“Oh. Oh, my God,” Liberty muttered, staring out the window of her bedroom. Christine was behind her, at the wardrobe, restocking linens. The two of them had just changed Liberty’s bed; much to Liberty’s dismay, she had told Christine she could do it herself, but Christine had insisted.

Christine shut the drawer and strode over to the window beside Liberty. Immediately, she knew what the younger girl was looking at and she laughed, “That’s Viggo.” Christine explained, “He’s in the film with the boys. He plays Aragorn. Quite good looking, isn’t he.”

“Oh, my God,” Liberty said in response, a hand on her heart. “I’ve…I’ve lost all ability to speak.”

Christine laughed loudly, “Well, I’ve never heard that one pertaining to Viggo before, but most women do take a slight fancy to him.”

“You sound like Dom,” Liberty grinned offhandedly, “Slight fancy. Hey, who HAVE you heard that about, before?”

Christine moved away from the window, still laughing. As she walked towards the door, she called back, “Elijah, Dom and Orlando normally.”

Liberty sank against the window seat; sank against, but did not sit on. Soon, though, she moved around so that she was leaning on the window seat once more, looking out onto the driveway. The aforementioned Viggo, an older man probably in his late thirties with long, wavy hair and a scruffy demeanor (not to mention a scruffy face) was talking animatedly with Sean, who looked very glad to see him, indeed.

It was anyone’s guess why Liberty hadn’t had similar reactions to Dom and Orlando, but that was probably because she’d met Elijah first and had apparently taken quite a liking to him…in a romantic way, despite the fact that she refused to concur to that. The fact that she noticed Dom and Orlando’s, shall we say, likeability factor now was probably due to it being suggested to her by another woman.

Either that, or Liberty was blind at times, which is quite entirely possible.

In any case, Liberty had unfocused attention on Sean and Viggo in the driveway until Christine trotted out, said a few things and then pointed towards Liberty’s window. Both Sean and Viggo looked up, with equal expressions of shock on their faces, and waved cheerfully. Liberty waved back robotically and then flopped onto her bed in embarrassment, wondering what Christine had said.

Moments later, there were shouts up the stairs from Sean who wanted Liberty to “come down and meet somebody,” and then, “And don’t fall on your ass this time! This guy won’t take it as well as Elijah!”

Liberty, mortified, went cautiously down the staircase and saw that Viggo was laughing lightly and Sean looked pleased with himself.

“I didn’t fall,” Liberty grinned, walking towards the two of them.

“Watch that rug,” Viggo joked, his voice deeper than Liberty imagined.

Liberty looked down and tripped on the Persian rug she had been walking over. She shook her head, laughing. “I’m a klutz.”

Viggo laughed, “I’m Viggo. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Liberty,” she replied, shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you too.” He had a nice grip and she could feel the calluses on his hands. He was a man’s man, Liberty suspected, like Alexia was always telling her about.

“Liberty Crane. Viggo Mortensen.” Sean commented, laughing slightly. “Viggo’s just asked if he can impose on me until we leave for New Zealand next week. I told him yes, but that he’d have to keep his distance from you. He’s far too old for you, anyway, Liberty, so don’t get any ideas.”

Viggo looked at Liberty, “He’s right. I’m an old man.”

“You don’t look it,” Liberty remarked seriously.

“He’s a married old man,” Sean put in, “He’s forty-two.”


"Divorced," Viggo corrected, chuckling slightly.

“No,” Liberty gasped, laughing, “You don‘t look a day over twenty.”

“Why thank you,” Viggo replied, smiling. “Neither do you.”

“That’s because I’m not,” Liberty responded. “I’m only nineteen.”

“Ah,” nodded Viggo, “A young one, like Elijah.”

Liberty, in reflex, cringed and made a sour face to which Viggo just laughed as he had been briefed on the trials and tribulations of she and the hobbit when he’d arrived. “So,” she cleared her throat, “You’re Aragorn. I’m in love with Aragorn--”

“Oh dear God,” muttered Sean, flopping onto his sofa in agony.

“He is only the most wonderful literary character ever created,” Liberty continued, ignoring Sean’s outburst. “All of Tolkien’s characters are amazing, but Aragorn is my favorite.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” Sean said, looking surprised. “You said you loved Sam!” He looked just slightly hurt.

“I do love Sam,” Liberty assured him, “But I never told you who my favorite character in the whole entire thing was.” She tapped the side of her nose, “And you never asked.”

Sean rolled his eyes, “And here I thought my only competition was Elijah.”

Liberty hit him with a pillow.

*

As the fellowship of actors had shown Liberty all there was in California (more or less) besides Disney Land, they decided to give her a home cooked meal. And as the boys didn’t want Christine doing all the work, they enlisted the use of Elijah’s very ample kitchen.

“I never use it except to make macaroni and cheese. The Kraft kind. From the box. Mom does all the cooking.” Elijah explained why he didn’t mind subletting his home for a few hours. Liberty could relate to this as she, herself, was an awful cook. Her diet consisted of take out hamburgers, pasta and once in a while she’d go wild and make grilled cheese with tomato.

“I hate tomatoes,” Billy had said, when she’d told him how far her cooking experience reached.

“Pippin doesn’t,” Liberty replied, settling herself down beside him on Elijah’s black leather couch. His home was very homey and very unlike a cliché Hollywood home might look. There were touches here and there that suggested he had money (like the couch) but other than that, everything was normal. His mom and younger sister had apparently gone out for the night. (“Some sort of grandma thing,” Elijah had explained vaguely) and his older brother was missing in action.

Orlando and Dom, the self proclaimed cooks of the group, were bustling about the kitchen. Sean and Christine were unpacking the groceries they’d gotten on the way over.

Liberty and Dom had gotten themselves kicked out of the grocery store (probably for life) when they were racing around and knocked into a cereal pyramid display. Captain Crunch was being crunched under people’s feet for hours after. Liberty, Dom now knew, was very ticklish.

Everyone was there except for Raya, who was running late. She’d had an audition that afternoon for a part on a soap opera. It was undecided whether Liv would show up or not, she was apparently at home doing family things. Viggo was admiring the photographs on the mantelpiece while Elijah talked about their origins. Most were of family members, but some were very artistic bits of landscape. Liberty learned that Elijah had taken quite a liking to photography which was one of Viggo’s more prominent hobbies. He’d shown Liberty a photo book that he was putting together while in New Zealand. The first photo she’d seen had been one of Elijah in the snow. That picture was forever embedded in her brain now. He looked almost haunting in it.

“Well, we’ve been kicked out,” Sean announced as he and Christine entered the living room. He settled himself down on the couch opposite Liberty and Billy while Christine went to marvel at the photographs.

“Those chefs are awful touchy,” Liberty remarked, grinning.

“Just because we’re in the next room doesn’t mean we can’t hear you!” Orlando hollered from the kitchen. There was a thud that sounded like watermelon falling to the ground and then a, “DOM!” before the kitchen door was shut.

“Oh God,” Liberty said suddenly, “I think Orlando has beheaded Dom with a kitchen knife.”

“That’s not a pleasant mental image,” Elijah responded, cringing. He smiled at her though. Things between them were still unknown but they had reached an unspoken agreement to put things aside for now and just enjoy everyone’s company. There was a line between the two of them, a line that neither was about to cross. It’s like when brothers and sisters who share the same room, draw a line down the middle of it and claim sides. Admittedly, it was immature and an easy way out, but it worked for now.

“What do you suppose he did to deserve such brutal treatment?” Billy wondered, sipping his alcoholic beverage.

Viggo laughed, “Dropped something, no doubt. Or tread on Orly’s big toe. Or maybe messed up his hair-do. You know how those elves get when their hair goes out of place.”

“As opposed to you very dirty humans?” Orlando mused, walking into the room, grinning. “I’d like to see you go get yourself a brush and a nice shower, perhaps. Actually, I’ll go get you a brush. Surely, Elijah, who has lots of hobbit hair, has one?” He glanced at Elijah who shrugged.

Liberty surveyed the two taller males in the room, standing face to face. As far as she could tell, Viggo wasn’t dirty in the least, and Orlando didn’t seem to care about his hair, either. It was a huge bed of dark curls that flew every which way. It was as if he didn’t bother taming it at all. Viggo’s long, wavy hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She fleetingly wondered if she was missing an inside joke. Then it dawned on her. Of course, Orlando, being an elf, would have to be careful of his looks and Viggo, being Aragorn, would have to be very dirty with greased hair. She felt stupid, but at least hadn’t made a fool of herself aloud.

“Are you okay?” Billy asked, his voice close to her ear, “You’ve been staring at Vig and Orly for about twenty minutes.”

Liberty glanced around and noticed that all eyes had turned to her. Orlando was grinning mischievously. “I’m good,” she said finally.

“Anyway,” Orlando said, “Dom is in the kitchen still, is Raya here?”

“Not yet,” Billy replied, standing. “Can I go help Dom?”

“No,” Orlando replied flatly, “You shall not go into the kitchen. Too many cooks spoil the---something.” With a that, he whisked back into the kitchen, the door slamming behind him in a very dramatic fashion.

“OWWWWWWWWW!” Came a blood curdling scream about forty seconds later.

Liberty jumped to her feet, knocking Elijah into the mantelpiece where he hit his head and fell onto Sean. “Bloody hell,” Elijah muttered, wincing. Sean straightened him up, checking for any rapidly emerging bruises, which there were none of.

“DOM!? That was Dom,” she went to the kitchen door, hesitating. “Will Orlando kill me if I go in and see what the trouble is?”

“Yes,” said Sean, Elijah and Billy all together.

“But I need ice,” Elijah said, staggering to a standing position. Billy helped him and they were soon standing behind Liberty.

“I’m so sorry,” Liberty apologized, Elijah shrugged and then cringed. She put her ear to the door in order to hear Orlando and Dom more clearly. She was about to yell to Dom to see if he was alright, but heard his voice shrill and cutting through the silence.

“AHHHHHHHHHH!” Dom yelled, “AH! AH! AH! AH!” With each ‘ah’ there was as pounding noise as if he was jumping around the kitchen on one foot.

“What?” Orlando asked, sounding innocent. He, apparently, didn’t know what had happened.

“MY FOOT!” Dom hollered, sounding like a small child.

“I didn’t step on it!” Orlando replied immediately.

“BLOODY HELL!” Was Dom’s response. He sounded like he was in complete agony. Like one might sound after being struck with four or five arrows in the chest or when you have been shot in the shoulder by a large bullet. “My foot needs to be amputated!”

“Shall I get the butcher knife?” Orlando asked, stepping towards a row of knives on the wall, “Or a meat cleaver?”

“You are NOT going to pound me with a meat clever, Bloom.” Dom gasped and plopped into a kitchen chair, “OW! DAMN!”

Orlando sighed heavily, “What happened?”

“I stepped on something,” Dom whimpered, “I think I’m going to die.”

Billy, outside the door, said in his Pippin voice, “Is he going to die?”

“I don’t think so,” Elijah replied, “You know how he is.”

“DOM!” Billy hissed through the door, “Have you stepped on a splinter?”

“DO NOT COME INTO THE KITCHEN,” Orlando bellowed to the closed door. Billy cowered and went back to the sofa. Elijah, who had a large headache, teetered on the spot and Liberty righted him.

“I have stepped on a splinter!” Dom yelled, “A very, very large one! Damn your wooden floors, Wood!”

Elijah chuckled and so did Liberty, but stopped abruptly. Maybe Dom was in quite serious trouble. Liberty yelled, “Can you move your foot, Dom?”

“No,” Dom whined, “It hurts too much. I need an amputation!”

“Oh quit overreacting,” Orlando hushed him.

“I do NOT overreact,” Dom said irately, sounding affronted, “I act.”

“Is that what you call it?” Orlando asked, trying not to laugh.

Dom scowled at him and mumbled something that sounded like, ‘bastard’ under his breath as he rubbed his bare foot. “When I die, I’m not leaving you anything.”

“That’s fine,” Orlando replied, working around at the stove, “As you won’t die today, I have time to get back on your good side.”

“I might die today,” Dom said hotly.

“I highly doubt it,” Orlando said lightly, laughing a bit. “No one dies from splinters.”

“The way he’s carrying on, you’d think they did,” Billy laughed. He was suddenly in the kitchen, a practically comatose Elijah behind him next to Liberty, who looked worried and was also trying not to laugh.

Orlando gasped and screamed like a little girl, “Ah! Get out of my kitchen!”

“I need ice and let Liberty play mother hen to Dom.” Elijah muttered, sinking into a chair beside Dom as Billy rummaged to get him ice from the ice bucket in the freezer. He took haste and tried very hard to resist the urge to plummet Dom with ice cubes.

“Get your ice and get out then,” Orlando replied, looking superior. “Don’t ruin the surprise, little hobbits.”

He turned to Liberty, who said, “I am not a hobbit.”

“I realize this, fair maiden. But please vacate my kitchen.” He pointed towards Dom, “And take him with you.”

“I can’t possibly carry him. He’s ailing. Do you need a hospital?” Liberty asked Dom.

“I might,” Dom pouted, looking very happy at the sudden attention and sympathy.

Orlando rolled his eyes, “Please, young hobbit. Stop with the overreacting at once.”

“Stop talking like an elf, Bloom!” Viggo hollered from the other room.

“Quiet, filthy human!” Orlando yelled back, laughing.

Dom looked at Liberty, still pouting with puppy dog eyes now, “I think I need help.”

“Mentally?” Billy asked, “Or physically?”

“Once you’ve stopped bleeding from the head,” Orlando said to Elijah, on his way back to the stove, “Please leave.”

“Gee, thanks for the compassion,” Elijah laughed.

“Anytime,” Orlando replied, grinning.

“Are you okay?” Liberty asked Elijah, her hand on Dom’s knee. She was kneeling down beside him, examining his splinter which was, apparently, the size of a small pony.

“He’ll be fine, look at him. He didn’t get grossly disfigured, so he’s good. His looks are in tact.” Dom grinned at Elijah, who was looking worse for wear. Billy was knelt down beside him, applying ice to his head. Dom made a face, “Pretty boy.”

“I’d have a retort to that normally,” Elijah said, grinning widely, “But as you only speak the truth, it’s hard to find a biting comeback.”

“Oh look Lij,” Billy said suddenly, his lips in a very large smile, “Your head is swelling.”

Before Elijah could hit Billy, a very tall and elegant looking woman walked into the kitchen. She went straight to Orlando and gave him a kiss. He looked so happy to see her that he didn’t even bother making her leave ‘his kitchen.’

She glanced around and her eyes landed on Dom, “Another splinter, sweetie?” She asked, grinning, but sounding condescending. Liberty guessed, by the kiss and British accent, that this was Orlando’s girlfriend.

Liberty scowled slightly at her, “Yes, but it is really hurting him. It’s the size of a Toyota.”

The woman laughed and smiled, “I’m Raya.”

“Liberty,” she replied curtly. “Come on, Dom. We’ll go find Elijah’s tweezers.”

Dom stood up, cringing, “I don’t like the thoughts of you with tweezers aimed at my foot.” He cringed again, “AH THE PAIN!”

“They’re in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom down the hall,” Elijah said, sounding weak as he pulled Billy’s hand (holding the ice packet) away from his head. “It’s okay if you stab him a few times. Keep him in his place.”

Liberty laughed as she and Dom hobbled out of the room and down the hall. Dom just gave Elijah a look and gave a similar one to Raya, who looked stoic as she adjusted her skirt.

“So,” Raya said, clasping her hands together excitedly, “What have I missed?”