peterjackson: (Outside pointing)
[personal profile] peterjackson


Elladan: Although it was confusing at first, I believe that I am finally beginning to understand the layout of this city that we visit. The names at the end of each road are not the names of the families who live there, as I originally suspected, but simply markers by which the people of this world can know where others reside. I know that the creator of these films lives on Latona Avenue. Gareth was able to secure the address for us, although he laughed when I told him what we intended to do. He said that this man's name is Peter Jackson and that he is quite famous in this world. When he said that I worried that he might try to dissuade us from our task, but he actually found the idea quite humorous for some reason and kindly offered to arrange with Martin a time that we could use their bodies.

We stand before this man's home now and I am surprised to see that it is not more opulent, as befits someone famous. However, the lights inside indicate that someone is home. I pause for just a moment as we approach the door. Yes, I am well, I am only a bit wary to meet this man. If he is an agent of Morgoth we must be on our guard. I hear Elrohir's reassurances in my head. As we always are, brother.

I nod and Elrohir knocks sharply on the door. A few minutes later we hear rustling inside and the door is opened by a stout halfling with wild dark hair. Although I am surprised by the sight, I assume that someone as famous as this man may well keep a halfling as a servant. I bow my head to him in a brief greeting. "Good evening to you, kind halfling. I am Elladan, and this is my brother, Elrohir. We have come from far away to speak with Peter Jackson. May we meet with him?"

PJ: "Far away, eh? Right. So, you couldn't get convention tickets and thought you'd go for the next best thing, I'm betting. All right, hang on, stay right there, don't come in." Muttering about giving my agent what-for and getting security tightened up, I head back to my office and grab two 8x10 glossies, pre-autographed, and go back to the door. "Here you go kids, and do me a favor. Don't tell your friends where I live, okay? I can't make a habit of this. Good job on the ears, by the way."

Elrohir: I draw myself up to my full height and refuse to touch these papers he hands us. I glare at him. "We are the sons of Lord Elrond, but we are far from children. We are not mortals of this world, though our appearance may be theirs. We do not fully *shift* into these bodies. Now please let your master know that we are here and desire to speak with him." I wait for him to react to the word I have spoken. If he is this Peter Jackson's servant, then he will know of what I speak. I continue to glare at him. Martin and Gareth may not have soldier's bodies, but they are most certainly not children. This servant is very rude and I will address his manners with Jackson. And we will see him, even if we have to use force to get past this servant. Not that much force would be required to best such a small hobbit-like creature. I sniff as I gaze at him. Jackson should speak with his servant about proper grooming. It does not befit an important man to have a servant looking so unkempt.

PJ: Okay, so they're not convention geeks. They know about shifting, but what the *hell*? I don't know these kids, we never cast them as Elrond's sons, they weren't even in the flippin movies! Bit of an attitude on them, I'll say, they sound like the spoiled sons of a celebrity, and man, have I seen enough of those in my day. Tolkien, you old codger, how much have you managed to warp history? I'm starting to wonder if I managed to burn every pencil in the house after all. Okay, time to get some answers out of these two, I guess.

"Why, please, come in, be seated, let me fetch you cool drinks and the Esteemed Mister Jackson will be with you shortly." I usher them into the living room with exaggerated courtesy, and dart off to the kitchen for a couple of sodas. Walking back in, I give them each a dazzling smile, and hand them their drinks before sitting down. "And by the way, I AM Peter Jackson, and you've made the mistake of thinking I'd put up with servants running about that might want to straighten up my study, god forbid. So tell me why you're here, boys. I think I have some questions for you, too. But you first."

Elladan: Although we are surprised that this halfling claims to be the one who created the film, Elrohir and I hide our shock by opening our soda cans, just as Gareth and Martin have instructed us. We both sit seemingly casually, knowing that this halfling will not notice that our muscles are tensed and ready to act at the slightest sign of trouble. As we drink, I speak silently to my brother. After all, it is not wholly unknown for halflings to become bards and, while they do not measure up to the standards of the elves, they are often quite amusing. I can tell he is still wary of this halfling, however, just as I am, and our feelings are perhaps stronger because he attempts to appear in this harmless guise. If this creature is in league with Morgoth then we must force him to reveal himself. "We have come here to speak of your films about our world. You have committed grave errors in recounting our history, errors that could well bring about unspeakable tragedy for Middle-earth." I look the halfling directly in the eye, searching his face intently for any sign of falseness. "Were you acting on the bequest of the dark lord when you brought our sister into your world and left behind the warriors of Rivendell?"

PJ: Pete: Oh, crap. I can't honestly answer 'no', if Tolkien's been warping history at Morgoth's nudging. And the movie scripts... I honestly thought we were adapting the books by our own choices, but hell - I don't even trust my own mind these days. These two seem to know a lot, and I don't see a reason to lie. Maybe they can even help. Assuming they don't kill me first in some graceful elven fashion.

"We did what we call an adaption of Tolkien's novels for film. It's hard to tell an entire book's story word for word on film, it's just too much to cram into the medium." I wonder if they even know what film is, but I doggedly continue. "We changed some things, and yeah, even substituted some of the characters for others if it made the story flow better." Take a deep breath, admit it all, it's got to be dealt with at some time, now's as good as any and these two seem to have a grip on the situation. "I thought the changes were by my own choice, but this past year I've had some doubts about that. You two know what shifts are. I have a shift too. I'm the film creator, so as luck would have it, I shift to the man who wrote the stories. Tolkien. And I'm not so sure he's completely free of influence."

Elrohir: I listen closely as Jackson speaks, sipping my soda. He does appear harmless, but as we both know, things are often not what they seem. Morgoth may be controlling him without his knowledge and may even now be listening to our conversation through some foul means. "What or who made you decide that our sister 'made the story flow better' than we would have? And why leave out such an important 'character' as Glorfindel?" I am frustrated and do not wait for you to answer before continuing. "Who is this Tolkien? Where is he from and how did he discover our world? Or did Morgoth discover him?" We will see how you answer and try to determine if you are indeed innocent or evil or a mere puppet. I finish my soda and glance in surprise at the empty container. "May I have another? And possibly some doughnuts or peanut butter or other food as well? We need to maintain proper.." I stumble only slightly over the words as I remember them, "blood sugar levels...in Martin and Gareth." And I wish for a chance to look around this room to see what we might discover.

Elladan: As my brother speaks, I glance surreptitiously around the room. There are books and stacks of paper in disarray on every surface, and on the walls are framed photographs. My eyes widen when I see our father in one of them. No, it is not he, it must be the man who was missing, Hugo. But the resemblance is shocking. I glance back at the halfling. Elrohir's words make him nervous, it seems, and I sense a defensiveness about him. It does not seem marred by evil as far as I can tell, but I heed my brother's unspoken thoughts. Yes, we cannot be too careful here. Forces beyond our knowledge are subtly altering the fragile history of Middle-earth. We have both borne witness to this, in Wellington as well as in Rivendell, and we well know now how closely our fates are woven together. I hope the halfling realises this, and understands that although Elrohir's questions may be disconcerting, the answers are essential for us all. I sense Elrohir's frustration and reach out to silently soothe him. Calm, my love, we must approach this halfling with caution. He may yet prove to be an ally, but if he is false than we will strike him mercilessly. He asks for more food then, and I smile and look up quickly at the halfling. "And some chocolate, too, please."

PJ: Okay, food I can do, and that should give me a minute to think about what's being asked here. A couple of years ago I would have had a snap answer to their questions. Movies dictate a whole different pace and style from books, and my changes were valid ones in my mind. But lately, I have to question my choices just as much as they are. Tolkien was influenced. Maybe I was too. I mean, now that I've actually met the man, I feel more guilty that I'll admit about what I did with Faramir in the movie. He almost took the ring. What if that was Morgoth trying to get me to re-write outcomes? Tweak things in his favor? It's not just a movie anymore, it's spawned its own reality.

I return to the living room with a box of cinnamon rolls and a couple more sodas, and then I remember that damned box of bubble gum in the closet, and go get that too. "Here, eat up, sorry I don't have any chocolate around. Oh, and this pink stuff? You can chew it for a while, but DON'T SWALLOW IT. Just chew it till it's blah and then spit it out." I get some really odd looks at that, and the gum gets even more wary looks. I fall back into a chair with a heavy sigh. "Okay. I thought bringing Arwen out would add a strong female character, Tolkien didn't write very many of those and I wanted someone besides Eowyn and Galadriel to stand out. And as for Tolkien, and who he is... hate to shock you guys, but he wrote your story in the first place. Your world didn't exist until he thought it up and wrote it down. Sure it's real now, but there's your true origins. You come from a story. And, well. Tolkien may have been nudged while writing it, and I think maybe I've been nudged while re-writing it, but not by my own free will!"

Elrohir: He does not leave the room long enough for me to do more than a cursory search, yielding nothing of interest. I take a bite of a cinnamon roll but avoid the small chewy lumps he says not to swallow. I raise an eyebrow at his statement that we did not exist before Tolkien wrote our story. "Do you not think it a bit presumptuous of you to give credit for the creation of our world to this..." I sniff, ..."man? We could tell you legend after legend of how our world and peoples came to be, but I will not bore you with them now. I do not think that this...man's thoughts...are the sole reason we exist. His story comes from us, not the reverse. It begins to sound to me as if he was most certainly a toy of Morgoth and perhaps his writing was designed for a purpose...so that you would make this film, change things and thus give Morgoth a chance to change his own history. What do you intend to do about this? Will you stand and fight or will you let him continue to use you?" Watch him closely, brother...I am still not satisfied with his motives and loyalties.

Elladan: As Elrohir speaks, I unwrap one of the packages of this 'gum.' Inside is a small picture of the ringbearer's friend and a short account of his deeds. I have heard that halflings were very intrigued by stories of their kin, this gum must be some way of recounting their histories. These people's odd habits never cease to surprise me. Along with the picture is a piece of pink wood which I assume is what I am meant to chew. I bite down on the wood, but it doesn't break. I try again, tasting the sugar coating the hard surface. I do not understand why halflings would cover wood with sugar, but I do not like this food. I put it aside with a look of distaste and reach for a cinnamon roll. Yes, that is much better. I watch the man carefully as Elrohir speaks. He looks distressed, and confused, but I do not get a sense that he is hiding anything. I think he may not understand his own motives, brother. Oh, and avoid the 'gum.'

"My brother's words must not be taken lightly. Our enemy was banished from Middle-earth but has found his way here, to your world which lacks the defenses that we have built up for centuries." Although my words are muffled from chewing, I look intently into this halfling's eyes, hoping he will understand the severity of the situation. "What seem only ripples here become tremendous storms that threaten to tear our world apart. With your 'adaptation,' as you call it, Morgoth's strength grows and his return comes ever nearer." My eyes narrow as I add the piece that should make this halfling take even more heed to our warnings. "And perhaps you do not realise it, but your world is now tied to ours. The same darkness could destroy your Wellington, as it almost did when Hugo disappeared. A terrible fate was narrowly averted, but Morgoth's hands will not long be idle."

PJ: I start to open my mouth to correct him, somehow convince him that he is indeed based in fiction, and then I shut my trap as it hits me. Holy fuck. He's altering history, yeah, that we see, but let's take that back a ways. Way back. Back to Tolkien's first writing out the stories. Maybe they didn't just spring spontaneously from his own mind? What if Morgoth had his hooks in even back then, and was forcing Tolkien to write what he thought was a fantasy, but was really a reality needing an outlet in our world? And now I'm being manipulated by Tolkien, who was in turn manipulated by Morgoth, and I'm just staring at two punk kids who somehow, in between bites of junk food, just might be talking the truth. "I... don't know what to say, but I think I'm starting to agree with you. Tolkien may have been a pawn of Morgoth's to bring your world to life in this world. Took him a long time to create a portal, but he's had the writings in place for decades. And now others are re-writing the stories - me, Bashki, hell, even hundreds of fans. If he needs the stories to bring it all to reality, he's getting that. In droves. I need a drink." It's barely noon, but I do need a drink, I just don't trust my legs to stand up and get it. All I can think right now is... "We are so fucked."

Elrohir: I look at Jackson in alarm as he speaks. His shock is genuine, I do not doubt that. And he has begun to look rather ill. Perhaps he is about to 'shift'?? Or has shifted and becomes ill as Martin and Gareth do? Or perhaps he has just now realized the danger we may be in. I open a soda and place it in his hand, brushing his hair back with my hand as I do so that I can look at him more closely. I am glad for Martin's forward thinking of teaching me..and by extension, my brother... how to use his telephone machine and his careful instructions on how it may be used not only to have food brought, but to summon healers or others. Brother, do you think we need to call the healers on the telephone machine? "Jackson, are you ill? Do you require healers? Drink this....eat a pastry...it will help your blood sugar...." It will not help any of us if he becomes ill or...worse...

PJ: I snort and push the pastry aside. "I don't have blood sugar issues! Do I look like an elf to you? I require some time to think and a couple of very large drinks is all." Okay, I know they're concerned and trying to help but this is nuts. I've just had an epiphany. I want to lie down, or get on the roof and scream, either option sounds great right now. "Look, I've just got a lot on my mind now, thanks to you two." I give you both a softer look, and rub my temples. "Actually, yes, I do have to thank you. You've just given me a fresh perspective on the situation. I just want some time to think about it now, okay?"

Elladan: Watching the halfling's frustration melt into gratitude, I realise that he does understand what we have told him. "We will leave you then to your thinking." We rise to go, but I see Elrohir glance once more at the halfling, his eyes full of worry. I smile to think of how completely my beautiful brother has changed his mind and now wants to care for the halfling that he would have run through with his blade just minutes earlier. He will be well, beloved. He can call those he needs to care for him, and we should return home, we have kept these bodies long enough. As we leave, I turn back to the halfling. "I regret that you did not include us in your adaptation. Our battle skills were sorely needed at Pelennor Fields. But in truth, I did enjoy the movie. If often made me feel as if I was there." I smile wryly at him. "Except in those cases when we should have been, and were not. Heed what we have said, Jackson, and fare well." And with that, Elrohir and I start back towards the pub.

PJ: I wince as you describe seeing the movie. I feel the old instinct to defend it piled on top of guilt making me want to apologize for the changes, and a final deep wish that the films never existed. If they hadn't been made, we wouldn't be in this mess. Or would we? Maybe other attempts have been made to get at us this way, and failed. And the other writings, the fans stories, what if those were the only outlets Morgoth had been able to tap into? At least my characters were decent folk! Well, except for what I did to Faramir. I realize I'm standing at the door staring at the two elves, but already I'm lost in my own swirl of thoughts. I nod, acknowledging Elladan's parting words. "I will heed them, and well... thanks for coming by." Quietly, I shut the door and drop on the couch, lost deep in thought again within seconds.
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