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The First Interlude: The Boy Who Saw Too Much	By : NessaT Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > General > Lord of the Ring Stars Views: 1115 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is work of fiction! I do not know the celebrity(ies) I am writing about, and I do not profit from these writings.

Chapter List
- 1-The First Interlude: The Boy Who Saw Too Much
- 1
Pairing: Orli/Viggo

Rating: PG

Summary: Orli�s Story

Warning: Dark Themes, Child Abuse (not sexual)

Beta-Reader: alliwantisanelfforchristmas
Resident Pervert ( The First Interlude): The Boy Who Saw Too Much
Orli wasn�t an ordinary boy. He�d known this ever since he realized that he had magical powers and could make things happen if he really wanted them to. This obviously didn�t sit well with the People of the House. The problem with Orli, according to the Man, was the fact the sae saw too much and yet knew so little. �How could it be possible,� the Man would yell, �that someone like him could be so out of touch with reality?� The Woman merely shook her head before burying her face into her pretty hands and beginning to cry.
Mary Jane just stared at him and didn�t say a word. She couldn�t say a word because Mary Jane was his dog, and everyone knew, even Orli, that dogs could not talk no matter how much you wanted them to.
Yet, despite her unfortunate disability, Mary Jane seemed to be the only one that made sense in the House. She didn�t have to speak, only listen, as she looked at him with her large, liquid eyes that sparkled with intelligence and compassion.
Orli tried telling the Woman this, how Mary Jane �listened� to him whenever he spoke to her � her little head cocked to one side, so endearingly enraptured was she with what he had to say. WomaWoman, as expected, just howled and walked away, leaving Orli bemused and just a little frustrated.
Hopeless case. Really. There were times when Orli felt like flying far away to the Moon, to be as much �away� from the Man and Woman as possible.
Still, there were things that even little children finally come to realize, and the impossibility of flight was one of them. And Orlando Bloom was five years old � certainly old enough to know that you need a magic wand or some fairy dust in order to fly and that the Moon was literally made of cheese.
Therein, of course, lay the problem. Fairies come out to frolic in the garden only once in a Blue Moon � and there hadn�t been a Blue Moon for the last five years. The Woman claimed she hadn�t seen it in all those twenty years that she had been alive. The Man, on the other hand, told him to grow up and grow an eff-ing brain. Orli wished that they could just make up their minds for a bit, or at least stop yelling at him. All the commotion was hurting his ears.
Just like today, for example. The Man and Woman were screaming at each other again. It was something about bills, responsibilities, cunts, and eff-ing whores, but Orli was too young to understand the complexities of �adult� talk, so he sat patiently upon his stool while waiting to be served with some breakfast.
The Woman didn�t know it yet, but this morning Orli had cast a spell over his cheap box of corn flakes, making it magical. It was actually a growing spell and anyone who ate it would grow-grow-grow into the very person that adults would like to talk to. The kind of person the Woman might want him to become. He had tried out his spell casting this morning after he awoke to loud noises from the adjacent bedroom, and silently padded barefooted into the kitchen to perform his magic in secret.
You see, every night a strange sort of desperation filled him when the Moon had arisen and the House had become silent and still. Orli would kneel down by his bed in the darkness and wish and wish that he had the power to grow up and see things the way adults did � if only to make the Woman pay more attention to him. It was, after all, truly frustrating to want to talk to the Woman just to realize that she was only paying attention to whatever the Man was telling her. Orli didn�t dare tell the Woman, but he didn�t like the Man very much.
A voice had come to him last night as he was lying in bed, whispering instructions while he giggled in glee, nodding his head every once in awhile at everything the voice said. What it told him was simple, really: Orli was a wizard and he was going to make magic. The voice explained that his magic would make him grow up, and then the Woman would actually smile at him one day and call him by his name. Then perhaps . . . perhaps he would be able to tell her that she was the most beautiful being in the world, and she would listen to him, awe-struck, with love shining in her eyes.
Somehow, and in some miraculous way, his magic was going to make him understand the things grown-ups do; about bills, and eff-ing whores, and other words too long for him to remember.
Today was the day the magic was supposed to happen. The Woman dumped some cereal into the bowl, poured in some milk, and Orli ate-ate-ate, his cheeks ing ing as he shoved every single bit of cereal into his mouth.
They were still arguing. Screaming at the top of their voices now. Orli wished with all his heart that the magic would work.
He opened his mouth to say something, his young voice rising a little over the din. He couldn�t remember what it was he said, but the Man came onto him like a roaring tempest with his fists raised, eyes narrowed before he cuffed the side of Orli�s head. There was silence for a while, and then the inevitable darkness.
And just like that, the magic began.
Orli began to grow up.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Like all good magic, the effects that took place were remarkably speedy. Orli began to see and understand more as the years flew by at such a tremendous pace.
One year, two years, five. Ten years old and he was still sitting on the same stool, watching the Woman weeping into her hands. The Man had left long ago. �It�s all your fault. Look at me! I�m twenty-five, and no one wants me anymore,� she blubbered. Orli just wished he was older so he could tell her how he felt; that was, despite everything that she was � everything that she wasn�t, Orli still wanted her. So he ate more of the magic cereal.
One year, two years, five � still sitting in the same spot as he watched the Whore smiling up into yet another strange masculine face.
�You look like a fucking prick, man. You�d better make sure you stick your cock into the right hole, cock-sucker. After all, you never know what you might be catching from a whore like her,� Orli said clearly and calmly from his stool, munching on some breakfast as he watched with a strange sense of elation at the darkness that gathered in the Whore�s eyes.
There was a stunned silence as the Whore looked straight at him as if she was seeing him for the first time.
�Fuck you,� she spat eventually, her dark eyes flashing with anger. �I�ve had you ever since I was 15 and I don�t need to be told off by a little shit like you.�
Orli just ate, wearing a smug smile upon his face.
�Little shits like you don�t belong anywhere,� she snarled, tossing bits and pieces of clothes into a bag. �Fucking waste of air space, if you ask me. If I had my own way, I�d have tossed you to the dogs and been done with you.�
Orli just looked bored and got up to leave.
�Whore,� he taunted once more before setting his foot out of the door. �While you�re fucking your john, just remember to repeat your name every once in a while, because fuckers like him don�t remember little cunts like you in the long run.�
With that parting remark, he slammed the door behind him, feeling his eyes stung but ignoring them. And then he went off to school.
It felt good to be all grown up.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The man knew that something was wrong the moment he looked at the house. It had a strange air of neglect around it � as if there hadn�t been a living soul that had ever graced the front door, nor laughter heard from the open window. The door itself was left ajar, while the driveway bore the skid marks of a car that had hastily pulled away several hours ago.
Curious, he approached the deserted dwelling, his feet slowly drawing him closer to the rickety gates before he noticed that the house wasn�t as empty as he had first thought it was. He saw him. The boy. Sitting upon the steps leading to the porch, propping his chin on top of a tightly clenched fist.
�Hello,� he called out, hoping the boy would look up.
A few seconds passed, and still no reply.
He frowned, lit a cigarette, blew smoke, and frowned some more. Strange lad, he was. Kind of tall for a boy of� what? Fifteen? Sixteen? A little skinny for his age, but he figured that was nothing a good meal couldn�t fix.
He paused for one last time before striding languidly towards the silent figure, shoes crunching dry leaves beneath his feet before settling himself beside him.
Minutes crawled by before the boy spoke.
�Hello,� he answered, his voice soft yet unmistakably strong and clear. The man smiled in genuine delight.
�Viggo,� he rumbled back as a way of introduction before falling silent once more, smoking on his cigarette.
A few more minutes and still nothing.
�You have a name?� Viggo asked, stubbing out his smoke upon the rotting wood of the porch and then reaching into his shirt pocket for more.
No reaction� just the sounds of deep breathing and the occasional flicker of eyelids.
�You hungry?� the man tried again, squinting against the glare of the setting sun.
The boy stirred, blinking a little before resuming his stiff posture. �Are you any good at cooking?� he finally said, his voice polite and distant.
Viggo chuckled.
�I can fix a meal when I want to. You won�t be poisoned, if that�s what you�re worried about,� he replied, his eyes taking in a discarded envelope lying by the boy�s side and then moving back towards the pale face. The kid felt the weight of Viggo�s gaze upon him and stiffened even more before a thin hand hastily reached out for the envelope and brought it close to his heart.
�I�ve got cash. It isn�t much,� he murmured, peering into the flimsy slip of paper in his hand before looking up to study the long winding road in the distance.
A pause.
�They went that way,� he said in a voice so soft that Viggo would have missed it if he hadn�t been so close.
The man stretched and yawned before coming noisily to his feet.
�Well, no sense sitting around here then. C�mon. I�ll fix you up,� he said, stifling an exaggerated yawn. He helped the kid up, dusted him off a bit, and then picked up the boy�s knapsack before walking off, whistling a jaunty tune.
The kid walked a little behind him, all the while looking back. When he was finally convinced that there was nothing there behind, he fell in step with the man, walking with his head hung low and feet shuffling upon the ground.
�The Woman calls me Orlando,� he said quietly. �But I rather like the name Orli.�
Viggo turned towards the kid, raising an eyebrow in what seemed to be an expression of surprise.
�Yeah?� he grunted as he stopped before his front door. He fished around in his back pocket for his keys.
�Orli, is it? It isn�t that bad a name. Kind of cute, if you don�t mind me saying,� he continued, struggling with Orli�s bag and his attempt to open the door with his keys. There was a click as the door opened, and for a moment they stood before it, staring at the interior of the house. Silent and contemplative.
�Well,� Viggo said again, �wipe your feet and come on in.�
The boy did as he was told, his keen eyes taking in the well-furnished interior.
�Close the door behind you while you�re at it, okay? And maybe you can get yourself cleaned up while I whip something up for the both of us,� the man called out before disappearing in the kitchen.
There was a clatter of pots and pans before Viggo spoke again.
�Make yourself at home. You don�t have to go anywhere if you don�t want to.�
And that suited Orli just fine.
THE END.
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The First Interlude: The Boy Who Saw Too Much