Author: Jez

Rating: PG-13

Fandom: LOTR RPS

Pairing: Ian Holm/Elijah Wood, Elijah Wood/Orlando Bloom

Summary: After Orlando breaks up with Elijah, Elijah decides that driving Orlando mad with jealousy is the best way to get him back. So he enlists Ian Holm to be his pretend boyfriend. Yes, I was on crack when I thought this one up.

Notes: For Snow Dome, for more reasons then there are words, Emily and Joanne for the continued interest, and humbly dedicated to the noble ORP Quest.

Just so you know, this is the only known slashfic about Ian Holm and for that I am very, very proud.

~*~

Elijah's trailer was relatively dark inside, save for the light that came through the cracked window at the back. Elijah himself was siting on the couch with his hands folded in his lap. He tapped his foot lightly against the bottom of the couch, and smiled as Ian closed the door behind him.

"Hey," Elijah greeted Ian, and patted the cushion beside him. "C'mere."

Ian tread the shag carpet to the couch, and sat next to the young man. He was weary after a long day of shooting, and the rest was welcome.

"You wanted to talk with me?" Ian asked, and waited for Elijah to begin.

"Yeah...well, I have this huge favor to ask you," Elijah answered, and then coughed loudly. "Um, I was wondering if you'd like to pretend to be my boyfriend?"

Ian blinked, feeling slightly off balance. "I see."

Elijah shook his head quickly, and continued. "Well, you know what happened with Orlando."

Ian nodded. The young men had been romantically involved up until a week ago, when the relationship fell into ruin after a huge fight that nearly everyone in a one mile radius could hear.

"So I want to get back together with him, but he's completely ignored me since we broke up. So I was thinking, I could pretend to have a boyfriend and drive him insane with jealousy, and then he'll want me back."

"I see," Ian repeated.

"I'm asking you if you'll be my pretend boyfriend. It'll be anonymous, of course. All you'll do is send me gifts and call me on my cell while I'm on set. No one will know it's you, and no one will ever suspect you, either."

"I don't know," Ian said, as he really didn't know.

It was somewhat of a revelation. For once he did not know what to do, to say, or think. For once a blessed state of indecision fell upon him. What a strange thing to ask of a fellow human being.

"I can't ask anyone else," Elijah sighed, stroking the crook of Ian's arm. "Orlando will know it's a play. The hobbits you know, they're blabber mouths."

"I'm a hobbit as well," Ian reminded him gently.

"Yes...but it's not quite the same."

"Elijah, I wonder if you hear what you're asking."

"I do, I know what I'm asking," he insisted.

Ian smiled wistfully, and looked over his head at the clock on the trailer wall. The boy was due on set in five minutes, and he asked such an involved and complicated thing of him now.

"Ian, I don't have anyone else I can trust with this," he murmured pitifully.

Tactless boy. And a terrible manipulator. His mother did not teach him well.

"You do realize I'm nearly fifty years older than you," Ian said. "And that I'm quite happily married. I'm not sure this plan of yours is going to work."

"It will, it will, no one will know it's you," Elijah said quickly, and grabbed Ian's hand. "Does this mean you'll do it?"

"I suppose."

"Excellent!" He cried, and leaped to his feet. The couch raised slightly from where he had been. "Thanks, Ian."

Humming, he returned to the counter, and took his script from the newspaper rack on the wall beside. He had quite possibly the shortest attention span of any young man Ian has ever seen, including himself fifty years ago.

"Well what do you expect me to do?" Ian said, and followed Elijah's lead by standing.

"You can send me flowers tomorrow," he offered, fingers searching the tabs for the correct page. "Or chocolates, I don't have a preference."

He straightened and flipped the script open flat on the counter. His lips moved non-descriptively, and his eyes darted across the page in search of the dialog he sought. Ian's time he so immediately required seemed to be up.

Ian nodded mutely, and walked toward the door, mind already working on his plans.

~*~

"Oh how beautiful," Elijah sighed dramatically, loud enough that everyone in the make-up trailer turned to see what was happening. There on the counter in front of Elijah's chair was a bouquet of roses. "And there's a note."

Ian smiled secretively, and had to hold back a chuckle. The whole thing was much, much too amusing. Here he was, sixty seven years old, and sending flowers to a boy who could be his grandson. Just the fact that Elijah would want to publicize it was disturbingly hilarious.

"Well, who's it from?" Marjory laughed, and poked her head over Elijah's shoulder. He giggled, and shrugged her off lightly.

"Just a guy," he said coyly.

Ian peeked out of the corner of his eye, to observe where Orlando was currently waiting to have Gail glue on his wig. Orlando had noticeably turned red, and was clutching the arms of his chair rather tightly. Elijah's plan seemed to be working so far.

"What guy?" Billy mumbled through a mouthful of bagel.

Elijah rolled his eyes, and set the card back down on the roses. "A guy. We aren't ready to be public yet, it's new. I'll thank you to not ask again."

Billy raised an eyebrow in surprise, and Jeremy cursed. He stood back to reveal a large swab of tan colored make-up across Billy's face.

Ian chuckled, and Billy followed suit, spying his own reflection in the mirror. It wasn't long before the trailer was buzzing with the chatter and laughter it previously had been, and only Ian and Elijah noticed that Orlando slipped out, his wig still at an awkward angle.

~*~

The courtship came in stages. Not a day went by that Elijah didn't find some lovely item waiting for him in various places and once, Ian, missing Penelope, felt romantic enough to send a singing telegram. It seemed to go over well with the crew, but Elijah asked him not to do that again.

So the day came, almost a week later, that Elijah asked to ring him on set. While he was shooting, preferably ("It'll really make Orlando notice, me taking a call when I'm filming a scene!").

Ian agreed, and when most of his scenes were finished for the day, went into his trailer to change into civilian clothes and ring Elijah.

The horrifying buzzing sound Elijah's mobile telephone made put a serious crimp in his willingness to go along with the plan. Luckily, Elijah answered quickly enough.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Elijah, this is Ian," Ian said, perusing his coat rack for his favorite tweed coat.

"Oh hey baby," Elijah said throatily. "I missed you."

"I missed you as well."

"That would be fantastic. I'd love to meet you there."

Ian chuckled, and went on with the topic. "Say around eight?"

"Eight would be lovely. Well, I am in the middle of scene here, so I best run."

"Alrigh-" Ian started, but was cut off.

"No, babe, I really have to go. I'll see you in about an hour."

"Oka-"

"I know, I know. But soon we'll be together," Elijah said comfortingly, and Ian had to admit, the boy was a thoroughly convincing actor. He himself felt as though what Elijah was saying was truthful.

"Ye-"

"G'bye. Yes, I love you too. 'Bye." Elijah hung up.

Ian sighed, and placed his telephone in the cradle. Foolish to be going along with this. Absolutely foolish. He slipped an arm in the tweed coat, and then the other. Satisfied with his appearance, he stepped out of his trailer.

~*~

The studio had provided him with a car, and a driver if he would have wished. But Ian preferred his independence, and chose to drive himself. The cottage he was staying in was only ten or so miles away, and for that he was very glad. His bones were weary and tired, and he dearly wanted to get to sleep.

He was just stepping out into the makeshift parking lot when he heard Orlando and Elijah arguing.

"I want to know," came Orlando's voice, "I have a right to know."

"No, Orlando, you don't. I'm not yours anymore. You should have taken this much of an interest when you had me. I'll never be yours again, ever," was Elijah heated reply. From Ian's position, he could not tell if this was a well thought out speech, or a passionate retort.

"Elijah, fucking tell me."

"No," Elijah said curtly, and stepped out of the shadows. He smiled at Ian, with his back to Orlando. "Hey, Ian," he greeted him.

"Hello," Ian replied, and watched Orlando fall into stride behind Elijah.

Elijah winked at him sumptuously, and formed the words "It's working..." with his cupid's bow mouth. Ian had time to mull this sight over before getting in his car. It was a rare thing, to be sending a creature such as Elijah gifts and the like. It was even rarer to be appreciated for it. It was, however, all to common too have this reaction to him.

~*~

The next day, in a stroke of genius or perhaps unconscious wishing, Ian sent Elijah a note thanking him for the night before. The card read:

Elijah,

Last night was the most wondrous night I have ever spent in or out of the arms of another human being, and my heart beats in the revelation that is your lingering touch. I beg of you to come to me tonight, and bless me with your presence.

With all the love the world can contain, Your Humble Lover.

Ian proudly wrote the note himself, instead of dictating it to a messenger. He'd always been in the habit of writing little poetic love notes, but in recent years he hadn't dedicated any to Penelope. It warmed him slightly to feel the words flow out of his fingertips, into the pen, and onto the paper. It had somewhat less of a pleasing affect to realize he was being warmed by such an activity.

Elijah read it out loud the next day, in the make-up trailer as usual. It seemed the best spot to encourage gossiping, and Elijah knew that well.

The room had gone quiet since he opened the note, as everyone concerned was rather intrigued by Elijah's mystery boyfriend. However, he faltered slightly when he realized what he was reading.

"Well, go on," Marjory encouraged, and Dominic echoed her sentiment.

"My heart...um...beats in the revelation that's your lingering touch," Elijah said, turning slightly pink. "I beg of you to...um...heh, come to me tonight, and bless you with my presence."

The room erupted in hoots and whistles, and Ian felt slightly ashamed of himself. No doubt if they knew it was he sending the letters and gifts and making the calls, they would not be so delighted. Elijah laughed, and then covered his face while Marjory congratulated him.

"You aren't going, are you?" Orlando demanded suddenly, standing up.

Elijah looked at him in surprise, and then satisfaction; no doubt taking this as further proof that his plan was working. Ian, however, found it slightly disconcerting. It was natural, when in love, to be slightly envious of your ex-boyfriends new entanglement, but surely he was being a bit hotheaded about the whole thing.

"Of course I am," Elijah retorted in a perfect approximation of indignation.

"You tart, I knew you would do this, I just knew it," Orlando seethed. "What, two weeks after me, and already you're whoring yourself around town-"

"That'll be quite enough, Orlando," Ian spoke up.

He hadn't expected to say anything, and it was less of a shock to everyone but himself. Usually rather demure around other peoples affairs, he didn't tend to say anything. This was different now, though.

"Mind your own business, you old sod," Orlando scoffed.

"I shall not, Orlando. I don't believe you were speaking to Elijah in a civilized fashion. I'm sure he expects an apology," Ian said as non-threateningly as possible.

"Um...yeah!" Elijah added. "You owe me an apology."

"Fuck the lot of you," Orlando spat, and exited the trailer, slamming the door behind him. Elijah sighed, and then shrugged affably, though Ian could see just the slightest hurt in his eyes.

"Well what the hell crawled up his arse?" Billy intoned, and that said, the trailer returned to it's usual state.

Ian didn't forget the incident that quickly, however. He wondered if indeed he was doing Elijah more bad than good. Orlando couldn't possibly encourage a healthy relationship. In fact, the reason they had separated in the first place was the constant battles and cross words exchanged daily. He shook his head and attempted to shut these thoughts out. He had already started, there wasn't really any stopping now.

~*~

It was several days before Ian did anything else. Shaken by Orlando's violent reaction to the last note, he had all together given up on the plan.

Elijah found fault in this, however, and asked him to come meet him in the rec area after his filming for the day was done. Ian complied, finding it even more difficult than ever to say no to Elijah.

In the rec area, Elijah was stretched out over one of the wooden lounge chairs, sunglasses on so he could stare into the sun itself, offer his sight for a glimpse of heaven as he imagined it. The sunset was magnificent from this spot in the world, and Ian settled into a lounge chair beside Elijah.

"I need to come stay with you tonight," Elijah said, and Ian felt his insides chill.

"Why?"

"Because Orlando knows I'm supposedly going to stay with 'my boyfriend' tonight, I told him as much, and Dominic told me he's going to come by my place and try to follow me. I can't be there when he comes, he'll know. So I need to leave with you when you go home, and stay with you tonight."

"Really," Ian was a tad shaken by the demand, to say the least. Sending notes and what have you was one thing, but this was a bit much.

"If it's okay with you, of course," Elijah added.

Ian thought to say no, it was the obvious reaction, but instead he found himself accepting the proposal. "Alright."

"Oh good!" smiled Elijah. "Thanks."

He stood and bent over Ian, kissing him on the forehead swiftly. Ian didn't dare breathe until Elijah was gone, and then let out a shaky breath. The whole thing was silly, and he was taking it far too seriously. Elijah would come stay on his couch, leave in the morning, and no, he had not seen his life flash miserably before his eyes when Elijah kissed him.

He was fooling himself, of course.

~*~

"Do you want the left or right side of the bed?"

Ian bolted upright from his position standing over the bathroom sink. "Mmhumwam," he said through a mouthful of toothpaste.

"You want right?" Elijah tried to understand.

Ian spit in the sink, and turned to Elijah, who was in the doorway. "Well, I'll just sleep on the couch then, and let you have-"

"No, no!" Elijah insisted. "I don't want to kick you out of your bed. Just sleep with me."

Ian coughed, and looked at himself in the mirror. Old fool. Just innocent questions, and here he was thinking these thoughts. He ought to be shot.

"Left."

"Okay," Elijah said, and scampered off to the bed.

Scampered was a good way to describe it. It would remind Ian of Elijah's youth.

Ian rinsed his mouth out, and then slipped under the covers next to Elijah. He could feel the heat from the young man's body radiate to his side of the bed, and he shrank away from it, though his instinct was to move closer.

"Night," Elijah whispered.

"Goodnight."

Ian's heart beat faster and faster until he was sure Elijah must be able to hear it's thunderous thumping or feel it jiggling the bed with every beat. Elijah didn't stir, though - instead he began to snore lightly. Ian struggled with the need to slip his hand under the cover, and clasp Elijah's, and pull him close. It was a long tortuous night of barely contained self control, and Ian didn't get hardly sleep at all.

~*~

They awoke in the early morning, startled out of sleep by loud rapping on the door. The bedroom door. Ian balked, wondering who it could be inside his cottage.

The door opened after three knocks, and Orlando stepped into the room. Elijah gasped, and pulled the blanket up to his chin, as if he was indecent. Ian simply stared at Orlando, too shocked to do much of anything.

Orlando stood silent and motionless for several seconds before striding into the room. His hair still held the gel from the previous evening, and his clothing was rumpled. It was obvious he'd been up all night, probably going door to door until he found Elijah or some evidence of where Elijah was.

"You," he said accusingly, and Ian wasn't sure of who he was referring to. "You."

"That's right," Elijah sneered, "Me. And him. And if you'd treated me properly, it wouldn't have come to me and him."

Ian shook his head, not knowing what to say in this situation. It was possibly the most incredible situation he'd ever been in. Orlando continued to glare at them, and Elijah continued his defiance.

"You," Orlando said, looking directly at Ian. "You perverted old man. Do you realize how young he is?"

Ian nodded. He could do nothing but agree. Even though things had not developed physically, it had certainly been plaguing his thoughts. Shamefaced, he spoke.

"I do know, Orlando. And it shouldn't have gone this far. But I love him. Very much."

It couldn't have possibly crossed Elijah's mind that perhaps Ian's performance was a little too real, but still Ian watched him carefully. He saw no admission of knowledge.

"Well he doesn't love you," Orlando spat. "Do you?" with that he turned his attention to Elijah.

"I...I...love..." Elijah stumbled, leaving the sentence unfinished.

Ian did something then that absolutely broke his heart, but knew it could be the only way to rid himself of the whole thing.

"You," he said, and gave Orlando a meaningful look. "He loves you."

Elijah wailed, and sunk down in the blanket. Hysterics were his specialty, especially considering that he'd had a lot of practice during his relationship with Orlando. Orlando couldn't see Elijah from where he stood, but Ian could see that it was not tears that painted Elijah's face, it was a smile. Ian sighed inwardly, and erased the grin from his head. He'd never think of it again.

"Elijah," Orlando mumbled, so much calmer than just moments before. "I love you too."

"Orlando," Elijah cried, throwing the blanket off. "I didn't mean it, not any of it."

Orlando nodded, and took Elijah in his arms, pulling him from the bed. "I didn't mean it either."

Elijah smiled, and they kissed passionately, literally. Orlando and Elijah had always been passionate, whether it was passionate love or passionate hate. Ian waited, and soon they were gone, like the night rising, come to take the day's tribulations out like the light.

Ian heard them shut the front door, and then reached over to his telephone on the nightstand. He dialed the all too familiar number with hands shakier than he would have liked to admit, and waited for the all too familiar voice.

"Hello, Penelope speaking."

"Penelope," Ian said, there was no need to tell her who he was.

"Ian..." she said, hushed, and the hurt in her voice was empathetic of Ian's. "Come home now."

"I can't," he said, and that was all there was to it. "But Penelope, I love you."

"I love you too."

Ian replaced the phone gently into the cradle, and ran his fingers over the shape of the receiver. It was cold to the touch, and he pulled back into the warmth of the covers, falling asleep almost immediately. The past weeks' events ran like a movie in his dreams, and he fought them, waiting for the morning to take them away like fading memories.

end

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