Not so tired now
either. All cried out like some big girl."

"If you were a big girl, or indeed even a small one, then you would
have no place in my bed," Ian said, his fingers trailing down
Elijah's arm. "You are so beautiful, Elijah. So beautiful."

Elijah reached out and put his hands on Ian's chest, splaying the
fingers as wide as they would go before leaning down and placing a
kiss between each of them, making Ian heave in a huge breath. He
lifted his own hands and slid them through Elijah's hair, and then
down across his shoulders, reaching as far down his spine as possible.

"You have to work again tomorrow," he said. "And I suspect your
scenes will be just as tough. Maybe you should rest."

"No." Elijah's breath was warm against Ian's chest. "Give me this
tonight. I can take anything they throw at me, as long as I can have
this." He trailed his tongue up Ian's chest and neck before kissing
him, tongue delving deep. Ian, helpless, responded, his hands
reaching further down and pulling at Elijah's hips before he
remembered the bruise there, and shifting his grip so that he wasn't
causing any pain.

Elijah settled himself on top of Ian, his fingers running through
soft grey hair, lips nuzzling along Ian's jaw. He moved his hips
experimentally once, and then again, pleased at the grunt it produced
from Ian, and then stopped, concentrating instead on kissing and
touching, part of his mind still stunned that this had happened; that
he was here, in this bed with this man, and that it was enough.

Ian parted his legs, letting Elijah settle more comfortably, his sigh
of contentment making Elijah look up and smile, happy with himself
again. He lowered his head and continued his exploration of Ian's
chest, his tongue working through the sparse hair before he shifted
downwards in the bed, kissing a path down Ian's belly.

"Come here," Ian said softly, and Elijah did as he was told, albeit
reluctantly, finally settling himself astride Ian's hips.

"What, old man?" he asked teasingly. "What do you want?"

"You." It was all Ian could think of to say. He ran his hands up
Elijah's thighs, his thumbs teasing at the very edges of the dark
pubic hair, making Elijah start and then smile.

"You can have me," he said, his eyes remarkably tender as he looked
down at Ian's face, putting his hands over Ian's and guiding them
towards where they could do some good.

"What it is to be young," Ian laughed, letting Elijah direct his
hands. "Always ready to go. Whatever you want, take it. I think
you need a little bit of healing tonight."

"I don't want to take it," Elijah answered, his hips beginning to
move against Ian's hands. "I want you to give it." He leaned down
and kissed Ian, trapping their hands between them, and Ian could feel
the heat and hardness against his fingers, feel the energy starting
to thrum through Elijah, and once again he felt himself responding
helplessly; he couldn't stop this even if he had wanted to.

And he couldn't deny it to himself, couldn't lie. He didn't want to
stop it; didn't want to stop these feelings, or push away the young
body now pressed so tightly to his. He wouldn't be human if he had
wanted such a thing.

Elijah's hips were moving faster now, one hand gripping Ian's
shoulder while the other stayed between their bodies, controlling
Ian's pace and pressure. Ian could hear Elijah's breath beginning to
shorten, and with each indrawn breath came that wonderful grunt he
had come to know so well, a sure sign that things were heating up.
He pulled one hand free and put his arm around Elijah, pulling him
closer, harder.

"Jesus, Jesus..." Elijah getting religious was the beginning of the
end, and without prompting, Ian tightened his grip.

With a sound somewhere between a sigh and a moan, Elijah came, his
body stilling, not even breathing, until it was over, and then it was
as if someone had cut all the strings, and he collapsed completely
onto Ian, straightening his legs with a groan.

Tenderly, Ian stroked back dark wisps of hair from Elijah's sweat-
sheened forehead and dropped a soft kiss on his temple.

"Sleep now, my heart," he whispered. "Nothing will touch you
tonight."

"Love you," Elijah mumbled, barely above a whisper.

Ian didn't answer for a moment, wanting to make sure Elijah was
asleep.

"And I, you."