Chapter 1

~~

Viggo Mortensen was tired of his life. He had not enjoyed a moment of peace in days, and although he dearly loved his friends, his fans, and his success, he was weary of the chaos.

The overly publicized San Diego `Lord of the Rings' convention had brought out thousands of well wishing fans and promoters, and he had been cordial to everyone. He had made a good impression. His smile had never faltered.

It was an act - a role he played. His superb talent did come in handy in times like these.

Less than a fourth of the cast had made it to the convention, and most of the actors who had been able to attend had departed early because of prior engagements. The only cast member, other than himself, who remained after their weeklong party was Orlando, and Viggo had grown frustrated by the lack of opportunity to be alone with his young friend. Too many people with too many demands stood between them.

Was there such a thing as being loved too much? What a peculiar contemplation, when it tagged on the heels of his regrets pertaining to the elf.

He refused to stand there and entertain such uncultured mental ramblings. Maybe he should go get a prescription for something, as his agent kept advising, so he could be as happy as a hummingbird standing there with one hand in his pocket, the other one wrapped around a popular new drink that tasted like shit.

Viggo had noticed with an increasing amount of aversion that a dark- haired young woman named Marijah had completely captivated Orli's attentions. They had become quite an item during the past week, and now seemed inseparable. He reminded himself that Orlando was young and apparently had a healthy interest in the opposite sex, which he was forced to accept; but something about this girl did not set well with Viggo. He tried to reason that it was probably his own over-protective nature that raised his suspicions. He should take a cue from 'the elf, himself', as the Legolas portrayer had been dubbed by the LOTR crew, and be a bit more trusting.

After all, Orli was young, beautiful, talented, and smart. What woman wouldn't want him?

He reminded himself, though, that Orlando was also a bit naïve, which accounted for some of Viggo's protectiveness. As for anything more than that, he was not willing to think about it too deeply. At least not tonight

Exhausted of the endless night, he glanced around the room still teeming with lively people at 11:30 PM. He edged towards the door and slipped out unseen, which was a miracle. He had parked his new motorcycle, bought the day before at the local Harley shop, behind the building. Donning his leather jacket and helmet, he got on, breathed in the fresh late January air and started the bike. It was a good night for a ride.

~~

A tall, muscular, frowning stranger had dragged Marijah, kicking and screaming, from the party by the sleeve. Open-mouthed at the man's gall, Orlando went after him and caught up with them in the alley behind the building. "What's your problem, mate?" he demanded, finding himself too close to the man who was a head taller and a foot wider than he.

The man's eyes scaled him threateningly. "What's it to you, Pretty Boy?" he asked, putting a hand on the actor's chest and shoving a little. He laughed when Orlando took a graceless step backwards and fought to maintain his balance. "Just go back inside. I don't want to hurt you."

Orlando gained his posture and defiantly stuck out his chin. "The lady is with me! Release her, now!" he ordered.

The man laughed, took a step towards the pick-up truck that waited for him, then whirled and hit him in the jaw. Orlando crumpled to the ground.

"Roger!" Marijah screamed, "Just get his wallet and the goddamned ring and come on! I'm not gonna stand here and watch you beat him up! That wasn't the plan!"

Roger hunched over his victim, groped at his clothing until he located the fat wallet in the hip pocket of his jeans and removed it. Then, he took his hand and yanked brutally at the treasured ring Orlando had been awarded when he had won his favorite role as `Legolas'. It came off, skinning his knuckle. The thief stooped over him, appraising it thoughtfully. "Very nice," he commented.

"Give it back!" Orlando cried, grabbing for the ring. "You can't have it!"

Roger shoved at him again, leaped to his feet and kicked him in the ribs. The sickening thud seemed to satisfy him so much that he repeated it over and over until the young man lay holding himself in fear that he would be killed. The woman's screams cut through the night air, warning him, "Roger, there's somebody coming! Get your ass over here, now! Let's go, dammit!"

His pause was only long enough to deliver one last vicious groin kick that curled him into a ball, and the attacker fled the scene. Helplessly, Orli watched their escape.

A loud vehicle approached, and for a moment, he feared he would be run over by a big truck. A bright light from behind him lit the alleyway before him, casting shadows of frightening, misshapen things. His senses were overwhelmed; the deafening noise, the intensely bright light, and the pain that seared through his body. He felt nauseous and dizzy. The brightness of the light dulled to a pale yellow, closed in until it became a tight little circle in the distant sky.

And for one serene moment, the world faded to black.

~~

The light was back, as was the pain. Orlando drew his knees up beneath his chin and tried not to vomit. He felt a hand on his shoulder and cringed. "Go away!" he cried.

"Orli, it's me!"

Recognition cut through his fear. Bearing the pain, the young man rolled, struggled to his knees and fervently plunged into Viggo's embrace. "Thank God! I thought he was back to finish me off!"

Viggo handled him carefully. "What the hell happened?" he asked.

"He took Marijah! A big, hulking guy took her out of the building, and I tried to save her, but he was…he was big. He kicked me and took my wallet and my ring. I can't believe he got my ring!" He glanced down remorsefully at his ringless right hand. "Look, it's gone!"

Viggo quickly examined the bleeding knuckle of the ring finger and grimaced at the swelling jaw. "He really worked you over, didn't he, Elfling? Come on. Let's get you to the emergency room."

Orlando pushed against him. "No, I don't have time for that!" he protested. "I have to go after them! I have to get Marijah back!"

Viggo shook his head. "You're hurt, Orli. You could be hurt bad! You have no business behind the wheel of a car, and you definitely don't need to be out playing stupid car chase games all over a strange town! You're crazy if you think I'm going to let you go after them!"

"I don't have a car to chase them, anyways." The Brit made it to his feet, trying to fight off the dizziness. He was too wobbly; bleeding from too many scrapes, his flesh swelling from too many kicks and punches. Unable to straighten his posture, he leaned on his friend, whimpering. "God, I'm sick."

"I'm taking you to the emergency room. Now. No more shit, you hear?" Viggo tugged on his arm, and when the stubborn elf balked, he bent down and lifted him with determination, which elicited a moan of anguish from his friend. Seating him in front of himself on the Harley, he slid the helmet over Orlando's dark curls, put the bike in gear, and burst out of the alleyway.

~~

"Viggo, I can't lie around like this!" Frustrated, Orlando resituated the uncomfortably stiff ice pack on his face and crossed his ankles. He flinched at the movement.

Flipping through the pages of a brochure on weight loss, Viggo glanced at him. "The doctor will be back in a minute," he said. "Just take it easy."

"The guy is getting away with Marijah and my ring!"

"And your wallet. How much money did he get? How many credit cards and personal things were in there?"

"A lot. That doesn't matter. Only one credit card, which I can cancel with a call, my I.D., my New Line and Disney Group cards, a few appointment reminders, stuff like that…nothing really crucial."

"How much money?"

"Viggo, it was only money."

"How much?" His voice was still calm.

"I don't know. A couple of thousand, maybe."

The calm had come to an end. Viggo threw the brochure at him. "Idiot! You carry that much cash on you?"

He had blocked the paper with a quick forearm. Sullenly, he stuck out his lip. "Not usually. It was spending money because I was in the states. I didn't want to come here and start bumming off you again."

"Orli!"

"I know. I'm stupid!"

"If you weren't already beat up, I'd kick your ass!" Viggo was exasperated.

Orlando was miserable. "Go ahead. I deserve it."

Viggo sighed, picked the brochure up from the floor and laid a hand on his friend's uninjured arm. "Don't you dare start," he warned. "I will not tolerate that `mood' you get in! You know that I care about you, and I'll help you in any way I can. I never minded you `bumming off me', as you call it, and you know it. You would do the same for me if the roles were reversed, now wouldn't you?"

"You know I would, Vig," he said. "Any day. Any time."

"We're friends, Orli. That's what real friends are all about." Viggo squeezed his wrist. "As soon as the doctor comes in here and tells us that you're okay, we'll go talk to the cops about what happened. Do you know what kind of vehicle the guy was driving?"

Orlando pursed his lips in remembrance. "Yeah, it was a truck!" he said. "An old pickup truck! I think it was blue. And there was a big, coiled-looking antenna on top of the cab. Funny looking antenna."

"Sounds like a CB radio antenna. I thought those went out with the eighties," Viggo commented. "What kind of truck was it?"

"A pickup."

"What make and model?"

"Make? Model? You mean like…a Ford or a Chevy or something?"

"Yeah, could you tell?"

"Sorry," Orlando looked up at him. It was their first direct eye contact in months. His left eye was severely bloodshot.

Viggo took him by the chin and gently inspected his face. The swelling had decreased, but there was a little purple knot on the jawbone. Other than that, he looked fine. The nose, the cheeks, all the rest of the smooth, lovely skin was intact. His eyes followed a path over the well-formed chin to the slender throat, and he was gripped by that same old, familiar sappy sensation Orlando's nearness stimulated in him. As always, he hid it. It was his heart's darkest secret.

As professionally as the doctor had examined him, so did Viggo. He ran tender fingers over bare shoulders, chest and arms, then moved on to the ribs and stomach to tentatively touch the black, blue and purple bruises that spotted the area.

He was far too skinny. It made him look delicate. Viggo wanted to kiss the bruises on those bony ribs and that soft, sunken belly. His gaze strayed lower to the top of a blue tattoo, and for less than a second, his eyes betrayed his need.

Orlando winced, looked at him expectantly, but said nothing. He lay still, allowing the examination and Viggo's assessment of his condition.

"So, he kicked you in the sweets?" Viggo said brightly as he lifted the sheet to peep beneath it. "You should probably have an ice pack down there, too."

"I don't think so!" Trusting him, Orlando watched as he bent to get a closer look. He uncrossed his ankles to give him visual access to his affected male parts. "It's okay. I didn't need kids, anyway," he said, grinning self-consciously.

Viggo's fingers touched his inner thigh, but did not venture onto the sore genitals. "I don't see any swelling or bruising. Do your balls hurt?"

"Only when I cough," Orli quipped. "And not nearly as much as my ribs."

The door opened. Viggo dropped the sheet and stepped back. The doctor, chart in hand, sat on the metal stool to talk with them. "You're a lucky man, Mr. Bloom. No broken bones."

"Terrific!" Orlando said happily. "I knew it!" He sat up, catching at the pain.

"Not so fast," The doctor reached out to steady him. "I'm writing you a prescription for pain pills. Can you take codeine?"

"Um, no, it makes me puke," Orlando answered uneasily. "You're not going to make me stay, are you?"

"No, but I'll tell you what to expect," the doctor began. "Mostly aches and pains, which the pills will help. But the pills I'm prescribing will make you a little bit loopy, so don't get behind the wheel, okay?"

"No problem. My friend will take me home, I'll lie down and pass out."

"You should probably take a couple of weeks off to heal. No work, nothing strenuous for at least that long - longer if you need. Agreed?"

Orlando paused. "Two weeks? I've got to be back on the plane to England tomorrow!"

"Not recommended," The doctor was plainspoken. "You need to rest and get well. Your internal organs are as bruised up as the outside of your body. You'll be sore for days. Your testicles could even get infected if you're not careful."

"Infected?" Orlando looked a little frightened. "You mean… they could wither up and drop off?"

Viggo sighed and reached for the papers the doctor held in his hand. "He'll follow your orders, Doctor."

With a twinge of amusement, the medical man handed him the discharge paper and the prescription. "Be sure he does." He patted Orlando's shoulder and left the room.

~~

"Please, Viggo!" Orli had resorted to begging. "I think I know where they went!"

At Viggo's insistence, he had called the credit card company to cancel his card and reported the robbery and assault to the police. The preliminary report had been filed but was left unsigned until a later date.

Lying on the couch at Viggo's rented apartment, Orli glanced at the round wall clock that read 5AM. So much time had passed!

Viggo yawned. Neither of them had slept. His coffee was wearing off. "What do you want from me, Orli? How crazy would I have to be to take you and go after them? You're hurt, you're under a doctor's orders to lie around and rest for two weeks, and we have people expecting us in two different countries for filming! Doesn't that shit mean anything to you? We have obligations, people counting on us, things to do, people to see, places to go, and we have to maintain our status as responsible actors or we won't be working long! We can't just go traipsing off after some girl!"

"Viggo," Orlando's eyes were sparkling with tears.

Viggo groaned. He saw it coming.

Sniffling, Orli rubbed at his nose and turned those wide brown eyes on him. Dark, lovely eyes, along with that brooding, pleading face ensured the ultimate melting of his resolve.

"Quit it! Don't look at me like that!" Viggo said in annoyance.

Orlando reached out for him pitifully. "Viggo, I need you, man, I can't do it without you. You're so strong and capable, and you always know just the right thing to do. I really need you!"

"I know exactly the right thing to do!" Viggo reached out to take his hand and squeezed it, remembering the sore knuckle when he flinched. He turned the hand over and gently rubbed the band-aid, which he had picked at until it was loose. "You need to go to sleep, and when we wake up, we'll call the cops so you can give them a more detailed description of the guy who did this to you! You'll sign the report and they'll take care of this. Then we'll call all our contacts, explain what's going on, and hang out here until you're well enough to go on back to England. That's the right thing to do."

Orli sniffed again as he ran a distracting hand up and down the length of his friend's forearm. "If your girlfriend and your ring were stolen, I would be the first to volunteer to go after the creep who took them. Do you know how much our friendship means to me? I would do anything for you, Viggo. Anything!"

Viggo drew in an unsettled breath. "Don't twist this around, Elfling. You're in no shape to travel, especially on the back of a motorcycle, which is all the transportation I've got at the moment."

"My balls are fine. I can ride. I'll be fine, really. I promise!" Orlando squeezed his eyes tightly shut until a tear slid down his cheek. "Please?" he whimpered shamelessly, and resumed his most effective strategy - those expressive chocolate-colored eyes. "I'll do anything you say! Please, Vig!"

Viggo threw his hands into the air. "Okay, fine! Get up and put your jacket on!"

Elated, Orlando rose, although not as quickly as was normal for him. The pain was evident. He reached into the closet for his jeans jacket and slid his arms into it while Viggo was retrieving the extra helmet.

"So, where did they go? You said you knew where they were going, right?"

"Yeah, I heard them say something as they were running away," Orlando said, taking his helmet as he opened the door and stepped out into the crisp early morning air. He wobbled and grabbed for his partner's arm.

"Well?" Viggo delayed putting on his leather jacket in favor of wrapping a supportive arm around the young man's back to steady him.

Gaining his balance, Orlando took a deep breath and gave him a disarming smile. "Kansas City," he said.

~~

Read Part 2 of 5